The smile that Mel Taylor gave Terry Owens made her extremely uncomfortable. Something about that kid that was no good...

"Hi Terry."

"That's 'Ms. Owens' to you young man." She sounded liked an affronted old lady and immediately wished she hadn't responded so peevishly. At thirty-five, Terry wasn't exactly ancient. True she was a single mom of a seventeen year old, but she kept herself in good shape, working out at the gym when she could. Anyway, she certainly didn't think of herself as old-- even if the student body of Regis Academy might not agree.

Mel threw her a shrug that said "whatever." "How's Janine?" She didn't like the way his weird light blue eyes danced as he asked about her daughter, like him a member of the junior class at Regis Academy.

Terry turned and aimed an evil eye at the teenager. "She better be in class-- like you, young man. Now get moving-- before I have Mr. Donovan the headmaster give you some encouragement!" She started to rise and pointed at the closed door of the Headmaster's Office, which as the School Secretary Terry guarded.

He smiled sidewise, then....

Terry found herself sitting down again. She was blinking rapidly and her forehead was humid with persperation. "Ahhh...you get going to class now."

The boy drop his gaze and sauntered out of the Administration Office just as Third Period bell rang.

She was lightheaded. Too much coffee? Too much work. She HAD thrown herself into the new job as Donovan's right hand at Regis Academy completely and was spending long hours trying to make sense of the filing system that Mrs. Gibbons, the recently retired Regis fixture, had left her. Likewise the accounting procedures which she was revamping and the coursework review required of Donovan. demanded high concentration. But it was challenging work, offering the kind of opportunity few high school graduates ever saw these days.

Probably she was overworking as a way of saying thank-you to Donovan and Regis Acedemy. She was determined to prove to them that the chance that they had taken with an out-of-town single mother down on her luck and nearly living in her car was a decision they wouldn't regret. God knows, things were better now than they had been in the months following Jim's exit stage-right from their miserable and often abusive marraige. She-- and Janine-- were on their feet now, thanks to Donovan and Regis Acedemy.

The exhaustion wooried her though. Maybe she was working out too much. Perhaps she was a bit fanatical with her workouts. At 5" 5' and 120 pounds, she probably overdid it. She had never been body concious during her marraige-- there seemed little need to since Jim was always running around on the side anyway. Hell, they would never had gotten married if his parents hadn't demanded it after she had gotten prenant. He had been shocked that his fling under the bleachers would have had such long reching effects. But his parents were dead now and he had never really gotten to know Janine enough to even like her. An awful, living hell of a marraige.

But with the divorce came a need to prove herself. One of the things Jim always threw at her were her looks and they were all true. "Flat as a board" True- she wore a 32 A cup that barely broke the plane of her blouses. "Fat" Not really-- working out had trimmed off ten pounds without too much work and she had would never have gained weight if Jim had been around more. "Plain." She sighed. Yes, she was plain. Not that she could help it. Cursed with mousy brown hair, a pale freckled complexion and thin, uninteresting features, Terry had a waif-like Sissy Spacek look to her that did little to attract male attention.

That had changed a little bit with working out though. If she wasn't about to become a runway model, at least her trim figure caught some male glances. Ten hours a week at Better Bodies had paid off. She had caught Donovan taking a sidelong glance at her better "assets" and even when walking among the blooming teenage beauties of Regis Academy, she often felt the eyes of some of the boys, not many but some, on her swaying backside.

But maybe she was overdoing it. She sat up, shook off the lapse in control and promptly forgot the incident. When she looked up, Mel was gone.

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

Mr. Donovan had a strange look on his face when he requested she stay past five-thirty. "You can imagine what we need to talk about," he had winked. Sure, she replied casually-- then was nervous for the next two hours till, afer the last of the students an dteachers had left the administration building, he had called her in.

"Sit down, Terry. I want to talk to you about your note."

Note?

His eyes narrowed greedily. "I think we can come to an...arrangement. Provided you behave yourself. Which we both know you will." Again the sly, dirty wink.

She blushed and looked away. What was he talking about?

He continued, in comfortable command of the situation. "You ARE a homely little piece of ass, but that ass is a tight one. Ever been fucked up the ass Terry?"

She shot up like a rocket.

"Sit down, you stupid little whore. Don't give me that holier-than-thou attitude-- you know you're nothing but a hole now-- MY hole." He chuckled. "I mean my three holes."

Terry was white as a ghost. Donovan was insane, he had lost it, he--

---tossed a xeroxed letter in front of her, paperclipped to a manila folder. "At least it loked like three holes from the fun in here."

Terry slumped back into the chair. The xerox shook from her trembling hand...

