The Strangelove Gambit

by David Bishop

  Natalia knew her elder sisters had few ambitions beyond possessing the grandest home, richest husband and most handsome lover in the Empire. But arguing that such things were of little merit carried no weight with her mother, who had followed the same code rigorously and instilled it in most of her daughters. So Natalia had reluctantly agreed to a year's exile at a finishing school, selecting the Fabergè Institute because it at least had some record of academic excellence. True, the Strangelove twins were frightening in person, but not even Natalia could deny their many scientific achievements under Doctor Fabergè's tutelage.

  Now the institute's youngest student was a week away from graduating from its mink-lined prison, seven days from escaping the gilded cage. She would be eighteen and free of her mother's authority, free to create a life for herself beyond a stifling world of flower arranging, gossip and business communication lessons - whatever the hell that was supposed to be. For all the attention Natalia had paid in that class, it could have been about how best to catch your boss's roving eye. Now that she came to think about it, that had been the essence of the second term's studies, with particular attention paid to how short skirts should be (the shorter the better for displaying perfectly sculpted thighs), why glossy red lipstick was important (apparently it sent a subliminal signal of sexual availability) and the advantages of wearing the best lingerie (it helped flaunt your assets, allegedly).

  Natalia regarded herself in one of the dormitory's full-length mirrors. Plainly, she hadn't been paying much attention in any of those lessons. The other students were women, with fully developed bodies and practiced poise from a lifetime of elocution and deportment classes. Natalia was a late developer, her body still finding its adult shape. She had grown four inches since arriving on the island, this spurt accompanied by a widening of the hips and thickening of the thighs. Her breasts were the most embarrassing change, having swelled to create a pair of attention-seeking balloons. Even ancient Professor Mould had noticed them, making a comment about the baby of the class growing up at last. She'd wanted to climb into a hole and disappear as the others laughed at her embarrassment.

  Despite the urgings of tutors to make the best of her looks, Natalia refused to wear make-up unless it was absolutely required. She kept her strawberry blonde hair back from her face in a simple ponytail and did nothing to hide the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Even her clothes avoided the pouting glamour favoured by the other students, a modest skirt and shapeless top disguising her womanly attributes.

  "Oh Natalia! You're not wearing that again, are you?" a voice protested from the doorway. A big-boned and boisterous pupil called Helga was shaking her head in dismay, two plaits of blond hair pinned to the side of her head. The eldest daughter from the Germanic House of Hapsburg, Helga occupied the bed next to Natalia in the senior dormitory and frequently tried to talk the younger woman into more revealing clothing.

  "And why not?" Natalia asked.

  "Haven't you heard? We've got a new tutor - a man! He's quite a hunk, if you believe Carmen and Tracy. They saw him coming out of the west tower first thing this morning."

  "If I believed everything Carmen and Tracy said, I'd be almost as silly as them," Natalia replied dryly. "You shouldn't listen to gossip. The tutor is probably a hundred and covered in cobwebs, like Professor Mould."

  "But he's still a man!" Helga enthused, her cheeks flushed red. "I haven't seen a real man in weeks, not since poor Mr Russell left in such a hurry."

  "Poor Mr Russell preferred the company of boys, not girls."

  "But he was ever so handsome!"

  Natalia rolled her eyes. Having a conversation with Helga was like trying to calm the ocean with words during a storm. "You were barking up the wrong tree then, Helga, and you're no doubt barking up the wrong tree now. Do you honestly think old Wartski would let a virile heterosexual man loose amongst the senior class? The other girls would eat him alive."

  Helga began digging through the locker at the end of Natalia's bed, throwing the clothes on to the floor. "I don't care what you say! We're going to find you something decent to wear and make you look pretty, just this once. Thumbelina shall go to the ball!"

  "I think you mean Cinderella."

  "Whatever," Helga replied. "I never pay attention in literature appreciation class." Her face lit up as she emerged from the locker, clutching the smallest of black silk camisoles. "This is it, this is the one."

