by Blake, Zoe
At that she turned her head to look at him, they were almost eye-level with the help of the chair. With a start, she realized he was angry. The polite nonchalance he had shown to the class was just a veneer. It was there in the set of his jaw. The rigid line of his brow. The cold look in his blue eyes.
“I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” Each word was clipped as if his sharp teeth were biting them off at the ends.
Flustered, Phoebe demurred. “Yes…sir?” Holding her breath to see if that was the right answer. In her very short acquaintance with this man, it was clear he was not a man to be crossed or angered.
Or lied to, she thought with a flush.
Good god! She briefly wondered if New York being only a couple hundred miles away from Buzzards Bay was far enough to run when he learned of her true purpose here.
“Do you mind telling me what you thought you were doing climbing up on this chair? In high heels no less?”
There it was again. It was something in his tone. The harsh school master. Each question only missing the ‘young lady’ tacked onto the end.
Unbidden, almost against her will, she looked at the desk in front of them. Phoebe imagined herself bent over it.
The worn wood cool beneath her fingertips. Dressed in a school girl’s uniform, he easily flips up her short, plaid skirt, exposing the creamy skin of her ass and her hot pink thong. Pacing around the desk, Michael methodically slaps a long, wooden ruler against his palm as he repeats a litany of the rules she has broken. She bounces up on her toes as her anxiety increases, knowing the punishment will be severe. She can feel him behind her. A warm hand cups the curve of her right buttock. He warns her the punishment will be painful, moments before the ruler strikes high on her cheeks. She cries out in pain but he doesn’t stop. One strike for every broken rule. The thin strip of wood warms her skin. Stinging hot pin pricks run over her ass to the top of her thighs. Her stomach clenches in between each punishing blow. Finally, he places the ruler on the desk. It’s time for your real punishment, he says as he frees his thick cock.
“Phoebe, once again, I have asked you a question you have failed to promptly answer.”
Phoebe blinked as she brought Michael back into focus, the school girl fantasy still whispering through her mind. Her cheeks flushed as she realized her nipples were tight with arousal.
“I…ah…well…it was a Dead Poet’s thing,” she stammered, as she pivoted to see if she could somehow step down and put some distance between herself and him.
“Stop fidgeting like a child. You are going to fall.”
He wrapped his arm around her hips, just below her ass and lifted her off the chair. Phoebe had no choice but to put her hands on his shoulders as she murmured protests and complaints.
Slowly. Impossibly slowly.
He slid her down the length of his front till her stockinged feet touched the ground. Without her heels, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. She could smell the musky spice of his cologne. Feel the strength of muscle across his chest. He radiated heat and energy. Even the brass buttons on his uniform felt warm beneath her fingers.
Her cheeks flamed, hoping the heavy wool of his coat would prevent him from feeling the evidence of her own arousal as her breasts brushed his front.
She was robbed of speech. Keeping her eyes trained forward, she waited for him to remove his hand from her lower back. Instead, he pressed her forward slightly. It was a light but masterful touch. Just enough to have her stomach brush the hard ridge of his cock. He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
“Among the many lovely things, that make the magic of her face. Among the beauties, black and rose, that make her body’s charm and grace.” He spoke soft and low.
Baudelaire. He was reciting Baudelaire’s The Temptation to her.
Here he was this big, scary Marine reciting a love poem. Phoebe felt lightheaded.
His presence. His anger. Her fantasy. Her lies.
It was all spinning about her head like fluttering butterflies on fast forward.
“Listen carefully, little one. You ever…ever…get up on a chair like that again. Perching dangerously on the seat in high heels. Displaying this delicious body of yours to my men…”
Phoebe started to object but the press of his hand against her lower back silenced her.
“Displaying your body to my men,” he repeated. “I really will bend you over this desk and tan that magnificent ass of yours with my belt till you cry for mercy.”
Here he was, this big, scary Marine who recites poetry…and reads minds!
Phoebe just knew her cheeks were flushed a bright scarlet.
Boldly, she admonished, “I don’t think you are allowed to say such things to me.”
“I did anyway,” he responded as a single fingertip ran down the curve of her heated cheek. “Change your mind about leaving yet?”
Phoebe stubbornly raised her chin as her eyes narrowed on him assessingly. “Nope.”
There was a clamoring in the hall as the next class of midshipmen began to enter.
Michael stepped back. Phoebe felt oddly bereft without the support of his hand on her back.
She watched almost in slow motion as he leaned forward, his head tilted down towards her face.
In one, crazy, wanton moment she thought he was going to kiss her…right here in the middle of the classroom, in front of the students…er…midshipmen.
Instead his lips grazed her ear as he whispered, “I suggest you put your shoes back on.”
And with that, he was gone.
Phoebe stood there for a moment. Trying to come to terms with what was reality and what was fantasy. He disappeared so quickly she could almost believe she had imagined the whole thing. As she numbly turned to put on her shoes, she recalled the poem he recited. The Temptation.
With a start, she recalled the opening lines. The Demon, in my chamber high. This morning came to visit me. And, thinking he would find some fault, He whispered, “I would know of thee”.
