The Choice (16 page)

As I walked towards the Pillars hotel I was wondering what was going on in my head. Thinking about Violet, and about James McLean, made me feel warm as well as aroused. To think of what they might do to me was frightening, as it should have been, but also strangely comforting. When I thought about Stephen my emotions were too confused to resolve, and I
decided
not to see him until the weekend, at least, only to discover that I had no say in the matter.

I knew perfectly well that I’d been invited to dinner because Giles and Sir Randolph found me ornamental, but I’d assumed it would be just the three of us. Instead, the great round table in the exact centre of the dining room at the Pillars had twelve chairs drawn up to it, one of which was occupied by Stephen. He greeted me with his usual boyish smile and kissed me as I sat down beside him. I had no intention of making a scene, and could only respond in kind, kissing him back and joining in his conversation as if nothing had happened.

Giles was quick to take advantage of the situation, pretending to study the menu before making a carefully chosen remark. ‘I see they have asparagus, but at this time of the year they can only be those horrible stringy green ones they import from goodness only knows where. They’re just not worth eating. Fat, pale, British asparagus, that’s the ticket. You like those, don’t you, Stephen? Do you remember the ones we had in that restaurant in Sevenoaks?’

Stephen nodded approval and Giles went on with a sigh. ‘Eight inches long they were, each as thick as an egg, and almost white.’

He smacked his lips, ignoring my effort to throw him a dirty look. I knew that I would now be thinking of Stephen with a cock in his mouth for the entire meal, and silently cursed Giles, promising myself that if I ever got the opportunity to take my revenge on him it would be slow, highly unpleasant and, above all, humiliating.

Stephen was his normal self; friendly, amusing and attentive, which made it very hard to be angry with him. He was also keen to get me back to Emmanuel afterwards, repeatedly dropping whispered hints and squeezing my leg under the table, which made the situation more awkward still. It was
very
tempting indeed to develop a convenient headache, and yet I was going to have to talk to him in the end, and I did not want to give Giles the satisfaction of seeing me back out.

Sir Randolph did us extremely well, not stinting on either food or drink, so that, while I held back, Stephen had put away enough for three, which I was hoping would put him off sex. Unfortunately he seemed to have an infinite capacity, and was as full of energy as ever when the party broke up.

Giles came up to us as we stood together on the pavement outside the hotel. ‘Good night then, Mitchell, and you, Poppy. Have fun.’

He gave us a knowing wink and walked away, whistling, as my cheeks flared hot. I had to say something, but I still had no idea how to broach the subject unless I used the technique Giles had suggested. Stephen put his arm around me as we started down Walton Street, his hand resting on the curve of my hip.

‘I’m sorry about Giles, but you know he’s a good sort at heart, don’t you?’

I tried hard not to sound bitter as I responded. ‘He’s certainly very helpful.’

‘Yes, and knowing Sir Randolph could do wonders for your career, if you go the right way about it.’

I winced, and briefly considered telling him that his precious Giles had suggested I sleep with Sir Randolph, only to reject the idea. For a space we walked in silence, but I had to say something before we reached Emmanuel, or back out. I finally took the bit between my teeth. ‘You like Giles a lot, don’t you?’

‘We’ve been friends for years, prep school, then Laon.’

‘Close friends, I imagine?’

‘Oh, the best.’

I went quiet again, wondering if I really dared say the words,
but
it was as if I could see Giles’ superior smirk and hear some remark about me being a typical comprehensive girl and not up to the mark. It had to be done, and I was going to have to use his gambit.

‘Is it true that senior boys at public school often tend to experiment together?’

‘How do you mean?’

He knew exactly what I meant. I could tell by his tone of voice, and he sounded worried. It was too late to back out.

‘I … I don’t mind, not at all. In fact I rather like the idea. Did you and Giles ever …?

I left the question open, my heart hammering as I waited for a response.

He gave a nervous laugh. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear!’

‘Oh.’

