"Touch me, Dawn," Miss Moore pleaded, her voice hoarse.
Dawn awoke with a strangled scream, partway between bliss and fear, her skin coated with a sheen of sweat.
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Dawn could barely look at Miss Moore after the dream. The strength of the feelings it stirred inside her was terrifying. She didn't even dare write of it in her diary, lest one of the school's nuns decided to come snooping around her room, looking for contraband when she was in class. Such was the standard of Catholic morality at St. Augusta's; if it ever got out that she had dreamed of her half dressed Latin teacher making her fuck herself with her own hand before telling Dawn to touch her, they'd both be burned at the stake. Probably in the school yard, just before lunch.
She was afraid of what she might do in the few weeks left of term. The rawness and desperation of the dream paired with the knowledge that she was nearing the end of her time with Miss Moore left Dawn feeling reckless. It was two weeks before final exams, and the last official day of classes, save the end of term tutorials. Today also marked Dawn's dreaded 18th birthday.
Pieces of paper shuffled the hallways, telling of raves and parties in the woods to celebrate the upcoming graduation. Always having been obedient to avoid her father's wrath during the past year, Dawn had never partaken in the illicit parties. Tonight, that would change.
During lunch, she opened the pile of birthday cards that had arrived that morning from her friends at home. Noticing one with her Father's handwriting on it, she glowered.
Of a mind throw it in the trash bin after she read it, or just rip it up and save herself the trouble, she decided on the first.
There might be news of Isla.
Tearing the plain white envelope open, she retrieved the birthday card without ceremony and began to read. She was prepared for nothing but the self-centred rubbish her father usually came out with, but the breath in Dawn's lungs froze as she read the lower half of the card. The words blurred on the quasi-celebratory piece of paper in her hand as tears came unbidden to her eyes.
Oliver.
Engagement.
In the family interest.
Dawn sat paralyzed, her eyes staring blankly out of the cafeteria window. By the time the bell rang to signal end of lunch and return to lessons, she'd only just managed to compose herself enough to attend Latin class.
She caught Miss Moore's eye, making sure that her defeated expression conveyed every ounce of her pain. Dawn saw the teacher quickly place her tea back down on the desk, and instruct the class to continue where they left off last class. She then asked to speak to Dawn outside in the corridor.
Bingo. She had to tell Miss Moore everything. Everything? Not everything.
'Help me. Help me. Help me...' her mind chanted.
Years of self-discipline had always served Dawn well, but not today. Tears had begun to fall freely from her eyes now, and all she could do was stiffen like a board.
Ever aware of her precarious emotions, Miss Moore did not gesture for a hug, and reached to touch her arm. The gesture was as light as a feather, and yet Dawn felt weighed down by a thousand illicit caresses. She began to shake.
Miss Moore's unasked question as to what had Dawn in such a state was answered by Sr. Gertrude, the school's French teacher. As she passed them, the sister smilingly offered her congratulations to Dawn on her upcoming engagement.
Dawn's shaking stopped, and she was frozen once more. Her father had already notified the school administration?
When the nun was out of sight, Miss Moore sighed, her face turning dark with what appeared to be worry. "This obviously wasn't your decision..."
Dawn shook her head, and looked at the floor. The floor was cracked, and ugly. Unlovable. She felt like melting into it, melding with the ugly and unloved.
Miss Moore waited until another nun had passed before speaking further. "Are you comfortable telling me what is going on here, Dawn?"
Shuddering, Dawn took a breath. "I…"
Suddenly, a commotion arose from inside the classroom, followed by a classmate's sniping - 'I'm going to smash your face in, Lisa Harper!'
"Wait here," Miss Moore murmured. Striding to the classroom door, she opened it and hollered for the first time Dawn had ever seen. "Felicity McGovern, report to the Principal's office. Now!"
"But Miss Moore! She threw-" several voices entreated.
"NOW!" Miss Moore shouted, her shoulders shaking in unmitigated rage.
Even in her state, Dawn was surprised by the teacher's outburst. A girl named Felicity stomped out of the room and past them, all the while muttering under her breath.
Still at the class room door, Miss Moore's voice was like ice as she issued a further decree. "Audi! If I have to come back in here, you'll all be doing three hours of extra Latin tonight instead of whoring with your boyfriends in the woods at your end of year free for all, do I make myself clear?"
A sea of shocked faces met hers. Miss Moore had never raised her voice to them, nor had they ever heard her say such language. She could be scary, and she was strict, but rarely lost her temper.
"Good," she finished smartly, and closed the door with a slam.
Returning to the corridor, Miss Moore's mood seemed a little at seeing a small smile that Dawn felt spreading on her own face. Her teacher was... a magnificent, terrifying creature.
Dawn opened her mouth to speak, just as another nun came 'round the corner and into the hall.
Not bothering to hide her irritation at the interruption this time, Miss Moore addressed the interloper with a glare. "Yes, Sister Veronica - what is it?"
