Latin Ch. 02

"Two demerits and study hall for you this weekend young man."

More grumbles broke out as people stealthfully pulled out pool cards to see who had won. Ignoring the interruption Mrs. Moran went on.

"I have tried to pair the more studious of you with like minded partners. Don't think for a moment, Mr. Horton, that you can get by on letting your partner do all the work. Each presentation will have two themes and each of you will be responsible for part of it, a third summary theme will be jointly presented to make sure you are working together."

"What does that mean?" Julia asked.

"It means, Miss. Wright, that your partner's grade will not be influenced by your part of the presentation. Therefore, if Mr. Wiggins covers all the bases and you present garbage, he will get an A and you will still get an F. I will tolerate no riding of coattails just because the project is jointly presented. I do not need to remind the majority of you that this counts as half your grade, nor do I need to point out that the majority of you, desperately need a good grade here to avoid summer school."

"Now, if there are no more questions, let's get right into Paradise Lost."

Mandy didn't need to consult the pool card to know she had won. Nor did she need to consult the partner's chart to know who hers would be. She had made out the chart herself after all. Each of the "in" clique was paired with someone socially unacceptable. It suited her purpose to make sure each failed. Two months left of school was hardly time enough to get hem all. The extra three months of summer might be too little time, but she would cross those bridges as they came.

"Awww shit, I got Fartberry!" Stewart groaned.

"So what, I got that dweeb Milton Wiggins," Julia griped.

"Boo-hoo, I got Reggie," Candice Templton said, disgust plain in her voice.

"No shit? Candice of the Klan got our token nigger?" John Carrare laughed.

"Fuck you, John."

"Not me babe, I don't go for girls who hang out with black guys."

"Up yours!" she shouted, causing them all to laugh.

"Jeezus Candy, be cool. I got stuck with that pimply faced Nellie Roberts."

"Fuck, I got her sister," Stacy Matthews said.

"How bout you Sandra?"

"Josh Townsend," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Josh is a cool dude," Stewart said.

"But he's dumb as a brick. No way I'm getting him to do my part of it."

"How bout you Christy?"

"I got you all beat. I got the dyke." she replied.

"Lucky bitch," Sandra said.

"Lucky?" Christy exclaimed.

"Yeah, she's a dyke and all, but she gets good grades. Throw on a short skirt and you're in like Flynn."

"Whatever," Christy said, shaking her head as the others laughed.

"Seriously, this sucks, did you see the notice at the top? Trading partners isn't allowed. I mean, we're stuck with these losers now," Stacy said as they exited the building and headed for their cars.

"Yeah. Looks like summer school for me," Stewart said.

"I thought you were going into the army?" Christy said.

"I am, but if I want guaranteed PFC outta boot camp I gotta have my high school diploma. And there's no way I'm passing now, even if I could put a bag over her head and fuck her, it isn't like Fartberry is gonna get me an A. And unless I ace this presentation, I'm screwed."

"You and me both pal," John said.

"Is anybody passing that class?" Stacy asked suddenly.

"I got a D," Candy said.

"Barely have a C," Sandra added.

"Chris?"

"I've got a B, but it isn't high enough to blow the project off," she replied.

"Fuck it, it's school, what's on tap for tonight?" John said.

Christy barely listened as ideas were being thrown about. She was planning on going to college, although she hadn't told her friends yet. She had already been conditionally accepted to Notre Dame, but if she flunked a class it would ruin it. She had to do well on this project and that meant she had to deal with Mandy eventually.

"How bout we run over to Hazleton and catch the new movie?"

"What is it?"

"Fuck if I know, but it's got to better than the shit playing here," Stew said.

"Works for me," Stacy relied.

"Me, too," Sandra chimed in.

"I'm in," John said.

"Not me, I've got a date tonight," Candy said.

"Me either, I hate the theatre over there, the seats smell like cum," Julia said distastefully.

"Well, that shouldn't bother you," John said.

"Like you would know," she replied.

"Coming Chris?" Lisa asked.

"Nah. I've gotta go to Frampton tomorrow with the folks to watch my brother's little league team."

"Oh that sucks, will you be back in time to make it to Studabakers?"

"I doubt it, unless they get eliminated early, but they look like they might go all the way, so I'm not expecting to be free before early Sunday morning."

