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Authors: Monica Belle

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BOOK: The Choice
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Naked, she looked more slender and elegant than ever, her tiny breasts high and pointed, her hips a poem in grace, her sex neat and pink between the V of her thighs, shaved bare. I found myself pushing out my tongue to moisten my lips and again she laughed, then spoke as she put a knee on the bed. ‘I’ve wanted you so long.’

My answer was to open my arms to her and we came together, now naked, touching each other without inhibition. I let her slip a finger inside me, and by the time she’d begun to kiss her way slowly down my body I was so far gone that I simply let my thighs come wide in open invitation. She took her time, nuzzling my breasts and flicking her tongue over my erect nipples before gradually working her way lower, to kiss the swell of my belly and my navel, lingering on the mound of my sex and the insides of my thighs before finally burying her face between them.

Just the thought that she was licking me was almost too
much,
and she was amazingly good, using her tongue with a skill and imagination that quickly had me arching my back and clutching at my breasts and her hair, my mouth already wide in ecstasy. Her hands slipped beneath me and I’d started to come, calling out her name and begging her not to stop as wave after wave of pleasure ran through me, until I’d forgotten all about Stephen, and Giles, and everything but what was being done to me, and who by.

Violet had seduced me, just as Giles had seduced Stephen, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry, or even resentful. I did try to justify my behaviour, telling myself I’d only done it because I was drunk and vulnerable, but, while it was true that I’d never have given into my feelings otherwise, there was no denying that I had wanted it and, equally, that I’d enjoyed myself.

That was an understatement; Violet had not only shown a skill far beyond that of any man I’d known, but she had also been more attentive, so much so that among my muddled feelings and impressions there was a touch of guilt for having returned so much less than she’d given. Three times she’d brought me to climax before we’d finally fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and a fourth at some point in the dead of the night.

I didn’t feel resentful, and I didn’t even feel guilty, or at least far less than I would have expected. What I did feel was concern, because passionate lesbian sex very definitely did not fit in with my efforts to keep a clean image, but I found it hard to care. Instead I felt so happy I wanted to sing, and a great deal stronger about the situation with Stephen. As Violet and I sat drinking coffee the next morning, having adjusted ourselves just enough not to arouse the suspicions of the scout if she came in early, I was telling myself that I’d have to face him
sooner
or later, and that the only reason for delay was that I had absolutely no idea what to say.

Violet seemed to read my thoughts. ‘Are you going to see Stephen?’

‘Yes, but I’m not sure what to say, if anything. Giles advised against it.’

‘By the sound of things Giles was arguing for his own best interests.’

‘I’m sure he was. That’s Giles.’

‘Then I suggest you think very carefully about what you want to do before you say anything. If you really can’t cope …’

‘I’m not so sure, after last night.’

I’d begun to blush as I spoke, but she just smiled and carried on. ‘What you mustn’t do is tell him you saw and give him an ultimatum. That way disaster lies.’

‘I figured that one out when I was about fourteen.’

‘Exactly, he’d resent you for the rest of his life, at best. If you do want to stay with him, you’re going to have to compromise. That’ll be the tricky bit. If you don’t, you’ll just have to put it behind you and move on.’

‘I’m not sure. I still feel betrayed, but maybe I’m no better than he is? I mean, because of what he did … we did, but because we went behind each other’s back.’

‘I know …’ She hesitated, looking into her coffee before she went on. ‘I don’t expect he’ll stop, do you?’

Her eyes met mine, full of doubt and need. I knew what she was really asking and responded with a kiss, reassuring her. Despite my concerns, there was no denying that if the moment was right I’d give in to her again, which raised another question.

‘What about James?’

‘Oh, he won’t mind, but I won’t tell him if you’d rather?’

‘I’d be embarrassed, thanks, but I’ve decided I am going to tell Stephen, if you don’t mind?’

‘Not at all. I think you should.’

‘So do I, but what do I tell him? I’ve decided to try to compromise.’

‘Maybe you should give him the permission he needs without admitting you know?’

