Stuck-Up Bitch

Chapter One

Anna graduated from Horace College nine years ago. During her junior year she had a work-study job in the President's Office. It was the usual stuff-filing, copying, fielding phone calls, etc.

One day college president Earl Heppner gave her a stack of papers to copy. Being a naturally curious young lady, she made sure to look at everything she copied or filed. Mostly it was really boring stuff-all the juicy personnel papers were given to the full-time staff to deal with. But on this day, along with a big pile to copy, were four or five pages of neatly printed, hand-written accounts. Anna had no idea what it was about, but she had the presence of mind to make an extra copy for herself to peruse at her leisure.

She took it home that night and couldn't make head or tail of it. She considered asking one of her girlfriends-an accounting major-but thought better of it. Good thing, too, because even though it took her a week to figure it out, this was news she had to keep to herself.

Anna was a very systematic person, even then. So she wrote out long hand exactly what case she had against President Heppner. Along the way she checked and double checked all her facts and inferences, to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. The stakes were very high-if she was wrong it would ruin her career.

Apparently Dr. Heppner owed $25,000 to somebody named "Bob". Bob had agreed to accept payment in installments over a year, with $3,000 due each month-the extra being vigorish. So the President had set up a Capital Improvement Fund, unusual only in the sense that he alone could sign checks drawn on that account (most accounts needed at least two signatures). And so every month he had $4,000 deposited into the account from the College's general fund, and then he withdrew $3,000 to pay off Bob. He carefully cooked the books so that the Accounting Office would never know.

What Anna had in front of her were copies of both sets of books for the Capital Improvement Fund-the cooked and uncooked records. Understandably, Dr. Heppner had been as laborious and careful in putting that together as Anna had been in deciphering it.

The following week she make an appointment to see Dr. Heppner. She brought copies of the accounts with her, leaving her long hand narrative at home.

"I have something I think you'd be interested in seeing." She handed the papers across the desk.

Dr. Heppner glanced quickly, and then did a longer double take. His face turned ashen. "Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter where I got it. I have it now."

"Well, I'm glad you brought this back to me. Thank you very much. Is there anything I can offer you by way of reward?" He pulled a $20 bill out of his wallet.

"I kept a copy for myself. I thought I might give it to the police."

Dr. Heppner shrank back in his chair. "What do you want from me?" he finally stammered.

"Five hundred dollars a month, every month, in cash. Schedule me with your secretary for the first of every month, and I'll come to your office to pick up the money." She paused. "But you owe me the first installment tomorrow."

She'd kept in touch with Earl (as she now calls him) even after she graduated.

She knew enough about academia to know that not even the President can make personnel decisions. Those always went through committees-search committees for hiring, and campus committees for tenure. Still, Earl could put a thumb on the scales-she expected him to do no less.

After she finished grad school, she applied for and got a job as an assistant professor of English and women's studies at Horace College. That made it easier to collect her monthly payment.

Chapter Two

Anna Greten and Mary Jean Peprin walked slowly across the main quad. It was a beautiful day in early May, a few weeks before the Summer break. Coeds were sunbathing, while the relatively few guys were playing frisbee.

Anna, still an untenured assistant professor, had just gotten word that her book had been accepted for publication-the one she hoped would earn her tenure. Titled 'Defeating the Male Gaze', oddly enough it was a fashion book. It concerned the effort to stop men from regarding women as sex objects and to cease looking at them lustfully.

A long book-at over 600 pages it included extensive notes. Anna didn't realize that her thesis could be reduced to a single page, or even to a single sentence: "Dress like an old lady." Either that, or wear a burqa.

Her companion, older than Anna, already had tenure. Indeed, she was on the Promotion & Tenure Committee, the body that'd decide Anna's fate in a few years. Mary Jean was the driving force behind the campus' 'anti-masculinism' effort-a serious attempt to destroy male privilege and insist that men behave like women. All the rage at Horace College-any disagreement got you pilloried, or even fired.

Mary Jean was probably on 45 or so, but looked older. She certainly didn't have to worry about the male gaze-'ugly bitch' is the way they'd probably describe her. She wore no jewelry or make-up-the bright sun illuminated every wrinkle. Her hair was streaked with gray. A loose blouse covered those sagging, amorphous blobs of flesh otherwise known as breasts. And fortunately, the ankle-length skirt hid every inch of fatty thigh and varicose calf.