Chris said her goodbyes and climbed into her car. She drove home, but stopped in her driveway and sat staring at the dash. All her friends would be out of town tonight, it would be the perfect time to meet with the dyke. She could get that out of the way and if she did she wouldn't have to keep dreading it. She decided that would be the best thing to do, so she went right into the house and pulled out the phone book. Mandy's dad was a professor and there was only one Dr. Richardson in the book. As she started to dial, her dream flashed back into her head and she felt herself sweating, but she controlled it and counted the rings. Someone picked up after the fourth.

"Hello?"

"Mandy? This is Christy Coburn."

"Hello."

"Are you doing anything tonight?" Chris asked.

"No."

'Well, we're partners on Mrs. Moran's English project and I was wondering if you wanted to get together and go over it and pick topics and all that crap."

"Sure, you want to come over here or should I come over there? Or would you rather meet somewhere?"

"Ummm…"

"You'd rather come over here? Fine, I'll see you around eight," Mandy said in a strangely hypnotic voice.

She had been about to suggest they meet at the library, but her mind seemed to go blank on her.

"Umm, yeah, sure. Eight's good," Christy found herself replying.

"See ya then," Mandy said and hung up.

Christy shook her head to clear it. It seemed to be heavy, like she felt when she first woke up in the morning. Why on earth did she agree to going over to her house? She started to call back, but thought better of it. It wouldn't be any less odious at her house than it would at the library, but she did decide to borrow her dad's car so no one would know she was there.

"Hello Christy."

"Hi, Mrs. Richardson, is Mandy in?" Christy replied.

"Yes, she's up in her room why don't you have a seat while I get her?"

"Thank you."

Christy had borrowed her dad's Volvo and was dressed down, jeans and a flannel top with her hair back in a pony tail. She had waited until nothing was moving on the street before getting out and approaching the door. She was still standing in the foyer when Mandy appeared at the head of the stairs.

"Come on up," she called.

Christy walked up and saw Mandy wave at her from the doorway to a room on the south end of the house. She passed Mrs. Richardson, who was heading downstairs and hesitantly entered Mandy's room.

Unlike her own room, it was neat and tidy, with a big queen sized bed taking up most of it. A computer desk sat in the corner with a wickedly powerful looking machine under it. There were a couple of still life prints on the walls, and an armoire with a TV, VCR, DVD player and stereo receiver.

"Not what you were expecting?" Mandy said after a moment.

"No, not really," Christy admitted.

Mandy smiled, sat in the computer chair and pulled her English book off the shelf. With nowhere else to sit, Christy sat gingerly on the bed.

"So what topic you want?" she asked.

Christy looked down and opened her bag when she looked back up Mandy had moved and was staring at her. Their eyes locked and Mandy's eyes seemed to grow large and luminous. Christy couldn't look away and felt herself drowning in those deep pools.

"Right, so I'll take Hector as the tragic hero and you'll take Helen as the Siren. Our combined theme will be prototypical characters in Greek tragedy and how their appearance in the Iliad shows it's a myth cycle rather than fact."

"What? Huh?" Christy said, shaking her head violently.

"Are you all right?" Mandy said.

"I'm fine," Christy said defensively.

"Okay, you've just been spacing out the last two hours…"

"I just got here!" Christy asserted in confusion.

"Christy, it's past ten," Mandy said reasonably.

"Oh bullshit, what are you up to?" Christy demanded.

"You sure you're all right?" Mandy asked again.

Christy started to snap at her, but her eyes fell on her note book. It was filled with notes on Helen of Troy. Notes that weren't there a minute ago.

The clock on the bedside table read 10:15 and Christy sat back down, feeling shaky. How on earth could she just lose two whole hours like that? The last thing she remembered was Mandy's eyes and some weird dreamlike conversation, but the words were all gibberish.

"Mom!" she heard Mandy shouting.

"What is it?" the older woman said, rushing down the hallway.

"I think Chris is sick or something."

"What's wrong dear?" the older woman said, sitting next to Christy and feeling her head.

"I don't know, I…I don't remember anything," Christy mumbled.

"Good Lord, you're burning up!"

"Go get her a cold glass of water and a couple of Tylenol," Mrs. Richardson ordered her daughter.

