He deserved as much from her and Sarah was intrinsically fair. Once she’d bolstered his fragile male ego she’d set him free. It made sense that he’d be mollified by having at last gotten what he’d wanted for so long: her ‘virginity’. It would definitely ease the blow of a break-up. At least, she hoped so.
She set the kettle to boil and did her make-up. A little shadow here, a little gloss there – she’d perfected the natural look. At the last moment, she changed her mind about bare legs and slipped on a pair of black stay-ups with lacy tops. Surely, once David was aroused and she’d stripped to her underthings, he’d enjoy the surprise of stockings? Sarah had just finished adding the boiling water to the teapot when her intercom buzzed. She rang him in and tried to quell the butterflies in her belly. This was David. How could she possibly be more nervous about having sex with him than she was when dealing with the sexual penchants of a stranger?
‘I’m coming,’ she shouted, a few hours later.
Sarah and David had progressed from petting on the couch to stripping to the bed, where the ceremonial deflowering of the maiden had occurred. They’d been fucking for a while now and, though her orgasm was far from the best she’d had, at least it was real. She didn’t want David to miss it so she made a bit of a show. ‘Christ! Oh, David!’
Sarah was beneath David, missionary style, but in the past half-hour they’d moved from missionary to woman superior to a bit of doggy style and back to missionary, so it wasn’t as if David wasn’t an energetic or enthusiastic partner. She’d always known his cock was a good one, a nice length and width and pleasantly smooth, and that he was very capable of a rock-hard erection, but she’d never seen David display such stamina. In truth, he had the makings of a good lover; he just needed more experience.
Laughable, really. Perhaps he was holding back for fear of frightening his nubile partner. Sarah giggled. Turned it into a guttural sound. Squeezed his cock with her internal muscles a few times to add oomph to the fluttering spasms of her lukewarm orgasm.
‘Yeah! Go for it, Sarah!’ David gazed down at her with such love in his eyes that she had to close hers. She felt his hand squirm between them and then his fingers on her clit, straight on the head, his stroke too hard, too much, almost painful and not in a good way.
‘God! Jesus!’ She was scared to swear in case it turned him off, so she was stuck with crying out to the Lord above. She silently added a swift ending to the prayer, ‘Make him come soon, Lord.’
She dropped her hands to his bum and clutched his cheeks. A little pain, perhaps? He soldiered on. When she squirmed her fingers into the cleft between his cheeks he grunted and reached back to push her away, which thwarted her plan but did get him off her clit.
David sputtered, ‘Look at me.’ At last, a command.
Her eyes opened. She granted him the mistiest look she could muster, but stopped short of saying what she was pretty sure he wanted to hear. ‘I love you.’ But if he didn’t come in the next few minutes, goddamit, she would. Thank God for her drama classes. The improvisation game ‘Let’s pretend’ had come in very handy in the last couple of hours. Her body bucked up against him but he held on.
‘I love you, Sarah,’ he whispered. And came.
Well, that was different.
After an acceptable time, Sarah slid out from under him. She slipped on her robe and padded barefoot down the passage to the communal bathroom. Across the hall, her floor-mate was partying. It usually got on her nerves but this time she was happy for the noise. She’d have been embarrassed to have the other tenants hear her fucking David in her room.
Christ, she could use a shower. Sarah had never felt so dirty, or perhaps the word was unclean. She sat on the toilet for a few minutes after she’d peed, listening to the hypnotic hip hop booming from the party room. There was no way, no way she could go back to her room without washing David off her body. Finally she succumbed, took a quick, soapy shower and pulled her robe back on. Maybe he’d think she was still wet from her first fuck.
David was face down where she’d left him. For a moment she feared he’d fallen asleep, but when she approached the bed he rolled over to gaze at her. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ This was the part where she was supposed to break up with him, but she hastily revised the plan. Better to let him bask in his prowess for a while so he wouldn’t think the break-up was because of his bedside manner. ‘You were great, David. Worth waiting for.’ She batted her lashes.
‘Was there much blood, dove? I see you’ve taken a shower.’
