The Choice (6 page)

By the time I emerged into the fresh air I was feeling that I’d earned a break, and set off for the river with a spring in my step. I got a bit lost, what with different branches of the Cherwell, and ended up having to cadge a lift across where it joins the Thames. The pub was on the far side, with a beer garden sloping down to the river, and Stephen was already there, looking very bronzed and fit in his rowing gear. I greeted him with a kiss, keen to affirm our relationship, provoking a pleased grin and the offer of a drink.

An hour later I was very sure that we were together. He was keen to be nice, very careful of my opinions in case he offended me and also to touch, but gently, as if I was made of bone china and he was scared I’d break. That might have put me off a little, had I not remembered the way he’d handled me once I’d got him too aroused to control himself, but I was determined that
if
we were to be together he would feel able to assert himself sexually. He’d decided to eat, and I waited until he’d finished before popping the question.

‘Would you like a treat?’

‘I’m full, thanks, and I’ve got a tute this afternoon so I’d better not drink too much.’

‘Not that sort of treat. Come on.’

He didn’t seem to understand, until we were some way back down the lane and I’d pulled him in among the bushes. There weren’t many people about and the undergrowth was so dense we’d quickly lost sight of the river, but I went well in just to be on the safe side. He followed, happy enough to let me lead and a little surprised by my behaviour, especially when I sat down on a low branch and pulled up my top.

‘That’s the way you boys like it, isn’t it?’

‘Um … yes. Wow!’

I had to beckon him over, but had quickly pulled his rowing shorts aside to release his cock and balls, first into my hand and then into my mouth.

‘You really don’t hang around, do you?’

I shook my head, sucking eagerly. He’d begun to swell immediately and I closed my eyes in bliss for the taste and feel of him, also the knowledge that he was growing aroused for me so quickly. There’s no better turn-on than a man who responds well, and I’d soon abandoned my idea of simply taking him to orgasm and leaving it at that. I pulled off my top and took him between my breasts.

‘You can do what you like with me; you know that, don’t you?’

‘Anything?’

‘Anything.’

‘God, you’re lovely …’

As he trailed off he grabbed my breasts, squeezing them
around
his cock. I fumbled with the button of my jeans, sure he’d rip them down to get me bare and make me bend over to be taken from behind. I repeated my offer, just to be on the safe side.

‘Anything, I mean it.’

This time his answer was to come in my cleavage. I hadn’t been expecting it, and he was squeezing so hard it hurt as he finished himself off, gasping out his thanks while he was still doing it.

‘You’re wonderful, Poppy, so wonderful … the best …’

He gave me a last squeeze and stood back, looking pleased with himself. It took me a moment to get myself together, and for what he’d done to me to cease to be a shock and become something extraordinarily, deliciously rude. I wasn’t finished either, and I wasn’t having any nonsense from him.

‘I think you’d better use your tongue. Come on.’

I was already pushing my jeans and knickers down as I spoke. He swallowed hard as he saw what I wanted, but, if there’s one thing men have to learn, it’s that fair’s fair.

‘Come on, it won’t hurt you.’

Again he swallowed, hesitating. I beckoned to him as I let my thighs come open, determined not to accept any excuses, but he suddenly nodded and came forwards. I made myself as comfy as I could with my bare bottom on the rough bark of the branch and he got down between my open knees. He poked out his tongue and he was doing it, not between my legs, but on my breasts, licking up what he’d done.

I watched, amazed. No man I’d known had ever done anything of the sort, and I’d never even have thought of suggesting it, and yet it worked for me, such a rude thing to do, so uninhibited. I began to stroke his hair, soothing him as he licked it up, still offering myself to him with my thighs wide across his body. He slid a finger into me and I closed my eyes,
lost
in ecstasy. I held him to me and his tongue flicked over the skin of my neck and breasts.

He took his time, cleaning me up completely before he even turned his attention to my nipples, sucking each before laying a slow trail of kisses down across my tummy and to my sex. I pushed my hips out, holding him to me, my eyes closed and my mouth wide, as he found the spot, licking far too well for it to have been his first time. In no time at all I could feel my orgasm beginning to well up inside me.

