Chapter 1

Peter Robinson straightened his tie as he strode down the polished hallway, his leather briefcase swinging at his side. The click of his shoes echoed off the vaulted ceilings, mingling with the soft giggles emanating from behind classroom doors.

As he approached the headmistress’s office, a group of girls in crisp uniforms rounded the corner. Their eyes widened as they took in the handsome new teacher, his dark hair neatly combed and jawline cleanly shaven. They whispered excitedly amongst themselves, smoothing their skirts and tossing their hair.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mr. Robinson said with a nod and a disarming smile.

A chorus of breathy “Good mornings” followed him as he continued on his way. He could feel their eyes on his back, appraising him.

St. Mary Institute for Young Women wasn’t a regular school. It wasn’t part of the official education system, therefore it was not subject to State inspection or supervision. In old times it would be called a “finishing school,” supposedly teaching young women social graces and upper-class cultural rites as a preparation for entry into society. Today, it was simply “St. Mary’s.” The students were taught social graces, as well as subjects as domestic economy, haute cuisine, protocol and a series of skills -finance, business, enterpreneurship- to become wives -and lovers- of the very rich and powerful.

Mrs. Duran, the headmistress, sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, her blonde hair pulled into a severe bun. She peered at Peter over her half-moon spectacles, her lips pursed.

“Peter Robinson. twenty-eight years. Degree in business management with a master in education. Passed with top marks, although your college is not one of the most prestigious ones. Until now, you have been only in substitute teacher gigs. No relatives known. Single. Straight.” The last two words uttered with approval.

Peter’s heart raced with nervous excitement. This once-in-a-lifetime offer seemed too good to be true, and yet here he was, sitting in front of a beautiful brunette recruiter in her thirties who had promised him unimaginable opportunities. Her words were like music to his ears, but the doubts still lingered in his mind. As she explained the job expectations, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was all some kind of joke. But then, a notification from his bank popped up on his phone, announcing an impressive amount had been transferred into his account just for attending the interview. It all seemed surreal, and yet there it was, tangible proof of this incredible opportunity. The recruiter remained tight-lipped about the school’s name until Peter accepted the job and signed a draconian NDA, adding another layer of mystery to the already mysterious situation.

Following the initial interview, a battery of rigorous physical and psychological tests were conducted, ultimately deeming him capable and suitable for the job. A second meeting was scheduled, delving into greater detail about the expectations and responsibilities of the role. And now, as he sat in the final interview, his heart racing with anticipation and nerves, he knew that this was his last chance to secure the job of his dreams. If he could just perform flawlessly in this moment, it would be his for the taking.

“Let me be clear with you, Mr. Robinson,” Mrs. Duran said with a stern expression. Her voice was sharp and businesslike, cutting through the air like a knife. “I was vehemently opposed to your hiring. In my opinion, there were several other better, more qualified candidates for this position. However, it seems that you have made powerful connections.”

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion. As an orphan who had spent his childhood bouncing between foster homes, he had no family or connections to speak of. Determined to make something of himself, he worked hard to secure a good education and even earned scholarships to attend college. But despite his efforts, the job market was tough and he struggled to find a stable career. He eventually decided to supplement his degree with a teaching certification - a job that may not pay well but could at least provide some stability.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Duran, but I have no idea what friends you are referring to.”

“That may be true or not,” Mrs. Duran replied sharply. “But it’s irrelevant now. You have been hired and we will have to make do with you. However, I trust you understand the ... unique challenges that come with the position here at St. Mary’s, Mr. Robinson?” Her words hung heavily in the air, hinting at something mysterious and foreboding about his new role at the prestigious school.

“I believe I do, Mrs. Duran,” he replied, shifting slightly in his seat. “Though I must admit, some aspects are rather ... unexpected.”

“Indeed,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Our students require a well-rounded education. Mathematics, of course, but also the finer points of pleasing a man. You’ll be instrumental in both.”

Peter cleared his throat. “I was told I’d get accommodations on campus?”

“Ah yes, your accommodations,” Mrs. Duran said, rising from her desk. “Follow me.”

She led Mr. Robinson down a winding corridor, the walls adorned with portraits of stern-faced women in high collars. They stopped before a heavy oak door.

“This will be your office and daytime quarters,” Mrs. Duran explained, producing a key.

The room was sparsely furnished, just as Peter had been told. He ran his hand along the back of the leather sofa, noting its softness.

“But where am I going to sleep?” he asked, furrowing his brow. There was no bed in this bedroom.