Anna was secretly grateful she didn't look like that. She worked out at home-only for the sake of health she told herself and others, but it certainly didn't hurt her appearance. And being more than a decade younger she still passed as a young woman. Her hair showed her native brunette-she plucked the occasional gray strands. In a few years graying would be obvious, and anti-masculinist ideology frowned on artificial color-that just encouraged them. Like Mary Jean, she dressed frumpily, with clothes that would look good on an eighty-year-old.

Coming towards them Anna saw Todd Travers. He'd started working at Horace the same year as Anna, and taught criminology in the pre-law program. He was all sweaty, dressed in sports clothes and soccer cleats.

"Where's the suit and tie?" greeted Mary Jean, sternly. In the classroom Dr. Travers was nattily dressed. It suited his six-foot, athletic frame.

"I was out playing soccer with the guys," laughed Todd. "Hard to play soccer in suit."

"Soccer? Isn't that a bit...competitive?" complained Anna.

"We don't keep score," he said, probably lying. "Besides, there aren't very many sports for guys on this campus. So we've organized our own soccer league. Just three teams, but it's a start."

The only varsity sports for men at Horace were table tennis and ballroom dancing. Those met the anti-masculinist criteria, though that was always disputed.

"I think soccer is too competitive," repeated Anna. "And also, we should only have sports where men and women can play on the same team. Otherwise it promotes male privilege."

"Where are you women headed?" asked Todd, desperately trying to change the subject. He carefully avoided using masculinist terms such as "ladies" or "girls."

Mary Jean answered. "Anna just got her book accepted for publication. We're going out for a beer to celebrate. Would you like to come along?"

"No thanks," he said, with a momentary grimace. "I have to take a shower, and then I've got a ton of papers to grade. But congratulations."

Anna couldn't let it go. "We were thinking of replacing table tennis with flower arranging. What do you think of that?"

"Flower arranging? Is that a sport?" And for guys?"

"They'd have to go out and collect wildflowers, and within a specified time. So it requires athletic skill. And it teaches young men sensitivity and aesthetics."

"It's probably bad for the environment," answered Todd, scrounging around for any excuse. "Hey, look, I gotta go. I'll see you around. And congrats again on your book."

"Don't forget that you're scheduled to serve tea and cookies at tomorrow's faculty meeting," Anna yelled after him.

As they approached Winthrop Hall, the administration building where Earl's office was, Anna became more and more nervous. "I have a quick errand to run before we go," she told her companion. "Can you give me fifteen minutes?"

Anna was anxious for good reason. About a year ago, the folder containing Earl's accounts and her longhand notes had gone missing. She had turned her apartment upside down looking for it, but to no avail. So far it hadn't made any difference-Earl still produced the $500 on schedule. But if she ever had to make good on her threat to go to the cops, it'd be harder to do so.

"I'm here to see Dr. Heppner," she told the secretary.

"He's expecting you. Go right in."

She walked through the door without knocking. "Hi Earl. How are you today?"

"Here's your money Dr. Greten," and he handed her a wad of bills. He turned back to his computer to continue working.

"We need to talk for a minute."

"What?"

"This is good enough for this month. But beginning next month, you owe me a grand. Inflation and all, you understand. I haven't raised the rent in over ten years."

"You're joking," he said, in shock.

"No, I'm not joking."

"How am I supposed to come up with a thousand dollars a month?"

"I don't know. That's your problem. But you're president, so you've got plenty of money." She turned toward the door. "I'll see you next month."

Chapter Three

Summer passed profitably. Earl produced the thousand dollar payments on schedule for June, July and August. He wasn't happy and complained that his daughter was going to have to drop out of college. But that wasn't Anna's problem. He should've thought ahead.

By September 1st school had already been in session for a week. Anna stopped by Earl's office for her appointment. All she needed to do was to pick up her money-shouldn't take more than a minute.

"Hi Earl," she said as she walked through the door, before noticing that nobody sat behind the desk. Looking around, she saw Earl sitting at the conference table. Next to him was Todd Travers.