"No, really, I'm fine, I just…I need to go home."

"Chris, I'm not letting you drive. You just told me you can't remember anything and you have a bad fever. If you black out behind the wheel, you could be killed. Let's get some water in you and some Tylenol to bring the fever down. I'll call your mother and I'll drive you home. Mr. Richardson can drive your car. All right?"

"I guess," Christy said.

It was easier than arguing and she had a good point. If Christy smashed up her dad's car he would be plenty pissed. And she really couldn't remember the last two hours. Couldn't remember them at all. Not even a little bit. It was scary and she was glad there was an adult around.

Mrs. Richardson called her mom from the phone on Mandy's bedside table and then told Christy to lie down and rest.

"But..."

"Don't worry honey. Your mother said you had a bad nightmare a few days ago and Doc Sheppard gave you an injection. He said there might be some short term memory issues. Your folks are coming to get you. Just rest."

Christy lay back on Mandy's bed and tried as hard as she could to recall the last two hours. She even picked up her notes, but while they were very detailed, they didn't bring anything back at all.

Mrs. Richardson hovered and fretted, much like her own mother would and stayed with her until her folks arrived. They thanked the Richardsons profusely and her mother bundled her up before walking her out to the car. Through it all Mandy stayed in the background and Christy couldn't shake the feeling she was very self-satisfied.

When she got home her mother put her straight to bed and took her temp. She then called the doctor and within forty-five minutes, Christy found herself at the ER. They gave her an IV drip and some medicine, ran a few tests and kept her till well after midnight when her fever finally broke. She was exhausted when she got in and fell immediately into a deep slumber that had no dreams.

"Honey, you didn't share a drink with her or anything did you?" Mandy's mother asked as she walked back into the room.

"No ma, we didn't drink, just went over our projects," Mandy replied as her mother sprayed Lysol in the air and wiped down the surfaces Christy had touched.

"Good," her mother said as she stripped Mandy's bed, taking the linen down to wash.

Mandy shook her head and went to the hall closet to get her other set of linens. As she made the bed she hummed to herself. This was an unforeseen outcome of her evening, she could barely wait to see what other results would come.

She waited until her folks were in bed and the house was quiet before she pulled out her book and began to study it again. The problem was, the spells just didn't come out and tell you what the results would be. They hinted at them, in vague references, many of them allusions to plays now lost forever or books last read before the library at Alexandria burned.

The one she had used on Christy was called Prisoner of Will and it said, in a very vague way, that the caster would control the subject's will, but what exactly that entailed she had no idea. After tonight she was getting an inkling and if her guesses were correct, Christy Coburn was in her thrall to a far greater degree than even Mrs. Moran. She stayed up late, translating the next spell and occasionally rereading a passage in the Prisoner of Will description.

She finally gave up at around four in the morning and went to bed. She would know more tomorrow.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, go on mom. I've got Aunt Helen's number. Joey and dad and the kids will miss you if you aren't there. I'm fine, really," Christy said.

"Well, you have my cell. Now call Aunt Helen if anything…"

"Mom, please," she interrupted, "I'm eighteen, not eight, I'll be fine."

Her mother nodded dubiously, kissed her forehead and eased out of her room. Christy rolled over and was trying to go back to sleep when she heard the front door shut and later, her mom drive away.

She was dead asleep and dreaming something pleasant when, at precisely 10:00 her eyes flared open.

Christy tossed the blankets back, hurried down the hallway to the bathroom and tossed her nightshirt in the hamper as she started a shower. She was already under the water and her hair was soaking when she paused to wonder why she was taking a shower.

"Oh well," she said out loud.

She lathered up good and thoroughly soaped her body before rinsing. She then shaved her long legs and pits, soaped up again and rinsed. She considered attacking her bikini area, but decided against it and turned off the taps. Christy dried off and wrapped her hair in a towel as she headed back to her room.

She was planning on falling back in bed, but instead moved to her dresser and pulled open her underwear drawer. Not the regular one, where she kept most of her things, but the one where she kept her really sexy stuff. That was unusual and she paused trying to make sense of her actions. Her hands were already digging through the frilly panties and delicate nighties and she couldn't find a reason why she shouldn't be putting on something sexy. It was so hard to think for some reason.