Had it been Michael at her door last night? Was it Michael who put the satanic symbol on her door as a warning to leave?
Phoebe shivered despite the warmth of the classroom.
Chapter 5
“It’s beautiful.”
Keeping her balance on the rounded wet rocks, Phoebe looked out over the bay. She was with Amber, an assistant professor from the math department, who had suggested the early morning walk. Amber was short and plump in all the right places with curly, mousy brown hair and a sweet smile. She took an instant liking to Phoebe, glad to have another female under the age of fifty on the campus. She had made it her mission to see that Phoebe was acclimated and happy in her new position. Phoebe felt a pang of guilt for deceiving such a kind and open person but reminded herself that her motives were good. It seemed the whole campus was divided into two camps about the murders. Those who practically denied they occurred and those who wanted to gossip about all the gruesome details. No one seemed fired up to actually catch the killer.
Everyone bought into the assumption some deranged homeless man just happened to wander into the area, kill two women over the course of three weeks and wander out. The fact that such a man would stick out like sore thumb in such a small, tightly-knit community and yet was never observed, didn’t seem to bother anyone. As far as she could tell, Phoebe was the only one actually trying to seek justice for the slain women.
“I thought you might like the view,” observed Amber.
Focusing back on the present, Phoebe nodded as she took a sip of her mocha latte. Her warmed breath created misty swirls of white each time she breathed. The view was stunning in its raw beauty. Large rocks gave way to smooth white beach sands which were buffeted by surprisingly strong waves. It was difficult to tell where the slate gray water ended and the gray sky began. Only the faintest glow of soft pink on the horizon hinted at a sunrise. A few boats were braving the harsh winds as they maneuvered around the peninsula where th
e spider-like lighthouse perched.
They had stopped at an adorable cafe to grab coffee drinks and some pastries before following the path between the military academy grounds and the woods to the shoreline of the bay.
Phoebe loved the sights and smells. The late fall morning had an icy crispness to the air. Feeding off the energy of the woods and the churning waters of the bay, everything felt alive and invigorating to her. So different from the stale, rank smells of the city with its crush of harried people.
“Oh my god! You have to try this raspberry preserve croissant,” raved Amber.
Phoebe gingerly took the buttery pastry from Amber. Holding it by its wax paper wrapping, she bit into the warm and crusty bread. A burst of tart sweetness hit her tongue as she also moaned her appreciation. A small dollop of raspberry preserves had escaped the pastry from the side and dripped onto the corner of her mouth. The tip of her tongue peeked out to sweep the delicate treat from her lips just as she saw him.
Emerging from the forest’s edge like some mythical beast, he was all hard muscle and harsh angles. Dressed only in dark blue sweat shorts, his naked chest was on full display. Despite the chill, a fine sheen of sweat made his skin glisten in the early morning light. It was entrancing to watch the fluid motion of his body as he ran. Although distance separated them, Phoebe was drawn into the intense scrutiny of his gaze. Alarmed, she watched as he slowed his pace and headed towards them.
Amber gasped. “Holy fuck. He’s coming this way! Jesus Christ, he’s built.”
Phoebe had actually forgotten Amber was by her side.
They became aware that he had a white t-shirt fisted in his hand when Michael pulled it over his head to cover his wide chest and flat stomach. Phoebe ruthlessly stifled a disappointed groan.
“Ladies.” Although he greeted them both with a nod, his eyes stayed glued on Phoebe.
“Good morning, Commander,” said Amber.
Phoebe just stared.
Amber elbowed her in the side.
“Good morning,” she softly uttered. There was a noticeable pause after her simple greeting. She watched his jaw harden and an unmistakable glint appear in his sharp eyes at her staunch refusal to call him Commander. There was something too charged in the term. Too sexual, as if she were submitting to him. Phoebe clenched her thighs at the tingling sensation caused by her wayward thoughts.
“You ladies should not be out here alone. This area can be dangerous.”
His voice was dark and low…commanding, like a stern father scolding a petulant child. Once more the school girl fantasy floated across her heated mind.
“Thank you, Commander. We were just heading back to the campus,” responded Amber.
“Good. I would hate to see either of you harmed.”
Phoebe just stared.
Amber once again elbowed her in the side.
Phoebe could only nod, still transfixed. It annoyed her how his presence affected her. He was just so…male!
As Amber bent down to stuff her now empty coffee cup in her backpack, Michael took a step toward Phoebe. Tilting her head back because of his superior height, she noticed how his dark blue eyes appeared almost black in the weak morning light. He reached out and stroked the edge of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. Her own lips parted as he raised the thumb to his mouth and licked.
Michael then leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You taste sweet, little one.”
Until that moment, Phoebe did not realize it was possible for your heart to stop from a rush of desire. She felt as though she may never breathe again. She didn’t know if the endearment was a reference to her diminutive height or if it had a deeper, more sexually charged promise. Either way, it made her feel weak.
Taking a step back before Amber noticed their interaction, he said, “You ladies have a pleasurable morning.” His eyes were once again only for Phoebe.
They both watched as Michael turned and ran back along the path, into the forest.
“I’d play headmaster and naughty school girl with him any day,” quipped Amber.