"Hi Todd", she said, surprised. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. ... I can come back later. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No, no," said Dr. Heppner. "I invited Professor Travers to join us. Please have a seat."

Anna very nervously sat down.

"Have you ever seen this book?" Dr. Travers asked. He passed a thick, yellow, hardbound tome across the table. The title was 'Masculinism and its Discontents', edited by Mary Jean Peprin and David Peprin. David Peprin, nee Quinn, was Mary Jean's husband. In a display of anti-masculinism he'd taken his wife's name when they married. He was a professor of economics.

Anna picked up the book. "Yes, of course I know this book." She paused. "Hey, this is my copy! It even has my name written inside the front cover. Where'd you get this?"

"I bought it at a garage sale. I noticed your name and I bought it to return it if you. Do you want it back?"

"Thanks, Todd. Yeah, I would like it back." She put the book in her bag.

"My name is Professor Travers, Anna. More interesting than the book is what I found inside of it." He took a few sheets of paper out his folder and handed those to her. "Those are copies, of course. I kept the originals."

Anna looked at the papers. Her hands started shaking. They were all of Earl's old accounts, and worse, it included her long hand narrative. "Well, I guess you don't owe me any more money, Earl," she stammered. "We can consider the debt wiped clean. I hope it hasn't been too much of an inconvenience for you."

"You've been blackmailing Dr. Heppner for nearly ten years. And you expect him to let it go with just an apology?"

"I was just a young kid then." She started sweating. "I needed the money for grad school. You saved me from taking out student loans, so you definitely did a good deed." She paused, and then looking Dr. Heppner straight in the eye, she begged "Earl, please forgive me. I didn't mean any harm by it. I can probably pay you back eventually."

"My name is Dr. Heppner," he replied, sternly.

"I think we own you, Lady," said Dr. Travers. "You owe Dr. Heppner big time. And me, too, for all the bullshit you put me through."

"You have nothing on me. After all, if you turn me in, then Earl has to confess to his crime as well. So we'd both go down."

"Not true, Missy," explained Todd. "The statute of limitations has long since lapsed on Dr. Heppner's theft. But you're looking at 20 years for blackmail, minimum."

"Besides," said Dr. Heppner, "I long since paid back my debt to the campus-with interest. Thanks to you, Little Bitch, it took me a lot longer than it should have."

"Mind your language, Dr. Heppner," warned Travers. "It's not time for that."

"Todd, what do you want from me? I don't have a lot of money. Please, have mercy on me. What are you trying to do? Ruin me?" She started crying.

"We're not going to ruin you. But for the next ten years or so we are definitely going to profit from you."

Anna now bawled uncontrollably. Earl got up to fetch some tissues from his desk.

"Pull yourself together, Sweetie," Todd said sharply. "We have some things we need to go over." She continued crying as if she hadn't heard him.

"Sit up straight and pay attention," he shouted.

She raised her head and looked at him fearfully.

"First you have to get our names right. My name is Dr. Travers, or Professor Travers. You will never call me anything else. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whimpered, softly.

"That's not good enough. Whenever you speak to us directly, you address us as 'Sir.' So answer again, correctly."

"Yes Sir." It was barely audible.

"Say it again, loud enough so I can hear it."

"Yes Sir."

"And my colleague's name is Dr. Heppner or President Heppner. You will never call him anything else."

She was silent.

"How do you answer me?"

"Yes Sir." She felt completely deflated.

"For ten years you have insulted Dr. Heppner by using a disrespectful name. You will now apologize to him. Refer to him by the proper name, and make sure you address him as 'Sir.' "

After a few failed efforts she finally got it right. She said loudly and clearly, looking him in the eye,

"Dr. Heppner, I apologize to you for not being respectful for the past ten years, and not calling you by your proper name, Sir."

"Apology noted," Earl responded.

"And what can we call you?" Todd asked.

"Dr. Greten, I suppose," she offered, hopefully. "Sir," she remembered at the last minute.

"Good. You're catching on. We could call you 'Dr. Greten' I suppose, but I doubt we ever will. If we use your name it'll be 'Anna'. Or we might call you honey, sweetie, dearie, girlie, lady, baby, cutie, little girl, or even woman. Hell, we can call you anything we want. And no matter how we address you, you answer 'Sir.' Understood?"

