Future Queens of England (12 page)

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Authors: Ryan Matthews

BOOK: Future Queens of England
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“Shall we go and get something to eat?” Giles suggested, “I’m starving.”

They left their boudoir and headed down to the refectory.  They were chatting busily as they made their way down the stairs.

“Are you going to the hockey try-outs tonight Uwe?” asked Hugh.

“Of course, though it’s insulting that I have to prove myself,” Uwe said snootily.

“Who else is going?”

“I reckon I’ll give it a go, Hugh,” said Keenan, “and I think Tony should give it a go too.”

“Yeah, it might help him to burn off a bit of that testosterone,” Gareth added.

“Talking of Tony, did anyone invite him along to eat?” asked Hugh.

They all shook their heads.

“Oh, well, someone had better go back up and ask him,” Hugh suggested.  “We don’t want him to feel left out now do we?”

Uwe groaned, “I’ll go.  Wait here I won’t be a moment.”  Uwe trudged up the stairs back to their room whilst the others waited on the staircase chatting.  He walked to the double doors of their boudoir, opened them and walked in.  He stood there shocked and unable to speak at the sight before his eyes.  Tony was stood over his bed with the fashion magazines laid out in front of him masturbating furiously.  Uwe turned and left the room quietly; he walked quickly along the corridor and down the stairs and rejoined the group.

“Well is he coming?” asked Hugh.

“Yes, I believe he is,” replied Uwe solemnly.

Hugh looked up the stairs but couldn’t see any sign of Tony, “Is he coming right now?”

“There is no absolutely no doubt in my mind,” Uwe confirmed quietly.

Hugh realising that something was wrong probed Uwe, “What did you see up there?”

“I caught Tony masticating,” he replied, “I feel quite disturbed.”

“Why were you disturbed?  What on earth was he eating?” asked Bruce.

Keenan laughed, “Oh I think I know what Uwe means.  I think old Tony was milking his miserly moo cow.  I think we’d best leave him to it
,
eh?”

“Yes, I agree,” Gareth said.  “At least he will be in a calmer mood for the rest of the day.”

“Perhaps we should bring him back a sandwich, he was really working up an appetite,” Uwe added thoughtfully.

Keenan slapped Uwe on the back, “Come on son, let’s eat.”

“I don’t seem to be hungry anymore Keenan,” Uwe revealed.  “In fact I feel a little sick.  It was like the Black Forest; I don’t think he’s ever even considered trimming.”

“I am inclined to agree, Uwe, but all in good time eh?” comforted Keenan, “all in good time.”

 

 

After dinner they returned to their room.  Keenan stopped them all before they entered, knocked on the door and shouted, “We’re coming in Tony!”

“What are you doing?” asked Hugh.

“Sshhh,” hushed Keenan listening for a reply.

“So what?” came the reply from inside the boudoir.

“I think we’re okay,” said Keenan as he pushed the door open and wandered into the room.  “Are you alright Tony?” he asked.

“Top of the world,” Tony replied with a wayward look in his eye.  “But I ain’t half hungry.”  He rubbed his stomach in rapid circular motion, “I could eat a bloody horse.”

Gareth chucked a sandwich at Tony, “Here you go Tony, enjoy!”

“Wow thanks, Gareth,” said Tony as he caught the sandwich with both hands, “just what the doctor ordered.”  He hastily unwrapped the sandwich and sank his teeth into it.

“You’re in an unusually good mood Tony,” observed Bruce with a wink.

Tony nodded and muttered something unintelligible with a mouthful of food.  He swallowed and then spoke, “Hey Gareth, I’ve finished with your magazines.  Thanks, they were just what I needed.”  He kicked the magazines to the bottom of the bed and Gareth walked over and picked one of them up by a corner with his thumb and forefinger and regarded it with utter disgust.

“Hmm, it looks like a snail has crawled all over it.”  He dropped the magazine back onto the bed.  ”I’ll tell you what Tony, you can keep these.  Consider it my gift to you.”  Then he turned and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands thoroughly.

“Thanks Gareth, much appreciated,” Tony called after him before finishing his sandwich.

Hugh sat on his bed and addressed Tony, “Are you going to the hockey try-outs tomorrow?”

“You know what Hugh?” said Tony, “I think I will.  Football’s my game, but I reckon I’ll give hockey a go.”

“Glad to hear it Tony,” Hugh said and he rummaged in his drawers for a spare pen and pad.  He found what he was looking for and offered it to Tony.  “Here you go, as promised,” he said cheerily, “pen and paper, so you can write up your coursework.”

“Thanks, Hugh,” Tony said genuinely as he took the stationery from him, “I’ll start it now whilst it’s still fresh in my mind.”  He lifted his knees up and leant on one of the magazines and then started writing.  His tongue poked out the right hand side of his mouth as he concentrated.  He stopped writing and opened up one of the magazines where he had turned the page and ripped it from its bindings.  “Have you got any paperclips Hugh?” Tony asked.

“Sure, let me grab you a couple,” replied Hugh as he searched for them.  When he found them he reached over and handed them to Tony.  Tony’s attention had immediately focused again on writing and he didn’t notice Hugh waiting with his outstretched arm.  Hugh coughed several times until Tony looked up.

“Sorry Hugh, thanks,” apologised Tony as he took them from Hugh and continued to write down his thoughts. 

Over the next thirty minutes the group were amazed at Tony’s enthusiasm as he feverishly scribbled his thoughts onto the paper and eagerly ripped and clipped pages from the magazine to his written notes.

“Ah, finished,” proclaimed Tony with an air of satisfaction as he held up his work glowing with an enormous sense of pride.

