The Choice (28 page)

18

EVEN THOUGH HE
hadn’t said it openly, Giles had effectively given me an ultimatum. My instinct was to reject it out of hand, as I had done with more than one boyfriend who’d tried to curtail my life or ambitions. Unfortunately, Giles was right. I’d done my best to keep my relationship with James and Violet a secret, but unless I cut all contact it could now only be a matter of time before it became common knowledge. The affair would then become a skeleton in my cupboard, a great, big grinning skeleton in a mortarboard and gown with a birch in one hand.

I couldn’t afford to take the chance, but just to think about telling James and Violet it was over was enough to put an ache in my chest, not just an emotional pain, but a physical one. The fact that they would be understanding only made it worse, while I knew I’d break Violet’s heart. Yet it was a sacrifice that had to be made, unless I was willing to abandon everything I’d worked for; not just since I’d come up to Oxford, but at school, along with all the time and money my parents had put into my education since I was a little girl.

At least I would still have Stephen, but I found that knowledge less consoling than it might have been. We got on well enough, but didn’t really work together sexually, while I wasn’t in love with him and never had been. Even if I ignored all that, looked at logically he was a liability, because as a female politician I would suffer just as surely if my husband was caught indulging himself with a couple of ladyboys on a Thai sex
holiday
as I would if I was caught with my knickers down across the knee of a disgraced don or my lesbian lover.

I knew that what I should really do was put it all behind me and look for some other strong dark man, although the way my luck was going he would undoubtedly turn out to be a transvestite or a flasher. Even if I could have been sure he was Mr Perfect I wouldn’t have done it, because the idea felt cold and soulless, even more so than making a compromise with Stephen.

In the end I decided that there was only one thing to do. I would cycle out to James’ house and explain the situation to them, making very sure to explain that I was in love with both of them and how much it hurt. What I was not prepared to give up was our time in France, but when it came to Oxford James and I would have to stay apart. Violet was different, because she would still be my neighbour until the end of term and it was pointless to pretend that we weren’t going to end up in bed together.

I was in tears as I cycled out down the Botley Road, and kept having to stop and wipe my eyes. When I got to James’ house I dismounted and stood for a long time, trying to pull myself together and to decide on how best to go about what I had to say. Finally I went to the door, which was opened by Violet, who took one look at the state of my face and opened her arms for me. I dissolved in tears, explaining to her in broken words what had happened and telling her how much I loved her.

James listened quietly to one side, speaking only when I’d finally let go of Violet. ‘You are making the right decision, Poppy. I’m not a man you should be seen with, and I have no right to ask you to stay.’

‘I want to, James, but …’

‘I know, and we will be together in France. There, don’t cry.’

He took me in his arms, holding me until I chose to step
back.
My vision was hazy with tears and my throat was sore, but I managed a smile as Violet held out a single printed sheet. It had the details for our holiday, and I folded it carefully before sliding it into the pocket of my jeans.

‘I’d better go.’

‘Must you?’

‘I have to. I need to be alone.’

It was half a lie, because I wanted desperately to be with them, but I couldn’t bear to stay. After one last cuddle I climbed back on my bike and started towards Oxford again, only to turn down the river, unable to face anybody at all. I rode fast, following the river, past the boathouses, under Donnington Bridge and the ring road, past the private little copse where I’d first tried out the birch, and beyond mile after mile, until at last I began to worry about getting back before dark.

I stopped on a low rise outside somewhere called Cholsey, maybe ten miles south of Oxford. Ahead of me I could see the long line of the Berkshire Downs, chalky green cut by the darker lines of hedges, with here and there patches of wood and houses, including what showed as a tiny grey shape but had to be The Barn. I thought of Giles and Stephen and their friends, getting drunk and enjoying themselves with Lucy while I stood alone and miserable. Had things gone differently, I knew it would be me in her place, soon to pleasure twelve men in an evening and in doing so create a secret that would last the rest of my life, one among many shared between a small group of discreet friends.