"Yes Sir. But why do you have to use such sexist names?" Then she thought of the insulting names he didn't mention. She was grateful for that, at least.

"Those names aren't sexist. They're sexy. We might use sexist names later, but not now."

Todd looked at the notes he'd scribbled. "So we're not going to ask you to start paying Earl back right away. We know you don't have a lot of money, and you're going to have to cover the expenses for what we'll be asking you to do. But today you've called me 'Todd' three times, and you addressed Dr. Heppner as 'Earl' four times. I should also count how many time you failed to say 'Sir', but we'll let that go. The fine for disrespectful language is $50 per offense. So you owe Dr. Heppner $350, payable by next Thursday."

Anna's stomach sank. "I don't have that kind of money right now."

"You didn't address me as 'Sir,' Todd said irritatedly. "That's another $50. You owe $400 by Thursday."

"How can you not have the money since I just gave you $3,000 over the summer?" Earl asked.

"I used it for the down payment on a new car, Sir."

"I suggest you sell the car. You're going to need some money," Todd said. "It's best if you pay us by Thursday. Otherwise it's payable at $50 per week for ten weeks. Those are the terms. Either way, your first payment is due on Thursday. And don't mess with us. It won't go well for you. Remember, you're looking at twenty years."

"And you won't get tenure, either," Earl added with a smile. "Moving on, we need to see what we've got to work with. Could you please stand up over there."

Anna got up and stood where he indicated-about 10 feet in front of them.

"Lift up your skirt."

"What?"

"He told you to lift up your skirt. And please address us respectfully-you're marching close to the edge, Young Lady."

Anna tentatively raised her skirt. Maybe her knees showed.

"We need to see your underwear," Earl said as kindly as possible. "Please try again."

Anna's face felt red hot. Her embarrassment embarrassed her more than the skirt-raising. She grabbed the hem to cover her eyes. Still, she felt the male gaze sizing her up like a side of beef.

"You work out, don't you?" asked Earl.

"Yes Sir," came the muffled reply.

"Good. Keep that up. But I don't like your underwear. You'll have to replace that with something sexier."

"And cleaner," added Todd. "It looks like your grooming isn't that good. That's got to change. And you need to shave your legs."

"But the raw material is there. She's a good looking woman."

"I think you're right. I'm getting a hard-on just looking at her."

"Turn around," said Earl. "We need to see your bottom."

Anna turned around and lifted the skirt over her head. It was easier when she didn't have to face them.

"Please bend over."

The hot blush of humiliation returned. She didn't have anything to lean against, so she hoped they'd be happy with a Japanese bow.

"How often do you change your underwear?" Earl asked.

"Every two or three days, Sir."

"You need to change every day. And you need to wash your bottom. We will be checking that."

"There are fines for improper grooming," Todd added. "We will drive you into absolute poverty if you don't cooperate with us."

"You can be seated again."

She breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't going to rape her. At least not yet.

Earl continued with the instructions. "Our goal for this semester is to turn you into an attractive young lady. We are not going to let you dress like an old hag anymore. We expect you to buy what clothes you need. You can select what you want, but at the end of the day we need to approve. You will be meeting with us every Thursday at 9am for inspection. We will check your grooming, and as Dr. Travers mentioned, you will be fined if you fail. Is this clear?"

"Yes Sir."

He passed her a sheet of paper and a pen. "Please write this down so you don't forget. For next Thursday we will be looking for the following.

"You need to start using makeup. Not a lot, but we expect some lipstick and eyeliner.

"You need to wear some jewelry-at least earrings. Are your ears pierced?"

"No Sir."

"You'll have to get your ears pierced before Thursday. And then buy a pair of earrings if you don't have some already. And start wearing a necklace.

"Your skirt cannot cover your knees. You'll have to buy some shorter skirts.

"Dr. Travers, is there anything I've forgotten? Anything she has to get done between now and Thursday?"

Travers thought for a minute. "Yeah, shave your legs. And start using perfume. And paint your nails, both fingers and toes."

"Did you get that all written down? Read that back to me.

She went through the list: "Lipstick and eyeliner; pierced ears and earrings; a necklace; shorter skirts; shave my legs; perfume; and paint my nails."