Chapter 1

SEPTEMBER.

Frau Kurtz tapped her pencil against her teeth. She was short and plump and ugly and immaculately dressed, and I was absolutely positive that she was a complete bitch. I smiled cheerfully at her and waited.

'You're unlike the other candidates, ' she said at last. Her English was slow and she had a heavy accent. 'Could you tell me why you are applying for the position?' I'd wondered about that myself.

'I was invited to attend this interview by the parents of ... I forget their names, I'm afraid. I have a certain reputation for persuading difficult pupils to apply themselves to improving their English. I'm here out of curiosity, mainly. I've never lived in Austria, but they sent me the air ticket, so... ' She frowned.

'You seem a rather unsettled person, and you are very casually dressed.' I stood up.

'If that's all, Frau Kurtz, I'll be on my way. I'm sure that there are many suitable candidates anxious to be insulted.' I didn't really care what she thought about me. I like myself a lot and I'm the one that counts. Also, I knew there weren't any other candidates. She scrambled up as I turned towards the door.

'Herr Lancer, please. I did not mean to be critical. Let me tell you about Karl and Ulrika.' I let her soothe me and sat down again. I was employed again. No surprise.

'I have a certain reputation... ' I smiled to myself as I unpacked my one suitcase. The house was plenty big enough and they'd given me a room on the top floor, with an adjoining one that I'd use as a classroom. We'd struck the standard deal. They housed and fed me until the summer and gave me regular spending money. If the student passed the exams they paid me a handsome cash bonus, equivalent to one year's fees at a private school. I always make my bonus. This year there were two students. Bonanza.

All upper class parents in Europe want their kids to speak fluent English. I'm not a particularly gifted teacher, but quite early on in my career I found out that if I spend enough time with someone, and concentrate on feeling my way into their skin, I can somehow tune in to their mental wavelength and find out how to modify their attitudes. It's not automatic: in fact it takes time to make stubborn kids receptive, but once it happens and they want to learn it's easy to fill them so full of English that they slosh when they walk. Being a private tutor means I get to spend enough time with the student to tune in properly. I'm useless with large classes or with students who only want a few hours a week. Karl and Ulrika were going to spend three hours a day with me after school, and I guessed they were going to be very grumpy bunnies at first. Spoiled rich kids who've come to the end of the conventional educational road are my speciality, and by now I can pick and choose. I'm the teacher of last resort.

There's an unexpected bonus too. As I've become more experienced with tweaking these kids' motivation buttons so that they want to learn, I've discovered that I can influence them in other ways. It's not control exactly; it's more being able to sense their psychological profiles and apply a little pressure here and there. It's difficult to explain. The nearest comparison is yachting. It's not the wind that dictates the course of a sailboat: it's the guy who sets the sails. If he does it right the boat goes where he wants it to, even against the wind. I started off applying this principle to work attitudes and study techniques, but now I've broadened my approach. I'm not an unscrupulous guy, but ... temptation is a terrible thing.

I finished unpacking and looked round the room that would be my home for the next few months. Karl and Ulrika's father was the CEO of a very large engineering conglomerate and it showed. The room wasn't over furnished, but what there was, was top of the range. The bathroom was luxurious, the shower stall was modern and spacious, and the bed was large enough for a cocktail party. Simple and tasteful. This would be another good year. I put my laptop on the dressing table and lay down on the bed, wondering about Karl and Ulrika. They sounded like typical rich kids: alternately spoiled and neglected.

One floor below, Ulrika lay on her bed, seething with resentment. School was bad enough: the nuns watched over them like hawks, and now there was going to be a private tutor as well. Her father was away most of the time and her mother was wrapped up in the endless whirl of Viennese high society, but Frau Kurtz was housekeeper and jailer and was as bad as any nun. There wouldn't be any chance of avoiding the extra classes. She didn't know whether to feel anger or despair. Frau Kurtz had said that the new tutor would be eating with them tonight, so that they could get to know one another before the classes started. She'd said he was English and in his thirties. So, an old man with a sad job. Just her luck. She swung herself off the bed and looked at herself in the mirror.

