Jack looked around at the new students in his art class. He was a post graduate art student and already had a bit of a reputation as a painter. He had irritated his professor by choosing to teach in a private academy rather than tutor under-grads at the university.
The reasons for this choice were simple: the pay was better and the challenge was harder. That is the challenge of seducing his choice of the students.
He had requested a late afternoon class and as usual all the students were women from the up-market suburb where academy was located. About half were blue-rinse widows filling out their lonely days. Jack enjoyed their company, they usually made a surprising effort, and once they had got used to him, responded happily to his banter and praise.
Most of the rest were the "trophy wives" of the successful businessmen who could afford to live in this leafy suburb. He knew he would have to be careful here. The biggest risk was that he would not be the seducer, but the seduced. These bored, status seeking women were often only too keen to to have their own trophy "toy-boy".
As he gave his welcoming talk, his eyes rested on Frances Barrington and her daughter Kathy. In fairness to Frances she looked more like the older sister than the mother of an 18 year old. The advantage of a personal trainer, botox and money probably.
Long dark brown hair, expensively waived, an elegant, high cheek-boned face with a seemingly permanent haughty expression.
All her clothes were obviously exclusive labels. Jack had noticed that her designer jeans were tight and showed firm buttocks and long slim legs.
Kathy was in the uniform of an exclusive private girl's school. Her mother's face, but softer and the same hair. Her school uniform didn't reveal too much but Jack could see that Kathy had also inherited her mother's legs and slim waist. In contrast to her mother's haughty expression, Kathy's face radiated youthful enthusiasm and openness.
Jack recalled the discussion when they completed their course registration documents. They had arrived in a brand new BMW 750 and Frances' diamond engagement ring could be used to anchor a reasonable sized ship it seemed to Jack.
"Where is Melanie Bronson, the tutor I specifically requested," was Frances' response to Jack's welcome.
"Melanie resigned two weeks ago. I am going to be your tutor. My name is Jack Webster. I'm sure you will enjoy the course."
"This is most unfortunate," Frances eyed Jack with suspicion. "You look far too immature to know anything about art."
"I am in my second year of post graduate studies and have been tutoring for almost three years."
Frances looked him up and down critically and steadily.
"I would have expected you to dress more respectably at an academy like this, she sniffed.
"I am employed because of my abilities to teach."
"And do you have any abilities Mr Webster?"
"I try my best Mrs Barrington."
"Well, your best had better be good enough. My husband is good friends with the owners here."
Then she dragged Kathy forward.
"This is my daughter Kathy. The art teacher at St Mary's tells us she is extremely talented. My husband requires that you pay particular attention to her."
Kathy's face screwed up in embarrassment, then she followed her mother who had swept away to the classroom.
Jack was justifiably confident of his attraction to women. Well, a certain type of women anyway. An artist, with a mop of slightly long hair, he was good-looking with a lithe slim body and had a good line of witty banter.
But he knew he would need more than these with the haughty Mrs Barrington and her daughter. Indifference and jealousy might be the way inside Frances Barrington's designer jeans.
Each of his classes followed a similar format. First he would talk for a few minutes about the history of art and then certain painting techniques.
In this first class he used a print of Botticelli's famous nude painting of Venus to illustrate some of the development of painting in the renaissance.
"Mr Webster," Frances' voice hissed from her seat. "Do we really need to have a discussion about a female nude in this class?."
"I'm sorry you are upset Mrs Barrington. The content of my talks and the paintings to show were agreed with our executive staff in advance."
Most of the lesson was spent going around the class to spend time with each of the students as they painted at their easels. He tried to be scrupulously fair in spreading his time between all students.
Sitting next to Frances was Mona Brown. Mona was similar in many ways, the same age as Frances and attractive, although without that extra elegance of Frances. The two women knew each other and obviously didn't like each other, despite the polite conversation between them.
First Jack stopped beside Mona and spent quite a lot of time discussing her work and chatting with her. Mona clearly appreciated this attention. Frances thought that she was laughing far too much at Jack's jokes.
Jack paused briefly behind Frances. "Interesting use of blue, Mrs Barrington," was his only comment.
He then spent more time with Kathy who was, in fact, extremely talented. Her eyes glowed with pride as he praised her work and she giggled at his jokes. Frances stared stony-faced at her easel.
The next class followed this pattern. Mona Brown was patting Jack's hand as she spoke to him, thanking him far too effusively for his advice and glancing at Frances to make sure she was watching.
"Interesting use of green, Mrs Barrington," was his only comment to Frances as he moved past her to her daughter.
"Kathy, you really are very talented." She looked up at Jack, beaming.
"Can we have a look at your brush technique. May I show you?"
Kathy passed her brush to Jack. There was a fleeting contact of fingers.
"Try it like that. See how it feels."
Again the brush was transferred, again a touch of fingers.
"Let's change the position of your fingers slightly. You really want to feel as though the brush is an extension of your hand."
He held her hand with his and moved her fingers with the other.
"Thank you Jack, I understand what you are saying," Kathy smiled, in no hurry to escape his touch. "Can you see that Mum?"
"Mr Webster. I want to meet you after class."
They met in his office.
"I have two serious complaints Mr Webster."
"I'm sorry to hear that Mrs Barrington."
"First. I don't want you to touch my daughter again. My husband will raise this with your employer"
"Mrs Barrington, showing a pupil how to hold a brush is important. I have shown three other people this evening in exactly the same way as I showed Kathy. Our academy has strict rules on how to do this and I followed them."
"Second, I have paid good money for this course and you have virtually ignored me. You have said nothing apart from "interesting use of blue and green." But you spend all that time with that tramp Mona Brown."
"First base!" thought Jack to himself.
He pondered for a few moments.
"Mrs Barrington, there are two talented artists in this class. The most talented is Kathy, she has a real gift and works hard."
Frances nodded. Was that the slightest hint of a smile?
"The other talent here is yours."
There was a look of surprise on Frances' face.
"Not quite in Kathy's class, but each time I look at your work I am really impressed."
"Do you really mean that. You are not just saying that because of who my husband is?" There was an almost pleading look on Frances' face.
"I've never met your husband. But when it comes to talking about art I couldn't give a rat's ass if he was Bill Gates or cleaned toilets for a living."
"I can tell you I would give a rat's ass if my husband was a toilet cleaner." There wasn't quite a smile, but certainly there was a twinkle in her eyes.
"Mrs Barrington, You very good at basic techniques, you have a good feel for color and you use your brain.
"And," he added with a grin, "an interesting use of green and blue."