Again we went quiet. He’d as good as denied it, lying to me, and it was impossible not to feel hurt, and yet I knew his own emotions would be just as turbulent as mine.

At last he spoke again. ‘How do you mean, you rather like the idea?’

‘Um … I don’t know, it turns me on, that’s all. A lot of men like the fantasy of watching two girls together, don’t they? So why shouldn’t girls enjoy watching men?’

I was making it up as I went along, because the idea had never really occurred to me at all, but there was no denying that it made sense.

Again he laughed, more anxious than before. ‘That’s true, I suppose. I could tell you some stories, believe me.’

‘So I do want to believe everything I hear?’

I’d said it jokingly, trying to take the tension out of the air, and suddenly it was easy.

He laughed again, openly this time, and gave me a
powerful
squeeze. ‘You’re a disgrace, Poppy Miller, do you know that?’

‘Yes. Come on, spill the beans. I want to know what goes on.’

‘I can do better than that. Come here.’

He’d tightened his grip, steering me in an alley beside what I think was one of the religious institutions. I knew exactly what he was after, but I wasn’t at all sure I could give it.

‘Stephen!’

‘You want to know, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but why here? We’ll get caught.’

‘No we won’t.’

He was right. The alley divided at the end, one branch leading into utter darkness, the other to a short flight of stone steps and a door that looked as if it hadn’t been opened for a century. He kissed me, then pushed me down onto the steps by my shoulders, quite rough. I made to speak, but he was treating me the way he always did when he was turned on, the way I liked so much, making my emotions more confused than ever.

If I didn’t know what I wanted, he seemed to have no such doubts, freeing his cock and balls as he took me firmly by my hair. He pushed close, pressing himself to my face. My mouth came wide more or less by instinct, and I was sucking, just as he’d sucked Giles.

He gave a contented sigh, tightened his grip in my hair to make sure he could control the rhythm, then spoke again. ‘Let me talk, and don’t stop. Imagine we’re in Thailand, and I’ve talked you into picking up a prostitute for a threesome … imagine that. We’re in an alley, just like this one, but with the noise of the Bangkok streets all around us and neon signs of every colour on a wall high up above us. I want to see you lick her, Poppy …’

He didn’t know what he was doing to me, his words filling my head not with the image he was describing, but with thoughts of Violet and of myself as the call-girl. That didn’t stop me feeling resentful as his cock grew in my mouth amazingly fast, but I couldn’t hold my own arousal back.

His voice was already hoarse with passion as he went on. ‘Imagine it, Poppy. I’m watching. You’re on your knees. She’s giggling as she lifts her mini-skirt to show you …’

He broke off with a groan, now rock hard in my mouth, his cock swollen to full erection in the time he’d taken to outline his fantasy. I was imagining Violet doing the same, with her back to the birch tree down beside the river and my bottom as red as a cherry, but his fantasy didn’t seem to have anything to do with men sucking cock. I was wrong.

‘She’s lifting her mini-skirt, to show off her knickers, but they’re not smooth and tight at the front. They bulge … they bulge a lot, because she’s not a girl at all, she’s a ladyboy … a shemale, with a neat little body and lovely full breasts, and … and the biggest, fattest cock you ever saw in your life.’

I’d have pulled back if he hadn’t had his cock pushed in so deep and his hand twisted in my hair. It was bizarre, outrageous, and it got worse.

‘You’d laugh … you’d think it was so funny, because you’d been angry with me for trying to bring another girl in. You’d suck, deliberately showing off to get me back. I’d be horrified, but when the ladyboy looked at me and pointed down at her cock I wouldn’t be able to resist. I’d go down, side by side with you, darling … Poppy darling, and I’d help you, help you suck him off … side by side on our knees sharing a cock … sharing his great big cock, Poppy … I love you, Poppy, and I want to do that so badly, Poppy … so badly … oh how I love you!’

He finished with a groan and he’d come. I pulled back the moment he’d let go of my hair, astonished and completely
confused.
I’d never imagined his needs could be so strange, even after I’d caught him with Giles, and yet with all that going on in his head he’d told me for the first time that he was in love with me.

