Previous Parts Here: Part 1

Please note: All other referenced characters are 18

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Elegant stained-glass windows provide a broken, almost kaleidoscopic view out from the converted chapel I’ve been allocated for as my classroom. Gravel paths and the rearing walls of the castle beyond warped and distorted, shaded in a disturbing array of garish hues.

It’s a nice space though, and makes the cramped nature of our student seminar sessions easier to deal with. The girls are seated around three sides of a large square table, with my laptop and projector set up on the fourth. My slides are rendered momentarily illegible by a flash of colored light, refracting through the windows during a rare burst of Scottish sunshine.

To be fair to them, most of this little group are attentive and engaged, especially my students from China. The four of them tend to keep to themselves, rarely mixing with the other girls at the school, but always ready to answer my questions during class.

The other three, including Petra, are usually far less engaged in what I'm teaching... I had to implement a 'no cell phones' policy early on - when it was clear Elise and Dominique were sending each other messages all through our first week of class. Getting them to hand in their phones at the start of each session probably hasn't made much of a difference to their learning outcomes though. The two French students seem well out of their depth academically, appearing to serve only as some glamorous entourage for Petra’s arrival each morning…

I put the next slide on screen and pause to check out the German beauty opposite. Staring at the girl who tempted me so much last night while the class all squint at a 'capital flows' diagram projected over the pale, whitewashed wall.

Petra looks – frustratingly – stunning this morning... Not a single hint of any adverse impact from her late night. Her hair is perfect; wavy, dark and glossy, tumbling over her shoulders and the tight blue t-shirt she’s wearing. Pale-grey yoga pants make it appear as though she found time to fit a gym session in before class, but I know that can’t be true.

There’s definitely something different with her this morning though...

Usually bored and disinterested, today she’s bright-eyed and attentive, even going so far as to shush the French pair’s whispering - that's certainly a first. Petra looks up from where she’s been scribbling notes, flashing me a dazzling smile. It makes me fume, this two-faced change in her attitude. I know there’s more to this, something manipulative – there’s simply no way this pampered brat of an heiress has developed a a truly genuine interest in business management over the last 6 hours…

A question from Mei-Ling shakes me out of my thoughts and I put my concern abound Petra to one side for now. There'll be plenty of time in our one-to-one session later for me to assess how 'genuine' Petra’s new attitude might be… The rest of the seminar session passes quickly, and I stride out towards the dinner hall as soon as I dismiss the class.

To my surprise, Thomas McLeod – the educational director for the school – is waiting outside and calls me over.

“John, my boy! How’s it all going?” He asks politely, adjusting his blue-green tartan waistcoat.

I still haven’t gotten to the heart of why all the high-society Scots I’ve met here sound nothing like the locals - to me their accents indistinguishable from clipped 'Queen’s English', despite their proud Scottish identity.

I ignore the attention from Petra and her entourage while they file out of the chapel, the three girls staring at me, clearly wondering what’s brought the director out of the management suite and down to the study rooms to speak with one of the teachers. To be honest, they’re not alone in wondering about that…

“Fine, thanks Mr McLeod – is everything OK?” I answer nervously, my voice tight.

“Bit of a snag, dear boy.” My heart skips a beat, sure his next words are going to relate to my nocturnal visit to Petra at the Gatehouse last night.

“Oh?” I swallow hard, expecting the worst.

“Yes, I’m afraid there’s been a problem concerning our Chinese students. Turns out the CCP has taken offense at something the UK Government’s done this week and have contacted party officials to demand their families return home from British territories immediately... Sorry to say it, John but it means four of your lovely ladies are being collected this afternoon… Afraid you’ll just have the European contingent, going forward.” He pats my arm, the gesture accompanied by a look of sympathy.

He turns to leave, but stops halfway to the door.

“Some good news though – the Schafer girl’s father emailed this morning to request extra tutoring sessions at the weekends for her. Specifically asked for you... said he’d double your rate for the extra sessions. I said I’d have to ask before confirming, but I assume you’ve no problem with it?”

It’s a surprise, and I’m immediately left with questions…

What’s her game? Somehow Petra found time this morning to ask Daddy to request more tuition sessions? For a moment, I consider telling Thomas I can’t – make some bullshit up about visiting friends out here at the weekends… Bad things might happen if I have to see more of those astonishing curves and dark, lust-filled eyes – temptations I’ve travelled a long, long way to get away from.

Truth is I could use the cash though…

“Um, wow – how generous… Yes, I’d be happy to.” I respond, struggling to soften my jaw, wanting to grind my teeth at the growing concern that’s building.

“Fantastic! I’ll tell Herr Schafer. I trust I can leave it to you and Petra to work out the timings for these extra sessions?” I nod before Thomas continues. “Excellent, thanks John. Must dash, but I’ll see you later, dear boy. Enjoy lunch - salmon today!”

***

Rain rattles against the glass of the Chapel windows while I watch Petra taking notes. And plenty of them too; our one-to-one discussion's been going suspiciously well so far. Much to my surprise – and disappointment – I’ve been unable to catch her out yet. All her newfound enthusiasm appears to pass the smell test, despite my continued belief that there’s more to this than meets the eye, my suspicions further aroused when I noticed Elise giving a proper stage wink whilst waving at Petra from the door earlier...

