Disclaimer: The Equalizer and all its characters are property of Universal and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Extra Credit

It was late afternoon and Robert McCall was celebrating his latest successful mission as the Equalizer. Managing to make a crook's own overwhelming sense of greed bring him to justice while saving the jobs of a few good, honest, hard working men was certainly something to celebrate.

He was just about to pour another shot of whiskey into his glass when the outside bell rang. He went to his window and looked down. There stood two boys and, after a moment, he recognized them as his housekeeper Lettie's sons.

Lettie had left hours ago. He buzzed them in and waited at his landing, with his door left open.

It took longer for the boys to climb the three flights of steps than it usually took and every additional moment made Robert uneasy. When the children met him at the top of the landing, Robert took one look at them and herded them into his apartment. Post haste.

"What's wrong, boys?" Robert asked, studying each preteen as they stood just inside the door. Jorge was the elder child, twelve years old, if he remembered correctly, and Ismael was three years younger. The boys sometimes accompanied their mother or met her at his apartment after school and Robert knew them well. For the usually bright and bubbling youngsters to be so somber didn't feel right.

The children didn't meet his eyes. "Answer me," he made his voice stern, "What's going on? Jorge?"

"I think my mom's in trouble," he started.

"No! Mom didn't do anything wrong, stupid," Ismael blurted out. "She's being forced to do something!" He looked at Robert his eyes brimmed with tears. "Blackmailed!"

"Don't just yell it out, nitwit." Jorge pushed his brother.

"All right, into the kitchen," Robert ordered, "Take off your coats and talk to me." The lads obeyed and soon were sitting at the counter. Robert opened the refrigerator and took out milk and a half a cherry pie. Filling a glass for each of the boys, he loaded generous slices of the desert onto plates and set them down on the counter.

Both sat there with their heads down, not eating.

That brought Robert's anxiety level up another notch. "I need to know what's wrong and you need to tell me immediately!"

Jorge sniffed once and ventured a look at Robert. "Mr. McCall, mama says that you help people in trouble and Ismael and I think mama needs help."

He knew that he needed more patience. It looked like it was going to take a while to get the boys to talk. He took a deep breath. "Yes, your mother is right. I do help people in trouble, but furthermore your mother is a good friend of mine. I'd help her no matter what the reason. Now talk to me. Tell me what you think is wrong."

"You know mama's going to New York University to go to adult night classes there – right?" Jorge started.

Robert nodded, Lettie had tried to study on her own for her high school diploma but had failed the test miserably. She had heard about an adult learning program in one of the city's better colleges. She had applied for, and won a scholarship in its Adult Learning Center.

"She's been having lots of trouble with her English class, her teacher, he's a professor and mama's been having a lot of trouble keeping up."

Robert nodded, "Yes, I know." Over the months she had asked for his help to understand a few homework assignments and he had been happy to oblige. He had to explain a Shakespeare sonnet to Lettie once. She had been completely lost until he had untangled the words for her.

"Her professor is blackmailing mama into cleaning his home for free so that she can graduate!" Ismael blurted out.

"What?" Robert couldn't think of anything else to say.

Both boys hung their heads.

"I wish I was bigger," Ismael said, "I'd make him sorry he's being mean to my mom!"

Now he had to get to the bottom of this. "Boys, what makes you think your mother is being blackmailed?"

"Ok" Jorge said, "I'll start from the beginning. There's this Bulletin board at the school, and mom saw that people advertise for rooms to live in or to share or to sell cars and stuff? So she put up an advertisement that she cleans houses and does maid service so she could maybe make some extra money."

Lettie was certainly not afraid of hard work. "Go on."

"She got to go to some parties given by the teachers there, where she wore the fancy maids uniform she bought a while ago!" Jorge's eyes were shining at the memory. "Mom looked great. She brought home lots of great leftovers too."

Ismael was nodding so hard, Robert feared for his neck. "Yeah and mama also got extra money cleaning for people too. She puts all the extra money into a special box that's in the –"

Jorge elbowed his brother in the ribs, "Shut up, you're not supposed to tell anyone where the money is, you stupe!"