  Natalia's horror was all too evident. "Forget it! My mother sent me that as a present. I'm not wearing so ridiculous a piece of underwear!"

  Helga had an evil glint in her eye. "Who said it would be underwear?"

  Dante was standing outside the gymnasium, clutching his fencing helmet and trying not to think about the knots his lower intestine was trying itself into. "They're just girls," he told himself. "There's nothing to be afraid of inside there."

  They're young women, the Crest replied. Young women filled with raging hormones who probably haven't set eyes on a virile male for weeks or even months. I hope you brought a whip and chair to keep them at bay.

  "They're just girls," Dante repeated to himself, ignoring the voice in his head. "You've had plenty of experience with them before."

  Perhaps. But twelve at once?

  "You can do this, nothing to be scared of. You're the man, the boss."

  "Psyching yourself up?" a stern voice boomed from behind Dante. He spun round to find Wartski stomping towards him.

  "Just preparing myself for the first class," Dante admitted. "I want to make a good impression, announce my presence with authority."

  "Then I suggest you do up your fly first," the matron said, her gaze wandering down to his crotch. "What you've got on show there wouldn't intimidate a dormouse."

  Dante hurriedly buttoned the front of his trousers. "If you'll excuse me, Madame Wartski, I have a class to attend. Good day!" He pulled open the gymnasium door and strode inside, slamming it shut behind him. What he found inside made Dante's heart skip a beat. "Bojemoi!"

  A dozen young women were working on a variety of exercise equipment: climbing ropes, throwing medicine balls around, bouncing on trampolines and limbering up with stretching exercises on the padded floor. All but one were clad in the slightest of clothing, scraps of fabric stretched tautly across rippling thighs, firm buttocks and barely contained breasts. The exception was doing her best to hide at the back of the class, arms folded across herself, a bright red blush colouring her face.

  Wartski's boasts about the institute drawing its students from across the Empire were plainly true. The twelve women displayed a variety of ethnic backgrounds, ranging from Latin states and the Orient to those of paler skinned Nordic and European origins. As one the women turned and looked at the new arrival, their gaze filled with an avid hunger and curiosity. Dante had an uncomfortable feeling the pupils were undressing him with their eyes and resisted the urge to protect his crotch with both hands.

  "Now I know what a beautiful woman feels like alone in a room full of men," he whispered to himself.

  Now you know what any woman feels like alone in a room full of men, the Crest commented.

  Dante forced himself to smile and began walking among the students, observing them as they stretched and bounced and displayed themselves. He passed a few appreciative comments and did his best not to ogle the female forms being flaunted. Finally he reached the one pupil straining not to be noticed, a shy girl stood behind a vaulting horse. "And what's your name?"

  "Natalia," she replied quietly. "Natalia Sokorina."

  "Why aren't you warming up with the others?"

  "I, er..." Natalia blushed an even deeper crimson than before. "I wore the wrong clothing for this lesson."

  "Let me be the judge of that," Dante said politely and waved for her out from behind the vaulting horse. Natalia reluctantly walked around the equipment to reveal her garb: a mini skirt so short it would have been better employed as a cummerbund, and a black silk camisole that was almost transparent
beneath the bright lights of the gymnasium. She kept both arms folded across her chest, hiding some of herself from embarrassment.

  In the background Dante could hear the other pupils whispering comments and sniggering. "Yes, I'm not sure that's entirely practical for today's lesson. Why don't you go find something more... comfortable... and come back. I'll spend the next few minutes getting to know the rest of the class, so you won't miss anything important. Alright?"

  Natalia smiled gratefully and hurried from the room, shooting one of the other pupils a pointed glare on the way past. The big, blonde recipient mouthed an apology but Natalia was already out the door, her exit accompanied by another burst of giggles from the others.

