"Elizabeth and Anastasia 1"( Ff FF )[1/8] Betty was mad at her father. Really mad, and deeply hurt. He had almost literally thrown Stacy out of the house, screaming at her, shouting that if he ever saw her around his daughter again, he'd kill her. That was almost a week ago. Since then she hadn't seen or heard from Stacy and the many secretive calls she'd made to the older girl's apartment hadn't been answered. She knew her lover wouldn't dare call, afraid that Betty's father would answer the telephone. Yesterday, skipping out of school in the afternoon, she'd gone over to Stacy's apartment, hoping that she'd be there, but got no answer to the buzzer. After hanging around for more than an hour, waiting and hoping, but without any luck, she went home. Feeling abandoned, fearing that her father may have been right, or at least had scared Stacy away permanently, she climbed into her bed. That emptiness inside she now recognized as a hole in her heart, even worse than the one she'd had when her mother left home. It was as though history was repeating itself, with Stacy taking her mother's place as the target for her father's anger. Mom had disappeared from Betty's life right after that last big fight with dad, five years ago. Not a single visit, telephone call, letter, card or anything. It felt like the earth had swallowed her up. Just like it seems to have swallowed Stacy. Would she ever see her lover again? Once more she cried herself to sleep. ********************************************************************** <> It was a minor crisis in Betty's life that brought her into contact with Stacy for the first time. She was having serious problems in English that year, with her grades for the first half of the year sitting at a bare passing mark, and looking like they'd be falling to failure level soon. Sitting in Ms. Flanders office, the vice-principal of the school, Betty was trying to explain why and having a very difficult time doing so. She was feeling mortified, red-faced with embarrassment, and was almost in tears. Her first explanation, the one she'd been rehearsing for days, had been utterly rejected. "Elizabeth, I've looked at your marks from the last few years and spoken to a few of your teachers. There isn't a hope in hell you'll ever convince me that you can't understand what's being taught by Mr. Valdez. The man can teach, and no other students in his classes are having the same problems you are. I have extreme doubts that the content of the course is too difficult for you. Now then, you and I are going to sit here until you tell me what the problem is, even if it takes until midnight." Ms. Flanders dark brown eyes seemed to stare right through Betty. Done up in her usual impeccable business dress, her hair pinned back, with her strong, almost masculine face, the V.P. seemed the model of stern authority. She had a reputation for being able to ferret out the truth from anyone, and for being very harsh to those who lied to her. "Look, Elizabeth, I know there's something wrong here. If you don't talk to me, I can't help. You should realize that English is one of the few required courses. If you fail, you may not be able to graduate on time. It is very important." Ms. Flanders sat back, turned her chair slightly, and seemed to look off into the distance. There were no windows in this office to stare out of, which is why she used it for potentially difficult or delicate meetings. Redirecting her gaze, and seemingly her attention, temporarily elsewhere gave Betty a chance to recover somewhat. "Ms. Flanders, if...if I tell you, will you promise to keep it a secret? Please? My father would kill me, and I'd never be able to face my friends again. Please?" "That depends. If something illegal is going on, or someone is being or has been hurt, no, I can't promise. If it's strictly a personal matter, I probably will. I have to live with my own conscience so I can't make any guarantees, but I will try." "This...this is really hard for me." Betty was going to tell the truth this time. Embarrassing as it was, she didn't want to fail, and she knew she would if she stayed in Mr. Valdez class. Slowly, haltingly, she told Ms. Flanders. "It's true that I can't seem to learn anything from Mr. Valdez. It's not his teaching, it's him. He leers at me. All the time in class. He made me sit in the front row so he could see me better. It's so, so, ugly, the way he makes me feel, like he can see me naked or something. I can't concentrate, can't think. All I can feel is his eyes staring at me. It's horrible. And now he wants me to stay after school with him because my grades are so bad. I couldn't. I can't stand him looking at me anymore. Please." Betty's voice gave out. She was embarrassed and humiliated at having to tell Ms. Flanders about it, afraid she'd tell his father, but even more afraid Ms. Flanders wouldn't believe her and she'd have to go back to Mr. Valdez class. Staring at the floor, red with shame, she was unable to look the vice-principal in the eye. "Is this the truth?" "I don't know. I don't know if it's him or if it's me, but that's why I can't learn from him." Betty stared at the