"But that's one of the clues we have that let us know mom was in trouble! I had to tell." Ishmael's eyes welled up with tears and he wiped at them with his hand.

Robert handed him a paper napkin, "All right boys. What are your clues that something is amiss?"

Ismael had started to eat his pie, so Jorge continued. "A few weeks ago, Mom told us that her English teacher, Professor Robert Mortimer," he said the name slowly, "asked her to go to his home and clean it after his work hours on Friday evenings. She usually likes to be home with us at night, but she thought that if she refused, then she'd be in more hot water with him. And she's been complaining that his class was so hard anyway."

"Yeah," Ismael said after drinking half his milk, "And mom has this scholarship that pays for part of her tuition and she has to keep up a B average. She was scared that she'd lose the scholarship if he gave her a bad grade."

Jorge continued. "So, she decided to take the job. Even though we don't need it, Mom asked Mrs. Goldstein next door to stay with us for a couple of hours every Friday so she could go to his house and clean."

"We're too old for a babysitter," Ismael said, "but Mrs. Goldstein says we're neighbors and are just visiting. She's nice and sometimes brings these little cakes she bakes –"

"Shut up Ismael! We're talking about mom now." Jorge rolled his eyes at his brother. "Anyway, mom's been going there every Friday for over a month, but she's come home later and later, and when she gets home, she looks like she's been crying!"

"She looks real sad, even Mrs. Goldstein worries about her." Ismael looked at his brother, "Can I tell him about the money now?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"And then Jorge and I noticed that mom didn't put the extra money she usually gets from cleaning into the box. We even looked into the box the next day and there's no extra money. She doesn't get paid!'

Robert thought about it a moment. On the surface it sounds simple enough, but it's always best to delve a little deeper. Perhaps Lettie was having a tryst with someone and was too embarrassed to tell her children?

"Look boys, it does sound as if something is bothering your mother, but why do you say blackmail? Perhaps she's, well, developed a friendship with a man and might be… visiting with him Friday nights and simply didn't tell you about it."

Jorge, who had been eating his pie, dropped his fork with a look of disgust. "I'm not a baby Mr. McCall. I know that mom has boyfriends sometimes. Since dad left, whenever she has a date, Mom makes a big deal that Ismael and I have to meet him. Whenever she goes out and might be late or out all night, she gets Mrs. Goldstein to stay overnight, or aunt Yvonne to stay with us."

"And she gets all dressed up," Ismael said, "She puts on make-up and perfume and everything. But she's been leaving on Fridays wearing her cleaning-house work clothing."

"Yeah," Jorge said, "she's not going on a date in that!"

Robert nodded. "You both have fine logical minds and a good eye for important details." Robert studied the young faces. "All right, why do you think blackmail?"

Jorge spoke up, "I have a friend Carlos –'

"He's sixteen and real smart!" Ismael interrupted.

Jorge nodded, "And I asked him what he thought was going on with my mom and he told me that his aunt had the same problem with her boss once. He didn't like Puerto Ricans and made her work longer hours and do all the hard jobs with no pay or else he said he'd fire her. Carlos said it's called – " Here he looked at Robert, "No kidding Mr. McCall it's called her-ass-ment!"

"Carlos said it's like blackmail to make people do what you want or you'll get them."

Jorge nodded. "And he thinks that maybe this teacher is making mom clean his house for free or else he'll fail her or give her a bad grade, and then mom can't go to school."

"Mama worries about that all the time." Ismael said, "She studies so hard but she's still afraid she'll never get her high school diploma. She says that this is her last chance. If she can't pass while getting good help at this school, then she'll never be able to pass the test."

"Ohh," Robert nodded. "I see." He thought about the problem while refilling the glasses with milk. "I'll have a word with your mother. I'm sure it can all be cleared up."

"No!" Jorge yelled, almost spilling his drink, "Mrs. Goldstein asked mom about what was wrong last week and Mom told her that she couldn't say, that she didn't want to talk about it either. She cried for that whole weekend."