Dove? ‘Oh. No. Not a lot.’ Did he think there wouldn’t be evidence on the bed sheets, or on the condom he’d worn, if she’d bled? ‘All those summers at riding camp, I guess.’
David nodded. He stretched. ‘Come back to bed, babe,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve.’ He wiggled his eyebrows and twirled an imaginary moustache like a vaudeville villain.
Fuck. There was no way she could survive another session with him. Certainly not tonight and probably not ever. ‘David –’ she began, but she was cut off by the blaring of a stereo turned up even louder from the party room. Even with David in the bed it trembled from the shaking of the old wood floor of her bedroom.
‘I hate hip hop,’ said David. ‘Let’s go to my place.’ He jumped up and pulled on his jeans.
‘I have an epistemology paper due tomorrow,’ lied Sarah. ‘I really should get it done, David.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve waited, Sarah. I’ve waited this long.’ David took her in his arms.
She pressed her head to his shoulder, hoping to avoid a kiss, but he turned his face to hers and kissed her for what seemed like for ever. All she could think was, Horrible, horrible, though whether she meant the kiss itself or her deceitful response to it, she couldn’t tell.
The hip hop hammered. David winced. ‘That garbage is giving me a headache. I hope it’s not the beginning of a migraine.’
‘You should go,’ murmured Sarah.
‘If you want me to stay and help with your paper, I will.’ He squared his shoulders; such a good, brave soldier.
‘No, no, it’s OK.’ Sarah practically pushed him towards the door.
‘Are you all right, my love?’
‘Yes. You’re a very skilled lover, David. The best a girl could ever hope for. Any girl.’ She opened the door, doubling the noise from the party room.
‘I love you,’ shouted David.
Sarah nodded. ‘Me too,’ she mouthed, hoping the fact that she hadn’t really said it would buy her some points at the Pearly Gates. Fuck. She’d called on God for help and now she couldn’t seem to shake Him.
David was still lingering in the doorway. She kissed him hard on the mouth and playfully pushed him into the hall, but she forced herself not to close the door until he’d started towards the stairs, a jaunty spring in his step.
Finally. She. Shut. The. Door.
If Sarah hoped it would be as easy to shut her conscience up, she was mistaken. A lot of badness had just happened, all of it instigated by her. She was a liar, a manipulator, a coward, a phoney. Worst of all, she was still fucking horny!
At first she thought the sound of a siren was part of the hip hop music but when it stopped abruptly, in front of her house, she knew it was real. Christmas break was approaching and, though she lived in a community of students, their usual tolerance for noise was lost during the crunch at the end of term. Apparently, David wasn’t the only one who didn’t like loud hip hop.
Sarah peeked out into the hallway just as her neighbour’s door flew open. A stream of drunken students staggered forth. She was about to shut her door again when she saw Christopher among them. The only way out was down into the waiting arms of the police, and though no one was likely to be charged, it wasn’t going to be fun.
Sarah beckoned to Christopher. A moment later he was safe inside her room. ‘Are you drunk?’ she asked. He shook his head. So she took him to bed.
Once he was naked she pushed him back on the bed, slid a condomonto his already erectmanhood, and climbed aboard. He held her hips and humped up in long hard thrusts. She leant forwards a little to get some friction between her clit and his cock, then back to establish contact between his cock and her G-spot. It felt good to show off her prowess in bed, instead of masking it behind the façade of innocence, as she had with David.
When she stopped riding him and simply sat atop him, Christopher stirred her tunnel with his cock, adding a little gentle clitoral play with his right hand, keeping the left lightly on her hip. Their movement was minimal but focused. Sarah felt her orgasm welling up inside her, so welcome and wild it made her eyes well too. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered to Christopher as she started to come.
He didn’t speak, just watched her writhe and yip, using his cock and hand to bring her off again immediately, so that when she collapsed on his chest she was sated. Then he reversed their positions and fucked her hard and fast, eyes closed, with a beatific grin on his face. Sarah thrust up to meet his cock, slammed her wet pussy against him, urged him on with wild words and travelling fingers until his eyes opened, as if in surprise, and he gasped a few filthy words of his own. Five more furious strokes. Christopher groaning, shuddering, coming, sinking down to cover her lips with his, their mouths wet and open, panting hard between kisses. Christopher tumbled free of her body to lie beside her.
