I ran from my car on the gravelly crunch up to the front porch, took off my coat and shook it free of the rain. It was Mrs. Barton who finally opened the door. ‘You’re here, good. Come in, come in.’ She fretted. ‘Oh, where is that silly girl. Up in her bedroom. I suppose. Teenagers eh, what could she be doing there?’ It was a rhetorical question that she threw away, much like most of the words she ever used. ‘Oh, gosh, gosh. The taxi will be here soon and I still need to put my face on property.’ To me she looked as she always did. overly made up.
‘It seems that summer might be over.’ I suggested as I shut the front door.
‘Hmm, yes. What was that?’ Her focus was now in the mirror.
She had been a pretty widow. With boundless energy and unlimited tastes, all directed, as I finally discovered, towards her own self-satisfaction. Very few things constrained her, but one was her daughter Rachel, for whom I had been contracted to teach the piano since she was a little girl. It had been a difficult assignment. Not only had I violently and disastrously succumbed to the mother’s advances in the beginning, when I was young and fresh from music school, but my young charge hadn’t a musical cell in her body and lessons were often bad-tempered affairs that descended into dramatics.
‘You are not going out Samantha?’ I always insisted on a parent in the house when I gave lessons. But, Mrs. Barton knew she was no ordinary parent.
I was the music teacher to the granddaughter of Sir Roderick and Lady Billingham and a flood of middle-class mothers in the local area saw it as a social advancement to also employ my services. Not everything was rosy in this arrangement. It was glaringly obvious that any change in this circumstance would lead to the evaporation of that lucrative custom; a button that Samantha Barton pressed regularly. Not all shackles are made of iron.
‘Lunch with the girls, oh I know I usually stay in when you’re here, like a good mother should, but Madam has been behaving herself so much better since her holidays. She might even be growing up at last. Oh God! that’s not the taxi is it. Oh, here will do.’ She stood in front of the large hall mirror and proceeded to apply invisible layers of lipstick. ‘How’s that little wife of yours?’ she asked.
It was a typical question from her. Both derogatory and referential. She obviously did not want to know about my wife, she asked me more as a reminder of the influence she once had, before cigarettes and wine had taken over.
‘We’re both very happy.’ I replied. I was sure deep down this was the truth. Mary was kinder, more thoughtful and prettier than my only other comparison – Samantha Barton. But I was still a fool for that buxom little coquette, and still entranced by the bounty that the lively widow promised. Of course I was happy. Why should I not be happy.
‘I’m sure you both are.’ She smirked, immediately addressing the resultant creased area on her face.
‘We go away ourselves next month.’
‘Uhuh.’ She replied indifferently.
‘France, a little cottage. Far away from anywhere. Just the two of us.’ I continued.
‘Mmm, she’ll enjoy that.’ It was obvious by her tone what she meant by “that”. It was another of her reminders that we were once lovers and of what she had most valued in me. And what she had become bored of; and a reminder of my desperate pleas; and of her scorn. And of my now dependent position.
‘Is that it?’ she signalled to the window. ‘Oh, tell them to come to the door. I don’t want to get damp everywhere.’ I looked out onto the parking area. the driver was already unfurling his umbrella. Mrs. Barton came close as if to hug me. I flinched away but not before smelling the wine on her breath. ‘Sorry darling, force of habit.’ She giggled. ‘Oh, here she is.’
I turned to see Rachel move into the hall to greet me. In the past she has bounced into the hall or she had grumpily sulked into the hall or she had giggled and run to hug me when we on good terms. But today, after she had spent six weeks with her cousins on her grandparents’ estate, she “moved” into the hall. The form and the figure were all there as it was, being a more rounded, even overdeveloped version of her large breasted mother. But what was new was a confidence, one that I hoped would lead to better behaviour.
‘Hello Mr. Richards.’
‘Now, be a good girl Rachel, you’ve got John…Mr. Richards for three hours today, OK? I don’t want to hear about your misbehaving when I get back.’ Rachel put her head to one side and looked at her mother as though she was being talked down to, which she was. ’Oh, you are full of yourself now aren’t you. Give you a bit of freedom and…. Well, I suppose I hope it lasts. Is the little man here, oh yes. OK, I’ll be back at six, or maybe later, see you later little one. Bye.’