"Please Mr. McCall," tears were streaming from Ismael's eyes. "don't talk to her about it. We don't want her to cry so hard like that again."

Jorge was tearful too. "Isn't there a way to help her without making her talk about it? Can't you get that teacher to stop forcing mom clean his house but still give her a good grade?"

Robert looked at the two sad boys. They were sincere in their fears for their mother. He nodded. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"Really?" Jorge sniffed.

"Yes, leave it all up to me. I'll get to the bottom of your mother's problem and fix it. I promise"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Checking over the last of the connections between the Company micro video player and his television, Robert saw that everything was set. Now, all he had to do was wait for Mickey to show up with the tape.

Lettie's boys had left Robert with only two days to gather all the information on Professor Robert Mortimer before Lettie was scheduled to pay another visit to his home. He had done the usual background check and found an interesting but troubling story.

Professor Robert Mortimer had indeed been a professor in a few well known colleges in this country over the past five years. He had come here from Great Britain and started at a prestigious school of higher learning, only to leave before the year was up. He then started to move from one college to another, and now he was spending time teaching one lone class at New York University, and working in its adult education program.

It had all the earmarks of a man made to leave a good position only to meet with more trouble until he had hit a low. A full college professor now working part time while making ends meet as a teacher in a night school, all within a few years? He had dug deeper into Mortimer's' history but had been met with failure. Nothing had been found in any of his records to fill in the questions about his fall from grace.

Because someone of Robert's age and obvious education would have stood out like a sore thumb on campus if he had asked questions about Mortimer, he finally had called upon his colleague Mickey Kostmayer to do the surveillance. Mickey still looked as if he was of an age to be enrolled in collage because many young men were returning veterans whose tuition was paid by the government. Mickey had done a superb job in gathering rumors about Mortimer and his penchant for women. Robert guessed he probably got most of the information by casually chatting up female students.

Mickey had also followed the professor for one full day and noted that Mortimer had welcomed another woman to his apartment the night before. He had mentioned that Mortimer didn't look like a Don Juan to him, but he made the point that his English accented voice sounded very like Robert's and that it must help in impressing female college students.

It was now early Saturday morning, 1 AM, and he was waiting for Mickey to return with the answer to exactly what sort of game professor Robert Mortimer was up to with his housekeeper.

There was a light ring of the outside bell and Robert answered it right away. He opened the door and his colleague swooped into the room.

"Everything set up?" Mickey asked.

"Right there," Robert pointed to the television set, so out of place in his living room.

"OK McCall, you got to see this." Mickey sat in front of it on the couch and, placing the small video tape into the special machine, he switched it on.

Robert sat next to him and looked at the screen. "The picture is good," he said, "Company electronics seems to have made a huge step forward since I was on the job."

Mickey smirked. "That was the dark ages."

Robert just glared at him.

Mickey laughed, "Sorry McCall. This video camera's the latest thing. It's so small nobody will notice it. It's still in place. All I had to do was make sure the camera lens had a clear view, suction cup it to the widow and leave. I picked up the picture and sound inside the van, downstairs on the street. I don't have to go back to the professor's fire escape until I want to retrieve the video camera, or if the blinds are shifted and the view is blocked."

"Ingenious what gadgets the Company has at its disposal now." Robert muttered.

The scene was of a bedroom, a side view of the bed took up most of the space, and there was an armchair at the wall facing its foot. A small night table and chair stood closest to the camera by the bed. The room was darkened, the shades had been drawn, but the small camera and its wide angled lens gave a full picture of the whole room.

"Everything starts now," Mickey whispered, as a timer at the bottom of the screen started to advance.

The door opened and Lettie, wearing the usual dowdy, loose fitting dress she wore to clean his house, walked into the room. She went to the near side of the bed, looked at it and sighed, mumbling something that Robert couldn't quite make out.

Stripping the comforter off and arranging the pillows together by the headboard at the middle of the bed, she then started to undress by lifting her shapeless dress over her head.

