Tom had one eye on his stopwatch and the other eye on the lithe figure of Jasmin Frost, striding around the far side of the circuit. It was a cool October morning at the 'Old Bedfordian Athletics club'. The clouds were high, the track was dry and there was only a light wind. It was therefore the perfect morning conditions for his prodigy to go for a personal best over 800 meters.

Jasmin had a small lead over Karen Briars, a former national 400 metre champion. Karen, who was eight years older than Jasmin, helped Tom with the teenager's training whenever she could. They both believed that Jasmin was a natural talent for the 400 and 800 metre distances.

"How's she doing?"

Tom turned his head, surprised by the man's voice, for he hadn't heard him approach. "Um, this is a private training session. Also, you shouldn't be in the athlete's section."

The Arab man held up his hands and gave Tom a broad grin. "I'm here to talk to you about Jasmin..." He was holding a business card which he handed to Tom. "My name is Ibrahim Khalid. I'm from the law firm, 'Hussain, Khalid and Omar'. I have some pressing business to discuss with you."

Tom held the card up. "Wait one minute..." He turned his attention back to the track just in time to see the girls complete their first lap.

He captured Jasmin's time and watched the pair as they picked up the pace for the final lap. Karen had set the pace for the first lap but was then overtaken by Jasmin as they passed the finishing line.

Tom lowered his eyes and studied the card. He saw that the law firm was based in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. There were enough ghosts in Tom's cupboard for him to feel a tinge of fear whenever solicitors reared their ugly heads. He had experienced several brushes with the law over the years. Unfortunately, it was an occupational hazard.

He had been coaching teenage girls for eight years and there had been some bumps along the way. After some unsubstantiated accusations of inappropriate touching in the early days of his training career, He never trained a teenager on their own. He enlisted either Karen or Sue, another runner he had coached, as training partners to quell any fears that parents or guardians might have.

The Solicitor's sanguine attitude put him at his ease. "I had no idea solicitors worked outside office hours, let alone before breakfast," he said with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. It was just before eight on a Friday morning.

The dark skinned, bearded Arab responded to his comment with a smile. "Tom, when a matter is urgent, I get out of bed early. My journey has been long, so I decided to let you know that I'm here to talk to you as soon as you've finished this training session."

"Ibrahim, I need you to wait over in the stand for half an hour." Tom pointed at the modest building that stood close to the running track, some 20 yards away from where they were standing.

For a small athletics club, they were lucky to have enough covered seating for 500 spectators.

The suited Arab glanced over toward the stand. "Tom, I will wait, but bear in mind that I've travelled a long way to talk to you about Jasmin and it is an urgent matter. Come and sit with me as soon as you can."

Tom's temperature rose. "I'll come when I'm finished. Please go to the stand and wait."

The grey suited solicitor, gripping a bulky leather briefcase, shrugged before turning and heading toward the exit to the athlete's compound. Tom's irritation worsened when on turning his attention toward the track, he saw that he had missed the finish. Tom ducked under the rail and approached the teenager who was bending with her hands on her knees.

Jasmin was gasping for air, but still lifted her head and gasped a few words. "That was fast..."

Jasmin's naturally tanned body was glistening with sweat, as was her forehead and cheeks. Her huge dark brown eyes sparkled with vitality despite her grimace due to the effort she had just exerted down the final straight.

Tom nodded and looked glum. "Sorry, kid, I got distracted. It was a great run though."

Karen arrived with a smile on her face. "Cor... she tore up the track..." the young blond woman frowned. "What did you say, Tom?"

"The visitor distracted me, so I missed the time. I'm Sorry."

When Jasmin straightened, she looked surprised, then looked around. Her eyes settled on the solicitor, who had taken a seat on the front corner of the stand, not more than 20 yards away. "Who is that man, Tom?"

Tom mentally compared the pair of athletes who were standing side by side. Karen, white but suntanned, was slightly paler than Jasmin who had a naturally tanned body, due to her mixed heritage. Karen was thinner and wirier and had the perfect body for middle distance running. Jasmin, on the other hand, was more solidly built. Tom thought that the teenager could develop into a good heptathlete, if she put her mind to it, due to her jumping and throwing potential.

"He's a friend of a friend who's dropped by for a chat. He's going to wait," Tom explained.