“Ah, the bed,” Mrs. Duran replied with a knowing smile. “You won’t be needing one, Mr. Robinson. Your quarters are for studying and keeping your clothes and belongings. Sleep accommodations are elsewhere.”

Mr. Robinson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I see. And where might those be?”

Mrs. Duran’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Why, with the students, of course. Part of our ... unique curriculum involves hands-on instruction in all areas of wifely duties. You’ll rotate nightly among the senior girls’ dormitories.”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock. “I ... I beg your pardon?” he stammered, his face flushing crimson.

Mrs. Duran, smiled primly. “Come now, Mr. Robinson. Surely you understood the ... special nature of our institution when you applied?”

He swallowed hard, tugging at his collar. “I ... I’m not sure I...”

Mrs. Duran’s smile tightened. “Our girls require a thorough education in all matters, Mr. Robinson. Business Math, yes, but also the art of pleasing a man. You’ll find them most eager to learn.”

She opened a drawer and took a very thick book entitled “St. Mary’s Teacher Aid.” It was a beautiful volume, richly bound, fitted with a lock and with a small key hanging from a cord. She showed it to Peter. “This is the bible for our teachers, covering almost everything they must know about the school, its philosophy, learning aids and even ways to approach the students according to their particular psychological profiles. You are expected to read it thoroughly before giving your first class in two days, so you need to hurry up and start to read.” He reached for it but Mrs. Duran stopped him with a gesture. “There is a key for a reason, Mr. Robinson. It’s for teacher’s eyes only, so you will keep the book locked and the key with you at all times, do you understand?”

Peter nodded with his head. She pushed the book towards him.

Just then, a willowy blonde in a crisp uniform appeared in the doorway. “Headmistress, you wanted to see me?”

“Ah yes, Penelope. Mr. Robinson, this is Penelope Parker. Please show Mr Robinson your bedroom, dear. I hope you will familiarize him with the way we do things here.”

Peter, the book under his arm, felt his heart pounding as he followed Penelope down the hallway. His mind raced, torn between shock, temptation, and a gnawing sense that this was deeply wrong. The girl’s hips swayed gently as she walked, her pleated skirt swishing with each step.

“Here we are, sir,” Penelope said softly, opening a door to reveal a cozy bedroom with a large four-poster bed.

Peter hesitated in the doorway. “Miss, I’m not sure this is appropriate...”

Penelope turned to him with a coy smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Robinson. We’re all older than eighteen here.” She began slowly unbuttoning her blouse. “Now, shall we begin your first lesson?”

Peter’s resolve crumbled as Penelope approached him, her lithe form now barely concealed by delicate lace undergarments. His breath caught in his throat as she placed a soft hand on his chest.

“I’ve always been quite good at mathematics, you know,” she purred. “Perhaps we could start with ... the chain rule?”

Before he could respond, her lips were on his. Peter felt his last shred of resistance melt away as he surrendered to the kiss, his hands moving to Penelope’s waist.

As they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, a small part of Peter’s mind registered that this was the point of no return. But with Penelope’s eager hands roaming his body, he found he no longer cared.

The next morning, he awoke to find Penelope gone and a note on the bedside table. “Please get ready for your first class at 09:00. Classroom 12B.” He looked at his watch. The clock said 8:15. Peter took a quick shower and hurriedly dressed, his mind reeling from the events of the previous night. As he straightened his tie in the mirror, he tried to rationalize what had happened. Perhaps this was all an elaborate test? Or a dream? Then his eyes wandered to the book. “The book ... I should have started to read it,” he thought. But Penelope had been so enthusiastic last night that he had been too tired to do more than just leaf through it. “I will read it later,” he decided. After all, he knew everything about giving a Math class.

He made his way to Classroom 12B, his stomach churning with a mixture of guilt and anticipation. As he entered, twenty pairs of eyes locked onto him. The room was filled with beautiful young women, all in crisp uniforms with knowing smiles.

“Good morning, Mr. Robinson,” they chorused in unison.

He cleared his throat nervously. “G-good morning, class. Today we’ll be discussing ... um ... intro to financial math.”

A brunette in the front row raised her hand. “Sir, we were hoping you might teach us about ... growth curves today.”

The class erupted in giggles as Peter blushed. He knew he needed to gain control of these students or he would be in a heap of troubles.

Peter took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Ladies, I understand there may be ... certain expectations here. But I am your mathematics teacher, and that is what I intend to focus on in this classroom.”

A collective groan of disappointment rippled through the room. The brunette in front pouted visibly.