The Teacher: A shocking and compelling new crime thriller – NOT for the faint-hearted!

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Parker could make women fall for him, it was possibly because he was clever, women like that, but he was also good-looking in an awkward way. He had no interest in relationships. He was often more comfortable spending time with women because he was not the average man. Comfortable was maybe the wrong word, a little strong for the way anyone made him feel. The only time Parker couldn’t get a woman to fall for him was when he actually liked the girl in question, not a situation that arose often. He had the gift of manipulation, something he had watched people around him possess as he had grown up. He had made a promise to himself, though, that he would only use it when he absolutely had to, he didn’t want to become like the people who had influenced him the most. He had seen those people lie and lie again to get what they wanted, no matter who they hurt. No, he wouldn’t indulge the part of him that wanted to deceive, manipulate and corrupt; he wanted to be better than that, he wanted to be good. He seemed to repel the women that fascinated him, maybe because he was trying to flirt, not something he was good at. He knew his ham-fisted attempts at light humour were never received in the spirit he intended them to be. The girls he had known before had all wanted to fix him and so he pushed them away, knowing full well that he was unfixable. Also he noticed something all the girls he liked had in common: they were good, too good for him. He always thought too much of them to inflict himself on them. That was his ‘type’, a girl he could never allow himself to be with. He put it down to his innate desperation to sabotage any chance for happiness he might be able to grab on to in the future. His past had been so dark, so unthinkably bleak that sometimes he thought he felt more comfortable in situations where there was absolutely no hope.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_b891dbb3-c607-58a5-8210-3589daa3eb19)

The Host

Then

The door was already open when their cab pulled up to the house. A girl Abbey recognised was puking in the shrubbery of the house next door and she could see a couple of other people from her course fumbling with each other in the side alley, so undignified. Abbey imagined herself and Christian locked in the same embrace and suddenly it took on a whole new appeal.

She could feel the pit of her stomach humming with excitement as they walked in. The vibrations of the music thumped through her lower body and added to the rising anticipation. She scanned every corner of every room as they walked through. Everyone greeting Dani as they went by and she got sucked into conversation with some other girls, and Abbey continued through alone. For the first time she noticed eyes on her, not mocking or derisive but hungry and lustful. So this is what it feels like. It wasn’t long before a drink was planted in Abbey’s hand. She drank it with the confidence of someone who could handle alcohol far better than she could. Tonight was not the night to be Abbey, where was the fun in that? Tonight she was going to be better. Stop holding yourself back and enjoy it! She had always been well aware that her self-esteem issues were of her own creation. Being raised by a single father, she was never quite sure of the social etiquettes a girl should adhere to, just mostly guessing and copying had got her through this far.

She walked out into the garden to the sound of Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’, fairy lights hung from the trees and willow fences, twinkling, magical. Her butterflies were worse than ever and as a small crowd parted she caught sight of Christian. She felt like she was in a movie. She took a deep breath and made her way towards him, praying he would see her before he saw Danielle. Jamie actually saw her first and whispered something to Christian who turned around. She could feel his eyes moving up and down her body as she pretended not to have seen them yet.

‘Glad you could make it’ He smiled as she approached and she saw something she hadn’t ever seen before, excitement, lust. He had finally noticed her as a woman, she felt his gaze lingering on her breasts as she smiled at Jamie who seemed to be smiling back. It occurred to Abbey that she had never seen Jamie smile before and she was glad for that fact because it wasn’t a comfortable smile, it was awkward and forced. She shook off the creepy feeling he gave her and turned her attention back to Christian, who was still trying to look like he wasn’t checking her out. He was waiting for her to turn her back to him, she could feel it, he must have seen Dani in this dress before so he knew what to expect. Who knew a plunging backline could cause as much trouble as a low-cut top? She wickedly bit her lip as she walked to the punch bowl, feeling his eyes on her for the duration, her skin prickled and tingled at the idea of what he might be thinking about her right now. She thought about his lips on the small of her back and blushed to herself as she quickly necked another drink.

Four glasses of punch later and she was laughing freely. Why had she hidden in the background for all those years? The attention she was getting felt deserved. Tonight she was pretty. She could almost smell the hunger on the boys who were chatting to her, flattery in spades. Tonight everyone wanted what she had. Before long she was sitting on the sofa huddled between three boys from the cricket team, downing shots of tequila, she didn’t much care for it but she was enjoying the party too much to suddenly be the sensible one again. Dani sat across from her, clearly happy with the reception her protégée was receiving.