I nodded. It would be a highly calculating thing to do, but life had been like that recently, full of manoeuvring and compromise, first to get on in the Chamber and now in my private life. For a long time I sat sipping coffee in silence, trying to ignore my emotional needs and think of my life as an elaborate and serious game. At last I reached a conclusion.

‘I’ll do it. Back to business.’

‘You do that.’

She didn’t sound very convinced, but said no more. I had wasted a lot of time the day before, and needed to catch up. Stephen was sure to be in lectures, so I hurried into my smartest outfit and made for the Chamber. Having taken what should have been Giles’ decision into my own hands, I needed to make sure I wasn’t going to run into trouble, which meant talking to him. I would also have to tell him I’d accepted his advice, at least in part, but that could be used as a lever to make sure he didn’t make life difficult for me about going over his head.

I was standing in the lobby, going over the situation in my head to make sure it all worked when a tall grey-haired man walked in. He looked vaguely familiar, and carried that same air of absolute confidence that distinguished Giles but with a mature dignity rather than arrogance. After a moment looking around he addressed me.

‘Excuse me. Do you know where I might find Giles Lancaster.’

‘He’s probably in the bar. I’ll show you the way.’

‘I am on familiar territory, thank you, but I’d be delighted to accompany you.’

He smiled and gave the gentlest of steering touches to my back, low enough to make me stiffen a little, but not so low that I could realistically have accused him of patting my bottom. Evidently he was a randy old goat, but if he knew Giles he might prove to be an important randy old goat, so I made no comment.

Giles was in the bar as I’d predicted, and turned to us as we came in. ‘Uncle Randolph, you’re early, and I see you’ve already managed to pick up the beautiful and talented Poppaea, a good choice.’

I wasn’t at all surprised to learn that the man was Giles’ uncle, and put up with the remark, intrigued to know what was going on. The name Randolph had triggered a memory associated with the man’s face, although there was usually a ‘sir’ associated with it and if I was right he might prove very important indeed. I waited until they’d exchanged greetings and Giles indicated me with a gesture.

‘Poppaea is one of our brightest young things, and a natural politician, or at least I hope she is. Have you thought over what we were discussing last night, Poppy?’

‘Yes, although I wouldn’t want to bore your uncle with the details.’

‘I’m sure he’d be fascinated, but we’ll talk later, perhaps over lunch? Care for a bracer, Uncle Randolph?’

It was barely eleven o’clock, but Giles ordered a round of gin and tonics, including one for me. I stayed with them, and on discovering that Uncle Randolph was up in Oxford to attend a formal lunch with the Vice-Chancellor and various other bigwigs I was able to ascertain that he really was who I’d thought. Evidently Giles’ connections were better even than
I’d
imagined, and I did my best to be pleasant, although from the way Sir Randolph’s eyes kept straying to my chest he was clearly more interested in my physique than my character.

Sir Randolph left us shortly before twelve, after including me in a dinner invitation at his hotel that evening, and I was left alone with Giles. He got straight to the point. ‘Am I to take it from the way you’ve been flirting with Uncle Randolph that common sense has prevailed?’

‘I have not been flirting with your uncle, but yes, I’ll put up with the situation. I won’t tell him I saw you either, but I will drop a hint that I don’t mind.’

‘Good girl. You really do have the makings of a politician. Speaking of which, here’s some advice. Do you go up to London at all?’

‘Hardly ever.’

‘Well, next time you do, let me know and I shall arrange for Uncle Randolph to take you out to dinner.’

‘Thank you, and I really mean that.’

‘Not at all. He has a great deal of influence, as I’m sure you know. He is also very discreet, and a little
quid pro quo
would do wonders for your career, you’ll find.’

It took me a moment to realise what he was suggesting, but I was used to his behaviour and simply shook my head. ‘If I won’t go to bed with you, what makes you think I’d go to bed with your uncle?’

‘I rather suspect that you will go to bed with me, eventually, but you certainly ought to with Sir Randolph. Is it such a great sacrifice, when you really think about it? Imagine, a candlelit dinner at his Westminster flat, a little flirtation, an elegantly phrased suggestion that you should let your knickers down, a good humping – if perhaps a trifle less vigorous than you’re used to –
et voilà
, the corridors of power will open, rather like your cunt. A good exchange, I’d have said, no?’