‘Bye Mummy!’ replied Rachel.
I looked out of the window to see Mrs. Barton escorted to the taxi by a compliant, and what would ultimately be a well-rewarded, temporary chauffeur. Eventually the car disappeared behind trees on the drive.
‘Oh, I’m so glad you are here Mr. Richards. I want to tell you all about my lovely, lovely holiday.’ Began Rachel.
————————————-
In the music room I soon found that Rachel had not undergone a Pygmalion type of transformation. She was still as sly, indiscreet and manipulative as ever. However, she did have a knowingness about those girlish actions that hitherto had charming innocence. It was a wet, early autumn day and not a warm one, but Rachel had dispensed with her usual childlike long stockings, a fact seemingly unnoticed by her mother. My eyes must have glanced in that direction. ‘Oh, they were so uncomfortable, especially now I’m shaving my legs. Like Deborah, she shaves her legs, and Annie wanted to try so we asked Deborah and she said, don’t be silly, but Mike thought it was a good idea. Then, Debby said OK, so we did. Do you like them?’
‘Well, Rachel I can’t…well…Who is Debby?’
‘Oh, you must remember, I told you before I went away. My cousins remember? Oh, and there’s Sam and Jacob as well, but Mike isn’t my cousin. I don’t really know who Mike is. I thought he was Deborah’s boyfriend, but when I said that, she just laughed.’
‘Shall we start Rachel, with some stretching?’ I sat at the piano and hastened to put the lesson into a proper footing and began stretching my fingers urging Rachel to do the same.
She wasn’t helpful in this respect. ‘So, if I wear my stockings it’s so scratchy.’ I admit, there was always something very formal about Rachel’s short skirt when her legs were in stockings. But without… now that gave her a different look altogether. One that I’d rather she didn’t have.
I again changed the subject. ‘Have you been practicing? Remember the last exercises I gave you before your holiday?’
‘Well, yes. Kind of…a little bit I guess.’
‘Scales and arpeggios in A minor.’
‘Yes, but I was so busy and there was so much happening and Granny only saw me every couple of days and…’ Rachel became conspiratorial, ‘…I could easily hide when she came looking in that big old place.’
‘Well, you know I have to report to your grandmother on your progress don’t you?’ In the past, this particular appeal to authority had worked in order to get some form of order to our lessons.
‘I know. She’s the one with all the money! I’ve been told.’ She replied sarcastically as we finally got down to work.
‘Now. Scales, third finger on the key of C. Cross under with the thumb.’ I began, and Rachel falteringly started her practice sitting next to me on the wide stool. She was deliberately slow and clumsy. Six years of learning had produced absolutely no musical ability of any kind. This was and always had been a chore for the both of us, but it was one in which we were both duty bound to continue.
The young girl’s tongue emerged from between her lips as she practiced. It had always been an indicator of her little mind working. But today, I couldn’t help noticing the reddening lips and the blush forming on her white cheeks. I chided myself and tried to be a tutor once more. ‘Posture Rachel. Shoulders back and chin down.’
I could see an idea forming in her mind. ‘Like this Mr. Richards?’ She asked playfully and exaggerated the proper posture, thrusting her chest forward. Suddenly the buttons on the front of her well cut blouse strained and her bust line detached itself in my mind from her flat stomach. Her breasts formed a sweeping upward attitude, shaped by a newer, more mature undergarment.
‘Er…er. not quite. No.’ I stumbled. Try to move you elbows forward a little. She shuffled on her seat, did as asked, but continued with her ridiculously provocative attitude.
‘Like this?’ she asked.
‘Near…nearly.’ I turned toward her and touched each shoulder as professionally as possible. ‘Too far back.’ I stated. Rachel’s form shuddered slightly as I encouraged a better position. ‘There. That’s better.’
The scales continued and became more competent. But I could detect Rachel’s concentration waning, which it eventually did. ‘Deborah’s so clever. She knows lots of stuff and she likes me, I think, not like last year. She was horrible to me last year. Now she teaches me all kinds of stuff. Both me and Annie.’