"I don't think I need to see any of this Mickey," Robert said, "This is too much like spying on a friend."

"You have to see all it to understand what's going on. It's not a cut and dry case of blackmail McCall, and it can't be handled like one."

Lettie had stripped down into her bra and half slip and was slipping off her panties. She laid them over her dress on the small chair. She then sat down on the bed and opened her purse. First she removed a little case and set it near her. Then she removed a small bottle and opened it and sniffed at it. She put her finger over the bottle and shook it, then wiped her finger on the top pillow.

"Is she putting perfume on the pillow?" Mickey asked, his voice tight, "Don't women put perfume on themselves?"

Robert shrugged. "Maybe it's her preference? Perhaps the professor requires her to wear that scent, but she doesn't want to apply it to her person? Who knows."

Lettie placed the cap on the bottle and left it on the night table and got up. She grabbed the small case and walked toward another door in the room.

"Bathroom," Robert surmised.

Just before entering, she leaned against the doorway, back lit by its florescent light and began to cry.

"Lord," Robert sighed. She was in pain and he hated to see it. Yet, from another part of his brain, Robert noted that Lettie was a very well built woman. He had never noticed that before. Her legs were long and well toned, dancers legs. Her abdomen and hips, although comfortably padded were very feminine, very attractive. When she turned around to enter the bathroom, he saw that her derriere was high. The bra she wore was of a smallish cup size, but, all in all, she was nicely proportioned. Why had he never noticed that before?

The room again went dim as the door was closed.

"The machine is movement and voice activated. We can tell how much time passes from the clock on the tape. See? It's just been a minute or two and she's back in."

The door of the bathroom had opened and Lettie walked out, still wearing her half slip and bra. She threw the small case on the table, pulled the sheet down, slid her slip off, sat on the bed and pulled the corner of the sheet over her in one swift movement.

Robert had caught a glimpse of a luxurious dark pelt between her legs. She silently sat there facing the camera. Robert was relieved to note that she was no longer weeping, but her expression was bleak and sorrowful.

Robert let his eyes away from Lettie to look over the room. Nothing unusual about it. It was not decorated in any style, and it had more than a few books lying around. Not surprising since a man of letters lived there.

"That bottle Lettie put there doesn't look like a perfume bottle." Mickey said.

"No," Robert said, squinted at it on the screen, "Oh, it looks like the aftershave I use. Look, the same bottle shape, and I do believe there's the label that I have on mine. It's a men's aftershave. Bay Rum."

Mickey shook his head, "Bay Rum? What's that?"

Lettie was still sitting at the side of the bed, moving only to shake her head at some inner thoughts.

"My father used it, and when he taught me to shave I also used it. I still continue the habit. It's good, very soothing to the skin. Traditional for British soldiers, that's why you mightn't have heard about it."

"So why's she smearing it on the pillow?" Mickey grimaced, "Oh oh, sheesh, I think I know."

Robert shrugged, that question was unimportant. "Perhaps the good professor isn't very hygienic? Who knows? Look Mickey I don't like the idea of – "

Professor Robert Mortimer, wearing a robe, entered the room. He handed a glass to Lettie. "You left your drink inside. I suggest you finish it."

Robert nodded, Mickey had been correct, Professor Mortimer did indeed sound very like his own self. They must have had approximately the same education in Great Britain at around the same time. He looked to be in his late fifties, a fireplug of a man, a little under six feet tall with steel gray hair.

Lettie took the drink and drained it in one gulp. She set the empty glass next to the bottle of aftershave.

"Are you all ready my dear?" Mortimer asked. He sat down on the leather chair that faced the foot of the bed. "Shall meet next Friday? The following Monday will be the final exam in class," his voice became light and humorous, "I will expect you here the Friday after that for our own private final exam, all right? And then that Monday the final grades will be posted."

"Si, yes, I understand Professor." Lettie nodded, resting her head in her hands, the picture of despair. Her eyes were shut and Robert could see more tears running down her face.