Now this was a horse of a different colour. Sarah stretched languorously, running her hand from the top of his spine down to the base, just above the jutting curve of his bum. There hadn’t been a lot of finesse to their fucking, yet it had been anything but artless. The contrast of Christopher’s toffee complexion and her rosy one was as pleasing as she’d imagined it might be. His chest was hairless, also as she’d guessed it might be, but she’d not thought to imagine the beauty of his cock. So that had been an entirely pleasant surprise.
‘Christ,’ she muttered. The last orgasm she’d had, the magic number three, had been bone rattling. ‘I love honest sex.’
Christopher laughed. He sat up, the better to stroke her spine, sending shivers in all directions. ‘Is there any other kind?’
‘There’re all kinds of sex,’ she replied.
‘There’s goodbye sex,’ he said. His incredible black eyelashes closed. He sighed.
‘We have another semester,’ she protested.
‘Not me. I’ve been stupid and now I must pay. I won’t be back after Christmas.’ Christopher flopped onto his back and patted his chest. Sarah obliged, resting her head on him and gazing up. It was funny, how comfortable they were with each other after just one intimate encounter. Perhaps it was because they were so good at sex, confident that the other was satisfied?
‘Explain,’ she ordered when he stayed silent.
‘My student loan is gone and there’s no more money for Christopher.’
‘Gone?’ She gave him a stern look. ‘What did you spend it on? Beer?’
He shrugged.
‘Parties?’
He shrugged again.
‘Shame on you.’
‘I confess, I am ashamed, and will be more so when I have to face my family in Barbados.’ He shuddered. ‘Their disappointment will be crushing.’
‘How much do you need to make it to the end of the year?’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘Answer.’
‘I suppose a few thousand. I could move in with Dan; he’s already offered. But there are the fees and the books and …’ He shrugged. ‘Too much, even if I got another part-time job.’
‘I’ll give it to you.’ Sarah hopped up and fetched her wallet.
‘Don’t be stupid. I know you don’t have that kind of money to spare.’
‘You do?’ She pulled out her chequebook and a pen. ‘You have access to my banking information?’
‘Of course not. But … I’ve known you for years … you’ve never had much money. Although … your new leather jacket looks pricey and you have been spotted in cashmere. I assumed they were gifts from Mr Fusty.’
‘Wrong. Here you go.’ She tore the cheque from her book and handed it to him.
‘I can’t.’
‘You must.’
‘Sarah –’
‘Christopher. You’re smart, maybe even smarter than me.’
‘Impossible!’
They both laughed.
‘You must graduate, Christopher. I can afford it. Let me do this for you.’
‘I can’t. It’s too much, and I have no idea when I could pay you back.’ Christopher flipped the cheque onto the bedclothes. ‘But thank you, sweet.’ He caressed her cheek.
Sarah grinned. ‘I have another idea then. A way for you to work off your debt.’
‘Are you about to make me an immoral proposition?’
‘I am. One you can’t possibly refuse.’
‘Goody.’
‘But first, fuck me again.’
‘I have a feeling,’ he said, tiptoeing his fingers down her neck to pinch her nipples, each in turn and none too gently, ‘I’m going to have to get used to following orders.’
11
SARAH WAS SITTING in the food court at the mall with a serving of General Po chicken, conducting ‘The Anvil Chorus’ with her plastic fork. Veronica sat down in the space opposite, somehow managing to look elegant and sophisticated but warm and motherly at the same time, like a wealthy socialite might look while bandaging the grazed knee of a future president.
Sarah’s boss mouthed something. Sarah took an ear bud out.
‘I was asking if you were alone here?’
‘All alone, thanks, Veronica.’
‘If anyone you know shows up, I’m just a stranger with whom you struck up a casual conversation.’
‘Oh, right. Thanks.’
