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Satisfied with the damage, Ashley led her group away from the scene of their victory as more and more people joined the crowd of students laughing at and taunting their unfortunate victim as she crawled around on her hands and knees trying to recover the pictures.
If they had stayed a little longer, they might have noticed Sharon Stevens, who had watched the whole incident develop, walk up to the humiliated Karen and start talking to her in a hushed voice.
Karen quickly stopped crying and began to listen intently.
Part Seven
Karen ran her fingers through her curly brown hair and looked around the bedroom, feeling useless and out of place with nothing to do. Neil and Gary were busily removing a shelf from the second, smaller closet while Sharon wandered about the room with a light meter, alternately taking readings and making adjustments on the video camera set up on a tripod in the main closet (no need to remove any shelves there). Even Stacy was hard at work, albeit reluctantly; she was taking, trip by trip, the small mountain of clothing which had previously filled the smaller closet and carrying it to a different room. She was quiet and sullen, but she did what she was told.
It was all so unbelievable! Even after Sharon had told her everything - even after they had showed her all of those pictures - Karen still found it hard to credit the story. Stacy, the Princess of Greenwood, the perfect Ice-Queen Bitch, being forced to fuck dozens of different guys at school in order to keep secret the fact that she was cheating on exams! If Karen had read it in a story (and she had read a few stories of this type), she would still have found it difficult to swallow. Really, though, it had been the pictures that had finally convinced her. After Sharon had talked to her that day in school when Ashley and her friends had stuffed Karen’s locker with those magazine pictures, Gary had shown her the set of photographs taken earlier in the week at a downtown studio. There was no way that Stacy would do something like that willingly, particularly the last two outfits. The sight of Stacy in (and then out of) the black leather mini-skirt and, later, in the pink latex dress had left Karen damp with excitement, despite the fact that Stacy wasn’t her type. No, not her type at all. Karen preferred larger girls; particularly brunettes. Girls like Ashley.
When they had arrived at Stacy’s house that Saturday morning, the week after New Year’s, Karen had been expecting Stacy to slam the door in their faces. Even after all the proof she had been shown, she had still expected that. It hadn’t happened, though. Stacy had opened the door and let them in without a word. She looked angry, and more than a little bit unhappy, but she let them in. Still, it wasn’t until Neil put his hand behind Stacy’s neck and drew her in for a long, protracted kiss that Karen at last fully accepted everything that she had been told. Stacy didn’t exactly co-operate, but she didn’t pull away either. And from the way her mouth was working, she was definitely returning the kiss. Unbelievable! Yet it was happening. And if that was happening, perhaps Sharon’s plan for Ashley might work as well. Karen trembled as a small shiver of excitement shot through her pudgy body.
Her type. Girls like Ashley…
Neil removed the last screw and handed it to Gary who carefully put it in his pocket. The final shelf slid out neatly, leaving the bottom half of the closet completely open. (The shelves on the top half were more permanently affixed.) There was just enough space for one person if they sat down with their legs curled up. That was going to be Sharon’s post. Neil was thankful about that. There was no way he was going to spend several hours in that cramped space. He was going to be in the bigger closet with Gary and Karen. There was really no need for him to be there, as Gary had pointed out, but he wanted to be part of things again.
He wanted to see Stacy in action…
Sharon looked critically through the camera’s viewfinder. The angle wasn’t the best in the world - it wasn’t even as good as it had been in Neil’s bedroom - but it would have to do. As long as the light was OK, the pictures should turn out alright. >From where she would be sitting in the small closet, she could get pictures of the bed and most of the bedroom, but she was a little low to get the best angle for any action on the bed. And the action on the bed, of course, was the whole point of these arrangements. As well, she was forced to take the pictures through the slats in the closet door. It worked fairly well as long as she kept the camera flush against the door, but it limited her options. It would also force her to lean forward uncomfortably when taking pictures.
It was, however, the best they could do, and there was still the video camera in the walk-in closet. Perhaps if Stacy’s parents had left the night before as pla
Now, as long as nothing else went wrong…
Gary finished giving his final instructions to Stacy and gave her one final look. She appeared quite stu
Everything was ready.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang downstairs. Gary looked Stacy in the eye.
"Showtime," he told her, smiling at the hint of panic in her eyes. "You know what to do."
Stacy swallowed nervously, but nodded her agreement. She knew what to do; it had been made very clear to her. Gary gestured for her to answer the door. When she left the bedroom, he turned and squeezed past the video camera and into the closet, pulling the door shut behind him…
Stacy stopped momentarily on her way down the stairs to answer the doorbell and took a deep breath; she needed to steady her nerves. Of all the things they had forced her to do in the last couple of months, this was quite possibly the most difficult. As first, she had absolutely refused. Even when Sharon had made all the usual threats, Stacy would not go through with it. She had to draw the line somewhere. But when Gary had offered her ten credits - ten less guys to fuck - she had wavered and finally given in. She would do what they wanted. Ten less guys to fuck! That would be worth it. That would be worth almost anything.
And besides, what did she owe Ashley anyway?
Stacy was jarred from her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell being rung a second and then a third time in quick succession.
"Coming," she cried, a
"Ashley," she greeted her friend from school. "Come in."
Ashley accepted the invitation, walking in through the doorway. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a pink sweater under an expensive leather jacket. (Her parents were rich, and she always had the best clothes.) Her long, dark hair was done up into a large bun on the back of her head. A large leather purse was slung over her shoulder. The two girls exchanged greetings as they walked upstairs to Stacy’s room. Their meeting was ostensibly to put together some arrangements for a class project in the spring term, but neither expected much work to be done. Particularly since Stacy’s parents were out of town for the weekend and Ashley was staying the night.