She selected a tiny pair of white bikini panties and a matching demi-cup bra. Once she had them on, she turned back towards her bed and was all set to crash, but for some reason she moved to her closet instead. She watched her hands rifle her outfits, almost like a spectator. I guess I should be getting dressed, she thought, though she wasn't sure why.

She selected a sheer white top and her shortest black mini skirt. She had barely zipped it when she stepped into a pair of black heels, grabbed her bag and hurried down stairs. She took her keys off the key ring and was in her car and on the road before she snapped out of the lethargic state the dull routine produced.

She turned into Beacon street, instead of crossing and that's when it hit her. She was meting Mandy at the library to work on their project! She wasn't too happy about that, but she was glad her body seemed to remember it, even if her mind was still trying to catch up.

She parked in the municipal parking lot and took the small city tram over to the library. When she got off she hurried in and found Mandy in the back reading room. She was sitting at a table in the very back, shielded from most of the rest of the room by a tall shelf of current best sellers. It didn't occur to Christy to wonder how she had known where to go until she sat down. Mandy as smiling at her like the cat who ate the canary.

"What?" Christy demanded.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"Let's get started then," Christy said, still not liking the grin.

"Yes, let's," Mandy said and licked her lips.

"What is…"

"Shush, you can only speak when answering a direct question from me," Mandy said in that slowly and carefully enunciated way she had outside class.

Christy started to snap back with an acid retort, but no sound would come. She couldn't even open her mouth.

"Now, why don't you get a little more comfy? Hmmm? You would feel much better sitting back in your chair."

To her utter amazement, she nodded mutely and sat back in her chair.

"No, you still look uptight. Why don't you undo a couple of those buttons on your blouse and spread your legs a little? Wouldn't that make you more comfortable?"

"No," Christy snapped.

"You have to do it," Mandy ordered.

She did. She couldn't resist as she spread her legs as wide as her skirt allowed and mechanically unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse.

"Now that we're more comfy, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, so you can now ask questions," Mandy said, again using that slow, heavily enunciated voice.

"What's going on?" Christy wailed.

"Shhh. This is a library, keep your voice down, unless you want people to see you like that," Mandy said with a smug grin.

"What's going on?" Christ nearly whispered.

"Well, basically, your will is in my keeping. I won't bore you with the details, but it boils down to this, what I tell you becomes your reality, in as much as your will can make it so. For instance, I can't tell you you're a chicken, but I could tell you, you had to act like a chicken and you would. Shall I demonstrate?"

"No!"

"Perhaps you're right, that would be too indiscreet. But I do think you need a little demonstration."

Christy shook her head, but Mandy just smiled.

"Christy, your pussy is itching, you are more horny than you can stand and you just HAVE to have something in there right now or you'll die," she said in that hypnotic voice.

Tears welled in the blonde's eyes, but her hands ripped her skirt up and pulled her panties aside, frantically digging into the tender flesh of her pussy. The ungodly desire to be filled didn't end until she had two fingers jammed deeply into herself.

Mandy chuckled as her victim ripped her fingers out and pulled her skirt down.

"As you can see, my words make your reality."

"What do you want?" Christy asked, while dreading the answer.

"Well, that's all up to you. You see, you have a choice. You can keep your free will and do as I say by choice, in which case you're going to become very good at eating my pussy. Or you can make me use my power to make you WANT to get good at eating my pussy."

"That doesn't seem like much of a choice," Christy said.

"Oh, but there is a choice. If you choose to do what I tell you, every time I tell you, without hesitation, I'll let you go when I get tired of it and feel like I've had my revenge for you being such a bitch to me the last year and a half."

"Or?"

"Or, you'll serve me anyway, you just won't have any control of it and when I'm tired of you I'll fuck your world for good. Maybe I'll tell you your deepest desire is to find a big, hard, mean pimp and make your living turning tricks. Won't mummy and daddy love that? Or maybe I'll tell you, you have a thing for black guys, and you just have to come on to any you meet and you love unprotected sex. I'm sure eight or ten screaming brats will do wonders for your figure and be so fulfilling. Or maybe I'll just make you a dyke for the rest of your life. The possibilities are endless and they all suck for you. If you really fight me, I'll just ask you what the worst fate you can think of is and I'll make that your reality."