I took a firm grip in his hair, thinking of what he’d done to me, so wonderfully rude, to come between my breasts and lick up what he’d done, something I hadn’t even imagined a man would do for a woman. Yet he had, and I knew he’d be able to taste himself even as he brought me to ecstasy under his tongue, a thought that tipped me over the edge. I held him tightly in place until I’d quite finished, only then releasing my grip and allowing him to rock back on his heels, grinning like a schoolboy.

He found his voice first. ‘You are amazing!’

‘I’m amazing! Nobody’s ever done that to me before.’

‘What, licked your …’

‘No, what you did first, licking my breasts.’

He shrugged, his expression growing shy for an instant before he abruptly stood up, adjusting himself as he spoke again. ‘Thanks anyway, that was a great treat.’

‘For me too.’

I kissed him and began to tidy myself up. He was getting restless long before I’d finished, and I had to hurry after him to get back to the lane. I took his hand, keen to show affection after what we’d done and he responded with a gentle squeeze, leaving me smiling and happy as we made our way towards the main road.

It was only when we got there that I realised that Jackdaw
Lane
was the same one Giles Lancaster had parked in the night before, and then only because his Audi was there. So was he, coming around the corner, straight towards us, so that short of turning around and running back the way we’d come there was no hope of avoiding him. He’d already seen me anyway, and as we came together all I could do was get the first word in.

‘This is my friend Giles. He’s Recorder at the Chamber.’

To my surprise Stephen didn’t answer me, but Giles did, both of them grinning and slapping each other on the back as they came together.

‘Lancaster, I thought I might run into you sometime!’

‘Mitchell! So you got in then? And they say miracles don’t happen any more. Which college has drawn the short straw?’

‘Emmanuel. And you?’

‘Mary’s. It’s great to see you though!’

They hugged, patting each other on the back with very real affection, not at all the behaviour I’d have expected from two public schoolboys, but they were obviously old friends.

‘Were you two at school together or something?’

It was Stephen who answered me. ‘Yes. Lancaster, meet my girlfriend, Poppy Miller.’

I was pleased to hear him announce me as his girlfriend, and with obvious pride, but my answering smile must have looked more than a little nervous as Giles responded.

‘We’ve met.’

After his parting comments the night before I half expected him to suggest a threesome, and I knew I was blushing. Fortunately they were much too wrapped up in each other to worry about me, talking about people I didn’t know and places I’d never been, until Stephen finally realised that he needed to hurry.

‘I have a tutorial in half-an-hour. I’d better get moving.’

Giles jerked a thumb at the Audi. ‘This is mine. I’ll give you a lift.’

Stephen glanced at the car, then at me. ‘It’s a two-seater.’

Giles shrugged and swung himself into the car, rolling down the window to speak to us as soon as he’d turned on the ignition. ‘Oh, and Poppy, I’ve booked you in to speak at the debate next Thursday.’

‘To speak? On the prostitution debate?’

He gave me the full title. ‘“This House believes that sex workers should be employed directly by the state and the state alone.” That’s the one. You’re on third.’

‘But I don’t know the first thing about sex workers! What side are we on anyway?’

‘I’m for the motion, you’re against.’

‘Against? But, Giles …’

‘Just bung a pair of dungarees on and give them some crap about male privilege and the patriarchy. Are you sure you don’t want a lift, Mitchell?’

‘No thanks, I’ll walk.’

‘Ah, young love! She’s a good catch too, faithful as a puppy. I offered to bonk her brains out and she turned me down flat.’

I felt the blood rush to my face, so hot it was as if my cheeks were on fire, and Stephen was more taken aback than I was, standing there with his mouth open. Giles gave a cheerful wave and was gone before either Stephen or I could think what to say.

He found his voice first. ‘Sorry about Giles. He can be a bit of a clown sometimes.’

‘A clown? He’s an arrogant pig and a complete and utter buffoon!’

‘He’s all right. He was Head Boy at Laon Abbey.’

‘Then the rest of the school has my deepest sympathy.’

‘Come on, I don’t suppose he knew we were together, did he, and you can hardly blame him for trying.’

