From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate. -Socrates

The office was swathed in shadows. The light from the outside had been arrested by the drawn blinds. The windows that overlooked the hallway of the school had their curtains wrapped around their throats. Secrecy enveloped the room. No one came in and no one went out.

A stout man sat at his desk with stacks of paper set out before him. His short, slightly curled hair was damp with sweat that trickled down into his salt and pepper beard. His beady dark eyes flitted across the room, suspiciously surveying his domain. Finally, he looked at the woman sitting across from him and gave her a tiny, slimy smile.

"This information that you brought me is very interesting," he remarked, picking up one of the papers. "Where did you get it from?"

"Does it matter?" The woman laughed lightly and draped herself casually across the chair she was sitting in.

"I want to make sure that the information is reliable and accurate."

"It is. It came from sources very close to Jon."

"Who?"

The woman smiled lazily and shook her head.

"Come on now, my dear," he cooed in flattering tones. "How am I to judge the reliability of what you've brought to me if I cannot vet the sources?"

"Alright," she sat up and leaned forward. "His parents provided most of it."

The man look as impressed as he was surprised. "How did you manage that one?"

She shrugged, looking very pleased with herself. "I have my ways."

"Who is the other source- the one with the most salacious details in this report?"

"An old friend of his from childhood."

"Name?"

"Angelo Sartori."

"It is interesting that ones so close to our dear Mr. Turner are so quick to turn on him." The man grinned devilishly. He could not be more pleased by this.

"Well," the woman said as delighted as he was. "His parents still very much disapprove of his life choices and dear Angelo- well, once an addict always an addict as they say."

"Pity." The man gave a deep laugh. "I'll need more evidence of what Mr. Sartori claims you understand."

"What do you want?"

"Arrest records would be a nice start."

"Yes, well," the woman ran her finger across the dustless desk. "Those won't be possible to obtain, unfortunately. His juvenile record was expunged when he turned eighteen."

"Surely, there's a paper trail somewhere. Family members, news articles from the time period? You are a very clever woman. I'm sure you can find something." His snake-like smile spread wide enough for his professionally bleached teeth to shine in the darkness.

The woman preened under the praise. "I have a new angle to work," she told him proudly. "I have a feeling it will be the most lucrative contact yet."

The man raised a eyebrow. "Another friend or family member?"

"This one would be considered both," woman informed him as she inspected her deep burgundy nails that were so glossy they shone in the minimal lighting. "His children call him uncle, but he isn't actually related to them."

"Good, good." The man clapped his hands together greedily. After a moment he asked, "Do you know why I want this information?"

"You want to retire and join the school board, don't you? You want to oust Jon and take his position?"

"Yes," the man growled darkly. He picked up a glass of water by side and took a sip. "I do. But not only that, I want to make sure that Jonathan Turner never holds a position of power anywhere ever again. And if a divorce should occur in the process, well..." He lifted his hands skyward as though to absolve himself.

The woman smiled delightedly at the word divorce. "You really do hate him, don't you? Almost as much as I hate her for taking him from me."

"Hate is very strong word, my dear. But, yes, I do loathe him." The man's face became very dark and angry. "He made my time at John Adams High a living nightmare. Just when I started to finally establish myself; to gain the respect of my peers, to climb the educational hierarchy- along comes Jonny Cool with his motorcycle and leather jacket. His earring and that devil-may-care attitude. He took away everything I'd worked so hard for just by walking into that school. He was the one who couldn't keep his mouth shut about things that weren't his business and got me fired. If I hadn't been for him I would have..." The man was so lost in his anger and bitterness that he did not feel the glass he'd been holding shatter in his hand.

The woman got up as though nothing too serious had happened. She retrieved the first aid kit from the cabinet and took it over to the desk. Opening it nonchalantly, she took out bandages and disinfectant and tended to the older man's hand.

"Of course, he also put me in this miserable position," he raged on. "I don't deserve this pathetic little school. I should be superintendent!" By the time the woman was done with his hand, he'd regained his composure.

"So you want revenge. As do I," she said taking her seat again after replace the kit in the cabinet.

"And we shall have it, my dear." The smarmy smile returned to his face as he watched her. "At least one good thing came out of our time at John Adams High together...our friendship."

The woman gave him a self-satisfied smile and nodded. Then she stood up and smoothed out her suit. "I really should be going before Jonny misses me."

The man stood up and walked her to the door. "You know what I want correct?"

"Proof of Jon's delinquent past, his teaching escapades both here and in Philadelphia correct?"

"Yes." He put his hand on the door knob. Just before he gave it a turn, he added slyly, "Also I want whatever you can find about his wife. She must a have a secret or two as well."

"I don't doubt that."

"Good. I will see you next week, my dear."

Woman smiled affably and wrapped her hand around the older man's wrist. Her nails dug into his skin and he winced. "Just let's not forget our deal. You take Jon down and take over, but I get him."

The man shrugged then flinched as the movement dug her nails into his skin further. "Well, I'll certainly have no use for him when all is said and done. Do whatever you please with him."

The woman gave him a kiss on the cheek and let go of his wrist.

The sectary of the junior high just returned to the office from her lunch break when a blonde woman sauntered out like she was the Queen of England. The secretary looked around the office for other visitors to her building. But there were none. She frowned in confusion as she looked over the visitors' log. No had signed in since she left for lunch.

"Casey?" she called to the younger woman who worked with her.

"Yeah?" A curly haired blonde popped her head out of the storage room.

"Did the superintendent come by today?"

"No, Trish. His royal highness," she stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. "Had a meeting this afternoon with the woman who just left."

How strange, the junior high secretary thought. Why would our assistant principal have a meeting with the superintendent's secretary and not the superintendent?

When I started this 20 years ago the complaint was the chapters were too short. Now I fear they are far too long and people dread seeing that I've updated because of the length. I'm not sure but I don't want people who like the story to feel this way. So from here on out I will make the chapters as short as I can without awkward breaks. It will mean that the story will appear much longer than intended. It also mean more frequent updates. Yay? I hope.

Is there any thing I can do to make this story more readable/enjoyable for you? I feel like I'm missing the mark somewhere?

Thank you who are reading. It's helped me through a very hard, lonely period.