‘Try to concentrate Rachel. You are doing well.‘ I looked at the clock. Ten minutes in; I groaned silently.
The scales came to a clattering halt again ‘Debby found Annie and me putting on some lipstick, it was so funny. She laughed.‘
‘Try again Rachel.’
‘So, she showed us how to do it properly, so that…so that…’ Rachel whispered secretively. ‘…boys will like it.’ She giggled out loud.
I felt it was my duty to disapprove. ‘I think you are too young to be wearing makeup Rachel. Especially in lessons.’
‘Oh, I’m not wearing lipstick now Mr. Richards.’
I was momentarily flustered. ‘No, err, of course. Not now, but just in case you thought it appropriate.’
She looked at me, puzzled. ‘But, you’re not a boy Mr. Richards.’ I tried not to look crestfallen. I failed. ‘You’re Mr. Richards. Lovely old Mr. Richards.’ After saying this, she turned in her seat and gave me a long tight hug. I could feel her breath on my chest as I desperately tried not to return the embrace.
An uncomfortable amount of time elapsed before I disentangled Rachel from her long hug. I continued to teach. ‘Let’s move on,’ my voice strained, ‘we will start with one octave in A minor, both hands.’
‘Nar! That’s so hard.’ Rachel complained.
She was right I was hard, I thought to myself. I must control that. Early in my career the proximity of young mothers and nubile daughters in the confines of a learning environment had led to a number of unspoken embarrassments, blushes and giggles. Being of a size that makes such a lapse very apparent, I had decided to confine my manhood in a strong leather pouch to prevent such un-professional accidents. The fact that Mary, my wife, had been sickly this past week, together with the enervating company of both Bartons, senior and junior, this restraint was beginning to require an adjustment and it was the case that I would need some time by myself in the very near future.
In the meantime, Rachel began her arpeggios, her tongue emerged again and instinctively played over her bottom lip as she concentrated. ‘Sam and Jacob are such good fun.’ She restarted her work with a groan after faltering. ‘We play lots and lots of fun games together.’
I started and gulped and tried to shift my enlargement without Rachel’s notice. ‘Games Rachel? Remember, roll your hand under when you cross your thumb.’
‘Like this? Yes games, Mr. Richards. When they are not being naughty.’
‘Much better Rachel.’ I was suddenly inquisitive, though I should really have been concentrating on the lesson. ‘How old are Sam and Jacob?’
‘Duh! I told you last time Mr. Richards. Annie’s my age, Sam and Jacob are both at college and Deborah is about to go. I don’t know how old Mike is, but he’s really old, like twenty or something.’
‘Let’s extend it to two octaves.’ I shouldn’t have been curious, it was wrong. ‘Concentrate now.’
Rachel ground to a halt once more. ‘One of the games was twister, have you ever played that Mr. Richards?’ She bit her bottom lip and started again. ‘Jacob was so naughty, he kept prodding me and Annie, trying to make us fall over, but I wasn’t very good and could never go more than a few goes because I’m not very tall, but I’m bendier than both of them.’
‘Try to focus Rachel.’ I instructed. Rather half-heartedly.
‘And then we would go swimming in the small lake and make the ducks fly away. Mummy bought me a new costume that was really grown up. Much nicer than Annie’s and both the boys liked it, I could tell because they wouldn’t stop watching me.’ She began playing again. ‘I think Annie was jealous but then I lent her my other costume and she looked lovely.’ Even Mike liked it, I know ‘cos Deborah gave him a slap when he whistled.’
‘Let’s try again.’ I urged Rachel and for a few brief moments she conducted herself like a true pupil. It wasn’t to last more than two minutes.
‘Deborah is really clever, she says she can tell when a boy really likes her, she says all girls can tell if a boy really like them.’
‘Rachel, would you please observe your lessons.’
‘Alright.’ Rachel moped. She stuck out her bottom lip and began her arpeggios once again. This period of concentration lasted less than a minute.