I began to answer, but bit back my words, my anger with Giles starting to die as I remembered that I hadn’t turned him down flat and that the situation would have been a great deal more embarrassing if he’d told Stephen what I’d actually said. A hasty change of subject seemed to be in order.

‘I don’t mean that. I mean put me up for speaker in the prostitution debate.’

‘You should be grateful, shouldn’t you? How many people get to speak at the Chamber at the first debate after they come up?’

My resentment began to fade with my anger.

‘Not many, I suppose, but that’s not the problem. There are some topics it’s best to avoid completely, including sex, because if I take a permissive stance I’ll get labelled a slut and if I take a repressive stance I’ll get labelled a prude or – what’s the word – a bluestocking.’

‘Not nowadays, surely?’

I shrugged, wondering if he was right. It was Dad who’d advised me to avoid any debate with a sexual theme, but his experience was over thirty years out of date.

Stephen carried on as we began to walk. ‘Anyway, you don’t have to take an anti-sex approach at all. Why not argue that sex should be a loving experience between equals and not a commodity?’

‘That’s a point. I could do that. That’s what I believe, actually.’

‘There we are then.’

‘Thanks.’

I went briefly quiet, remembering his own somewhat cryptic remark about Southeast Asia and my own fantasies about being a high-class call-girl. There was actually something quite
exciting
about inequality, and in having to do something because I’d been paid, or been tricked, even pushed into it or simply taken advantage of, just so long as I genuinely wanted the man. I took Stephen’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘That was lovely, by the way, what we did.’

‘My pleasure.’

We walked on, silent, hand in hand, my head full of rude thoughts. Stephen was unlike any other man I’d met, especially when it came to sex, making me wonder what else he had to offer. Looking back, I now realised that my sex life had been fairly straightforward, uninhibited but perhaps a bit unimaginative too. I certainly couldn’t imagine Ewan doing what Stephen had in among the bushes, despite expecting me to swallow.

I even began to feel happier about the debate. It was an excellent opportunity to get myself noticed, and as the third speaker out of maybe four or five I could afford to be fairly light-hearted about it, and to concentrate more on making sure everybody remembered me rather than the subject in question. Stephen’s suggestion was good as well, and by the time we’d reached the High I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to say.

We kissed goodbye at the bottom of The Turl and he hurried off in the direction of Emmanuel while I went into college. I was in need of coffee, and gave Violet’s door a tap as I pushed my key into my own. She answered immediately and I stuck my head in to find her lying face down on the bed, reading, with her legs kicked up and one lipstick-red shoe dangling negligently from her toes.

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ve got some. Help yourself.’

‘Thanks.’

I came in and poured myself a black coffee from the cafetière
she
kept pretty much always ready. As she folded her book I saw that it was the Pierre Louÿs,
La Femme et le Pantin
, which I was pretty sure she’d been reading when I’d watched her playing with herself. I couldn’t resist a question.

‘Is that good?’

She paused, as if to consider.

‘It’s a classic, if you like late-nineteenth-century erotica.’

‘I’ve never read any.’

She tossed the book down on the carpet where I’d curled myself on the enormous purple bean bag she kept in one corner. I picked it up, feeling awkward.

‘But aren’t you in the middle of it?’

‘I’ve read it before, plenty of times.’

I was forced to admit my ignorance. ‘I don’t read French, I’m afraid.’

‘No? Hang on.’

She’d answered me much as if I’d admitted to not knowing my alphabet, but quickly got up, reaching down another volume from her shelves, a translation of the same work. I took it, intrigued, but I wanted to tell her about my part in the Chamber debate.

‘I’m speaking at the Chamber next Thursday.’

‘On government brothels? I hope you’re against?’

‘Yes, I am actually. Giles Lancaster put my name forward, but for the opposition.’

‘Then you’ll be with James … Dr McLean. He’s opening, as guest speaker.’

‘Great, maybe we can compare notes, if he wouldn’t mind?’

She seemed a little uneasy as she answered. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, um … I suppose I’d better tell you about me and James.’

‘Not if you’d rather not.’ It was a blatant lie, because I was
fascinated,
and fortunately she didn’t take me up on my offer.