The middle-aged nun raised an eyebrow at Miss Moore, and turned to Dawn instead. "Your Father is here, Miss Rose. He has your fiancé with him."
Something inside Dawn died at that very moment, she was sure. Her knees began to knock, and the hallway started to close in on itself. Her hands were sweaty.
'Help me. Help me. Help me...'
Miss Moore held up a hand to halt any further conversation. "She'll be along in a moment Sister Veronica," she intervened, "When we're done."
Looking Miss Moore's aristocratic beauty up and down with a small sneer, the unimpressed nun shuffled off to the staff room without so much as another word.
"She is somewhere around here," Steven Rose's loud voice rang out, from down the hallway and around the corner. “We'll suss her out.”
For the briefest instant, Miss Moore's eyes registered fear as they gazed into Dawn's, before swiftly retreating into mossy pools of... emptiness. That was gone just as quickly as she turned away from Dawn.
Miss Moore turned her attention to the two sets of feet clomping towards them. They hadn't seen Dawn yet, and it seemed she wasn't about to let them. She shielded Dawn with her body, her arms held out in defense and a queer request for calm.
Borderline hysteria crept into Dawn's voice as she began to beg. "Please, n-no…"
Like a flash, Miss Moore turned again,moving Dawn into an open broom closet and out of sight. "Stay here and hide. Be absolutely silent," she whispered furiously.
The heavy wooden door of the closet shut, encasing Dawn in complete darkness. She listened as the voices of her Father and Oliver approached, and inquired of Miss Moore as to her whereabouts.
Feigning ignorance, Miss Moore lied boldly that she had no idea where a Miss Dawn Rose was.
Oliver argued to Steven that she would be coming home soon anyway, and there was no need to bother her at school. Mercifully, her father was in a passive enough mood to agree. It was quite something; under normal circumstances he would have never backed down, however trivial. Something in his voice sounded uncomfortable, and on edge.
A few moments after their footsteps faded back down the hall, the door to the utility room opened, and Miss Moore gestured for her to come out.
The bell signaling class change sounded, alarming the unusually wary teacher standing beneath it. Soon after, chattering students poured out into the corr
idor, leaving them no chance to continue their conversation.
Thanking Miss Moore with a sniffle, Dawn kept her head down and disappeared into the throng of students pushing past.
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After dinner, while everyone was getting ready for the end of term rave that night and texting their friends from nearby areas, Dawn went for a walk. A storm of emotions coursed through her as she crossed the hockey fields, and then a small creek, until she was in the woods. It was still twilight and not dark enough for it to be a bad idea to be on her own here. In the span of a few hours, the nightmare she knew awaited her after graduation had come much too close for comfort; first on a piece of paper, and then almost face to face.
It wasn't enough to tell her in her birthday card that she was expected to marry a complete stranger, she thought indignantly. No, they had to invade the last refuge she had from the situation by coming to the school. Graduation was in fourteen days. School would be over, and on that day she would be expected to return to the family home, a condemned woman.
Sure, she could have left and refused to marry Oliver, but her baby sister Isla was only eight years old now, and still under Steven's guardianship for many years to come. By God, he'd exploit that fact to the last.
She lit a cigarette nabbed from a classmate's stash and sucked the smoke down greedily, not caring whatsoever that her Father might consider the action unbecoming or unladylike. He smoked after all - why couldn't she?
Her feelings were a half-baked mix as light rain began to fall, but Dawn kept walking. The memory of Miss Moore's actions earlier that day returned to her mind.
The woman had turned viciously on the class for interrupting Dawn when she was vulnerable, and protected her from her Father and Oliver. At the time, she'd wanted to tell Miss Moore how much it had meant to her; how it had enveloped her heart with warmth, comfort, and an unspoken promise of safety.
Her love for Miss Moore was even stronger now, and a fresh stream of tears dripped from Dawn's already stinging eyes. Rage, fear, and powerlessness taunted her. As reality hit, and the feeling of the loss she would now suffer struck her. A wail of grief escaped from the depths of her being.
Several woodland animals scattered as it echoed through the surrounding forest. The thought of leaving Miss Moore for good caused a pain that emptied the remaining air in Dawn's lungs; the finality of it burning and ripping through her body like poison. Convulsions shook her form as she screamed and screamed.
Today had been the last day of class. She'd never even given Miss Moore a hug. 'For what?' Dawn shook her head bitterly. 'Thanks for all the memories? Thank you for hiding me in a broom closet? Thanks for the Latin? You're fucking stupid, Dawn.'
In her anger, she kicked at a flower growing in the middle of the clearing, throwing herself off balance. With an unceremonious 'oomph,' Dawn fell on the ground, and laid there to stare into the darkening sky.
A classmate's voice interrupted her reverie. “Dawn! Hey, everyone – Dawn's already here!”
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Later that night, the end of term woodland party was in full throttle. The other students looked at Dawn strangely, and wondered aloud if she'd taken some of the drugs that circulated the rave.
