Jack surveyed his new beginners art class. Who was to be his target this semester?
He was a post graduate art student, already with a bit of an artistic reputation. He had irritated his professors by declining a tutoring job at the university and instead had taken this position in a private academy.
Sure the money was better, but underlying motive was talent; not artistic talent, that would be in short supply, but female talent and challenge would be here. At the uni there were plenty of attractive undergrads, but after three years Jack had become bored. Bored with their immature chatter, and bored with how easy it was to fuck them.
The Acme academy was in an old building in the city's most affluent suburb, an ideal area. The added attraction was the private owners did not have the same rules as the uni on bonking students.
As he gave his welcoming speech he looked at each of the 25 students. By having a late afternoon session, Jack's choice, the class was exclusively women as usual. Half were blue rinse widows, filling in their empty days. Most of the remainder were wealthy suburban wives, most attractive, the trophy wives of successful businessmen.
Be careful here, he thought. By experience he had found too many were bored and saw him as a trophy toy-boy. He didn't want a push-over, someone who made the right noises but wouldn't take his cock deep into her throat, wouldn't take it up the ass.
As he talked about perspective and light his eyes settled on the two on the left. Mother and daughter! Mum, he guessed was in her late 30's but looked in her mid 20's. The advantage of a personal trainer and botox maybe. Long brown hair, expensively waived, an aristocratic haughty face, wearing the exclusive labels, but he had noticed with approval her firm buttocks and long slim legs shown by her tight designer jeans.
Her daughter, 14 he guessed, was in the uniform of the most exclusive girls school. Her mother's face but softer, her uniform didn't reveal too much. But he he could see she had inherited her mother's legs, the shape her blouse indicated her breasts had budded and her waist was slim.
He remembered meeting them as they completed their application forms. They had arrived in a brand new BMW750. You couldn't help but notice the huge diamond on her engagement ring.
Mother's first comment to him had been "Where's Melanie Brown our tutor?"
"Melanie resigned a couple of weeks ago. I am your tutor, Jack Webster. I hope you enjoy the course."
"This is not good enough, I specifically requested Miss Brown. Are you competent Mr Webster?"
"I try my best Mrs Barrington."
"I hope your best is good enough for us. I must tell you my husband is good friends of the owners of Acme Academy"
Before Jack could reply she continued, "This is our daughter Kathy. The art mistress at St Mary's College says she is particularly talented. My husband wants you to pay her special attention."
Kathy screwed up her face with embarassment as her mother's rudeness. She was obviously used to it.
Without another word Mrs Barrington had swept away to the lecture room.
Jack was justifiably confident of his attraction to woman. Being an artist with a mop of long hair, good looking, lithe bodied and witty, most women gave him a second look. He knew however he would need more than that with the haughty Mrs B and her daughter.
He believed he had three extra weapons at his disposal: Mrs B's preoccupation with talking of her husband, Kathy the daughter and his tried and proven favourite, indifference.
Indifference he used first.
Each meeting he gave a short lecture and then would spend most of his time talking to the students as they worked at their easels. He was meticulous in giving an equal amount of time to each; except Mrs B and Kathy. He did not completely ignore Kathy. She was very talented and he gave her all encouragement, but kept a distance.
His only comment to her mother in the first lecture was "Interesting use of blue, Mrs Barrington."
By comparison Jack spent a lot of time with the students on either side. Good advice, some praise and some banter. The latter worked well on Mona Jones, about the same age as Mrs B. Mona was already patting his hand to get attention and looking wide eyed and in awe as he spoke on art. Perhaps she also laughed too much at his jokes.
Jack was aware of Kathy and her mother watching him.
His actions were the same the next lecture. He was aware of Mrs B's stern gaze as he talked to Mona and she sat up expectantly as he came towards them. However he only paused behind her and said "Interesting use of green, Mrs Barrington,"
He spent more time with Kathy.
"Kathy, you are one of the most talented students I have seen." And he meant it.
She looked up, her eyes glowing, her cheeks flushed with embarassment.
"Thank you Jack. Do you really think so?"
"I certainly do. We do need to work a little on your brish technique. Let me show."
He took her brush and made a flowing stroke. "You try."
"Hmm, stil not quite right. You need to hold the brush differently. Let me help. Please open your hand."
He placed the brush back in her hand, making sure he stroked her palm with his fingers.
"Now let's try together."
He moved behind Kathy, placed his hand over her brush hand. He needed to place his other hand on her shoulder to keep balance. He felt Kathy jolt slightly.
"That's better. See the difference."
Once more he guided her hand. This time there was no jolt from his hand on her shoulder.
"Now by yourself."
"Excellent. Do you see the difference. More depth, more flow."
"Oh yes I do. Thank you so much Jack." She looked up at him, eyes glowing, a wide smile.