  Dante strode to the front of the gymnasium and picked up a foil from a selection. "Everybody gather round please. I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Durward, Quentin Durward." He used the point of the foil to write his name in the air, remembering just in time not to spell out Dante. "You may call me Mr Durward, or sir. I will be your tutor in fencing, self-defence and several other disciplines for the remaining few days of term. If this short stint goes well, I will be invited back to the institute next year, so I will be doing my best for the few days we shall have together. But you also have something at stake here, as my report will influence the marks you receive upon graduation."

  A beautiful Oriental student raised her hand.

  Dante indicated she should stand. "What is your name?"

  "Zhang, from the Black Dragon dynasty, sir."

  "And your question?"

  "We are the elite class. Surely that indicates we are among the best of the best. What can you add to that in just a few lessons?"

  I think she's got you there, the Crest observed.

  Dante smiled thinly. "Well, Zhang, our time here together may be limited but I can promise you it will be memorable. I hope to impart a little piece of my experience with each of you-"

  I've never heard you call it your experience before, but at least you're being honest about the size.

  "-so that you will have something to remember our time together by. I fought in the war and know what it is to stare death in the face. I pray you may never have to make the same choices I did on the battlefield, but I still wish to protect you from any danger that may threaten your life." Dante raised an eyebrow at the Oriental student. "Does that answer your question?"

  Zhang shrugged and sat down again. Another pupil raised her hand, this time an olive-skinned young woman with cherry red lips, fiery eyes and a mass of curling black hair. "Mr Durward, what battles did you fight in?"

  "Sorry, I didn't catch your name..."

  "Carmen, from the House of Andorra."

  "Very good. If you must know, I fought in several significant conflicts - on the front line in Tolsburg Province, at Sebastopol, the Battle of Vladigrad, at New Moscow, the Battle of the Baltic Sea, the Battle of Rudinshtein..." Dante's voice trailed away as he recalled the death and destruction he had witnessed, the comrades in arms he had lost.

  "And what was it like, fighting for such a glorious cause? To vanquish the Romanov pretenders to the Imperial throne?"

  "There are no true winners in such battles," Dante replied sadly. "War is about the taking and using of power to feed ambition. There is no honour in killing. You would do well to remember that."

  "Oh." Carmen sank back to the floor, her enthusiasm fading. Silence fell upon the class, as the pupils looked at each other, unsure of themselves. The sombre moment was broken when Natalia returned, now clad in a more suitable leotard and tights. Dante smiled at her and clapped his hands.

  "Well, let's see how far you have progressed with your fencing skills. Everybody up on their feet! Show me what you've got." That brought a fresh chorus of giggles from the students. "I meant show me what fencing skills you have got," Dante said with a sigh. "Take a foil and facemask each, put on a padded tunic to protect yourselves, and then pair off, one as the aggressor, the other defending themselves. Begin!"

  The pupils were quick in position, each pairing trying to impress the new tutor as he moved between them. Dante had to be nimble on his feet to avoid getting caught in the action, swaying and ducking to escape the flash of a blade. Each slender, flexible sword was tipped by a button to protect the combatants, but an unwary spectator could still be badly injured if they ventured too close to those duelling. A powerful clash of swords between Carmen and Zhang forced Dante to leap out of their way, sending him hurtling backwards into the blonde who had tried to apologise to Natalia.

  She spun round, foil raised and ready to strike, but stopped when Dante threw up in hands in protest. "Sorry, Mr Durward. Sorry!"

  He took the sword from her grasp and examined the blade. "You should be more careful, Miss...?"

  "Helga." She removed her facemask and brushed an errant strand of hair from her face. "I am Helga, from the House of Hapsburg."

  Dante took her right hand and kissed the back of it. "Charmed, I'm sure."

  Helga grinned with delight. "I will try to be more careful in future."