This is already starting to feel too much like what I’m running from.

The Dean was very clear at Berkeley – sending a reference for me to McLeod only at my assurance that I’d use the time to get my head straight. That, and that I would under no circumstances engage in any of the pursuits that had caused quite so much disruption in the Kappa Phi sorority before the end of the last semester back home…

“Mr Harrison?”

“Mmmm? What?”

“I wanted to ask you about one of the diagrams you went over in our seminar. I drew it out in my notes, but I’m not sure I understand it?” Petra looks up, dark eyes catching the light from the window, the 19 year-old breathtakingly beautiful even in this mundane setting.

“Which one?” I’m on guard.

“Come here – I’ll show you.” She requests sweetly. TA reflexes honed over the last year kick in, and I’m on my feet and halfway to her desk before I can stop myself. Too late now…

Approaching the back of her chair, I catch that stunning fragrance rising from the back of her neck, eyes drawn to glossy waves of chocolate-brown hair falling down her back. When I sit at the chair to her side, I’m careful to leave a significant gap, but she immediately shuffles close and leans in before I can react. Her arm grazes mine when she brings the notebook close and I make the mistake of reacting, looking up at the brief contact, suddenly held captive by her perfect, heart-shaped face and big brown eyes; full force of her presence taking my breath away…

She smiles, and suddenly it’s like I’m mainlining adrenaline, such is the mule-kick to my nervous system – every single neuron in my lizard brain firing along with my lust, trying to take over my consciousness.

“It’s this one, Mr Harrison – do you see?”

I tear my eyes from her beautiful face and force my attention to the handwritten scrawl she's pointing to, looking for all the world like nothing more than swimming hieroglyphics. With immeasurable force of will I recover control of my breathing – bring my heart rate down from hummingbird drum solo to something less stroke-inducing, swallowing hard before I answer.

“Yeah, OK – I see what’s gone wrong here. You’ve missed out the part that covers exec- ”

Her breath rolling gently across my neck stops me even before I feel her hand resting on my thigh...

“I couldn’t sleep after you left last night.” She whispers next to my ear, low husky purr making my heart pound in my chest and my cock swell. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, John.”

Her use of my first name has alarm bells clanging. If I was still in any doubt as to how far I am from controlling this situation, this is my last warning, red flags and klaxons - the hole deal... I try to turn to get out of the chair, but my body won’t obey.

“I touched myself all night… thinking about how it would feel to be with you." Her voice is honey-smooth, deep for a woman her age. Assured and so, so sexy... "Your thick, hard dick fucking my tight little pussy…”

I’m rock hard, fat swollen cock now. Painfully tight, straining against my leg of my pants, Petra’s dainty, manicured fingers hovering just a fraction of an inch from the throbbing head.

I want nothing more than to slide my hand between her legs, curl my fingers up in that tight little pussy; rock them in and out until she’s thrashing and screaming. This close, her breath rolls over my lips, fresh but sweet as well - like cherry cola or something. Her lips part and she closes her eyes, leaning in…

“Ahem" I start, desperate to save myself... "You left out executive…  umm… executive agency in your notes.” I manage breathlessly, clearing my throat and trying to ignore the hoarseness in my voice. My interruption finally freeing me from the bewitching nature of her influence, somehow able to limp and sidestep my way back to the sanctuary of my side of the table. Only turning and revealing the extent of my arousal for the briefest of moments before I sit back in my seat.

Petra’s knowing and dirty smile celebrates her power over my weakness, eyes flashing when they stare at my crotch in the few seconds before I’m able to protect my modesty with my shaking hands.

She doesn’t realize how much danger she’s in right now – how much she’s playing with fire.

“John, it’s alright… I won’t tell. Why don’t you come back over here and…” She begins, before I cut her off.

“Petra, I feel I must remind you that it’s the policy of this school that students maintain respect for their tutors at all times. You will refer to me only as Mr Harrison, or Sir - is that understood?” My voice sounds impressively strong and level despite the recent assault on my senses.

“Of course, Sir,” She stresses the word with no shortage of sarcasm in her tone. “You know I’ve nothing but respect for you – huge respect.” The dark hunger behind her eyes leaves me in no doubt just what part of me it is she respects so much.

A rapid knocking at the door is quickly followed by Mei-Ling’s head leaning around the thick oak panel, breaking the tension and prompting a hasty attempt from me to appear busy with my papers. Petra smirking at my guilty expression.

“So sorry to interrupt. Mr Harrison, could we have a word?" Mei-Ling asks sweetly. "We’ve been told we have to leave and wanted to say thank you before we go.”

I bound out of my seat and over to the door before Petra has a chance to complain, oddly grateful to the CCP for their over sensitivity regarding international relations this week.

I need to get out of Petra’s aura – regroup, get my head together... Not let this... this thing get the better of me again.

Stealing a final look over my shoulder before I leave the Chapel, I’m met by the smoldering heat of her gaze – the tension crackling in the air between us. This one has fired my interest. No doubt about it.

It’s not my interest that’s the problem, though…

***

Hope you enjoyed part 2! Part 3 will be along before the weekend - check back then to find out about these dark influences John is so worried will take control...