A slim beauty stared back from the glass: blonde hair cut in a pageboy and framing her face gently, sullen blue-green eyes, and a wide mouth with a defiant pout. She was still dressed in the school uniform that she hated. A white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and long sleeves hid the upper part of her body and a knee length tartan skirt covered the rest. White socks and 'sensible' shoes completed the outfit. The nuns checked skirt lengths every day and she felt like a frump. Gazing at her reflection she began to undo the blouse.

As she undid the buttons slowly she felt a tingle of anticipation. She loved this game. She took her time untucking the blouse from her skirt and ran her hands up her body. As they brushed over her breasts the tingle increased, and she sensed her nipples stirring and stiffening. She unbuttoned the sleeves and let the blouse fall to the floor. Her breasts pushed against the plain white bra that the school insisted on and she could see the little bumps of her teats breaking the smooth curve. She stroked them again, guiltily enjoying the sensation.

She lowered her hands and ran them inside the waistband of the skirt, then undid the button and zip. The heavy material slid down her legs, pooling round her ankles, and she stepped out of it delicately. Conservative white panties reached almost to her navel. The nuns checked those as well. Anything even slightly daring was rewarded with detention. She pushed her hand under the waistband of the panties and stroked her pubic tuft with two fingers. She could feel a hint of dampness beginning to form between her legs and she clenched her thighs, forcing the moist petals of her pussy gently together. She withdrew her hand and tugged the panties up tight against her crotch, rubbing the material between her folds, shivering as the flow of moisture increased. She turned round and looked at her buttocks, admiring the way they filled the taut material, then bent over and reached her hand round to pull the panties up tight there as well, watching the fabric stretch and slide into the crease of her ass, revealing the soft globes entirely. With both hands she pulled her cheeks apart and saw a hint of her own pink lips.

Standing up again, she reached behind her and unclasped the bra. Her breasts weren't large, but their weight pulled the garment forward and she slipped her hands into the cups and ran her thumbs over her nipples. The tingle between her legs was a hot itch by now, and she dropped the bra and pushed her hands into her panties again. Still watching her reflection she curled her middle finger round into her pussy and slid it gently along the crack. As she did so the tip of her nail brushed her clitoris and a tremor ran through her. With her other hand she stroked her buttocks and ran the forefinger down the crease. She paused deliberately and let the finger wander round the rim of her asshole. The muscles in her groin flexed involuntarily and she felt her pussy moisten even more as it squeezed her finger. Now she was impatient; the best part of the game was close.

She licked the fingers she had touched herself with, enjoying the different tastes, then, pulling the panties down and kicking them off, she stripped off her shoes and socks and walked into the bathroom. The closed shower stall had mirrored walls and she smiled at herself as she turned on the water. The tangle of blonde hair that covered her pussy flattened as the water ran over her and she could see the outline of her lips peeping through. She unclipped the flexible shower head and sank to her knees, splaying her legs and looking at herself in the mirror. She directed the warm spray onto her breasts, and with her other hand fumbled at the soap dispenser. A soft globule of scented gel dribbled onto her palm and she brought it down to her pussy. Gently she rubbed it in, feeling the lather mixing with her own juices and coating her with a smooth layer of perfumed foam. Flexing her body, she rubbed the shower head against her nipples, and bolts of pleasure chased each other from her breasts to her clitoris and back again. She reached down and wriggled the tip of a finger into her asshole, clenching her sphincter and enjoying the smooth invasion of her secret place. With the heel of her hand she maintained the pressure on her clitoris and felt desire swell within her.

In the soap dish there was an old razor that she sometimes used to shave her armpits when she couldn't be bothered to depilate. Now she reached up for it and ejected the blade. The handle was round studded plastic, to improve the grip, she supposed, and she smiled as she thought how apt that was. She rubbed it across her pussy, feeling the little nubs drag across her lips. Her breathing was rapid, and she gasped as she drew the handle across her clit. Rubbing it into the gel again she reached under herself and eased it gently into her anus. Her sphincter was stretched and pulled by the rough handle and she clamped down on it as she moved the razor to and fro. She scrabbled round with her heels and pressed her ass cheeks together with them. Her soft flesh closed over the razor and when she rolled her hips she could feel it move inside her. The strained position had opened her pussy even wider and she could see the delicate folds being pulled apart, and the warm cavern peeping shyly behind them. With the tips of her fingers she rotated the end of the razor and moaned as the plastic handle scraped the rim of her ass again.

