When the bell finally rang, I dumped my books into my locker and sought out my teacher, Cynthia Van Horn in her Humanities class.

Cynthia had changed since I had done her last. She looked older now, more mature. More like a twenty-nine year old schoolteacher and less like the spoiled cunt I had rained semen onto in the backseat of her Ford Expedition. She was more deferent to me; my opinions mattered; my essay questions perfect. Amazing what a bit of the old ultra-violent can do.

I caught my teacher alone in her class. She froze when she saw me, like a deer in the headlights.

"Mrs. Van Horn?"

"yes, Damien?", she whispered in fear.

"I was wondering if I could get some special tutoring this afternoon. Say, in about twenty minutes in the upstairs Janitor's closet?"

"no..."

"yes," I whispered back.

"Damien, I've got cheerleading practice today. I don't have...I can't...not here..."

"Practice starts in half an hour. I'll only need you for about five minutes, if you're good. Anyway, now that you mention it, wear a cheerleader's outfit. That might speed things up for me, if you know what I mean."

"Damien. Please. I'm begging you."

"Twenty minutes. Clock's running."

I left.

Twenty minutes later, I went upstairs to the second floor of the mostly empty high school. When the coast was clear, I slipped into the Janitor's closet. And found my pretty little schoolteacher already there. Already changed into an old cheerleader's outfit; her own clothes neatly folded, for once, on a shelf. Crying softly to herself. The Janitor's closet was a weakly-lit, narrow, rectangular room with shelves of strong-smelling cleaning agents and the equipment needed to keep the school looking presentable. Mops, and a low white mop sink at the rear. A folding chair for the Janitor to sit in when he was hiding here from the administration. And my silky, blonde, short-haired teacher. Almost cringing away as I approached.

"Still spooked from last Friday?"

She nodded immediately.

"Don't worry about that. I was just punishing you for a transgression. It's water under the bridge, okay?"

She nodded disbelievingly at me. Always best to go along with the insane.......(cont)