"Do you see the difference Mrs Barrington."
"Mr Webster, please meet me after class."
They met afterwards in his office.
"I have two serious complaints about your behaviour Mr Webster."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"First. I didn't like you touching up my daughter. My husband shall raise this matter with your principals."
"If you were referring to helping her brush technique, two points. I helped three other students in exactly the same way. It wouldn't have mattered if Kathy if Kathy was a 75 year old man. This is the approved method of instruction at the Academy and most other art courses of repute.
By all means your husband, why not you I don't understand, can raise it with my boss. But he will find he is wasting his time."
"And the second?"
"Yes Mr Webster, you have been ignoring me. The only comment you have made is "Interesting use of blue and green." Yet you spend so much time with that tramp Mona Jones."
Inwardly Jack yelled with delight. "First base passed," he said to himself.
He chose his words with care.
"Mrs Barrington. You are a talented artist. Not as talented as Kathy, but I very much appreciate your effort and work."
He was rewarded with the slightest of embarrased smiles. "Second base in sight," he thought.
"But a teacher needs to be able to communicate with his pupils. And, for the first time in my career, you have me stumped. Are you not enjoying the course?"
"I don't understand," she still had the haughty look, her face held high.
"Three times already you have used your husband to try to impress me. You address me as Mr Webster, everyone else calls me Jack. I don't find you intimidating, but you seem to put up barriers."
"Mr Web . . ah Jack. You have surprised me with your knowledge of art and ability as a teacher Your course is wonderful. And of course Kathy just worships everything you say."
She paused and for the first time the haughtiness had left her face. She looked more like her daughter.
"Please call me Frances."
"And you are not the first person to say I am cool and defensive. I will try harder."
He shook her hand ,"I think this is going to work."
There was a tranformation at the third lecture. Frances this time came dressed in a skirt which came to just above her knee and showed Jack his impressions of her legs had been correct. Her tight top emphasised her personal trainer's expertise. Her stomach was flat, her breasts of medium size jutted firmly.
Kathy had abandoned her school uniform and was wearing skin tight hipsters, a cut off Tee shirt and a wonderful flat stomach in between.
They chatted to each other as they painted and laughed.
Jack was careful not to give too much attention to them, but now gave them a fair share.
He was finding it difficult to cope with the wide eyed stares of interest and obvious admiration from Kathy the as he discussed her work.
"Is my brush technique better?" she asked
"Almost there." Let's try it again. A smile, not a frown from her mother. An attempt to hold onto his hand longer from the daughter.
During the fourth lecture Jack felt that Frances, needed help with her brush technique. She was a surprisingly slow learner and it took a number of efforts including hand holding to make progress. While Jack was still behind her, hand on her shoulder, Frances leaned back to study her work. Her shoulders came in contact with his hips. She must have felt his cock, but didn't move for a moment.
No word was said.
On his next visit to their easels Kathy said "Is there a student pub around here, Mum wants to discuss my progress if that's all right."
"Sure, The Dogs Bollocks, just across the road. See you at 6.30."
"Base 2" he thought.
The Dogs Bollocks was a roudy student pub. Jack was there first and had got a table. Frances came in with Kathy. Frances looked around at first with her haughty frown, then she smiled.
"God, I haven't been in a pub like this since I was a student. At least there's no risk of my husband finding me here."
"Jack we are both really loving your course. And we are learning so much. Kathy's art teacher is amazed at kathy's progress."
Jack was almost forced to avoid Kathy's openly admiringly gaze
"Kathy is extremely talented," a blush and a stroke of his hand by Kathy. "And you Frances aren't far behind."
"Would she benefit from extra tuition do you think? Could you give her private lessons?"
"I don't come cheap."
"Name your price."
Jack took his normal rate and trbled it.
"Deal," said Frances shaking his hand.
"There is one condition. My husband would not approve of Kathy being by herslf with you. Mother comes too."
Frances had a nervous look on her face, Jack let her stew for a bit.
"OK, if you insist." His smile gave him a way.
"By the way I met your husband in the principal's office the other day. He struck me as a pompous prick."
Kathy and Frances looked at each other for a moment then burst out laughing.
"He is a pompous prick," said Kathy
"But he adores me and lets me do just as I please," said Frances.
"Except even talk to other men. He is so possessive and jealous," added Kathy
"That's enough. But why should I risk my marriage to a multi-millionaire anyway."
"OK, see the two of you Tuesday at 7, same place."
Jack enjoyed the private lesson. Both Frances and Kathy were talented and keen to learn. The atmosphere was relaxed, the banter funny, but not suggestive. Jack placed his own easel between theirs and did some work of his own at the same time.
Kathy came and sat behind him on his bench to study his painting.