‘Come on, Abs, let’s do it another way,’ Dani called as she saw Abbey screw her face up at the offer of another tequila. The boys watched eagerly as Dani swept her hair to one side exposing her neck, she licked the palm of her hand and dragged it down leaving it glistening wet, and then she poured the salt on to herself. She was poised as though she were ready to be taken by a vampire. Abbey leaned over the table, only slightly concerned that her dress was far too short for this position and glad that she hadn’t taken Dani’s advice of wearing a thong. With one knee on the coffee table Abbey pressed her tongue against Dani’s neck sweeping the salt away slowly. Dani poured the tequila straight into Abbey’s mouth then grinned at her, exposing a lemon between her teeth, Abbey could feel the camera phones pointed at her as she placed her lips around the lemon in Dani’s mouth, she sucked the juice and they continued to kiss over the table for the titillation of the hormonal boys. As Abbey pulled away she saw Christian watching them and suddenly felt a huge wave of betrayal, like she had somehow been unfaithful to him, even though he had Dani. Maybe she was mistaking his look, maybe it was intended for Dani but no, it was for her. The whoops and cheers only added to the cloud in her mind as the tequila mixed with the punch in her stomach. She had to get out of the room, away from all the noise.

Abbey staggered up the stairs, clinging to the railings and dragging her increasingly heavy legs to the bathroom, not entirely sure she would make it. She stumbled through the door and fell at the feet of the toilet, firmly gripping the basin as the contents of her stomach erupted from her mouth. Tequila tasted just as unpleasant on the way out as it did going in, only without the benefit of a citrus chaser it burned her throat. She felt a hand brushing the back of her neck as someone pulled her hair out of the firing line.

‘It’s OK. I’ve got you.’ She was too queasy to be surprised to hear Christian’s voice, but was grateful for the intervention. Well aware that this was probably the end of any future between them, she figured he was more concerned for his bathroom than he was about her. He helped her to her feet and passed her a towel.

‘Thanks,’ she barely managed to mutter through her embarrassment.

‘Hey, it happens! Here, you can use my toothbrush if you want, I have another one anyway.’

There’s something strangely intimate about letting someone watch you brush your teeth. She couldn’t help feeling vulnerable and exposed, like this meant something. Abbey had never been good at reading signals but this felt so definite, the way he watched her, it wasn’t the concerned look of a friend, it was something else, something far more significant.

Abbey lay down on Christian’s bed, he had pointed her in the direction of his bedroom while he fetched her some water and paracetamol to relieve her throbbing head. He had no posters and a sparse minimalistic room, there was very little to indicate that anyone other than a methodical and organised person lived here. Abbey was surprised at the lack of personality the room displayed, she didn’t know what she had imagined but it wasn’t this impersonal and cold space. She must have dozed off. She awoke to find Christian sitting on the side of the bed holding a glass of water and pills, and she sat up and drank thirstily, washing down the tablets.

‘Feel better?’ Christian brushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled warmly at her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

‘Sorry, I don’t usually drink tequila.’

‘It’s good to see you let go … and you look amazing tonight.’ His hand trailed down her back, fingers barely touching her skin. ‘You’re actually quite pretty.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, mouth slightly parted, just enough for her to feel his hot, wet breath against her lips. What about Dani? she thought as she kissed him back. Was she still asleep? Was this a dream? Was he really kissing her? She held her eyes closed tight for fear that if she opened them his mistake would be realised and he would pull away, disgusted.

His hand was on her knee now, her instinct was to clamp her legs shut so that it could go no further but something inside her stopped that gut reaction, and as his hand travelled up past her thighs she just allowed it, despite every fibre of her being telling her to stop him. Dani would get over it, wouldn’t she? Would she hate her? Blame her? Would she even find out?

Chapter 9 (#ulink_55ad99f2-df71-5f1a-894b-8d4abe79586a)

The Trick

Kevin Hart stared down at his wedding ring as he pulled at it, it was dull and scratched. The faded gold band had sunk between the swollen ridges of his fingers. He was much heavier now than when he had got married, years of wining and dining had taken their toll on his body, a fact he was able to ignore until he tried to remove the ring. It caught the hair between his knuckles as he dragged it over them and slipped it in his pocket. He reached for the whisky as the pink lights thumped against the back of his brain and washed down some of his migraine pills.

Kevin was a familiar old face among the fresh meat on offer. He would sit in his private booth at the end of the bar and peruse the drunken young men as they danced together on the floor in front of him, scanning the crowd for the stragglers, the ones who struck out and were feeling down on their luck. Don the barman was accustomed to Kevin’s playbook, aware of Kevin’s type. Occasionally, when a young desperado would slump against the bar, Don would glance over at Kevin and wait for the green light. Kevin didn’t have what these young men had, he didn’t have youth on his side, or even looks, but he had money and he had power; both far more valuable in this game.

Kevin watched as a shiny peacock dominated the floor, turning heads, each pose he struck designed to attract maximum attention and it worked as some of the men turned away from the less interesting ones, trying to catch his eye. A sweaty young buck wrestled his way out of the horde, defeated after losing his companion to the show; he shoved his way to the bar and ordered himself a drink. Don looked over to Kevin who was staring at the new prey eagerly, Kevin raised his little finger off the glass as he took a swig, and Don knew the score.

‘Paid for by the gentleman in the VIP section,’ Don said as he placed the drink on the bar, motioning towards Kevin. The young man instantly straightened up and puffed his chest out, knowing full well the booths were only ever occupied by the men with the moola. Kevin signalled to the empty seat beside him and his new friend wandered over.