"Dear Sir,

I know my six month probation is coming to an end and you will make a decision whether or not to keep me in my current job as your secretary. I have tried very hard to do my job as secretary well and I hope you will let keep me my job. Right now my job is everything to me, not only for the $14,000 salary I am paid, but also because as an employee of Regis Academy, my daughter Janine is allowed to attend for free- so you can see how concerned I am about keeping my job.

I am honest about my situation, Mr. Donovan. I need this job very much for the reasons I've stated. I don't have many options if you decide not to retain me as your secretary. I also know that while I believe I have been an effective secretary for you, I also am aware that I may be a bit too independent-minded for your taste-and that this may affect your decision.

I have put together the attached package for your consideration. As you review the enclosures, I hope you will find reasons to retain me as your secretary.

Sincerely,

Terry"

"I guess you were busy yesterday afternoon, hmmm Terry? Now I know why you wanted to leave so early in the day." Donovan was leering at her.

Yesterday afternoon? Left early?

Suspiciously she opened the envelope and pulled out some typed documents. Test results-negative for HIV, syphillis, and a number of sexually transmitted diseases. Dated yesterday with a "RUSH" stamped on it.

Had she been to the doctor? Yesterday? Unreality flooded her consciousness. It looked genuine, but how had it happened without any memory whatsoever?

She placed the papers on Donovan's desk, too amazed to pay attention to his hungry stares. There was another document, one she couldn't make sense of. A certificate of some kind-showing that she had undergone some procedure. Scanning the document, she learned what the procedure had involved. Norplant. "For prevention of pregnancy for the period of no less than five years."

Norplant? Wasn't that what they gave girls in the ghetto so they wouldn't conceive illegitimate children? Why would she have had this done-and not remember it?

Terry nearly dropped the manila envelope as she pulled the stack of glossies out. She didn't need to examine each and every one-- there was a contact sheet on top for easy reference. Nor did she need to guess who the subject was. It was herself.

In the first frame, she was looking at the camera, clearly posing in a skimpy half-cut tee shirt and red bikini panties (HER red bikini panties, her 'date' panties as she thought of them) for the shooter. No nudity though. It could be seen as innocent-couldn't it. Next she was wearing the peach strapless bikini, with one cup pulled down to coyly show off her embarrassingly small left breast. She could feel Donovan's eyes on her and her cheeks blossomed crimson. The photos were getting much worse.

In the next there was no pretense at what she was offering Donovan. She stood staring at the camera barechested with a slightly embarrassed come-hither smile as she pulled off her red bikini date-panties. The next was mercifully a top shot. She was displaying her small chest for him in full light, a sad defeated smile on her face as she presented herself for male inspection.

Her boss was focusing on her chest now. Before this, she had caught him ogling her in the office but a quick stare would send him scurrying. Not now. His stare was confident, cruel and possessive.

She shivered, trying to ignore the boring eyes. Now she was on her bed in her white gauzy nighty-top and the matching near-nothing see-through panties. She was turned on her side with a mischievous smile on her face, her fingers toying with the elastic of the panty. But the coyness didn't hold long, because then she was on her side, nighty-top untied leaving her small pointy breasts poking out and panties long gone. Displaying her neatly trimmed narrow-furred bush (it was an exclamation mark now, not a bush--- when had she done that?) between spread legs with an expectant, "ready for you" expression.

"Never took you for a model, Terry. But you certainly put your all into your little photo shoot for me." Donovan's raspy chuckle was dirty and dismissive. It said he now had the right to speak to her this way.

Terry's eyes blurred, but she forced herself to focus on the remaining shots. She wished she hadn't. In the earlier shots, there was some element of playfulness, but in the remaining frames, that was gone. It was replaced by a pathetic sluttishness, as if the viewer was growing bored with the antics of the plain, flat-chested thirty-something. Now she was leering back at the camera, nude and toying with her breasts, then spending her time with even more intimate parts of her body---

She slammed the photos on the desk, too stunned to speak.

"It was kind of you to include the negatives-"

NEGATIVES

The word triggered a sudden comprehension of her situation. Yesterday afternoon. Leaving the office early with this whole idea, her thoughts static with fear that her job might be in jeopardy. The trip to the clinic, buying the camera and film. Writing the letter and then...posing. NEGATIVES. The word squirmed, an electric eel in her brain. Now she remembered it all. Why had she been so oblivious to his behavior toward her all that day? Naturally he looked at her differently now.

"-and you'll be happy to know that I've put them in a safe place should you decide to be, say...less than cooperative with our new arrangement?" Donovan smiled over the tips of his fingers, which were pressed together under his chin. He looked like a spectator at a fight going his way.

"If I'm not cooperative?" Terry responded slowly. Half a question, half a statement.