She rested her chin on his shoulder. Jack could feel her breasts against his back.
"Jack you are such a fabulous painter. Will I ever be able to paint like you?"
"One day you will be even better. I know"
.Kathy put her arms around him, hugging him briefly.
Frances smiled and raised a quisical eyebrow.
Twice that evening she leaned back, knowing he was behind her. Twice he felt her back against his cock.
Kathy had to leave half way through the second private lesson, she had a rehearsal for the school play. Frances suggested the Dog's Bollocks.
Jack knew that home base was in sight. But this wealthy matron was going to find out it would be on his terms.
They had an alcove table, Jack sat with his back to the wall, Frances opposite.
"I met your husband at the academy again."
She raised her eyebrows. "I know he is rich and powerful, but he is such a wimp with me. Its so boring for Kathy and me. The only excitement we have are your classes."
Time for the home base slide.
Jack looked into her eyes across the table and she into his. He knew she was waiting for him to say something.
Instead he reached across the table and cupped her left breast in his right hand.
She glaced around but saw that as she was facing the wall, her modesty was safe.
She put her hand over his.
Still saying nothing, he gently squeezed her nipples between his fingers.
"Say something to me Jack, please."
"Go to the rest rooms and take off your bra and knickers."
She started to speak.
"Now ! And be proud when you come back"
Frances squeezed his hand, arose and went to the rest room.
She wished her tank top wasn't so tight.
Jack watched from the rest room doors. God she was magnificent. The grey tank top
was stretched by her firm breasts. The shape of her nipples became obvious as she came closer. Had she been aware, Frances may have been unhappy to know that a slight trace of a shadow of her pubic hair was visible through the light white cloth of her skirt.
He was pleased she did not try to cover up as she walked confidently to him. As she got close she gave him the warmest of smiles. For a moment he faltered in his resolve.
Should he be so tough as he planned.
But then he thought seeing her smile, "I think she'll like me for it."
She sat down and reached for his hand and placed it on her breast.
"Happy now, master."
He squeezed her firm flesh.
"I need to be sure."
"Surely you can feel?"
"I need to be sure."
Frances checked over her shoulders. Only Jack and the wall would see.
She lifted up the front of the tank top above her breasts. Jack was in awe. Her breasts were not small, but definitely not large and ponderous. So firm, so pointed. The dark aureoles were in stark contrast to her pale skin. The nipples, perhaps aroused from the display were peaked and hard.
She relished his admiration, kept her tank top rolled up, rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands as she smiled into his eyes. He brushed her nipples with his knuckles.
"And your next command, master?", God, surely This isn't me saying this. But it was.
"OK you can lower your top now, beautiful Frances, but keep it above your navel. I like your belly."
They sipped their wine with no conversation. Frances still smiled into his eyes, luxuriating in his smiling perusal of her torso, his hand softly massaging her breast..
"I need to be sure about your knickers."
"Look I'll show you," reaching for her handbag.
Another glance then Frances quickly half stood, lifted the back of her skirt and sat down, her bare buttocks on the bar chair.
She then lifted the front of her skirt above her waist. Still looking in his eyes with a slightly plaintive look on her face.
"Move your chair back, I can't see."
She did so.
Again he was in awe. The tops of her thighs matched the rest of her legs, firm and shapely. She was unshaven, but her brush was light and he could see the shape of her outer labia. Good, no inner labia protruding. That was important for him.
"OK gorgeous goddess, keep your skirt where it is but move your chair closer to the table. I do not wish to share your pretty pink pudendum wth anyone else"
She moved her chair forward, still conscious of her nether nakedness, still conscious of his approving gaze.
"Are you knees as far apart as they can be."
After a moment, "They are now master."
He felt under the table and found her knees where they should be.
Time for the second home run.
"Here are the rules of future engagement, beautiful breasted Mrs Barrington."
"Yes master." She slipped his hand under her top and held it there tightly.
"You will never wear a bra in my company. Not in the public classes, not in the private."
"When it is only the two of us, you will always wear a dress or skirt, and never any knickers."
"When it is only the two of us, and you can do it without being seen, you will always sit with your skirt above your waist.and your knees at least 18 inches apart."
"If you want our relationship to progress you must get a complete Brazilian, no hair at all on your pretty pudendum."
"But what about my husband?"
"Your problem. My advice is that you get him to suggest it."
"Yes, I see."
"I am in total charge of all things sexual."
"You are to ask for nothing, refuse me nothing. If you do you will be punished."
"How will you punish me?" her smile was wide.
"We will find a way," giving her breast a slightly more than playful tweak.
"When can we meet?"
"Here at 7 next Monday."
"I have book club on Monday."
"That is disobedience, you will be punished."
"Yes master. I will be here at 7."