11

IT WAS THOSE
three little words that made me decide to stay with Stephen – I love you. He had been drunk and at the moment of ecstasy when he said them, so I knew his feelings were real.

Afterwards he’d been embarrassed and keen for me to affirm my feelings and that I didn’t mind what he was into. I’d done my best to reassure him, although I didn’t really know how I felt at all, because for all my shock, and for all that I couldn’t see myself getting used to the idea of him with other men, I had to ask myself if I was really any better, what with Violet and my fantasies about being a high-class call-girl or having my bottom whipped with birch twigs? The answer was very clear – no.

I would stay with him, and compromise my broken desire for the perfect Alpha male with my own less than conventional needs. There would be no sitting at home feeling lonely while he went for dinner and sex with Giles Lancaster. I would invite Violet around and have the same. Obviously we would need to be discreet, but I was beginning to realise that discretion was an essential virtue.

Having made my decision, I threw myself back into Oxford life with renewed vigour, so much so that even Dr Etheridge complimented me on managing to hand in acceptable essays while apparently spending all my time either at the Chamber or on the river. I was also spending more time with Stephen, and snatching the occasional very private
cuddle
with Violet, but while everything seemed to be going so well I found it impossible to shake off an underlying sense of sadness. I was doing what I had set out to achieve, there was no denying that, and yet it seemed that the better I did the colder my heart grew.

The debate came and went. I played my part, but without any real enthusiasm, and went through the motions of keeping my profile up and generally playing politics with a plastic smile and a sincerity I didn’t feel. Giles and his team won, but by the narrowest of margins, which made my position as a teller unusually important. Despite that, I didn’t feel that I’d done anything particularly wonderful, and yet over the following few days everybody seemed to be congratulating me, telling me I should stand for one of the elected offices as soon as possible and assuring me of their support.

I hadn’t meant to stand until my second year, or at least the Trinity term of my first, but the chance was simply too good to pass up. There was a lot going on as well, with Giles standing for President against left-wing opposition who were keen to present him as elitist and out of touch with ordinary people. That put me in a pivotal role, as one of his few intimates without a privileged background, so much so that by the sixth week it seemed likely that my influence might make all the difference.

My personal feelings aside, it was obvious that I ought to support him. Everybody knew that we were linked, and I was seen as his protégé, at least in part. To support his opponent would be seen as little more than treachery, while I genuinely believed that a left-wing presidency was likely to stifle free speech in debates. Alternatively, I could remain neutral, but that was likely to cut me off from the support of Giles’ faction if I stood myself.

It was not an easy decision. I still blamed him for my less
than
perfect relationship with Stephen, while I was sure that for all his very open friendship and kind words he saw me as a socially ambitious little tart. There was nothing I would have liked better than to see him fail, and fail miserably, but I would undoubtedly bring myself down with him.

So for the second time in a matter of weeks I swallowed my feelings and my pride, putting everything into his campaign and my own to take over his position as Recorder. He in turn supported me, while my opposition was a minor member of the left-wing group whose support came solely from within her own faction. Long before the vote itself I knew I was as sure of winning as it is possible to be before the result was in, while Giles also looked like securing a comfortable majority.

Even then I didn’t stop, visiting people all over the city and making myself pleasant to everybody I possibly could. I was drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee, and far too much alcohol, while I’d cut my work to the basic minimum needed to keep Dr Etheridge happy or, if not exactly happy, at least satisfied. Even at night I got very little peace, as ever since our encounter in the alley off Walton Street Stephen had wanted to be with me more and more, and to explore his sexuality with me.

I never once gave myself away, again and again going down on my knees for entry one way or another as he talked to me, enlarging on any one of a dozen elaborate bisexual fantasies, while my own head was full of thoughts of the way he was using me, of punishment, and of Violet. She at least was understanding, constantly telling me to slow down, making sure I ate properly and always ready with a hug, although more often than not what started as a comforting hug ended up with her down between my open thighs.