‘Martin,’ the man held his hand out. Kevin ignored it; he didn’t like to put them at ease. Martin was still curious enough to sit down even with a little bit of wind knocked out of his sails, the smile wiped from his face. Kevin wanted Martin to know he had no upper hand here; his youth and beauty were not enough to hold Kevin to ransom. Kevin wanted Martin to hang on his every word and he knew that in order for that to happen he would have to use those words sparingly.

‘Would you like to earn some money?’ Kevin eventually said.

‘Oh, I’m not a pro … I mean, I’m not … I don’t …’ Martin sputtered.

‘Relax.’

Kevin knew that everyone had a price, for everything. Years of business negotiations had taught him that you could get a person to sell you their first-born child if you knew what they really wanted. Martin was well dressed but the frays on the seams of his designer jeans and the bobbling on his high-end T-shirt had betrayed him. Martin yearned for a sugar daddy, that’s why he had sat down in the first place, and at least temporarily, Kevin could be that person. Martin would be easily pleased.

‘I’ll pay you two thousand pounds to spend the weekend with me.’ Kevin reached for the bottle of scotch and poured himself another, he could feel Martin’s quandary as he held the bottle out to him, their eyes fixed on each other, searching for a clue about who the other man was. That was part of the fun for Kevin, part of the game; the mystery, anticipation and fear of the unknown. When Martin finally took the bottle from Kevin they both knew it wasn’t the scotch he was accepting.

The key clicked in the door and Kevin pushed it open, allowing Martin to step inside the apartment first, it was dark but Kevin saw how Martin smiled to himself as his eyes adjusted to the light. The room was illuminated by the lights that bounced off of the imposingly decorated Gothic cathedral that directly faced it. The men he brought here always admired the sleek lines of the masculine furniture, the bay window overlooking the cathedral square and the smell, the smell of Egyptian cotton and stainless steel. Kevin knew that Martin would be impressed, this was a sought-after location and added to the image that he wanted to portray – that he had money, that he had power. This was Kevin’s sanctuary, his home away from home, a place for him to be himself, to do the things he needed to do to feel sane. Kevin’s wife, Mary, was used to his weekend absences, she liked the finer things in life and Kevin knew he was safe from her prying as long as the money kept coming in. They would not be disturbed.

‘I’ll pay you now.’ Kevin threw a wad of fifties on the table in front of Martin, who looked up nervously before snatching up the notes and stuffing them into his back pocket.

‘Nice place, real nice,’ Martin said in his brash country accent as he stared at the family portrait that hung on Kevin’s wall. The jovial face of the man in the portrait didn’t match the man in front of Martin, he was younger and slimmer. In the picture were two teenagers, a lean, tall boy with an uncomfortable smile and a slightly younger girl in a pristine white dress. Kevin kept the picture there so that when his wife visited it just seemed like a home away from home, that way they could both keep up the pretence that nothing untoward was going on.

Open handed, Kevin slapped Martin across the face. Martin shot up and raised his hand to hit back. Kevin grabbed it and looked Martin in the eyes. In the instances when they reacted like that he wondered if they were genuinely surprised or if they were actually just play acting for him, he didn’t really care either way. Some part of them must have guessed what he was paying for, or were they really that naive? He loved that look, the shock, the surprise, the indignation. Tears started to form in Martin’s eyes as Kevin stared into him.

‘I can always take the money back and you can just go,’ he whispered. ‘Or you can do what you’re told and keep the money.’

It’s one thing to refuse a lot of money; it’s another thing to give it back after you have held it in your hands. This was a huge part of the turn on for Kevin, the part when they accepted, the part when they knew what was going to happen and still said yes, he lived for that very moment; acquiescence.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Martin pushed back the tears and lowered his hand.

‘Take your clothes off.’ Kevin took a step back and watched as Martin resentfully stripped down to just his underpants, he guessed this was Martin’s lucky pair or something, bright and garish, labelled and fitted, probably expensive. ‘All of them.’

As Martin stood there Kevin revelled in his discomfort, his firm golden silhouette framed by the backlight of the cathedral. Martin crossed his hands across his front, trying to keep a little of his modesty at least. This made Kevin smile to himself. By the time Kevin was done with Martin his modesty would be the least of his worries.

The bedroom was darker than the lounge, just a bed sitting solemnly in the centre of the room. Martin stumbled forward and Kevin pushed him face first into the mattress. The floor felt strange to Kevin, something wasn’t right about it but he dismissed the feeling as a side effect of the excitement. With one hand he undid his belt and ripped it from its position with ease before forming it into a loop and hooking it around Martin’s neck as though he were a wayward dog, no chit chat, no foreplay. He spat into his hand and forced his fingers inside Martin, who stopped writhing when he realised the more he resisted the tighter the belt got. It had been months since Kevin had got to play this game, always too busy with work or family, mind-numbingly dull conference calls or his daughter’s theatrical performances. Kevin savoured the image of Martin’s body, its tiny contortions as he pushed harder, deeper.