The term before I’d probably have slapped him, now I merely shook my head. ‘I have no intention of trying to sleep my way to the top, which is a fool’s game as you perfectly well know.’

‘Not in this case. As I mentioned, Uncle Randolph is discreet, while by the time you get senior enough for the press to take an interest he will almost certainly have drunk himself to death. Think about it, Poppy, seriously.’

‘And what would you get out of it?’

‘Much the same as you.’

‘I suppose he’d realise you’d suggested I give in to him?’

‘I’d tell him.’

‘You really are extraordinary.’

‘Why, thank you. But, returning to young Mitchell, what exactly do you propose to tell him?’

‘That, while I expect him to be faithful as far as other women are concerned, I don’t mind what he does with other men.’

He gave a thoughtful nod before replying. ‘I’d elaborate on that a little, if I was you, otherwise he’s sure to wonder why you’ve brought the subject up.’

‘I’m sure I could get round to it.’

‘Perhaps, but might it not be better to hint that the idea rather turns you on?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I think you will find it’s your best angle, and, besides, I bet it’s true.’

‘It is not!’

‘No?’

He gave a smug little chuckle.

I had no intention whatsoever of adopting Giles’ suggestion, but I couldn’t think of anything better and decided not to seek Stephen out until I’d thought it all over. There was plenty of
work
to do in any case, and I spent the afternoon in the Bodleian, trying to keep my eyes open and wishing I’d declined Giles’ offer of a second drink.

Aside from his outrageous propositions, he’d been at his most pleasant, readily agreeing to my decisions over televising the debate and even backdating his signature so that I wouldn’t risk getting into trouble. For once I didn’t have to wonder what he was after, as it was now plainly to his advantage to keep me on side. Like me, he intended to make a sensible marriage, although not for some time, which meant that I knew more than he would want to become public knowledge. I might not have done it on purpose, but I had manoeuvred myself into an advantageous position.

If I wanted to I could capitalise on that position. As I sat reading about Ramsay MacDonald and the National Government I even allowed myself to imagine how things might be if I took him up on his offer. There was no doubt at all in my mind that if his uncle Randolph got me alone he would try to seduce me, because I know a dirty old man when I see one. I’d never been with anybody more than a few years older than me, and wondered what it would be like; whether he’d be captivated by my youth, as Don Matteo had been with Conchita, or stern and authoritative, expecting me to do as I was told, maybe even spanking my bottom.

I shook my head to rid myself of the image, shocked at my own imagination. He was far too old, and I had far too much self-respect to submit to spanking from some randy old goat, or from anybody, at least, with the possible exception of Dr James McLean. I could imagine him doing it, easily, maybe with Violet holding me and stroking my hair as I was prepared for the birch, my skirt turned up behind and my knickers pulled down, baring my bottom for punishment. He’d whip me, hard, and, as I gave in to my pain and arousal, Violet would ease me
gently
down between her thighs, to make me return the favour she’d given so well as I was thrashed.

Again I shook my head, but this time it made no difference. The fantasy was too compelling to be easily got rid of, because I had whipped myself, and I had been with Violet, leaving James McLean as the only missing piece of the arrangement. Just to think about him made my stomach flutter, and I knew I’d do it, if only the circumstances were right. They never would be, because the potential cost was too high, but I could dream.

I was feeling more than a little sad as I forced my attention back to the book in front of me. It seemed that there was to be no end to the sacrifices I was called on to make in order to further my career. I knew I shouldn’t really have let Violet seduce me, but a little lesbian experimentation at university would probably be excused, in the unlikely event that it ever came out. A threesome in which I got birched and probably had from behind while I licked my girlfriend was another matter altogether, far too outrageous to ever be considered acceptable behaviour.

By the time I left the Bodleian it was dark, and I hurried back to college. There was no sign of Violet, but I found myself hoping she’d come in as I showered and changed, even risking leaving my door unlocked. She didn’t, which meant she was almost certainly at James’ house, a realisation that provoked a touch of something akin to jealousy, not because they were together, but because I wasn’t with them.

BOOK: The Choice
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