‘She said that all you need to do is look at the front of a boy’s trousers.’
‘Rachel! Stop talking this way. You need to be more disciplined if you are going to succeed with this instrument.’ I immediately realised my double entendre and watched Rachel begin to giggle. ‘I mean, er, meant that the piano is a useful accomplishment for a young lady.’
‘Yes Mr. Richards.’ She replied playfully.
‘I think we need a break for ten minutes or so.’
‘Yes Mr. Richards. May I get some orange squash now? I’m thirsty.’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine Rachel.’
————————————-
The lavatory break was well spent. Realignments needed to be made in the harness department as listening to Rachel’s soft semi-innocent revelations had inflamed the man below. The knowledge that she was taking an interest in the bodily parts of men had had too much effect on me for my own contentment. I made up my mind that I should confront her and instruct her not to talk about her holidays, but to concentrate on her lessons.
My resolve wilted on my return. ‘Rachel, what have you done?’ I demanded to know. The young minx was still dressed in the same clothes, though an extra top button was undone, but her large breasts had sunk to a lower, more free position as she flamboyantly practiced her posture.
‘I wasn’t comfortable Mr. Richards, it’s a new bra and I had to take it off. I’m needing new bras all of the time and Mummy say’s I’ll be wearing hers soon.’ She looked at me with that face that all girls know. ‘Please don’t make me put it back on. Pleeeaase.’
‘Rachel, this is very irregular. I will have to tell your mother when she returns.’
‘Oh, please don’t Mr. Richards. I’ll be good and practice nicely. Just you watch.’
I was doubtful about her resolution. ‘Well, let us make the best of it. But you must promise me you’ll be a good girl from now on.’
‘Oh, I promise Mr. Richards.’
‘OK, well let’s move on and play some music. This is Beethoven’s Für Elise in A minor.’
‘Who was Elise?’
‘It was one of Beethoven’s students.’
‘Was she pretty?’
‘Well, I don’t know. I guess so.’
‘I’m your student, would you write a song for me?’
‘Well, I just play. I can’t compose.’
Rachel looked thoughtful and then snorted with laughter. ‘Was she covered in fur?’
‘Err, no Rachel.’
‘Only, I have bits of fur growing…’
‘Rachel, where is your promise!’
‘Sorry Mr. Richards.’
We began with the piece. It was hard for her, but incredibly, the arpeggio practice helped and after only ten minutes of trying she managed to get through first four bars. This amounted to about five seconds of play. ‘Very good Rachel.’ I enthused.
‘Oh, thank you Mr. Richards thank you.’ She turned on her seat and hugged me again quite inappropriately. Her soft breasts crushed into my arm. I felt their weight.
The atmosphere of the music room had become quite stifling and after hearing the creaking of the radiators, I realised that the central heating must have been on a very high setting. I had begun to sweat under my jacket, a fact noticed by my precocious student. ‘You must be hot in that thick Jacket Mr. Richards.’
‘Let’s try with the next bar.’ I determinedly ignored her; however, the combination of the heat and the disproportionate amount of blood being directed toward my gentleman led me to loosen my tie a little.
The piece Rachel and I worked through was played high on the keyboard, this led to the girl shifting closer to me as she reached the high As. Her large breasts swung and tapped my elbow.
‘Mr. Richards.’ Rachel began.
‘Yes Rachel.’
‘Am I fat?’
‘No, I don’t think you are fat at all.’
‘Only, one of the boys said I was fat, well sort of.’
‘No, they were wrong Rachel.’
‘Oh, thank you Mr. Richards.’ She hugged me again. ‘It was that horrible Mike who said it, he was in Deborah’s room next to mine, he must have sneaked in. And they were arguing really loudly, or at least I thought they were. Anyway, after they stopped, I could hear them talking so I put my ear against the wall and they were talking about me and Mike said he thought that I had “big fat titties.” Anyway, I told Annie and we decided he didn’t like me, but he kept on looking at us especially when we were swimming.’
The heat in the room was becoming intolerable and I finally removed my Jacket, to the satisfaction of my little pupil, I attempted again to introduce decorum. ‘I thought we had decided that we weren’t going to talk about these things Rachel.’