"Oh for God's sake woman, stop that weeping. I don't understand why you insist… Lettie, listen to what I might do. You need at least a B to remain a part of the scholarship plan, true?"

"Yes, professor," Lettie's voice was a whisper.

"Well, my dear, if you do well on my exams – all of them – then perhaps an A might even be on your horizon. Would that be to your liking?"

Lettie nodded, saying nothing.

Mortimer licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Shall we start?" His voice had become deep.

Lettie said, "Yes," in a hollow tone of voice as she reached behind her and undid her bra. Her breasts fell free, brown nippled and slightly drooping. She covered herself with the top sheet and moved to the middle of the bed where the pillows were heaped.

"The first selection I'll recite to you is 'Leda And The Swan', by W.B. Yeats," he said. "It' the story of Zeus, in the form of a swan, raping a young girl, Leda."

"What? I don't understand. A bird raping a woman? How can that be?" Lettie's voice sounded thick with emotion, but still confused.

"Zeus, the Greek God had the habit to make himself into animals in order to have relations with many mortal women. He didn't want his wife to find out about his affairs."

"Oh, so it wasn't a bird but a Greek god?' Lettie repeated.

"Right and as such, that animal was the god Zeus, not just an animal. Understand?"

"I think so." Lettie pulled the sheet up to her chin and tucked her arms beside her.

"'Leda and the Swan' is a sonnet, one of the most precise forms of literature known. The poem is written in the traditional sonnet form, using a traditional rhyme scheme, yet the subject matter is extremely non-traditional, for the subject is violent rape as opposed to the usual love theme. "

The professor's voice was that of a lecturer.

"The language in the beginning of the poem sets the tone of an aggressive sense of urgency. But there's also a vague passive distance. The action starts at the beginning with 'a sudden blow,' and again, in the third stanza, with 'a shudder in the loins.' it draws the reader into the action and into the poem."

The professor looked toward Lettie and must have read her expression the same way Robert interpreted it. Total upset and bewilderment.

"Ah well, I won't get into the part of my lesson that explains how the whole poem came out of Yeats's frustration with his virginal lady love, who loved the Irish Cause more than indulging in any physical experience. That's my next lecture in class. It will be part of the final test. So pay close attention to it."

Lettie nodded. A pained look on her face.

"I'll go over it with you next week more slowly. I'll work much more closely with you on it. Much more closely." The professor cleared his throat and recited from memory.

"A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast."

He emphasized all the more salacious words Robert noted, making the poem into an obscene thing, rather than poetry.

The room had gone quiet. Lettie had her eyes closed and Robert could detect tears on her face.

"Begin!" The professor hissed at her.

Lettie nodded and she placed her arms under the sheet.

"How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?"

The professor's voice was now deep and seductive. He was staring at Lettie.

Robert could see her hands move under the blanket towards her chest. She began to rub her breasts and her whole body squirmed a little.

"A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? "

Mortimer's voice became strained, his breath coming in short puffs.

Lettie had begun to breathe deeply and her hands became busier, one hand at her chest, another sliding down between her legs.

"'Feathered glory' and 'A shudder in the loins'." the professor repeated and opened his robe. He was naked underneath and took a hold of himself and started to languidly stroke his member.

"Yes. Yes. Roberto," Lettie murmured, her eyes closed tight, her face to the side, sniffing at the pillow under her head.

Professor Robert Mortimer licked his lips while studying Lettie's form on the bed. "Now you shall hear Shakespeare."

He began to recite.

"'Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require."

He began to handle himself more roughly, his face began to color red. At the same time, Lettie began to bend her knees up and spread her legs as her ministrations on herself became more rapid.

"Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;"

Mortimer spoke in a throaty voice, his breathing rate quickening.

Lettie moaned louder and kicked the sheet off her body to reveal her hands roughly massaging both her naked breasts and mons.

The sight of her naked and masturbating brought Robert to an instant erection. He reached forward and stopped the video, freezing the frame. Removing his glasses, he made an effort to wipe his mind clean of anything sexual. He felt himself begin to retreat. "I've seen enough. He's blackmailing her to have some sort of strange sexual encounter with him in order for her to get a good grade and keep her scholarship."

