MIRIAM BAUDELAIRE<br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/70/Anka_bezunoff_avatar.jpg)<br/><br/>http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/school_level_01.jpg (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/school_level_01.jpg)<br/><br/>I sat behind my desk in my small office, elbows resting on it's polished surface and regarded the three people before me with a calm steady gaze. Another young woman, her bearing and countenance clearly advertising that she had received little parental control or love in her upbringing. She wore just that look, the one favoured by rebellious teens, a half frown, half 'I dare you' smirk. I didn't smile or frown or show any emotion in return, I merely observed. I don't blame the parents for this state of affairs usually, they often have valid reasons why their family dysfunctions; jobs, is the big one. The rat-race of social pressures forcing us to ride the roller coaster always seeking higher wages or better prospects. Perhaps the family had been forced to move around the country a lot following her father's (or mother's) promotions. Disjointed schooling would result from that. It could be the peers she had met, leading her along rebellious paths.<br/><br/>It didn't matter. I wasn't here to place blame. I just had the fun job of cleaning up the mess. It was always the same. They could be high-class bratty little snobs or drug dealing little shits or anti-establishment wanna-be leaders of the next youth revolution. It made no difference to me. I fixed what was broken.<br/><br/>And if they weren't even broken, then I broke them and fixed them up afterwards. In my own style.<br/><br/>I fixed in my own special way. I had some fun tools and procedures to use. And two thoughtful colleagues who liked to apply those tools and their own special skillsets to get the very best from the material I was presented.<br/><br/>Claudia Snitches had walked into the school of her own free will it seemed, or at least had come in relatively freely, her parents occupied the other two chairs on the far side of my desk, perhaps she wouldn't have come here without their coercion. It made no difference, an informal signing over of the girl to my care for 24 months was my immediate intention. She was sixteen today, so parental consent for her stay here was a legal requirement. She would be free to leave on her 18th birthday when she would be a legal adult. I could not bind her parents to keep her here a day beyond that. As in all my pupil's cases I had two years... 24 months.... 730 days during which she was, at over age sixteen, able to have sex but needed her parents or guardian's consent to transit across national boundaries. By dint of pure luck and subtle planning, Aunt Ester had selected for her school an island location that was legally and constitutionally not a component part of the United States of America but which had it's own distinct jurisdiction. By signing the consent form, I would become Claudia's legal guardian, so it would be impossible for her to leave the island without my permission, or until that day, 729 days from now, that she turned 18.<br/><br/>And between now and then, I planned a few changes to Miss Snitches attitude.<br/><br/>I pressed a button on the intercom. It linked to the loudspeaker in the staff lounge.<br/><br/><strong>"Ari, Roger, the new student has arrived. Please would you come to my office. Thanks."</strong><br/><br/>I released the button and laid my hand on the slim sheaf of papers on the desk, spinning it around and pushing it towards Mr Snitches.<br/><br/><strong>"Two copies of the enrolment and guardianship contract. Please sign both. I will countersign and we each retain one copy. I have checked with my bankers and the full funds have been deposited for the complete term of your daughters education so everything else is in order, thank you very much."</strong><br/><br/>I offered the gentleman my pen, uncapping it and slipping the cap over it's end,<strong>"Here. Sign and date, here... and here..."</strong><br/><br/>As he signed I looked at his wife who sat passively and offered me a wan smile as though in apology for the condition of the goods they were dumping on my doorstep. I returned the smile with a confident gesture,<strong>"Don't worry Mrs Snitches, your daughter is in excellent hands, as you yourself well know, she'll leave here a new woman. Completely changed. I guarantee it."</strong>The double meaning was no doubt not lost on her, as a student herself, studying under my Aunt, she had enjoyed the regime here and was almost certainly a compliant servant, seeing to all her husbands many needs - and no doubt the needs of his colleagues and bosses to whom he gave her in order to further his career. I noted a love-bite on her neck, and a little bruising there. It seemed that middle age hadn't lessened their sexual activities. I made no comment though my gaze directed at her neck wouldn't go un-noticed.<br/><br/><strong>"Thank-you."</strong>I nodded to Claudia's father and retrieved my pen, countersigning in return and finally presenting him with one copy of the contract that effectively gave Claudia to me for two years.<br/><br/><em>No escape now my pet. Mine. All mine.</em><br/><br/>The door opened and my two co-workers entered. I stood up.<strong>"Mr and Mrs Snitches, may I present my two colleagues, Arnold Shaw and Roger Corey. Along with myself we represent the teaching staff at Baudelaire's School. Some duties Claudia will undertake will be overseen by senior servants here and the senior students but we three will provide most of her education. Do not be concerned, your daughter is in firm hands."</strong><br/><br/>I let the double meaning of that statement drift on the air, a choice of meanings the two adults would be fully aware of.<br/><br/>(http://i441.photobucket.com/albums/qq131/renmei_2008/Black_Dress.jpg)<br/><br/>I noted Mr Snitches' gaze drift down my front as I rose. The little black daytime dress was easy to wear, didn't get in the way and would come off easily in emergencies if you get my meaning. The man-made fabric was very forgiving and would survive pulling and crumpling and... staining. Under it I wore a strapless balconette bra that left my nipples uncovered and a pair of silk, sheer 3/4 back panties. And of course stockings. I'm<em>never</em>without my stockings. These were lacy topped hold-ups. Three inch spike heeled pumps completed my simple outfit for today. And everything was black, of course.<br/><br/>There followed a short period of formalities and then Claudia's mother and father departed, Mio, skittered to the main door and showed them to the school taxi which took them along the twisting driveway back to Port au Dames, the only place on the island one could take a ferry back to Boston.<br/><br/>(http://z.about.com/d/architecture/1/0/k/k/neoeclecticcolonial2864520.jpg)<br/><br/>(http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2008/07/18/travel/18milepost-600.jpg)<br/><br/>While Mio was gone I turned to Claudia,<strong>"Well, young lady, welcome to Baudelaire's School, I'm sure you'll fit in fine. Questions?"</strong>