‘Oh, Deborah told me not to tell anyone about Mike, but you’re not anyone are you? You’re Mr. Richards.’
‘I think that’s different Rachel.’
‘I thought that Deborah didn’t like Mike at first because they were shouting at each other late at night. I thought they might wake up Granny and Grandpa but they are miles away in a different part of the house.’
‘Err, shall we continue.’
‘I told Annie but she just laughed and said they were “Doing it”. Then I was embarrassed.’
‘I think it’s er…time for another break Rachel’, I stammered.
‘Already Mr. Richards?’
‘Yes Rachel, it’s a little hot in here don’t you think?’
‘I’m still chilly.’ She replied.
—————————————-
Drastic changes were needed in my dress. To many men the question from their tailor “do you dress to the left or right sir?” means nothing. To me it means a great deal. I had been an object of fun in the showers at school, and the subject of whispers from the girls. Their gauche gossip and giggling attention had propelled me further into my shyness. Samantha Barton, Rachel’s mother had broken me free of that.
It had been the family matriarch Lady Billingham who had suggested marriage; she had ostensibly proposed it as a way of my mollifying more concerned clients who were nervous of giving their children into the care of a “handsome bachelor” as she put it. Of course, she had discovered my affair with her daughter and, as with all members of the upper class knew better than to tackle the problem directly and had left me with a decision that at least gave me an impression it was my own.
In the bathroom I looked at my now released penis. The source of all of my troubles. Mary, my choice of wife, had also been a music student at my college who had shown herself as a willing friend. My fellow students had always said we should have been an item and she had been surprised and delighted by my renewed contact.
Our love making was far from easy. Mary was pretty, considerate and kind. But she was also petite and foreplay had to be extensive in order for any kind of penetration. Even then I had to be gentle as exuberance on my part caused her true pain, beyond any that heightens female sexual pleasure. The memories of ploughing into Samantha Barton with reckless abandon were sweet to me. Placing myself over her and feeling the sweet wetness of her womanhood before plunging forward into her…I stopped my daydreaming and discovered to my horror that I had been slowly masturbating.
This impediment of mine could not at this time return to its leathery safety. Instead, I removed that pouch and fashioned a waist cord from my tie that would at least pin my erection flat and toward my belly button. I breathed deeply and walked uncomfortably back toward the music room, hoping Rachel would not immediately focus on my embarrassment.
————————————-
To my surprise she was practicing Für Elise studiously and almost paid me no attention as I returned to sit beside her. I had taken a considerable time in the bathroom and fully expected a raft of unmannered questions when I returned, but she concentrated hard on the notes in front of her. It was easy to fall back in to tutor mode. ‘That’s very good Rachel. Just make sure you use a consistent pressure on your fourth finger. Very good.’
This was delightful. For ten minutes Rachel was the very model student. Attentive, hardworking and studious. It seemed that we both could forget the tension that had developed this afternoon and that this important relationship could proceed with the utmost propriety.
Quite naturally, over time, I softened to an un-heightened state and found that the bindings that held correct placement loosened and became useless. With the benefit of hindsight, I should have been aware that this was a moment of danger. But that was not to be.
Rachel broke from her alien behaviour.
‘So, I told Annie about what Debby had said and then asked what was so special about the front of a boy’s trousers.’
I groaned imperceptibly.
‘And she laughed and said that they would have erenctions. But then when I asked more, she couldn’t tell me what they were exactly so we went to ask Sam and Jacob.
I felt more natural swelling, this time it was dangerously uncontained.
‘Well, when we went to ask them, they were both in Jacobs room and about to go down to the lake so they said they would show us.’
‘Rachel, try to concentrate on your fingering.’ I said feebly. I cursed my absent-minded innuendo.
‘But, they said it was OK because they had shown them to Deborah loads of times. Anyway, they both pulled their shorts down and showed us. I looked at them and asked them if that was an erenctions, but they both laughed and said we would have to show them our bits before we could see that. So, we both did!’ Rachel inched closer to me and lowered her voice as though she was about to disclose a hidden secret. ‘Apparently an erenction is when a boy’s willy goes all hard and that’s why you can see it at the front of the trousers and it only goes hard when they think about a girl’s bits and pieces.’
