The Choice

by Monica Belle

  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.

  ‘He and I were together, while I was an undergraduate.’

  ‘Here at Boniface?’

  ‘No, at Mary’s. He got dismissed.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I was the innocent victim, as far as they were concerned. I got counselling.’

  She made a face, a little worried, a little defiant, and I hastened to reassure her.

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Why should I?’

  She bit her lip, and for an instant looked close to tears. I knelt up, holding her to me for a moment before letting go as she went on.

  ‘Thanks. It was all a bit fraught, as you can imagine. Very fraught, in fact, and it still is.’

  ‘I was wondering. Let me guess; you feel he pushed you into it but you can’t let go?’

  ‘No, just the opposite. I seduced him.’

  5

  I DIDN’T MANAGE to get the full story out of Violet, but as I lay in bed that night reading the book she had lent me I began to feel that I was gaining at least some insight. She’d referred to the book as erotica, but it wasn’t so much about sex as about obsessive love, cruelty and manipulation. It was also beautifully written, drawing me into the atmosphere of nineteenth-century Seville and the highly charged emotions of the narrator. Had it not been for the title I wouldn’t have been sure who was manipulating who, as the narrator, Don Matteo, was mature, wealthy, confident, everything you’d expect in a predatory older male, while the girl, Concepcion or Conchita, was young and seemingly both vulnerable and naïve. Only as the book progressed did it become clear that she had more than a touch of the devil in her, while he was at least to some extent her willing victim.

  When I finally put the book down, no longer able to focus properly on the page, my head was full of images of sun-drenched Spanish streets, dark windows and darker eyes hinting at sensual delights only to draw back at the last instant. I felt pity for the man, Don Matteo, yet also sympathy for Conchita and a savage yet also guilty pleasure in the way she tormented him, apparently for no better reason than to take pleasure in his frustration. What I hadn’t felt so far was arousal, mainly because the descriptions were a little coy, but also because I had no real desire to treat a man that way myself, nor to be treated that way in turn. I wondered how Violet felt, and if her affair with James McLean really mirrored that of Conchita and Don Matteo.

  I woke late, very glad indeed that it was the weekend, made myself coffee and went straight back to the book. Within a few pages I’d reached a much better scene, in which Conchita ensured that Don Matteo knew she was dancing nude for other men, bringing his lust and jealousy to boiling point. She handled him with consummate skill, flirting and feigning innocence, making promises of surrender only to withdraw them at the last moment, and all the while making him seem to be the aggressor. Finally he snapped and simply took her, which proved to be what she had been angling for all along.

  That I could appreciate, the idea of teasing a man until he lost control, much the way Stephen had on our first night together but with no more contact than a kiss. I could imagine Violet doing it too, although from what I’d heard through the wall I knew that whatever she might have held back from him in the past she had now given herself over completely. She said she’d seduced him, implying that he had tried to resist but eventually broken his will, leading to his dismissal. No wonder their relationship was stormy, and yet he still came back to her.

  I had never had that sort of control over a man, and found the idea compelling, also curious. Violet was pretty, and she had a languorous, sensual way about her, intensely feminine despite having snake hips and no bust to speak of. Evidently Dr McLean’s desire for her went beyond the merely physical, which was no surprise given his intelligence and learning. Yet he was also physically attractive and no doubt had plenty of admirers, which meant that there was something about Violet that set her apart, something for which he’d been prepared to risk losing everything.

  The obvious answer was that he had fallen deeply in love with her, but that didn’t quite seem to fit. He was too cool, too in control. When I’d listened his voice had been calm and authoritative even as she sobbed out her passion, while if he was desperately in love with her he’d hardly have suggested dealing with me too. Perhaps whatever dealing with Violet involved was what was so compelling about her, in which case it was something that could be done to me too, but which I wouldn’t accept because they thought I was a nice girl.

  I’d imagined hot wax, but that now seemed trivial, too small a thing to excite such passion. Maybe Dr McLean had some rare and curious fetish that Violet was willing to accommodate, and yet she had been the one moaning with pleasure. It didn’t seem to make sense, but it had turned me on, both the last two scenes in the book and thinking about Violet and her lover. As my thighs came up and open I had to push aside a brief jolt of shame for having masturbated more often in the previous week than over the rest of the year, but that wasn’t going to stop me.

  My hand slid in down my knickers and I closed my eyes, imagining how Stephen would feel knowing that I’d danced naked for other men, perhaps waiting for me outside some sleazy club while I performed a slow dirty striptease within. It didn’t work, not with Stephen. He was too nice. Giles was better, so arrogant, yet I couldn’t actually imagine him caring one way or the other.

  He would if I did it in front of him but he was unable to touch. That worked. I imagined that I’d told him to stop in some qu
iet lay-by on the way back from Les Couleurs, promising him that he could have me if he did as he was told. We’d leave the car headlights on, making a tiny stage for my performance, invisible from the road. I’d tease him, kissing him and touching him gently, promising everything, until I’d managed to persuade him to allow me to tie him to a tree. His wrists would be secured behind the trunk with his tie, leaving him helpless as I began to strip in the pool of light. I’d do it slowly, teasing as I gradually exposed myself, before finally showing it all.

  By then he’d be struggling in his bonds, demanding that I release him, then begging as I began to dance naked in front of him, posing to show off every rude detail of my body, nothing hidden. I’d come in front of him, my hips pushed forwards as I stroked my breasts and sex, or ruder still, with my bottom stuck out so that he could watch my fingers work and imagine where he’d like to stick his straining cock.

  He’d have been erect from the start, and desperate for my touch as he watched me come. I’d have obliged, after a fashion, pulling his cock and balls free, tugging briefly at his shaft, perhaps kissing just the tip. Then I’d leave, walking away with a last taunting wiggle of my bottom, throwing my clothes casually into the car and driving off, to leave him helpless with his raging erection still sticking out of his fly.

  I was on the edge of orgasm for real, and ran the whole glorious fantasy through my head one more time, hitting my peak at the point when I finally lifted my bra and holding it all the way to that last cheeky wiggle. It was very good indeed, and only slightly spoiled at the very end by the thought that, whatever the details, I had just come over the thought of Giles Lancaster.

  For a long while I lay still, my warm satisfied feeling slowly giving way. It was to all intents and purposes the end of Freshers’ Week, with the majority of second- and third-year students arriving, so that the college was full of bustle even at ten o’clock in the morning, with friends calling out to each other and people bumping cases up the stairs outside my door. I knew I was wasting my day and ought to be out and about instead of playing with myself. There would be new people to meet, new things to do, while my essay had to be in on the Wednesday. Then there was the debate, which meant finding out exactly what Giles had dropped me into, meeting Dr McLean and the rest of our team, preparing my speech and generally running around and being enthusiastic. From Monday onwards there would also be lectures to attend, so I really needed to get my act together.