Take them to the Headmistress

Despite the growing bulge in your pants and the insistent whisper of your reptilian brain to show these two bitches a lesson, your rational mind barely manages to assert its dominance. You didn’t go through almost a decade of hard labor and AA meetings to throw away your chance to teach again, no matter how tempting the little red haired sisters proved to be.

You shake your head in a feeble attempt to clear your mind, as Grace Mathewson continues to plead her case and make her apologies, her sister practically vibrating with fear under your grasp. You dismiss the elder Mathewson’s ramblings with an imperious wave and she falls silent. “I don’t know why you have singled me out for ****, and frankly I don’t care. I’ve not been here long enough to know what the penalties are for poor behavior at Pink Rose, but I have to think that trespassing and vandalism are frowned upon. Perhaps we should take the matter up with Headmistress Naylor?”

Grace looks almost relieved at your mention of the Headmistress, and you try to reconcile that fact with your impressions of the young, no-nonsense school administrator who seemed more than up to the role of disciplinarian. No matter, you think to yourself, recognizing that passing the responsibility to a higher authority, whatever punishment that might be meted out, would surely be better than being fired on your first day for inappropriate behavior with students. And the longer you were alone with the sumptuous teens, the likelier that outcome.

You take out your cellphone with your left hand and snap a photo of the graffiti on the wall of your room before slipping the phone back in your pocket and gripping Sally’s shoulder more firmly with your right. Then you stride to the bed, pulling Sally along with you and grab Grace by the wrist.

The two no longer struggle, and allow you to guide them down the stairs and out of the cottage, following the path you recently tread from the Mellon Building, the main administrative and dormitory hall on campus. As you walk, the occasional prying pair of eyes fall on you, but you are thankful that the school is only at about a tenth of its full occupancy given that most students will begin to arrive tomorrow. Still, you can’t help but feel unnerved by the almost predatory gaze of some of the girls already on campus.

Once inside the opulent stone structure of the main building, you pull the two girls toward Ms. Baylor’s office and enter the antechamber where the Headmistress’s assistant normally sat during the school year.