It would not be a shock to you, dear reader, that I, at the time, was fully aware of this fact.
‘Anyway, Jacob said would I like to touch his, because it was OK ‘cos Deborah had done it loads of times, so I did.’
‘Oh God!’ I groaned.
‘So, when I did, it started moving up and down and Jacob said I had to hold it properly so it wouldn’t and then it felt really funny like a hard sausage but made me all tingly.’
‘Rachel, I, I…’ my notions of conducting a strict music lesson were evaporating.
‘I started moving the skin over the top of it around and I could feel lots of nobbily bits underneath. Anyway, after a while, this smooth red thingy appeared at the top and after a bit more I could see all of it. Jacob said it was his “Bell End” and started to look at the ceiling. I asked him if everything was OK, but he just said don’t stop. Annie kept on telling me to do it harder, so I did.’
I shifted in my seat. All of my life plans were in the balance. This girl was in possession of my entire career at this point. I knew that my behaviour had compromised me and that now, only luck would allow an escape from this nightmare.
‘And guess what happened next?’
I could not answer her. ‘Rachel, I, I…’
‘Well, after Annie started touching those hangy things underneath his erenction he started to moan really loudly and I felt his willy start twitching like a hosepipe when you turn it on and then he started shouting and all of this white stuff started shooting out, most went on the carpet, but some went all over my boobies. Some went over Annie as well.’
‘Rachel, please, please don’t talk about these things.’
‘But Mr. Richards, I have to tell someone! I can’t tell my school friends ‘cos they’ll say I’m a horrible slut and I’ll never get a boyfriend when I eventually want one.’ This was, I thought, a disputed point. ‘And of course, I can’t tell Mummy. Not that she listens to me ‘cos she’s sloshed most of the time. So, I can only tell you and you don’t count do you?’ She gave me another soft, breast first hug. ‘Because you are Mr. Richards. Lovely old Mr. Richards.’ I weakened and momentarily returned the hug, an action I instantly regretted and withdrew.
‘Oh! You’ll never guess what Annie did next.’ I gulped and looked out blankly over the expanse of the piano lid. ‘Well, Sam told her to put his erenction in her mouth. Well, when she did, he held her head and she waved her hands around and he kept pushing his erenction in and out. He finally started making the same noises as Jacob did and all of that white stuff started coming out from the sides of Annie’s mouth. Mmm, I started feeling all tingly again but Sam and Jacob said we both had to leave.’
I sighed loudly.
————————————-
‘Is there anything wrong Mr. Richards?’ asked Rachel.
The whole world was wrong. ‘Rachel, I really don’t think that I am old Mr. Richards, I’m actually five years younger than your mother and this kind of talk has quite a, quite a…profound effect on me ‘
‘But Mummy is really old, isn’t she? Not as old as granny obviously,’ she snorted, ‘but really old.’ She put her head on one side. ‘What kind of effect Mr. Richards?’
‘Well, it has a…really we shouldn’t talk about it.’
‘OK,’ she began again breezily. ‘Well, Sam and Jacob didn’t go down to the lake after all like they said they were going to, I think they both went to bed…in the afternoon. Isn’t that strange?’
‘Well, they…err…’
‘Anyway, after dinner Debby came into my room and told me she knew what had happened and that it was OK, I wasn’t in trouble or anything but that she thought that I maybe wanted to be “brought off”. I didn’t know what she meant, but she got hold of me and pulled my panties down.’
I gasped out loud in alarm.
‘Oh, it was all right we were only playing, she said so. And she plays with Annie loads, so she said.’
I silently stared ahead, trying and failing to remove the various pictures that were bursting in my mind.
‘I had all kinds of funny feelings when Debby started kissing me, ‘cos she was kissing me…’ again she leaned forward and rested her unhampered breasts on my arm, ‘…between my legs.’
My own erection was now in full burgeon and constrained as it was by mere underpants and loose-fitting trousers, must have been obvious to a keen-eyed girl like Rachel. But she slyly ignored it.