floor, unable to look at the older woman, afraid that she'd be called silly, or something worse. They both sat there in silence for a few minutes, Betty too upset to speak, Ms. Flanders thinking. If Mr. Valdez was staring, she couldn't really blame him all that much. Elizabeth was one of the four or five prettiest girls in school. At 5'5" and still growing, she wasn't all that tall, but her willowy figure, long arms and legs, and high, slender neck made her look taller. She had smallish breasts, possibly a B cup, and they suited her figure. Her hips were slim, but they did curve out somewhat from her narrow waist, and her bottom looked nicely rounded and firm. Long, chestnut hair reached down to the center of her back. Her face matched the rest of her body. It was delicate, almost elfin in its fineness, with lightly tanned skin, pale red lips, and a slight flush to her cheeks. The crowning glory which set her apart from most of the other girls, even the older, more developed ones, were her eyes. They were large and expressive, light-brown in color, always bright and sparkling. When you looked into her eyes you could feel yourself falling into them, wanting to hug and cuddle this lovely, sensuous, vulnerable child. Yes, she could see Mr. Valdez staring at this girl, his mind running through many lewd fantasies, all of which would be reflected in his eyes. Especially with what she knew of his personal tastes. Betty broke the silence. "Ms. Flanders, are you going to tell my dad?" After a short pause, she answered. "I'm going to have to tell him something. After all, there has to be a reason for your poor grades. Giving him the same story you gave me, though, would probably cause ... difficulties ... for you, for me, for Mr. Valdez. I think I'll avoid explanations and just say you were having some problems. I assume you want to transfer into another class?" "Yes." "Very well. It means you'll be swapping your English period with another subject, changing two classes. You've also missed out on a lot of school work and you'll need to pick that up somehow during the rest of this year. It's either that or summer school. I'm going to recommend to your father that you get a tutor." The rest of the meeting was a bit of a blur for Betty, her relief making her somewhat light-headed. She wouldn't have to face that man any more. The only thing that stuck out in her mind was Ms. Flander's comment that she'd have a private word with Mr. Valdez about this business. The lady smiled to herself as Betty left, elated at this news. It was just the edge she needed. She'd lost two of her toys recently, one to a corporate transfer, and one she'd given away to repay a debt. Replacing them adequately was usually a time-consuming and laborious job. In her eyes, Mr. Valdez was a prime candidate, especially with the several levers she now had against him. This was going to be fun. Her conversation with Betty's father was short and to the point. Betty was failing the class because of her teacher. Ms. Flanders would be taking personal charge of disciplining the man, so there'd be no need for any other action. Betty was innocent of any blame, and didn't even understand the problem. She'd be transferred to another class. A tutor for the next few months for catching up in her work would do wonders and, yes, she had a few she could recommend. ********************************************************************** <> The next morning, at breakfast, things didn't get any better. "G'mornin' short stuff." He always called her that when he was trying to be nice and cheerful. It was a leftover from when she was a little kid, and didn't really apply to her 5'7" willowy frame. "Hi dad." "You know, you haven't been looking to good lately. I think you need to get away for a bit. How about we head out for a beach holiday this weekend? Lots of sand, sunshine, ocean waves, boys on the beach, everything a young girl could ask for. What do you say?" "No thanks, dad. I really wouldn't enjoy it." "Nonsense. As soon as you got out there you'd perk right up and start having a great time. I'll make the reservations today and we'll head out friday after work. Patsy just loves the beach so I'll let her know what our plans are." Patsy was dad's girlfriend. She was part of the reason mom and dad split up five years ago. Patsy said she loved dad, but not enough to marry him. Betty hated her. "Dad, if you want to go to the beach, no problem. Take Patsy, she would love it. Don't expect me to go because you think I need a change of scenery. You know why I'm upset, so just leave it alone. Okay?" "Betty, there's no way that I'm going to let you ruin your life like this, especially after what happened to your mother. You're young, resilient. You'll be over it soon and get back to having a normal life. You'll see. It'll just take some time." "The only person trying to ruin my life right now is you, and you're doing to me the same thing you did to mother." "ENOUGH! I'm NOT going to sit here and listen to you harp on about what YOU think I did to your MOTHER! God damn it anyway! She went squirrelly before she left, and I'm NOT going to have that happen to me twice! And that's final! