THE SWEET TASTE OF REVENGE by Joe Whatever "But I don't do drugs!" Tracy pleaded. "I never saw that baggie before in my life." Principal Alec Walker smiled. It was hard to believe that the gangly, frightened student frantically protesting her innocence was the same young woman who had turned down his mortgage application last week. Alec fumed as he recalled the smartly dressed young bank executive lounging behind her desk as she ridiculed his "pathetic paycheck" and "powerless, pitiful" job. The humiliated principal had examined Tracy's old school file that very night and had been delighted to discover that her principal had neglected to sign the credit transfer forms for her European exchange jaunt. As a result, she was 3 credit-hours short of a valid high school diploma. Principal Walker generously agreed not to call Yale, Harvard, or her boss at the bank...IF she agreed to immediately take a leave of absence from the bank and make up the time in summer school. Since Tracy had to live in the district, she was forced to move in with Alec's hateful Aunt Wanda, whose motto was, "MY house, MY rules!" The authoritarian aunt had confiscated Tracy’s checkbook, credit cards, identification, and car keys. The proud and independent young executive now had a daily list of household chores, a minuscule allowance, and a strict curfew. And her spiteful "Auntie" also insisted that Tracy "dress the part" -- which meant that Tracy was now standing in front of her nemesis dressed in a midriff-baring "Dawson's Creek" t-shirt, tight blue jean short-shorts, white socks, and a cheap pair of Keds. Principal Walker smiled. Now it was Tracy's turn to squirm in front of HIS desk. "If you were under 18, I might let you off with just an expulsion," he lectured solemnly. "But this quantity of drugs means you're dealing, and that means jail time." Tracy bit her lip and clenched her fists in frustration as she pleaded for mercy. He let her twist before finally relenting. "Well, we MIGHT avoid the police...if you agree to be treated like the spoiled, willful, disobedient teenager you really are instead of the sophisticated adult you pretend to be." She gasped when he took the paddle out of the desk drawer and crooked his finger to order her forward. With agonizing slowness, he unsnapped and unzipped Tracy's shorts and teasingly worked them to her knees. "Is Winnie the Pooh your favorite, Tracy?" he taunted as he traced his finger across the print on her childish underpants. "They're so CUTE! It's a shame they have to come down." ****************************** Alec watched in amusement as the tearful Tracy, pants and underpants still at half-mast, fidgeted nervously in the corner and tried desperately not to rub her crimson fanny. Chuckling, he took that plastic bag that he'd planted in Tracy's locker and emptied the table sugar into his coffee. Sugar's sweet, and so's revenge. Edited by C. Lakewood