Ignoring them, she danced like she was the only one in the universe besides the woman in her head. Her body swayed, fueled by the force of pure rage to the pounding beat.
As the music became faster and more urgent, so did Dawn's movements. Lost in her own hell, her hair was damp with sweat, eyeliner smudged from the furnace of heat generated by the bodies around her.
The sudden, shrill whistle that pierced the air could barely be heard over the loud music. Those close enough to have heard it screamed to their classmates to run, just as several nuns and the groundskeeper rushed the clearing to grab at the revelers.
The music she'd been lost in was abruptly cut off, and Dawn squealed in panic. Panicked by the shouting, she sprinted off into the woods to hide, while a horde of girls scattered in different directions past her. Her lungs burned from the exertion, and the fact that she'd smoked several puffs of a ''cigarette'' that was definitely not a cigarette with some of the boys that had crashed the party from a neighboring schools.
The voice of Sr. Eileen, their fierce Mathematics teacher, bellowed after them. "YOU LOT WAIT 'TIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!"
Those who had procured hiding places tried to contain their laughter as Sr. Eileen stormed around uttering profanity after profanity. "Don't remember that being in the Bible," someone snickered as the raging nun let loose with another expletive laden threat to those who were hiding.
Crouching down behind the thick base of an oak tree, Dawn tried to slow her wheezing gasps, lest the noise give her away.
Abruptly, a hand snatched at her jeans and pulled her into a bush. Another hand slipped over her mouth to keep her from crying out, while hot breath exhaled against her ear. Dawn's heart skipped painfully before she registered the sensation of softness pressed against her back – a woman's chest. It heaved in time with her own, and she blushed at the realization.
“Gotcha...” Miss Moore whispered, her voice low and husky as shadows surrounded them.
Chapter 2: Pedicabo (Fuck Me)
As the last of the students and nuns exited the clearing, Mallory clung even tighter to the trembling form in her arms. Shame ruddied her cheeks at the happiness coursing through her heart at the feeling of holding Dawn closely; her brain screamed that it wasn’t proper, and that Dawn was probably scared out of her wits. Her heart persisted its happy 'thump, thump,' regardless.
Measuring her words to be even and clear even though she was quiet as air, Mallory murmured next to Dawn’s ear. “We’re going to have to make a quick escape if you don’t want to be writing lines for days before exams. I know that your father and fiancé are in town, and that you want to avoid them. Is that right?”
Dawn turned to squint at her in the dark. “W-what do you suppose we should do? I can’t go back to the school now – the nuns will know I’ve been in the woods. Father and Oliver are probably trolling the hallways looking for me.”
Inhaling so sharply that her nostrils flared a bit, Mallory stared back in deep thought before speaking. Her clipped tone gave away that she was less than pleased. “And you did not choose this… marriage? I have to ask again, because it’s absolutely preposterous in this day and age. What does he have over you that you’re complying now that you’re eighteen?”
“My… sister. He’s threatening to send my sister away to Scotland.” Dawn’s face crumpled at the admission, and she began to cry.
Worried that one of the nuns might have sent another staff member to comb the woods for more students, Mallory hushed her. “Shh, shh… We don’t want to give ourselves away yet. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re going to talk, Dawn. Not this dancing around that you like to do. Real, nitty gritty, straight talk – do you understand me?” she laid bare her intentions.
Dawn’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Mallory had only ever talked to her so firmly when her former student (purposely) misconjugated some verbs to add extra time to her tutoring lesson last month. It had sent a visible shiver down Dawn's spine, and a blush her cheeks. “Of course, Miss Moore,” she supplicated, and sniffed back her tears.
“Mallory,” she whispered back at her. Being called Miss Moore by the girl no longer held any appeal, and while she found it somewhat unsettling, it just felt... right to be called by her first name.
The young woman was dumbfounded. “What? Is that some kind of new verb I don’t know yet, because I really don’t think it’s a good time for a tutoring lesson…”
“My name. My name is Mallory,” she interrupted, scoffing and rolling her eyes.
"Oh! I've just never heard it said before, is all." Dawn stammered. "Mal .. ehr .. ree?" she choked out, wiping at her tears. “Mallory.”
At the verbal stumblings, Mallory wondered how many
times the girl had imagined what her first name might be. It rolled off her tongue like a river the second time she said it. That surprised, but delighted Mallory.
Her resounding smile had Dawn's mood swinging from despondent to glowingly happy in the blink of an eye, and for that Mallory was grateful. She felt drunk on the emotion - or perhaps it was leftover goofiness from watching the party. Whatever it was, it was better than Dawn crying.
Coughing to break eye contact and clear the knot in her throat, she managed to choke out a response. “Good, good. Come on, let’s make a run for it.” She held out a hand for Dawn to take.
Take it, she did – and when their hands finally met, they were both stunned by a zap of static electricity. Both snickering quietly, they peered around the trees. The coast seemed to be clear.
Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1) Page 2