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Jumping up from the table she ran to her room, slamming the door behind her, and fell on the bed, sobbing. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door. Her father, not getting an answer, walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Betty, please, listen to me. I'm only doing this because I think it's what's best for you. I don't want to see you hurt, or see you waste your life. I love you too much for that. I do know how you feel right now, but these things blow over." He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but at the first touch she jerked violently away. He sat there for several seconds, then got up and left. She heard him moving around the house for a few minutes, then heard the front door open and close as he left for his office. She lay there, waiting for the tears to stop. Between arguing with her father for the last week and the fear of losing Stacy, she was drained and deeply tired. Finally she forced herself to move and went to the bathroom to wash. After changing and gathering her things for school, she left, locking up behind her. ********************************************************************** <> It was about a week after her meeting with Ms. Flanders that two events took place. One was at school, and the other was at Betty's house. Betty was nervous. She'd been told to report to Ms. Flander's office directly after school. No reason was given, so her mind was free to imagine the worst. At least there wasn't much time for her to think about it, having been told just before her last class of the day. Of course, that last hour dragged on interminably. The teacher droned, the chalk screeched, and the clock never seemed to move. She didn't have the slightest idea what went on in class. By the time the final bell rang, Betty was impatient and itching to get it over with. Packing up quickly, she dumped everything into her locker and headed straight for the V.P.'s office. It was only when she neared her destination that the nerves and doubts came back, slowing her steps. The secretary didn't help any, giving Betty no clues as to what she could expect, ushering her straight in. Apparently she was expected. Ms. Flanders was there in her seat behind the desk, working on some papers that looked rather official. "Hello again Elizabeth." She gave the girl a big, warm, welcoming smile. "Have a seat. It'll be a few minutes yet before we can get started, so just relax a bit." That smile did wonders for Betty. There was still a touch of nervousness, not knowing what to expect, but her apprehension, and most of the tension, were gone. She spent the interval watching Ms. Flanders out of the corner of her eye. The older woman seemed to be very happy about something. Her mouth was curled up in a faint smile, her eyes sparkled, and Betty could just hear her humming a tune under her breath. A knock on the door interrupted Betty's secretive observations. "Come in." Betty sat there after the door opened, once more the scared little girl. Mr. Valdez stepped into the room and closed the door. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, and she couldn't look at him. She sat there quietly, staring at the floor, not knowing what to do or say. A quick glance at Ms. Flanders didn't help, as there was now a stern look on her face, along with something else Betty didn't recognize. Much later in life she'd see that look again and recognize it for what it was - amused contempt. "Sit down." This was not an offer or a request, it was an order. He sat. "Elizabeth, Mr. Valdez has something he'd like to say to you." Betty looked across the desk, but found no clues as to what was going on, as the older lady was looking at Mr. Valdez and her expression showed no change. Finally she had no choice but to look at her ex-teacher. His eyes were downcast, looking at the carpet. His shoulders were slumped, his back slightly bent, head forward. He looked like a guilty puppy hearing the newspaper being rolled up. "Well?" This word from the V.P. seemed to spur him into action. "Elizabeth, I'd ... I'd like to apologize for the way I've behaved this year. Mist, uh, Ms. Flanders has...shown me how...poorly I've been behaving." He glanced rather guiltily from the floor to the V.P., returning his stare to the carpet quickly. "I'm not asking you to forgive me for what I've done, because I don't expect ... forgiveness, it's just that ... that I need to tell you how sorry I am for what I've done." After another quick glance at Ms. Flanders, he continued. "I'm told that it's because of me that you got poor marks in my class. In order to make amends, I can give you make-up exams at the end of the year. Those results would replace your earlier marks and be recorded in your permanent record. I know it's not much, but I hope you can accept it as a small gesture of penance on my part." With that, he stopped speaking. Betty was a little shocked. Was this the same man who'd been haunting her nightmares for all these months? In fact, looking carefully, Betty saw that he was squirming slightly