After School Special/Part Three

by Marlissa

A tall, youngish man of thirty-eight or so opened the front door,
eyeing him suspiciously. Brenda looked up, biting her lower
lip. "Daddy," she explained as they got out of the car. "You'll
tell him I'm doing well in Home Ec and Gym?"

Glen nodded and extended his hand. "Mr. Mason, I'm Glen
Simmons, the Guidance Counselor at Bentson High School."

The man's mien softened. He reminded Glen of a tv lawyer--
slightly graying hair, strong, conservative presence and a self-
confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Nice to meet you. To
be honest, I thought my Brenda was getting a ride home from a
high school boy. No offense intended," he added humorously.

Glen blushed. "None taken. I offered to give your daughter a
ride home because of something that happened at school today--
"

"Has she gotten herself into some mischief, Glen?" He looked
critically at Brenda, who looked at Glen with hurt betrayal.

"No-- she hasn't done anything Mr. Mason. It was just a
schoolyard prank really. Actually if your wife is home, I'd like
to ask you some questions."

The attorney masterfully waved off the request. "Come in the
house first and let's get this cleared up. Brenda, come here
girl."

Brenda, standing frightened between the two, obeyed and with
eyes downcast and by the older man's side, walked with them
into the house. Inside a tall striking redhead of thirty-five was
pulling off a lab coat. Glen thought she looked like a younger
Sigourney Weaver, with a hard edged, no-nonsense way about
her. She was introduced as Mrs. Mason. It nettled Glen who
liked first names not to be granted the courtesy of calling these
people by their first names even as they called him Glen. They
had a way, Glen could tell right off of making one seem
inferior. Probably got that from giving orders to everyone all
day long.

The four were in the living room, the Masons and Glen sitting
and Brenda standing. Mr. Mason demanded to know what had
happened in the schoolyard and as Glen explained what had
happened, Brenda cringed. After hearing the whole story,
Mason turned his cold blue eyes on the teen.

"So, you're teasing boys again, that it?"

Brenda shook her head, the ponytail dancing in the air. "No,
Daddy! I swear!"

The parents exchanged smug looks. "Obviously Brenda needs
to be taught another in a long unbroken string of lessons, Rick.
Will you do the honors or shall I?"

The husband pointed to his chest. "You handled her last time. I
better take care of it this time. We switch off so she doesn't
think she can get away with anything," he explained to Glen.
He stood up and took off his expensive suit jacket. With
deliberate slowness, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off.
Glen watched in growing unease till he understood that Brenda
was about to be strapped with a belt for doing no more than
being a pretty girl!

"Please, it wasn't her fault! She doesn't deserve to be punished!"
he pleaded.

The man smiled cruelly. "But you said it wasn't really the boy's
fault either. Well, you don't know Brenda. She needs this," he
slapped the belt hard against his open palm," to remind her to
behave herself like a proper young lady. And no more
interruptions Glen. When I've finished with this, we can discuss
why you're here, but not before."

Glen stood up. "Perhaps I should leave."

"Whatever for?" Mrs. Mason asked fliply. "Brenda is punished
all the time. Just wait five minutes. That's all it takes."

Glen sat down, mesmerized as the girl, in resignation, draped
herself over the man's knees. As if part of a regular ritual, she
herself yanked up the miniskirt, revealing the incriminating
panties that had caused all the trouble. Mason's fingers were on
the elastic band of the panties and was ready to pull them down,
then looked at Glen and left them up. Glen looked for a tell-tale
glint of metal, but Brenda had either covered it up or it had
never been there. Of the slight bulge, Glen could see nothing
from where he was sitting.

He watched with macabre fascination as the leather belt was
raised high over the small, shapely pantied rear and fell with a
harsh crack. Brenda's eyes were closed, but she obediently
counted out each and every stroke. On the second stroke, she
broke into tears, but even then, she continued to announce each
stroke as it crashed into her backside. From the corner of his
eye, Glen noted that Lesley had unconsciously let her hand drift
down to the lap of her pants. Then, aware of it, pulled it back
stealthily.