Now she moved the shower head to her pussy, directing the spray at her clit. With her other hand she pulled and rolled her nipples, willing the sensations to travel down to her cunt. As the water washed away the gel she could see her clit, red and swollen, vibrating slightly in the force of the spray. Her lips were puffy and flushed, and she pushed two fingers into herself, sliding them into her tunnel in one smooth wave of bliss. She spread them slightly and could feel the handle of the razor through the delicate membrane that separated her cunt from her bowels. She flexed her thighs again and the muscles of her sphincter closed down on the razor; her fingers curled forward, the knuckles pressing against the back wall of her vagina, and her nails scraped her G spot gently. The spray massaged her clitoris and as her pleasure peaked she convulsed in a shock of pleasure that flowed outwards from the centre of her body and flooded every corner of her. She dropped the spray and leaned back, panting as the sensations faded. Her thighs relaxed and the razor slipped from her body, leaving a feeling of emptiness. The game was always good but it was never quite enough. She rose to her feet and began to wash her hair.

At eight o'clock I made my way reluctantly down the wide staircase. Supper, Frau Kurtz had said, so that you can get to know your new students. Well, I was hungry anyway and I'd have to meet them sooner or later. They didn't sound like the nicest kids in the world. Ulrika was the eldest, almost nineteen, but Karl was less than a year younger than her and had turned eighteen the week before. Their behavior and attitude had meant that they'd been bounced from school to school as one head teacher after another had given up on them. Frau Kurtz had rolled her eyes as she explained.

'Herr Lancer, they're both at least a year older than their classmates, two in Ulrika's case, and their father is at his wit's end. They have a long record of driving teachers to distraction. You come highly recommended, but I sincerely doubt that there is anything that can be done in the short time before their final school exams. In my opinion they need firm discipline and plenty of it.' Sadistic old bitch, I thought. If my parents had neglected me and left me with you I'd be a burnout too. I smiled politely.

'My methodology produces results, Frau Kurtz. We'll see how they respond.'

The dining room was formal and uncomfortable. I was the first to arrive so I sat at one end of the table and looked round. Portraits and prints, a dresser full of silver, an empty fireplace; I didn't think I'd be eating many meals here.

Frau Kurtz arrived with Karl and Ulrika in tow. She pushed them forward as I stood up.

'Herr Lancer, these are your new students. Karl, Ulrika, greet the teacher properly please.' Karl ducked his head formally and offered his hand. I shook it and looked at Ulrika. She shot Frau Kurtz a glance of pure hatred and then made a reluctant curtsey. I stepped forward and took her hand and shook it.

'No need for formality here: we'll be spending plenty of time together over the next few months. My name's Luke and I'm delighted to meet you both.' Frau Kurtz' mouth opened in surprise.

'Herr Lancer, we must maintain the formalities... '

'Not to worry, Frau Kurtz, ' I told her. 'You can call me Luke too. Tell me how I should address you, please.' Her lips clamped tight.

'You may address me as Frau Kurtz, as Karl and Ulrika do. You are sitting in my place.'

'I do apologise. I hadn't imagined that it mattered.' I stepped round her and winked at Karl and Ulrika. They looked startled and Karl nudged Ulrika surreptitiously. I sighed. I'd have to deal with this old cow before long or we'd never make any progress.

As we ate I examined them. They were good looking kids, fair and slim, but there was no spark in them. They were dressed conservatively, in clothes that they certainly hadn't chosen for themselves, and they spoke only when spoken to. Frau Kurtz tried to make conversation.

'Herr Lancer, I hadn't realised that you spoke German. Where did you learn our language?' A wave of nostalgia swept over me.

'I had a German girlfriend for a while, but I haven't spoken German for some time.' I smiled at Ulrika. 'Maybe you and your brother will be able to help me. English in exchange for German: that seems fair.' Frau Kurtz drew in her breath sharply.

'I hope that Karl and Ulrika will be far too busy learning to have any time for teaching, ' she said heavily. That was the end of that conversation. We finished the meal in silence and then the kids were sent to their rooms to do homework. As they trailed out of the dining room Frau Kurtz turned to me.