"McCall, It isn't as simple as that." Mickey stared at the picture on the screen. "If we try and use this tape to prove his misconduct, it won't wash."

"Mickey, I'm, surprised at you. So far the tape had shown she's not happy to be there, he mentions their final private exam and her need for a good grade. What more proof do we need?'

"The tape has to show that she's not at all happy about their encounter and that he's forcing her. It can't be read any other way."

"Bloody hell, it shows that. "

Mickey spoke quietly. "The end of the tape shows something that can be interpreted in a different way." Robert saw Mickey color a little. "Look I'm not enjoying this peep show either. I kinda know Lettie and she's a good woman and mother. She reminds me of my mom. But Robert, this tape shows something else you need to see before you go off to work some justice on this guy."

"I can't imagine what can be here." It looked self explanatory to him.

"Trust me, watch the whole tape."

Robert pursed his lips and gave off a great gust of air. "All right. Continue."

Mickey nodded and started the tape again.

Lettie's moans continued to get louder as she appeared to get closer to orgasm. Professor Mortimer stood up out of his chair and moved close to the bed. His eyes were glued on the woman there, his hands tugging at himself rhythmically.

Lettie's eyes were slits. Robert couldn't tell if she could see out of them, "Now, take me now, Roberto. Por favor, mi alegría."

With a start, he realized Lettie had called her professor, my joy!

"See?" Mickey said.

Mortimer threw off his robe, and Robert was surprised to see that after all that handling of himself, the man was only at less than half mast.

As the professor walked to the side of the bed and climbed onto it, Lettie said, with eyes now tightly closed. "Talk to me Roberto, recite more of that poem to me. Now. Now!"

"Anything," Mortimer said. He recited with a deep voice, rich in tone,

"Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those."

Lettie smiled, her eyes shut tightly. "Si, mi esclavo, mmmm. Yes, that's good," She moaned, "my slave, yes mmmmm." Letting her knees part wider, Mortimer received a full view of Lettie's most private parts as she dipped her fingers further into her body. He groaned and climbed on of her.

Robert could see him try and position his penis to enter her vagina, but his state was too flaccid. He kept slipping out.

"Damn!" Mortimer's voice was bathed in frustration as he kept trying to remain inside Lettie.

She turned her face into her pillow and sniffed loudly, and without opening her eyes she said. "Let me do for you Roberto. I know what you like, mi amo."

Robert frowned, "She called him my master?"

"Jeeze," Mickey nodded. "That's what it sounded like."

Rolling Mortimer onto his back, she then kneeled over his less than tumescent member. Cupping his balls with one hand, she used the other to guide him into her mouth.

Mortimer groaned, "'So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.'

Do what you will to me, my dear. I am but putty in your capable hands," his voice was still educated, but it was strained.

Lettie then began to vigorously perform fellatio on a raucous groaning Mortimer. Robert could see that she was putting a lot of care into the act. He felt himself start to respond and averted his eyes. "Is it necessary to see this Mickey?"

"There's more you need to see later on."

"Well, I'd rather not watch this. Obviously Lettie isn't going to be talking for a while. Fast Forward."

"OK," Mickey let out a shaky breath and pressed a button and the few minutes, showing her performance on Mortimer, sped by in an obscene fast pantomime.

Mickey brought the tape back into normal speed when they saw Lettie change position and climb up onto her professor's fully erect member. She sat astride him and began to move, plunging herself down upon his body over and over again.

"Si si, mi esclavo!" she gasped.

(My slave) Robert translated in his head.

She was moaning now, her breath coming in fast pants.

"Oh, mi jefe!" (my boss) she groaned. Her head was thrown back as she rode him with increasing vigor, breasts bouncing in time with her movements.

"Roberto, Mi alegría!" (Robert, my joy) Her face was a combination of intense pain and pleasure and the volume of her voice was getting louder and louder as she lost herself in the act.