"Are we still going to have breakfast together?" Karen helped Jasmin on with her tracksuit top.

The youngster used her huge brown eyes like a weapon sometimes. So, Tom was aware that the teenager was looking forward to their once a week visit to Mc Donald's.

"Yes, Jasmin. You might have to hang around for a while. Come on..." Before either girl could fire another question at him, he set off for the changing rooms.

With a solicitor prowling around the club, Tom was getting more anxious by the minute. As soon as he heard the girls catching up, Tom turned to walk backwards. The girls, each carrying a bag, and wearing their tracksuit tops were chatting about the 800-metre race and their tactics.

Karen always wore the skimpiest of running briefs. They were little more than a 'V' of material covering her mons and a triangle not much bigger to cover her firm ass. Jasmin was also wearing race briefs but hers were fuller. "I'll catch up with you in a couple of minutes," he shouted at them.

He had a training routine that included a session of fitness diagnostic tests and a massage before the athlete showered. Karen was his constant and was onboard 100% with his unusual, but successful training methods.

He had been employed by the 'Old Bedfordian Athletics club' for five years as 'Head of Female Elite Development'. He was given a free reign to train the club's young female athletes from the age of 18. Jasmin, who he had been training for 6 months was, to begin with, one of the shyest athletes he had ever trained.

Not only was Jasmin developing as one of the most talented athletes the club had ever had on their books, but she was also becoming less shy as a result of his hands-on training methods. Initially, she wanted to wear shorts over a leotard when she was running in races. He eventually managed to persuade her to ditch the shorts so that she could shave a second or two off her times.

The next step came in August when she agreed to don a separate pantie/top set for a county meet. She received another confidence boost when she won the 400-meter title. Shy kids never won anything, so he had to broaden her horizons and make her confident in her own skin.

Karen brought her to him and was probably aware that he would become obsessed with her. She had deliberately kept the brake on and was far more protective of the teenager than previous girls they trained together. However, his relationship with Jasmin had slowly evolved, just as he hoped it would, the first time he met the attractive teenager.

He was on the verge of stepping over the line when in walked a solicitor wanting to discuss the young athlete. It was a curious coincidence, so he had to tread carefully until he found out why a solicitor's firm from Saudi Arabia was interested in Jasmin Frost.

Before he checked on the girl's fitness, he wanted a word with Isobel, the club's teenage receptionist. The desk the flirtatious little minx sat at, catered for both the athletics club and the adjoining sports centre's visitors. They opened at 07:00 and closed at 23:00. She looked up when he appeared from the corridor beside her desk. Her eyes dropped to his shorts which were on the tight side.

She lifted her eyes. "Tom, what's going on? We don't usually get strangers turning up like that Arab guy and joining the athletics club."

"Isobel, you shouldn't have let him in without calling me first." He waved his mobile phone at her.

The freckled, red head frowned. "Tom, he paid cash for a year's membership and gave me a tip. Nice guy. Said you were expecting him..."

Tom guessed that the man wanted to impress him by buying a membership, which wasn't cheap. "Never mind. Show me the register."

Tom looked over the young woman's shoulder when she brought up the details on the computer screen. He reached down and put his hand on hers as she used the mouse to view the details.

Ibrahim Khalid was 45 and a Saudi National. His address was 42 Portman Square, London W1 5FR. He had provided a landline number, but not a mobile number. So, a posh London address, as well as offices in Riyadh. Food for thought.

"I'm taking a coffee break at ten, Tom..."

"Take it later, Isobel." He checked the coast was clear, then dropped his hand to the gap between her thighs which she parted for him.

She was wearing a dark green tennis skirt and matching polo shirt, the club's uniform. He pushed his fingers against the warm, moist gusset of her dark green panties. He stroked the tight material, feeling the contours of her teenage sex. The girl was hired on his recommendation and had more than lived up to her promise.

"I've got to go out, but I'll be back by midday, come down to the office. I'll be ready for a cup of coffee."

"It'll be hot and sweet, Tom."

He withdrew his hand, raised it and inhaled her divine womanly scent. "Isobel, if any more strangers show up, give me a shout. The training sessions are supposed to be private."

He was on his way back to his office before she had a chance to reply.