For a long moment I considered cycling over and picking up our conversation where we’d left off. I’d thought of several new things to say in my defence, but I knew it would only lead to further upset and embarrassment. Yet it was very hard indeed to turn away. I felt rejected, for all that I could have been there had I chosen, and very curious indeed, especially about Stephen and Lucy.

I thought of the big glass doors and how easy it would be to watch from the darkness and slip behind one of the buttresses that supported the building if anyone came. Both the loos and the door to the kitchen were reached from inside, so there was no reason anybody should come out anyway, until they’d finished. By then I’d be long gone, and, if wanting to watch made me feel intrusive, Stephen was my boyfriend, my fiancé even, and there can’t be a woman alive who could be aware that her partner was going to what would almost certainly turn out to be a gang-bang and not want to know what happened.

For the best part of half-an-hour I stood there, my eyes on the distant barn, my curiosity and resentment warring against prudence and a touch of fear for what might happen if they caught me. Not that Stephen, or even Giles, would let me be dragged in and added to the entertainment, but it would be horribly embarrassing. Yet if I turned back I would never be sure what had happened, and in the end my curiosity won.

I hadn’t seen any movement while I was watching, but as I approached the bottom of the downs I caught a glint of rich yellow sunlight as the glass doors were opened. Stopping once more, I saw a man who was presumably Nigel put out a sign-board and go back in. A moment later a minibus pulled up and began to disgorge people, too small to make out individually, save for Lucy, much shorter than the others and with her blonde hair and blue gown.

They could undoubtedly see me, but I was equally sure they could not recognise me, and cycled on until I reached a T-junction. A road ran along the bottom of the slope, with the down rising bare and empty above me, The Barn now invisible beyond the swell of the hill. I knew there would be a bright moon, so hid my bike in the hedge and started slowly up, growing more nervous with every step, but also more determined.

A long strip of woodland gave me shelter, then a beech hanger with an old chalk quarry carved into the hillside among the trees. One huge beech had been brought down by the winter gales, the thick grey trunk lying across the lip of the quarry. Even at that moment I thought of how perfect it would have been for me to be bent over and spanked, but it also provided the ideal place from which to watch The Barn without risk of being seen.

Everybody had gone inside, and the parked minibus was the only evidence that anyone was there at all, but at least two hundred yards of open field separated me from the nearest building. With the sun now a glowing red-orange ball above the Vale of White Horse I waited as dusk settled gradually over the land, bringing a faint chill. The moon was already up, and I watched as the vivid green and greys and chalky tones of the landscape gradually faded to a greyscale, with the yellow rectangle of The Barn’s doors the only colour left.

A glance at my watch told me that just over an hour had passed since the Hawkubites had arrived. Sure that they’d be busy with their main course, I made for the buildings, my heart pounding as I ran across the short turf, praying that nobody would emerge from the door until I was safely concealed. As I drew closer I could hear laughter and voices raised in conversation, already with a drunken edge, and I was sure I could make out Giles’ arrogant drawl among them, and Stephen’s bass.

I made the wall of The Barn, throwing myself into the deep shadows beside the buttress nearest to the door. Only a sliver of deepest ultramarine remained in the western sky and the stars were fully out, creating a magnificent panorama about my head as I paused to get my breath back. Nobody had seen me, and I could not make out individual voices clearly above the general hum of noise. Somebody was telling a joke about
three
nuns at confession, with a smutty ending that raised a chorus of laughter.

With the bright lights inside it had to look utterly black beyond the doors unless somebody came close enough to touch, and yet I was very careful indeed as I poked my head out from behind the buttress. I could see into the room, a little at first, then more as I realised that none of them was paying the slightest attention to anything beyond the long table around which they were seated. Giles was closest, his back to me, with other men ranged to either side, all dressed in formal black tie. Stephen was near the end and Lucy at the tail of the table. Her face was flushed with excitement, her eyes bright and her mouth wide as she laughed at some comment or joke. Her gown was so low cut it could barely contain her breasts, but I’d half expected her to already be naked. To one side a whole pig was roasting slowly on a spit, a bizarre and even macabre sight in the circumstances.