"Then I'll turn over the photos to social workers who I imagine would remand your daughter Janine to some Youth Center while it gets sorted out. Public morals and all. And the photos would probably get distributed publically, oh say over the internet or something. Then everyone would get an idea of what a horny little piece of ass you really are." He wagged his head in pleasant surprise. "Must say I was surprised that the ever-so-efficient Ms. Terry Owens was really such a bimbo."

Terry looked down and away, wishing she wasn't there, that there was another way. She flushed, face hot with shame, humiliated that, as if on cue, her body was responding to her boss'es humiliating treatment. There was no mistaking the quickening between her legs. At the word 'bimbo' she had become terribly excited.

"Well let's begin-why don't you do some of those sexy poses in person for me-as a warm up."

Avoiding his eyes, she began undressing. In a few seconds she stood in her underwear. She wasn't surprised to find herself in her sexy red 'date' panties-hadn't she known this was going to happen? Words were no longer necessary, as she could read what he wanted next. As she knelt to service him, a last vague thought occurred to her.

If she had been posing for the photos, the ones that would keep her chained to Donovan for who knew how long, who had been taking them? Then, as quickly as it had appeared to her, it vanished like a dry leaf in the Fall wind. There were other more urgent duties to concentrate on. *****************

"Meldar, eat your asparagus!"

The teen stared sullenly at the Earth vegetables as he consumed them. His parental units were talking about their work. By Gritza, how boring was that!

"So, Keldar, how was your day today?" his mother asked his father.

"Ahhh! What marvel is this pot roast Dovar! How this nutritional treasure would be revered on Homeworld!" He consumed another forkful of the smoking meat. "My day was most successful. A gunman who occupied a daycare center in Montana used his weapon upon himself before harming the children. A serial killer was found asleep at a bus stop in Topeka and apprehended without incident. And a gang leader in Los Angeles gave himself up to police." Keldar enjoyed another biteful. "He was implicated in a drive-by shooting! And you?"

"May I be excused?" demanded Meldar rudely.

Dovar wagged a finger at him. "Quiet! Behave yourself and sit and converse with us, Meldar, for a few minutes more." She turned back to her marraige partner. "My day was a busy one Keldar. Negotiations on the West Bank were successfully concluded to the satisfaction of all. A coup by Ukrainian colonels was prevented in time by democratic elements. And an Iranian terrorist group was apprehended in Orly atempting to smuggle a portion of plutonium!"

"Ahh most gratifying! Homeworld will be most pleased with our tranmissions today! And your day Meldar? Did you absorb much education and learn from your classmates?"

It was hard for Meldar to keep from snickering a little, quickly picked up by his parental units.

"Meldar! What have you done?" demanded his father.

"Meldar! What have you done?" demanded his mother.

Each remembered the recent (and highly) embarrasing incident with the cheerleader squad at Meldar's last school.

"Do you forget that the Homeworld has sent us here as Protector-Monitors of this System? Have you again altered one of your human peers?" demanded Keldar.

Dovar shook her head in anxiety. Porterville High School was STILL reeling over the lesbian cheerleader scandal of last Fall! She had hoped the relocation to the new educational site would curb Meldar's mischeivous nature, but it was ever a battle, especially in this turbulent chrono-period of sexual tensions. On Homeworld, he would have had no power over his peers. But these humans were so malleable, so easy to manipulate and control-- exactly why she and Keldar had been dispatched here. Teenagers-- so infuriating!

But Meldar shook his head with the innocence of a Three-winged Kaylok. "Oh no, parentals! I have not altered a human peer! I swear!"

Keldar nodded with relief. Obviously he had misinterpreted his son's expression and felt guilty. "Accept my apologies Meldar. Your parentals have experienced fatiguing workspans."

Meldar grudgingly took the apology, though retained a grimace. He wished to experience programming on the visual reception device later that nocturnal period and this policy would aid when he made this request in three hour's time.

Wishing to break the impasse, Dovar smiled. "You may leave the table Meldar."

After their son had left the living room table, both parents expressed relief that Meldar was behaving himself afterall. It made Dovar's next comment easier to make.

"Bosnia? Of course I'll accompany you, if you believe the situation requires both our presences," Keldar replied. "And after all, it would seem Meldar can be trusted by himself to be left alone for a few days."

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

Terry slapped down the twenty dollar bill without looking at the clerk. She recoiled as he slipped the bill into the cash register and aimed an indecent leer her way. With a quick grab, she snatched the keys made filthy by his touch from the No-Tell Motel's check-in counter and spun out of the office towards the room. All the way out, she could feel his bug green colored eyes on her ass. Terry Owens shuddered, grateful to turn the corner and remove herself from his sight. She didn't bother to check the room number-- it was always the same.