Phoebe’s cheeks heated as her new friend mentioned the precise fantasy she herself had been having about Michael…every damn night.
“Come on. We’ll be late for our classes.” Phoebe grabbed her own backpack and they followed the shore to get back onto the walkway which would take them to campus.
After walking in silence for a few minutes, Amber shivered and quickened her step. “We shouldn’t have taken this way.”
“Why? Isn’t this the quicker path back to campus?”
“Yeah, but this place gives me the creeps,” responded Amber as she motioned her head to the right.
There was a small clearing between the edge of the woods and the beginning of the shore. Despite the gorgeous golden and crimson hues of the trees about them, there was one which stood in stark relief. Its gnarled and twisted branches were bare. The thick trunk of the tree was marred with black scorch marks. At its base was a massive rock. The top was smooth and flat, and along the edges there were numerous strange carvings. It was impossible not to feel a sense of foreboding.
“What is it?”
“It’s called the witch’s tree but legend has it that is where they burned the Mad Monk.”
A chill crept down Phoebe’s spine.
“It’s also where they found those two poor women,” continued Amber.
“They found them here?” asked Phoebe as she slipped her phone from her pocket. Turning her body slightly, she kept the phone low to her hip as she tried to secretly snap photos of the place and the carvings etched into the rock’s worn surface. If she wasn’t mistaken, several of the carvings resembled the symbol painted in blood on her door. The same symbol carved into the murder victims’ chests.
“Yeah. It was awful. The whole campus is still shaken by it.”
“Did you know them?”
Amber shook her head no. Leaning in, she whispered, “I heard the evil bastard who did it carved a pentagram on their breasts and left them naked on top of the rock. What kind of sick bastard would do such a thing?”
Before Phoebe could answer, they heard a soft mournful tune on the wind. If Amber hadn’t grabbed her by the arm and inched closer, Phoebe would have thought she’d imagined it. She listened intently. There, just above the sound of the crashing surf. A child’s voice. Singing. It sounded like Rock-a-Bye-Baby but the words were wrong. As they listened, a figure appeared. It was a female with a coarsely woven blanket draped about her shoulders. Her hair hung in wild, tangled waves about her shoulders.
Wee little fingers, eyes are shut tight
Now dead asleep - never again to see light
Amber huffed in disgust and quickly dragged Phoebe away. As Phoebe struggled to keep up with the other woman’s marching steps, she cried out, “Hold up, Amber. Who was that?”
“Fucking Loony Ludtz,” Amber snorted.
“That was Mrs. Ludtz?” Phoebe was incredulous. The figure was some ways off but still, it didn’t resemble the extremely restrained, pinned up woman she was accustomed to seeing scowling about campus.
“I don’t know if Mrs. applies any longer,” sneered Amber.
As they quickened their steps back to the safety and relative sanity of campus, Amber regaled Phoebe with the story of Mrs. Ludtz’s recent failed marriage. Apparently after learning her husband had been cheating on her with a much younger woman a few months ago, she had become unhinged. For a month she wore only unrelenting black to mourn the death of her marriage. Then she disappeared into the woods for over a week claiming she needed to go back to nature to find herself. When she returned to school, Ludtz started to chastise and verbally abuse any of the female staff who wore make-up or high heels, which explained her instant dislike of Phoebe.
“Her latest craziness is to claim her Indian heritage is demanding she cleanse the area after the murders.”
Phoebe didn’t know what singing an old nursery rhyme had to do with the local Indian culture, but she kept that t
o herself.
“Why does Michael…er…I mean the Lieutenant Colonel keep her on staff?”
Amber shrugged her shoulders. “He’s new to the position and Ludtz knows this school like the back of her hand. She wasn’t anyone’s friend before this but people still feel sorry for her. Besides, I’d much rather he focused on Drake and Casey than Mrs. Ludtz’s marriage problems.”
“Who are Drake and Casey?”
“You mean no other teacher has warned you about those two midshipmen?”
Phoebe shook her head no, trying to picture her roster to remember if she had them in her class. “No, why?”
“Rumor has it they were suspects in the murders before they announced it was that homeless man no one can find.”
Phoebe was about to comment that she didn’t see their names mentioned in any of the articles she had seen, but she didn’t want to clue Amber in to the fact that she was interested or researching the murders.
“No!” she exclaimed with appropriate shock and horror.
Amber’s eyes were lit with gruesome excitement. “They both have an odd way about them, always getting written up for something or other, and they were caught trying to cut up a dead squirrel. You know what they say about people who kill and torture animals.” Amber nodded her head sagely.
Phoebe made a mental note to look into both Drake and Casey. She remembered Henry’s theory of the crime; that some rich politician’s son was actually behind the murders and was being protected because of their parents’ influence. She wondered if Drake or Casey had powerful parents. The only way to find out conclusively was to look into the student files. Unlike a regular school, Puller Academy would have extensive information on the parents’ backgrounds and professions. She might also learn more about the boys through their disciplinary records.
The only problem was the files were guarded over by Loony Ludtz and her office was right outside of Michael’s.
It was like some kind of macabre game, thought Phoebe with a wry smile.
You are trapped in Buzzards Bay.