“Hey, good on you Tony,” Keenan remarked genuinely, “you’ve put the rest of us to shame.”

“Guys, look at the time,” Hugh announced, tapping his watch, “the trials start in under an hour.  We’d better get a move on.”

They all started to pull sports clothes from their cupboards, bags and drawers and began to change out of their clothes.  Tony suddenly realised that he didn’t have anything suitable other than his football shirt. 

“What can I do?  I haven’t got any shorts,” he said.

“Why don’t you go and check the lost property box and see if you can take something from there Tony?” suggested Gareth helpfully.

Tony leapt from his bed and ran out of the room, “Good idea Gareth.”

“But be quick,” Gareth shouted after him.

Tony ran down the stairs, three at a time, into the reception.  He stopped, bent double catching his breath, Christ, he thought as he wheezed, I’m really knackered.  He took a few more deep breaths and straightened up. 

“I would like to take this opportunity to remind students that running in the corridors is not permitted,” a voice spoke sternly.

Tony turned to see Louise standing there watching him with her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

“Tut-tut, someone’s really out of shape,” she scolded.  “Would you like me to fetch first aid?” Louise mocked with a fake expression of concern on her face.

“I think I need mouth to mouth.  Quick come over here and give it to me, there’s no time to waste,” he said smirking.

“In your dreams,” she stated flatly.

Tony laughed it off, “I need to speak to you anyway, Louise.  I need to borrow a pair of shorts for the hockey try-outs.  I thought I could have a look in the lost property box.”

“Well, normally we aren’t supposed to do that,” she said cautiously, “but I guess we can make an exception.  The stuff in there is from last year’s students, so if it hasn’t been claimed by now then it shouldn’t matter if you take it.”

“Great, thanks gorgeous, I mean, Louise,” he said correcting himself.

“Follow me,” Louise said as she beckoned to him to follow.  She walked along the corridor with Tony in tow.  He stayed downwind of her so he could smell her perfume.  He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment as he followed her trying to shut down his other senses and focus all of his effort on his sense of smell.  Louise stopped in front of the door and Tony bumped into the back of her and pressed her against the door.

“Ow,” she wailed, pushing Tony back.  “What are you doing, you dimmock?”

Obviously embarrassed Tony apologised profusely and muttered jumbled explanations at her.

“Never mind!” she tutted as she unlocked and opened the cupboard door.  She pulled out a large box and placed it on the floor near Tony’s feet.  “Take a look in there,” she said.

Tony bent down and started to rifle through the items of clothing in the box.

“There,” Louise said pointing into the box, “they look like shorts.”

“Where?” Tony asked as he stared into the box.

Louise bent over and put her hand into the box moving items aside.  As she bent over her blouse hung loosely, Tony gazed wantonly at her perfect, full round breasts.  He knew he should look away but he was completely mesmerised by their beauty and was totally unable to blink never mind divert his gaze.

“Here,” she said pulling out a pair of pink shorts and waving them in Tony’s face.  She suddenly realised what Tony was doing and stood up quickly, placing her hand on her chest as if to protect herself from Tony’s stare.

“What!” Tony exclaimed taking the shorts from her, “I’m not wearing these!”  He held them up in front of him and inspected them more closely.  “Wait a second, these aren’t shorts!  They’re bloody hot pants,” he shrieked in disbelief.  With both hands extended in front of him he pulled at the waistband and stretched them to make the elastic vibrate.  He turned them around to view the back and rolled his eyes in disbelief, “No effing way,” he gasped as he read the word ‘BITCH’ embroidered across the rear.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Tony,” she said picking the box back up again and returning it to the cupboard.

“Surely there must be something else…” he started but was cut off mid-sentence.

“I shouldn’t even let you have them.  Now come on, I have work to do,” Louise said, locking the  door.  She walked away leaving Tony staring at the small, pink hot pants.

“Oi Tony, nice choice!” shouted Marc from the stairs, “you’ve only been here a couple of days and you’re already turning.”

“Am I bollocks!” shouted Tony defensively.  “Hell will freeze over before that day comes,” he added as he stuffed the hot pants into the pocket of his jeans.  He stormed back up the stairs past Marc and into the Larry Grayson boudoir.

“Hurry up Tony, we have to go soon,” Hugh said hurriedly.

“I know, I know,” Tony said as he took the hot pants from his pocket and placed them on top of his bedside cabinet.  “Quick Hugh,” Tony ordered, “give me a marker pen, now!”

Hugh opened his drawer and searched for a pen.  He found a black marker pen and handed it to Tony, “Will this do?”

Tony nodded silently, popped the top off the pen and started to write on the back of the hot pants.  Very carefully, above the word bitch, he wrote: ‘Nobodys’.

Hugh watched Tony and pointed out, “There should be an apostrophe between the ‘y’ and the ‘s’ Tony.”

Tony muttered something incomprehensible then quickly added the missing apostrophe.  Then whilst waiting for the ink to dry he removed his trainers and jeans. 

“Hey!  Look the other way for a minute,” he ordered.

As they turned their heads to offer Tony some privacy he snatched the hot pants from the bedside cabinet and stepped into them.  He had raised them as high as his kneecaps before they started to feel tight, then he strained visibly as he squeezed them over his thighs and onto his hips.  They heard the grunts and couldn’t resist watching Tony again.

He looked over to the others, “Shut it!” he ordered before any of them spoke.

“We don’t know what you mean Tony,” replied Uwe stifling a laugh.

Tony tried to sit on his bed to put his shoes on but the shorts would not allow it, so his slid his left foot into his shoe and hoisted it onto the bed and pushed his foot into it.  He repeated this action for his right foot, and then attempted to reach under his bed to pull his bag out.

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