‘Discretion, my dear.’ Veronica took a sip from a polystyrene cup, made a face and set it aside. ‘Dreadful.’ She leant closer. ‘I’m so glad I ran into you, Sarah. I wanted to talk to you about a potential date.’
‘Oh?’
‘You know you’re always free to refuse a date, right?’
‘You explained that at the beginning, Veronica. I never have, have I?’
‘I’ve always been able to advise you what the client might expect. This time, I’m not sure.’
‘Oh?’
‘On the plus side, it’s a corporate gig and it pays extra. It’s from next Saturday at two in the afternoon – “precisely two” for some reason – until ten Sunday evening, so it counts as two and a half dates. Two-thousand five hundred for you, plus whatever the tip will be. It’d be at your favourite hotel, the Royal Avenue.’
What if she bumped into Jack there? Stupid. He didn’t live there, for goodness sake! Sarah said, That sounds good.’
‘And your looks would suit this client perfectly. I was asked to provide a “naughty schoolgirl”.’
‘My page’s uniform?’
‘Not this time. This time it’ll be more of a fantasy schoolgirl outfit, like those in wardrobe.’
‘I can do that.’
‘I don’t know what the rest of the requirements might be, but often, when they ask for a naughty schoolgirl, it means they want …’ Veronica raised an elegant eyebrow.
‘Want what?’
‘Spanking.’
‘For me to spank him … Oh? He might want to spank me?’
‘Possibly. Not for sure. How’d you be with that, Sarah? Have you ever played that game?’
‘No, never. I never even got spanked as a kid.’
‘Do you ever have any spanking fantasies?’
‘No – yes – I mean, not actual fantasies, but I’ve wondered about what it might be like, once in a while.’
‘A lot of women do fantasise about it. Come to that, a lot of women enjoy the real thing.’
‘We’re talking about by hand, right
? Slaps on the bum? Not canes or whips or anything?’
Veronica shrugged. ‘Maybe he won’t want to whack your bum at all, but he might, and, if so, I don’t know what he’d want to do it with.’ Veronica’s eyes narrowed. ‘We make it very clear to our clients that they mustn’t damage their dates and that if they want something the girl isn’t ready for, she can refuse. If this one seems like he’s going too far, you may simply walk away and you’ll still get paid in full. I don’t want that to happen, though. This is a new corporate account – one I’d like to keep.’
‘Why me?’ Sarah asked. ‘Don’t you have any girls who you know are into being spanked?’
‘Three, but none of them looks young enough. Apart from you, there’s only Nancy who can play a halfway convincing schoolgirl, and she hates to be spanked.’
‘Two and a half thousand bucks?’
‘Plus tip.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Wonderful!’
‘But please remember after that I’ll be gone for Christmas. Though I’d be happy to take a New Year’s gig if something suitable comes up.’
‘Understood. If this works for you, it could mean a lot of extra business for both of us.’ Veronica stood up. Let’s celebrate. You are going to need a ta-da! coat. My treat.’
‘A “ta-da!” coat?’ Sarah asked.
‘Winter is here and you certainly can’t walk around in public wearing a fantasy schoolgirl costume. You’ll need something that’s both warm and dramatic to go over it, so that when you meet your client, you can …’ Veronica mimed parting a coat with a theatrical flourish. ‘Ta-da!’
After dragging Sarah through a dozen or so boutiques, Veronica settled on an ankle-length scarlet-silk-lined black leather duster, at just over $1,800. Sarah modelled it, throwing it wide with a loud ‘Ta-da!’ She and Veronica doubled over with laughter. If their behaviour confused the saleswoman she didn’t show it. It was a nice sale for her and she was likely on commission.
When the day came Sarah dressed in the fantasy schoolgirl costume that Veronica had picked out for her: a blue and gold striped tie, knotted loosely around her throat, a gauzy white shirt-blouse that fastened by tying its tails just beneath her breasts, a parody of a tartan kilt that started four inches below her navel and finished at the very tops of her thighs, over-the-knee thin white socks and Mary Jane shoes. Under it, Sarah wore a white net thong because, to men, a thong on a woman is like black – it goes with anything. She carried a boxy pink purse.
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