At last, Brenda was allowed to rise. She was told to go to her
room as the adults had a talk. All three adults watched the
fourteen year old prance painfully out of the room, the slim hips
forced to swivel in an exaggerated way so as to avoid feeling
more pain.

"Little slut," Mason whispered as his eyes followed the
spandexed teen ass wriggle out of the room.

"Yes, little whore," agreed the doctor wife in a cold, reptilian
way. Glen shivered.

 Mason looked up at Glen, completely professional. "Now,
what do you have to tell us about Brenda?"

"Well, did you adopt Brenda?" he asked.

The two nodded. "Yes, when she was eleven or so. I took care
of the legalities," answered the lawyer affably.

"And did she have a brother named Danny?" Glen pushed.

The redhead rose. "Drink for you Glen?" she asked suddenly.

He looked uncertainly at the two of them. Mason answered for
him. "Yes, Lesley, great idea. Get us all some lemonade-- all
right for you Glen?"

He nodded. As the tall redhead left the room, there was a
moment when he thought their eyes met again in some secret
amusement.

"You're about what, 5' 4" Glen?"

He nodded, embarrassed about where this was going.

"Young too, huh? What are you, eighteen?"

"Twenty, Mr. Mason."

He gave him a comical look, as if to ask who could believe that.
"I thought you were sixteen when I first saw you. I'd say
definitely sixteen. What do you say, Lesley? Doesn't Glen
look as if he's about sixteen?"

She smiled with icy concurrence. "Oh yes, he's got the small
framed body of a sixteen year old at most. My apologies, Glen-
- my clinical opinion, that's all." She handed him a glass of
lemonade. "Here you go."

He took it and put it down. "Thank you. Now about this
Danny Belmont."

Mason looked at him offended. "Please, your drink first. Then
we'll tell you all you want to know about Danny and Brenda
and the way things are in our household. But please, don't be
rude-- it's hot out today. Enjoy your lemonade!"

Glen surrendered, picking up the full glass. The two Masons
watched as he drained it, leaving their own drinks alone. He
smiled. "Very good! What do you make it with?"

Dr. Mason's mouth opened wide in laughter. "Thioridizine
hydrochloride. Also known as mellaril."

Glen felt woozy. "W-what does that do?" he asked as he
slumped forward.

The husband and wife laughed. "Oh, you'll find out darling--
you'll find out very soon," the woman doctor promised.

************

The next day Glen woke to the color white. All around him,
just clean, antiseptic white. Hospital white. He tried to move
but he was in a body cast. IVs dripped liquid nourishment into
his system and he felt totally numb. He couldn't feel a thing.

"Good morning. You look pretty good for a corpse!" Mr.
Mason held his strong chin in his hand, measuring Glen's
reaction.

"W-w-ot ooo meeen?" Talking was painful and he stopped as
tears formed in his eyes.

Mason held up a copy of the local newspaper. A subhead read
in bold type HIGH SCHOOL MOURNS AS LOCAL
GUIDANCE COUNSELOR DIES IN AUTO ACCIDENT.
Glen started to cry as he blurrily made out the text:

Glen Simmons, 20 years old of Bentson, Florida was killed
Wednesday morning at 11 pm PM when his Pontiac Firebird
slammed into a restraining wall on Coast Highway 14 and
plunged into the ocean two hundred feet below. No body has
been recovered, but two witnesses, Mr. and Dr. Mason of
Solitude Lane reported that there was no question Simmons was
killed in the accident. Richard Mason, a prominent local
attorney, testified to police seeing the car swerve erratically,
then driving off the road. His wife, Dr. Lesley Mason with the
Private West Palm Beach Clinic was reported as telling police
there was no way the driver could have survived the fall and
subsequent explosion. The police have ruled out any foul play
and closed the file. No immediate relations were known at
press time."

He sobbed, which was agony. "Why dooo tis?" he tried to
scream. Why was he in such agony?

The redhaired woman was by his side with a syringe. "Sleep
little one," she whispered and the world was black again.