Chapter 18 #3
Then I read the bottom line above the signature: Due to the illegality of public sex, the school may refer this to the police if such action seems warranted. That made me want to vomit.
Five o’clock arrived, and I trotted up those stairs again.
I headed for the principal’s office, already feeling like a pariah dog about to get stoned.
The office was empty but the principal’s secretary, Mr. Stone, signaled from the school meeting room down the corridor.
I walked to it and entered, doing my best prim, proper girl with a broomstick up one’s ass impression.
There had been that one time I had seen that done.
It had been revelatory and made me wonder about brooms.
“Miss Morrison, please be seated.”
Mr. Stone ushered me to a lone chair on one side of a long table with five people already on the opposite side. Two men, three women, including the principal. I recognized Mr. Wharton and probably had sent him a mortified stare. He smirked, actually smirked at me.
Fuck.
The meeting commenced, with principal Mary Bolt reading out all the legal necessaries, then inviting Mr. Wharton to blab.
“You saw Miss Morrison participate in public sex under a tree at Trinity Park, Mr. Wharton?”
“I did. It was very obvious to me what was happening and from the ahhh bondage equipment used, I gather it was an encounter of the BDSM kind.
I fumed at that. If he even knew what BDSM was, maybe he wasn’t any more moral than I was. Okay I was stretching to get to that conclusion. Even so, I wanted to put his head on a pike, starting at the ass end and letting him slide down.
I smiled at him grimly.
“Do you deny this, Miss Morrison?” the other man asked.
“I object to being accused and deny it…” I leaned forward and looked serious. “Vehemently, sir.”
“I ummm may have taken a photo,” Mr. Wharton said timidly. “For proof, of course.”
I sank back into my chair. Crappity crap.
“Oh my.” The principal twisted to stare at him, then at me. “Miss Morrison if these images exist, we will have to submit them to the police. Do you understand?”
I blushed hot. “Yes, of course. But they don’t do they?”
“Um, they do.”
“Do you deny you were there, Miss Morrison?” the man asked. “I gather you were feeding ducks before the encounter.”
“I was feeding ducks a few days ago. I just do not know what…” I could see they had made up their minds, and my voice faded, croaked out into nothing. I cleared my throat.
“Gentlemen and ladies?” The principal had dismissed me from her world. “I think that was enough, don’t you?”
They nodded.
Mr. Wharton’s phone chimed, and he pulled it into view, garnering frowns from the others.
“Shouldn’t that be away or muted or something?” Principal Bolt asked.
“Umm. Ahh. It was an important family message. I do apologize.” He tucked it away. “Now. Where were we?”
“We voted to dismiss Miss Morrison and have agreed the evidence is enough. Correct?” She eyed them and they nodded.
Had they voted? I opened my mouth.
“Also Mr. Wharton. We will be carrying this to the police and suggesting a public indecency charge be brought. Could you please show me those images so I can be sure of their truth and their existence, before I do so.”
I was struck numb and quivering with a mix of indignation and shame. What could I do? Had we been indecent? I thought we were concealed under that tree.
I almost said so but…no.
“Oh, well.” He fumbled the cellphone and nearly dropped it, then we waited an eternity for him to find the images.
I was sitting but feeling as if I should run somewhere. But if that wasn’t an admission of guilt, what was?
They had already dismissed me. Fuck this. They couldn’t make me stay.
I stood slowly, nodded to the three not playing with a phone. “I might go.”
The secretary looked taken aback, stunned even.
Mr. Wharton whispered something to the principal.
The principal sighed and woke from her self-imposed silence. “That’s okay, Mr. Wharton.” She patted his hand. “The images seem to have been deleted, and Mr. Wharton wants to retract his evidence.” Her smile was one hundred percent a condescending one.
“I for one do not accept this. You are dismissed still, Miss Morrison, from your duties at the school. All it takes is enough board votes. Thank goodness our morality clause is part of an iron-clad agreement. You are in fact,” she smiled then not-smiled at me. “Fired.”
Somewhere, sometime, in the miasma of shock my head was stewing in, a security guard materialized and walked me out to the mostly empty parking lot.
Sunset had happened. Streetlights were coming on. I breathed in the cooling air and resisted, yet again, bursting into tears.
“I need a drink,” I muttered. “God, I need a drink. Who though?” Who would join me? With shaking hand, I searched my handbag for my phone.
Charity of course. She would forgive me anything and probably murder my enemies with a fork if I requested it.
“Us, you get us, Miss Morrison.”
I blanched at that voice and turned to see Mr. Scott and Axl bearing down on me. They flanked me and crowded me, reminding me how much taller they were. Or how much smaller I was.