  "Good. Now, show me how you defend while your partner attacks." Dante stepped aside to watch as Helga tried to fend off her aggressor. The other fighter was smaller and less powerful, but more than made up for that with deft footwork and quickness of hands. Twice she cut through Helga's hapless parries and landed a palpable hit.

  "Very good!" Dante applauded the effort, delighted to discover the other combatant was the unfortunate Natalia. He called the rest of the students to a halt and made them watch the pair fight again. Natalia easily outdid Helga, earning the acclaim of the new tutor.

  "Let this be a lesson to all of you," Dante said. "Skill and confidence can often undo a physically intimidating opponent."

  A chiming bell echoed around the gymnasium. "That's the signal for the end of the lesson," Helga said helpfully.

  "Very good. Well, hit the showers and move on to your next lesson. No doubt I'll be seeing you later in the day." Dante smiled and nodded to the pupils as they passed him on their way out, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. Helga remained behind to ask him a question, peeling off her padded tunic.

  "Mr Durward, I have always struggled in these more physical classes. My family, we can be big eaters and I lack the speed of Natalia and the others. I was wondering if you could offer me any further help?" She smiled at him coyly, one finger twirling the plaited braid hanging from one side of her head.

  "I suppose that could be possible. I certainly want to be available for all my students," Dante said. "Do you have any free time later today?"

  "No, but I could visit your private quarters tonight, after supper." Helga did her best to look coquettish, a twinkle in the corner of her eyes.

  Be careful, Dante, the Crest warned. You've no way of knowing whether this young woman is a spy for Doctor Fabergè, trying to lure you into a trap!

  Dante was suddenly aware of the perspiration forming in the deep valley between her breasts, unable to tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of her breathing. "I'm not sure students are allowed to visit tutors' private quarters."

  "Why not?" Helga asked innocently. "When Madame Wartski was filling in after Mr Russell left the institute, she was always trying to persuade one of us girls to visit her room after dark. She said it was to see her collection of toads."

  "I hope none of you did."

  Helga stifled a giggle at the thought. "Nein! She is covered in warts and she couldn't keep her hands to herself - ugghhh! Repulsive!"

  "Nevertheless, I do not believe it would be seemly for us to have a private session in my quarters..." Dante maintained, trying to tear his gaze away from Helga's hefty dècolletage.

  "Then perhaps we could meet here," she suggested. "No harm could come to us having extra tuition in a padded room, could it?"

  "I suppose not."

  "I mean, there's nothing hard in this room that could hurt me?" Helga whispered, leaning closer to Dante. One of her hands began sliding past the waist
band of his trousers.

  Dante, don't give in to her! the Crest urged. Think of something, anything that might quell your desire - Algebra! Madame Wartski naked! The collected works of William Shakespeare!

  Helga's hand swivelled round to encircle his crotch. "Unless you think I could be wrong about that? Maybe there is something hard in here?"

  Dante bit his top lip, trying to retain some scintilla of composure. "Perhaps we can continue this discussion later?"

  Helga removed her hand. "I'll see you here after nine tonight." She hurried from the gymnasium, her rounded bottom bouncing inside the straining fabric of her leotard. Only when Helga had left did Dante let himself relax, slumping to the padded floor, sweat soaking the armpits of his fencing jacket.

  "Fuoco," he muttered. "She knew what she was doing."

  You're the one who needs the self defence class, the Crest observed. She had total control over you, Dante!

  He smiled. "You could say she had me in the palm of her hand."

  I was trying to avoid such obvious crudity.

  "Yeah? Well, it's my speciality." Dante wiped the sweat from his brow. "Have I got time for a shower before my next lesson?"

  No. You should be two flights down by now, beginning a tutorial in the ancient Oriental art of origami.

  "I don't suppose that's Japanese for orgasm, by any chance?"

  No. It's Japanese for paper folding. And if you're going to continue with the steady stream of smut I'll leave you to lead the class unaided.

  "I told you, obvious crudity is my speciality. Besides, how hard can paper folding be - right?"