Evidence of a Cold, Hard Crime

He saw them, pretty “little” girls that they were from his perch in the principal’s office. He had come back to the school to finish grading a few more papers for the one class he still taught. Seeing Veronica and Ursula–their very names connoting that of troublemakers–in their hiked cut-off shorts and tube tops, he was distracted enough to briefly ignore what it was they were actually doing. Which was, going from classroom to classroom and graffitiing the walls and desks with their Sharpie markers. Their next stop, he realized, was the library. If Ms. Lawson, the librarian, saw any sign of damage to her sanctuary, Martin would never hear the end of it from her. And since she had somehow made herself unfireable–always the threat of an ageism lawsuit looming–he didn’t want to deal with her penchant for nagging and unleashing an overall river of shit (which was how, he reckoned, she had made herself so fire-proof. No one wanted to interact with her). 

So it was that the often bumbling Martin proceeded to bumble right across the quad to attempt apprehending these, as of yesterday, ex-seniors at his high school. They had already entered the library, prompting Martin to speed up his pace so that he might stop them from doing what they seemed dead-set on.

Minutes later, he caught them in the act of scribbling indiscriminately on the walls and in some of the books. He called out, “Veronica! Ursula! Please, what are you still doing here?”

Veronica looked conspiratorially from Ursula, then salaciously to Martin. “We came to see you, Principal Greer… Or can we call you Martin now?” She twirled her hair and pointed her tits, overflowing from her white–practically see-through–tube top, at him. 

He was visibly uncomfortable. Not because he was getting aroused (so he told himself), but because her overt flirtation put him in such an awkward position. Ursula upped the ante by taking his hand and starting to lead him toward the library. “Why don’t you come with us? We wanted to leave our final mark on the school. You could be our witness.”

“Girls, I don’t think, I, uh–”

“We’re not girls, Martin. We’re women now,” Veronica asserted as she took his other hand and started pulling him deeper into the library as well. 

“Yeah,” Ursula chimed in. “We can prove it to you.” 

Before he knew it, they were taking him to the “forbidden zone” of the library–the one reserved for card holders only–jumping the turnstile as they didn’t have their bar coded IDs (he presumed they never had them at all, as they weren’t the types to bear much interest in hanging around the library unless it was in a context such as this). 

“Ursula, Veronica, please. I’ve gone along with this enough. I saw what you did in the other classrooms and I won’t say anything about it, but please, just leave the school now.”

They tittered at him. “Aw, come on, Martin. Have some fun with us. You know you want to,” Veronica taunted as she took her top off and started rubbing herself against him. Martin bristled. This had already crossed the line of appropriateness, yet no matter what happened next, he was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back. He would also need to delete any security footage that might be showing him in this compromising position once he got rid of them. Though that didn’t look like it was going to be happening anytime soon as Ursula, too, started to disrobe. The two scampered off, leaving articles of their clothing as vague bread crumbs. The sound of their giggling was also telltale for Martin, following the reverberations of their insidious laughter toward the back corner of the library where, when he finally happened upon them, it was as though they were planning their torture strategically enough to time it so that when he caught them, they were kissing and caressing one another. They stopped momentarily to glance over at him, motioning for him to join. 

Martin was only so steel-hearted at this point. He was still a man, after all, and the temptation was getting too strong to resist. He proceeded to unbutton his shirt and take off his pants, approaching the demon-eyed girls with a hint of caution before giving way completely to their “charms”–in this case, Veronica sucking him off while Ursula rimmed him. It was a pleasure unlike any he had ever known and just as he was about to cum with the most grandiose ecstasy, all the lights in the library turned on. It was Ms. Lawson. Martin practically choked on his own saliva as she called, “Hello? Who’s in here?” with the stern intonation of an all girls’ school matron.

Martin chanted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” in a whisper as Veronica and Ursula carried on with their orals. He didn’t want them to stop, oh God how he didn’t want them to stop. Was it worth letting them continue to be caught by Ms. Lawson? To lose his job and with it the chance of ever working in any school district again. Men so often had to ask themselves this question when it came to the tradeoff of transitory yet addictive sexual pleasure. The same even went in asking if one orgasm was worth the lifelong punishment of spawning a child from that all too brief moment of release. He decided he could finish in time. He could have it all–his underage girls and eat them too. He began to writhe more rhythmically against their mouths, aiming no longer to delay the euphoria but accelerate it. 

He exploded, doing his best not to let out any sound as Ms. Lawson kept threatening, “Whoever is in here better reveal themselves right now! Or I’ll call the police!” It was a wonder he could keep an erection while her shriveled voice kept prattling on, but Ursula and Veronica were very skilled, and he wanted to repay them in some way for what had been arguably the most thrilling experience he’d had in at least twenty years. Oh, the joys that young girls could bring to this world. Anna Karina had been right when she’d said, “I think women should never be more than twenty-five” (granted, she was saying it through the puppeteered words of Jean-Luc Godard’s dialogue–but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still true).