As she opened the door and flipped on the light, the only thought on her mind was how she would buy groceries. The twenty dollar bill had been her last, leaving a mere $11.12 in her pocketbook and less than $50 in her checkbook. Damn-- payday was a week away! But if she hadn't come to an 'arrangement' with the clerk some weeks ago, it would have been $40 for afternoon use of the room. God, if Mr. Donovan ever found out she was giving blowjobs for $20 to cover half the room tab, he'd be furious! But she had to cover it some way-- Mr. Donovan told her that she was responsible for paying for the room. That way if it ever came public, she was the one that would look bad and not him. Her name on the registry-- not his. Oh well-- as long as she gave the blowjob AFTER servicing The Boss, he'd never find out. She had to remember to please ask Vinnie if he could try and not cum on her clothes. Last week the clerk had shot globs all over her new tank top, the one The Boss loved. It had taken a while to get the stains out.

She sighed and quickly and efficiently stripped off her knit top and miniskirt, leaving her only in her black fishnets, high heels, black lace garter belt, black panties and bra. She slipped into her purse and pulled out a black velvet choker, hooking it snugly around her pale neck. The Boss liked her in chokers. Then she slipped to her knees directly in front of the door and waited for him.

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

"I'll be working late tonight, so here's five dollars for some dinner-o.k.?"

"Terry! Get in here-NOW! This coffee is COLD dammit!" It was Mr. Donovan's voice, booming from inside his office. Her mother looked instinctively at the door.

"Be right there, Sir!" Nervously, she palmed the five into her hand. "I've got to go, honey. See you later."

Janine turned to go, then remembered she needed to tell her mother Mr. Jackson had asked about the overdue rent again. She regretted turning back though. From the corner of the doorframe, she watched her mother hurriedly concentrate on her reflection in the small compact that always seemed to be in her hand now. She was expertly applying a fresh coat of fire engine red lipstick on her pursed lips. Putting the compact away, she tousled her long long red curly hair sexily. She looked around furtively and Janine ducked back. Then, certain no one was coming, she cupped her breasts together and up.

"Get in here NOW Terry! Don't make me call you again!" the voice commanded ominously.

"Just freshening up, Sir!" Janine flushed in shame as she watched her mother deftly unbutton the top three buttons on her red knit form-fitting blouse with those long polished red nails. Assuming a naughty, kittenish smile, her mother wiggled her way into the Headmaster's Office, closing the door behind her. Janine stood in shock, horrified. A few seconds later, her mother's voice-not the normal, everyday voice of a few weeks ago but a new squeaky little girl voice-- escaped from behind the office door.

"Oh, Mr. Donovan, Sir-I'm a GOOD girl! Please!" Then her giggle-a vacuous bimbo giggle-and silence punctuated by soft feminine sighs and the occaisional male grunt.

With a face as red as a tomato, Janine Owens spun away from the Administration Office as quickly as her legs could take her.

Her mother was a slut. And everyone in the school knew it.

She hadn't believed in the beginning. She chalked up the new 'after-hours' schedule to a hectic workload. Then the fashion changes-her mother dumping out all her pantsuits and replacing them with spandex miniskirts that some of the most daring female students wouldn't be caught dead in. Her flats suffered the same fate, all being replaced by high heels-and nothing under three inchs. And garter belts and seamed stockings did the work of pantyhose now. Her mother had never been big into makeup but she was now. Not tasteful stuff either-more the cheap Teen Spirit stuff than Chanel. The weekly visits to the hairdresser and the large amount of hair spray which helped maintain the new big hair mallrat look her mother had assumed were impossible to ignore. Still, maybe she was just opening up a little-having fun. Janine could have rationalized any number of ways-trying to regain her youth by having fun with her appearence, etc.

But there was the dirty laundry. With her new "busy" schedule, her mother had no time to handle housecleaning around the apartment and Janine was happy to help out-at first. But as she hauled the hamper down to the apartment's basement where the washing machines and dryers lived, she was embarrassed at the items she found within it. Push-up bras, g-strings, bustieres-her mother dressed more like a stripper than a secretary. It was doubly embarrassing when Mr. Jackson the building super watched her, giving her knowing leers that made her hate her mother even more. His beady eyes said it all-"Your momma's a whore."

And he was right. Because it wasn't simply that her mother wore such wanton underthings. That was bad enough. But she knew, if not from personal experience, what was so often smeared crustily over the dainty lace and silk of the lingerie.

It was cum.

Mr. Donovan's cum.

She quickly stifled the humiliating knowledge within as her classmate approached her. The smile that Mel Taylor gave Janine Owens made her extremely uncomfortable. Something about him was real weird. And what was he doing walking around with that polaroid camera?

"Hi Janine. Take your picture? It is for the yearbook," he explained wryly. "Come on-- follow me."

She blinked and Meldar smiled. With the parent units out of the house, it was going to be a nice long weekend.

The End