in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable, and yes, he was even blushing! He still hadn't looked her in the eye. "That was very good Mr. Valdez. Very good indeed. You may leave now." Again, an order, not a request. Finally he looked at Betty, smiling slightly, looking rather embarrassed, and blushing even harder. Standing, he offered his hand to her and she shook it without thinking. His palm was dry and hot, matching the heat radiating from his face. Releasing her hand, glancing once more at Ms. Flanders, he left. After the door closed, Betty looked at Ms. Flanders. That self-satisfied smile was back and her eyes were once again glittering. "All right Elizabeth, I believe we're finished now. I don't think Mr. Valdez will be doing any more 'leering' in the future. You just make sure you're ready for those make-up exams. Thank you for stopping by." Betty found herself outside the office and walking down the hall before her mind clicked back into focus. 'I don't know what happened, but that was NOT the same person.' It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had nothing more to fear from Mr. Valdez, and that Ms. Flanders had a lot to do with it. Still seated in her chair, finishing up the day's paperwork, the V.P. allowed herself a few minutes of lazy satisfaction. Yes, a nice week's work. A lot had been accomplished with him so far. And Mrs. Valdez was certainly much happier with her 'new' husband. Humming to herself, rehearsing the evening's 'activities' in her mind, she packed up and headed for home. It was later that evening, well after dinner, that there was a knock on the door. Betty went to the answer it as usual since her father got grouchy if his reading was disturbed. This time he put down the book and followed her. "Hello, is Mr. Brust in?" Betty was looking at a rather tall, slender, older girl, one she didn't recognize. Standing behind her was another figure, rather indistinct, but definitely large and masculine. "Hello." said Jonathan, from behind Betty's shoulder. "You must be Stacy. Come on in." The tallish girl and the taller gentleman behind her both came in. "Hello Mr. Brust. Yes, I'm Stacy. Ms. Flanders tells me you're looking for a tutor for your daughter?" She glanced over at Betty with a questioning look. "That's right. Stacy, this is Betty. We're looking for an English tutor, someone to fill in what was missed in the first half of the year. I understood, though, that there would only be one of you." "That's right, just me. Mr. Brust, Betty, this is Woody." Woody was the kind of guy women's wet dreams are made of. Around 6'4", he was muscular and well-built without being heavy, had dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and soft lips curled up into a permanent smile. He looked mediterranean, possibly greek, but with a finely chiseled profile. His age was hard to guess but he looked like he'd be in his mid-to-late twenties. When he spoke, it was with a fairly deep, almost baritone voice, silky smooth, with a hint of a French (?) accent. "Good evening to you both. Don't worry, I won't be staying long. I just came by to check things out. You can't be too careful these days. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my little girl." He was looking straight into Jonathan's eyes when he said that, but smiled. Jonathan, Stacy, and Betty talked about the details of the tutoring for the next several minutes - how often, which evenings were best, cost and payment schedules, and duration. Once things were settled, Stacy said there was no time like the present to get started. Stacy turned to Woody, who had been silent during this exchange. "Thanks for coming, Woody. I'll see you later." "Most certainly." With that, he pulled Stacy to him with one arm, leaned over, and gave her a long, deep, passionate kiss. Betty, watching this, was at first embarrassed. As the kiss carried on, her embarrassment turned into a bit of breathless excitement. She could feel her pulse quicken and her heart beat harder as that kiss went on. It seemed almost endless. Her father watched the kiss with some relief and some disappointment. He was disappointed because it was apparent from this kiss that the two were lovers and when he'd first seen the gorgeous lady, he'd thought about making a few passes at her. That Woody guy didn't look like the kind of man you'd want mad at you though. He was relieved because of this same kiss. The girl had been recommended by Ms. Flanders and he was somewhat suspicious of that woman due to some lingering rumors about her personal life. After what he'd gone through with his wife, he was suspicious of everybody. This girl now seemed safe. After breaking their kiss, Woody headed out. Betty and Stacy went into Betty's bedroom to work as all her school materials, as well as her desk, were in there. Jonathan went back to his book. The two girls set up a work schedule as had been discussed, adjusting the sessions around both Betty's and Stacy's commitments for the next few weeks. Stacy then pulled out a worklist of items to be covered. Going through it, she gave Betty several reading assignments to be completed by