‘She used her tongue as well and it felt really nice and when she started playing with my little bobble I started screaming ‘cos it felt so nice. Then I started to shake and get all sweaty and I felt like I was going to faint and there was a big flash in my brain and everything started to slow down. Debby said it was an organism, or something like that.’
I noticed a far-off heavy breathing and realizing it was my own, I started to stand, then stopped before my predicament became known and hurriedly sat again.
————————————
‘Debby said it feels much, much better when a boy does it and told me she’d be back later to show me more stuff.’ At this point any pretence about a piano lesson had vanished and Rachel rearranged her seat so that her legs now straddled the stool and she faced my left side. Another button on her blouse had mysteriously become undone and the view into her deep cleavage was now unobstructed.
‘I couldn’t sleep that night thinking about all of the lovely things that had happened and was just getting drowsy when Debby came in to my room again. And guess what? Mike was with her as well. And they didn’t have any clothes on.’
Listening to Rachel’s lewd narrative was bringing up old memories. Memories that were best forgotten. Her mother had, when we were lovers, occasionally goaded me into a state of vindictive rage and I had directed that back toward her ample and robust frame. It was a treatment that filled me with shame, not because of the internal punishment that such vigour would impart, but because of the lack of control that I had exhibited at those times. Mr. Hyde was not an alter ego of which I was proud, but I knew he existed, and today, I told myself, was not a day in which he was going to reappear.
‘I wasn’t wearing any pyjamas in bed either because it was so warm and Deborah began kissing me down there again like she did before. It felt really nice and I thought I wouldn’t enjoy it so much but it felt even better because Mike was showing me his erenction and it was really big. Like bigger than Sam’s or Jacob’s. My face and boobs started to feel all warm and Mike started to get all rude and swear a lot. He called my titties fat again and said he was going to “Fuck me like a little bitch!”. I thought I’d be scared if someone said that sort of thing to me but all I felt was warmer and warmer because Debby was pushing her fingers in, down there. Then she pushed them right in and I screamed because that hurt a lot. She said it was normal, even though I didn’t really like it that much, but I let her carry on, not that I could stop her.’
I listened, but I was becoming angry. This girl was taking away all that was precious to me. I could see the future; it was dark and full of risk and the more I listened, the more I thought about the evil that was to come.
‘I started to get that feeling again and it was lovely even though it hurt a little bit and Debby stopped what she was doing and told Mike it was time. I didn’t know what she meant but Mike swore at me and called me a little whore and made me go on all fours so that my titties hung down. Then he wiped his thingy on my thingy and I tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but Debby just told me to look at her. She called me baby. “Look at me baby”, she said’
My new antipathy toward Rachel had not affected my own excitement. It was still as pronounced as ever and I suddenly realised Rachel had been aware of its existence all of the time. She stared at it as she continued her story.
‘Oh, Mr. Richards it felt so nice when it was going in. Debby kept on telling me to relax and started kissing my lips and she held down my arms so I couldn’t move. Oh, it felt so nice, like it would never end and every time Mike took it back and pushed it back in it felt really nice, even though he kept saying horrible things, like “you dirty little fucking slut” and stuff like that. I started to go all shaky like I did that afternoon, but this was like, ten times better, and my boobs started quivering when Mike started slapping my bum. It felt like I was screaming inside and I guess I was ‘cos I went all faint again and it wasn’t like a flash in my brain this time, it was like a really strong flashlight and I couldn’t see anything and all of my skin was on fire and I felt Mike’s erenction clench like this.’ At this point in her narrative, she grabbed hold of my arm and squeezed in a regular pulsating manner. I breathed deeply and growled.
‘I guess Mike was shooting that white stuff into me because Deborah shouted at him “God, yes, fill her up with your spunk!” and that’s what Jacob called his white stuff, spunk.’
An extended, glowering silence ensued as the glass vial of my sanity dropped out and rolled on the floor. Then Rachel broke it. ‘So that was the start of my holiday. Sounds like fun. Doesn’t it Mr. Richards?’