"Mi vida!" (My life) She called out, her actions on top of Mortimer became frenzied, her head whipping around, the muscles in her neck standing out with her effort. Her body lurched with uncontrolled ardor.

"Oh Oh Oh" she was shouting now, her voice strained, "Si Si Si Roberto! Roberto! Si Roberto Mi call!!!" she screamed as her body was wracked by the start of a violent orgasm.

Confused, Robert said, "What'd she say? Mi call?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Lettie screeched wildly, "Oh Roberto McCall!!!! McCall!!"

"Oh Christ, she's saying McCall!" Robert gasped.

Letting that last picture of Lettie, screaming in her climax, head back, breasts pushed forward and her back arched with pleasure, remain on the screen, Mickey stopped the tape.

Robert found his mind a blank. "Did she really say McCall?" he ventured.

Mickey nodded. "Yep. She was calling out your name there at the end."

Robert removed his glasses and stood there in a haze. "Oh, I see." His voice sounded strange, even to his own ears.

"She was sniffing your scent, your aftershave and listening to a voice that sounds like yours to get her going. Looks like, in her mind there at the finish, she was screwing you." Mickey was grinning at him.

"Stop that smirk!" Robert said, but his mind was in a whirl. He'd have to re-view the whole tape, but he saw that it could be interpreted that Lettie wanted to be there for the sex, or the act, or the…

"The tape can't be used to prove Lettie was forced to screw the professor. By the end, she was not only willing, but in charge of the festivities," Mickey said.

"Then why the tears and her unhappiness to her family? Why not just go and have sex with Mortimer and… I don't know. Enjoy it?" Robert had an answer to the question, but he wanted Mickey to be the one to put it into words.

Mickey frowned as he thought. "Maybe, it started out with him forcing her to fuck him for her grade, and that's bad enough. But then she discovered that he sounded just like you and she got all hot and bothered and turned on," he shrugged, "Maybe she can't excuse herself for giving in to the blackmail, and on top of that she's also embracing and enjoying the fantasy that she's screwing you. It's possible it's just a little too kinky for Lettie That's why she's so upset about this."

Robert sighed. That was his take on it too. "Poor Lettie. She's ashamed that she's being blackmailed and ashamed that she's enthusiastically indulging in a fantasy sex life on top of it. But what is there for us to do about it?"

Mickey smirked, "You can always screw her for real. That would help her give up her fantasy sex life with the professor."

Robert glared at him. "Noted and rejected."

"Well, I've got the equipment. . ." Mickey said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down in a question as he looked at Robert.

"Forget it Kostmayer. You're not getting yourself sexually involved with Lettie!"

Mickey chuckled and shook his head, "No McCall, I meant I have the recording equipment from the Company. I can keep tabs on the professor's visitors to his bedroom and see how many other students he's forcing to boink him. Then we can send the film, edited of course, to the president of the collage. Make him fix the professor, or we will let it be known in the press that they're letting one of their staff use the school as a hunting ground for free nookie."

Robert nodded. "But I'd hate to get Lettie, or any of his other victims into trouble." He thought about it some more. "Maybe I might make a personal visit to the President of the collage and guide him into rectifying the problem without making the victims go through more humiliation. I can explain to him that women in this city might not want to enroll in his adult education program if they might become victims of blackmail. Bad for business."

"Sounds like a plan."

Robert nodded. "That it does. If all works out well, this should be all wrapped up by the end of next week. The women who were blackmailed should be given fair grades, and Mortimer punished by the college's own tribunal. I'll make sure that this time, that man's habit of being a sexual predator to his female students is finally noted on his record. I'd guess he had made deals with those other colleges that he'd leave quietly if nothing was noted. He was able to go from college to college victimizing students to fill his need for power and sex."

"Just make sure that this never happens again."

"You can be sure that will be a priority, Mickey."

He looked at the screen with the frozen picture of his housekeeper on it. "Poor Lettie, victimized by her professor and by her own deeply private, long hidden, sexual desire."

"Yeah," Mickey shook his head, "No accounting for taste."

"Cheeky monkey," Robert growled.

Back