the start of their next session, monday of the following week. Betty was studying Stacy surreptitiously, envying the taller girl her calm, dignified appearance, her confidence, her poise and elegance. Betty knew she looked good, but she lacked the self-assurance and physical grace of the older girl. She found out that Stacy was a senior at another high-school in town, finishing out her grade 12 and graduating this year, was an honor student (straight A's), just turned 18, had her own apartment (Wow!) and lived alone. Betty was too embarrassed to ask about Woody. It turns out Stacy knew her English. She seemed to have memorized the contents of every textbook Betty had, even though she admitted she'd never seen most of them before. Not just the English ones either. Betty was jealous, knowing how hard she herself had to work to keep her marks where they were. This jealousy extended into the physical as well. Stacy was a good six inches taller than Betty, around 5'11", not including her shoes. This meant Betty was always looking up, and Stacy was always looking down. The older girl also had a better figure, filling out a little more in the bust and the hips, while still looking slender. A mane of honey-blonde hair cascaded (literally!) in waves from her head to below her shoulders. Her face was oval, framed by her hair, ending in a petite little cleft in her chin. Pale blue eyes, blonde, almost invisible eyebrows, long slender nose, and wide expressive mouth with soft full lips completed the picture. Betty thought she looked gorgeous. That evening's session ended fairly early, being their first, and both were tired, glad it was over. After Stacy left, Betty cleaned up the mess, then went in to sit with her father for the rest of the evening. ********************************************************************** <> School that day was an absolute drag. It wasn't that she didn't like school or anything, she did, and got good grades to prove it. It's just that she couldn't keep her mind focused. It kept drifting off into thoughts of her mother, Stacy, her father, and the reason for all the arguments. She wasn't even looking forward to her basketball practice after school. Some of her friends sort-of knew what was going on. Most were embarrassed by her relationship, but a couple understood and tried to help, even one of the guys. Just like the last few days, all she did was say hi and listen in while they all chatted. Practice was worse than she thought it would be. Her coach kept harping on her to concentrate, to think about what she was doing and stop daydreaming. Afterwards she was taken aside for a short chat. "Look, Betty, I know something's bothering you. You haven't been yourself for days now. I don't know what it is, but I do know it's not a new boyfriend. You don't have that dreamy look. Now, I'm not the best person in the world to talk to about personal matters, but I think you should find someone to talk over whatever problems you have. Maybe go see one of the school counselors, or one of your teachers, or someone like that. It's really affecting you and your performance. Okay? Now go have your shower." Mrs. Vickers was like that - brusque, no-nonsense, and to the point. A few of the girls that didn't like her called her a dyke, said she didn't have any feelings, but most of us knew that wasn't true. Mr. Vickers, who came out to some of the games, was proof of that. She always seemed to come alive when he was around, almost glowing with happiness, and you could see the love in his eyes when he looked at her. Sometimes Betty felt envious, witnessing how happy they were together. When Betty got home, before she opened the door, she was surprised to hear a voice calling her name. It was Joyce, her neighbor. Joyce was an older lady, just into her sixties, still active and enjoying life. She'd been living here for many years, ever since her husband died. When Betty's mother had been around, she and Joyce were close friends and included Betty in that friendship. She thought Joyce sort of knew she and Stacy were close, but Betty had never told her about their special relationship. One thing Joyce told Betty a few months ago, something that had surprised her, was that Joyce had never really liked Jonathan, her father, calling him a mule-headed antique. "Betty, could you come over here please? Just for a minute. I need your help in the kitchen." This sounded weird. Betty had never been any good in a kitchen, especially if it involved food, and everybody knew that. Curiosity won out (as always) and she went over. "Betty, close the door please. Thanks. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?" This was getting stranger by the minute. "Sure. I wouldn't mind a cup, thanks." Joyce puttered around for a few minutes, preparing the tea, getting the milk and sugar, setting everything out on the table. "Joyce, what was it you wanted my help with?" "Don't be silly dear. That was just in case your father was listening. I wanted to talk to you about Stacy." Now that was a surprise. Joyce rarely mentioned Stacy's name, never mind talked about her. "Okay, you've got my attention. Go on."