Nigel was there, also in black tie, but wearing an apron. He was sharpening a wicked-looking knife in preparation for carving, while the others were helping themselves to vegetables from dishes already set out on the table. I’d obviously arrived before the entertainment, and was about to slip back into the shadows when the men to either side of Lucy reached out, took hold of the front of her gown and tugged it sharply down. She’d obviously agreed to let them do it, and burst into giggles as her breasts were exposed.

The men began to laugh and clap to see her topless, and one of those who’d stripped her reached out to take one heavy breast in his hand, weighing her as if he were a judge at a county show admiring a prize melon. In response she put her hands behind her head and pushed out her chest, revelling in their attention as her breasts were fondled and her nipples brought to erection. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, or stop
myself
imagining how I’d have felt in her place, with my breasts bare in front of a dozen men as I was touched up to arousal.

They only stopped when the meat was served, but Lucy stayed as she was, plainly happy to be naked and doing full justice to the food. She was plainly drunk, and happy, laughing at their remarks and careless over how she ate, twice dripping gravy onto her bare chest to leave a splash mark and a trickle that ran slowly down to wet a nipple. At that, the man who’d touched her before leaned forwards to take her in his mouth, sucking at her and licking up the gravy from her skin.

I thought they’d have her then and there, but Giles yelled for order and told the man to be patient. At that they settled down a little, but Lucy stayed bare chested and flirting with all of those near her, Stephen included. I moved back into the shadows, trying to sort out my muddled feelings and fight down my own arousal. They’d got to me, badly, for all my hurt and anger, a purely physical need and yet not one I could deny.

Renewed laughter soon drew me back to the door, but it was only a man who’d climbed onto the table, to dance wildly for a few seconds before disappearing over the edge, where he lay giggling foolishly on the floor, unhurt but too drunk to get up easily. At the other side of the room Nigel had moved the remains of the pig and began to clear up. One or two of the men were taunting him, but his response was an ingratiating smile which only made them worse.

I watched as the dinner continued, alternately hiding behind the buttress and peeping out from the side. They ate a summer pudding with cream, and cheese, drinking all the while, until at last Giles banged on the table and stood up. I didn’t catch all that he said, his words lost beneath the continuing hubbub, but his final words came across clearly enough.

‘… my own little trollop, Lucy Smith!’

She stood up, delighting in their attention as eager hands
reached
out to paw her breasts and boost her onto the table top under her bottom. They began to clap, wildly at first, and then to a ragged rhythm. She began to dance, and to strip; the lewdest, most blatantly sexual display I had ever seen, designed to appeal to men’s most basic needs, but it wasn’t her I was watching.

As Lucy’s show began, Giles had pushed back his chair and casually flopped out his cock and balls. I watched, amazed, as Stephen came down the room, on his hands and knees, to take Giles’ cock in his hand and start to lick at the bulging sac beneath. The other men just laughed and clapped, while one, a great hairy redhead who I recognised as the number-two oar from Mary’s first boat, demanded the same service from Nigel, and got it.

Most of them now had their chairs pushed back, some watching Lucy strip, others their friends. Giles had put his cock in Stephen’s mouth, his erection growing fast, but his eyes were on Lucy. She had come down the length of the table and was now dancing for him, in nothing but heels and stockings and knickers, more than happy to watch her boyfriend sucked hard by another man. I knew I couldn’t have done it, and part of me was appalled, yet the urge to touch myself was rising to the point at which I had to make a conscious effort to keep my hand from between my thighs.

Giles was soon hard in Stephen’s mouth and Lucy nude, showing off her breasts and bottom and sex in pose after dirty pose. Most of the men had their cocks out, and another had made his neighbour go down on him, which didn’t bother the others in the slightest. When Lucy took a candle and slid it into herself they all cheered, and at that Giles dismissed Stephen with a casual slap to one cheek and stood up.