Veronica and Ursula were still dallying about as Martin ushered them through a back exit that set off the emergency alarm. They remained naked, forced to leave their clothes behind in the hasty escape. Once they had reached the refuge of a clearing in the meadow that bordered the school, he offered Veronica his suit jacket and Ursula his button-front shirt. He kept his pants and undershirt on so as to maintain the pretense of decency. “Well, I suppose you two have had your fun. It’s time for you to go home.” 

Ursula and Veronica looked at one another impishly. Veronica replied, “I don’t think so, Martin. It’s time for you to repay the favor.” And with that they both lay down on the ground and spread their legs expectantly. Martin turned his head to ensure that the coast was still clear. He needed to get this done as quickly as possible lest he ruin his luck by lingering in the area with these two temptresses. So he decided to finger Veronica and eat out Ursula (considering she had been the one bold enough to venture her tongue into his asshole). He was deft with his motions and soon they were both orgasming in unison, screaming with the abandon that Martin wasn’t able to in the library. Screaming loud enough, apparently, to lead Ms. Lawson right to their hiding place. The scene she stumbled upon was more than she could have possibly bargained for, removing her spectacles and putting them on again to ensure that what she was seeing was truly happening. It was. 

She snapped, “Mr. Greer, what is wrong with you?”

He removed his face and hand from their respective “caves” and came up for air to face the firing squad. So this is how it was all going to end. At the hands of a librarian. He would end up going to jail and never being able to restore his reputation even when he got out. If he ever got out. Veronica and Ursula, all the while, kept giggling. The entire affair was endlessly comical to them, though Martin couldn’t understand why. He suddenly hated himself for falling prey to their inanity. Their frivolous need to fuck up property and lives for no good reason other than that it ephemerally amused them. He wanted to kill them right then and there with his bare hands–the fleeting titillation they had brought him now only bringing him lifelong pain. But then, something incredible happened: Ms. Lawson could only seem to bring herself to comment on the damage to the library. 

“Are these the two responsible for graffitiing my library?” 

Martin shook himself out of his stupor and immediately replied, “Yes. Yes it was them. I’ve just been out here reprimanding them for this terrible crime.” Veronica and Ursula suddenly shut right up, seeming to understand that something they hadn’t planned on was going to take place: consequences. No get out of jail free card just because they were two white bitches whose fathers made more money than the Catholic Church in its prime. Sure, Martin had committed his own wrong-doing, but it was at the command of their satyrdom. The two together were worse than Pan. Maybe Ms. Lawson saw that, or maybe she had other ideas in mind for how to use this against Martin later. 

After the two girls were picked up by the police, evidence of their cold, hard crime documented in every classroom–as well as the library–they had defiled with their marker, Martin finally turned to Ms. Lawson to ask, “Did you get rid of the security footage?” 

She smiled and touched his cheek. “Of course Mr. Greer. What do you take me for? A little ninny like those girls?”

He froze at the touch of her papery hand. “Why did you do it?”

“What? Save your hide? I guess because I’ve always been rather fond of you… Martin. Do you mind if I call you Martin now?” 

“I suppose we’re on informal enough terms at this point.” 

“I thought as much. Which brings me to my next order of business.” 

Here it was. The caveat for her “generosity” in sparing him from the authorities. “Okay,” he said, backing away from her disgusting hand. In fact, she looked more grotesque than ever today, in those stockings with runs in them, and that nondescript brown skirt suit that looked like it had been plucked out of a dumpster outside of a temp agency in the 80s. 

“I will make sure that footage never sees the light of day so long as you promise me one thing.”

He arched his brow. “What’s that?”

“You’ll eat me out with the same gusto as you did that girl–every day.” 

This seemed a fate worse than prison, if Martin was being honest with himself. Would his tongue even be able to make it past her cobwebs? He weighed his options. Was it better to be free in prison or imprisoned in the outside world? As it turned out, he could be free in neither, as Ms. Lawson tortured him daily with visits to the prison, showing up and inveigling the guards to her cause of seeing him by fattening them up with homemade muffins and the like. She brought such confections to Martin as well, but he never ate them. Refused ever to eat anything of Ms. Lawson’s, if you catch one’s meaning. So it was that Martin sacrificed his existence for one forbidden orgasm in a library. 

Years later, however, he received a surprise visit from both Veronica and Ursula, looking as tantalizing as they ever did. They had apparently garnered fame when the library tape was released to the media, ending up securing careers in porn that made their fathers shun them. But now that they were rich on their own, it didn’t matter. They wanted to do something for Martin to show their gratitude for making them independent women, and the visit soon turned conjugal. They told him they were going to film it, to boot, and save some of the proceeds on his behalf for when he eventually got out of prison. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about finding a “boring old job” as an educator again. For he had already educated them plenty on the way the world works, they concluded.

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