Third Time Lucky (15 page)

‘You do know we might not ever do this again.’ Immy glances up at the tower of New College, lowering blackly against the inky sky.

‘Oh, don’t say that!’

‘It’s true, though. Every time we visit a pub or cafe, it will probably be the last time.’

‘It isn’t like you to be so down,’ I say. ‘How’s work going?’

She curls a lip. ‘Even though we’ve only been here a few days, I’ve already lost the will to live and I’m stressing about Finals. I’m not good with exams, but my father has read the riot act to me. I’m also missing sex. I know Skandar turned out to be a grade-A shit, but he was a wonderful shag. I had lunch with Freddie the other day and I almost thought of asking him for a quickie but he’s going out with a Theologian from St Hilda’s.’

Freddie is one of Immy’s many exes and a sweet guy, but if she’s thinking of rekindling that particular flame, she must be desperate. ‘Best let sleeping dogs lie,’ I soothe. ‘Although I know what you mean about time running short and about being stressed. I keep telling myself that whatever academic pressures I’m under, it must be worse for Alexander, so I need to knuckle down. We’ve agreed to try and spend more time on our studies and less time with our clothes off. It’s very distracting!’

Immy
snorts. ‘Like that will happen!’

‘I have to try.’

She sips her brandy and says, super casual, ‘How is he?’

‘His arm’s still very sore and he gets frustrated when he can’t do what he wants with it.’

She wiggles her little finger. ‘You too, I should imagine.’

‘Immy!’ I say in mock outrage. ‘I have to admit though, the injury has had one upside. We’ve done some interesting improvisation …’

She laughs. ‘But he’s on the mend?’

I consider my answer for a second or two. Physically, yes. I’m not sure about other ways. ‘He seems to be.’

‘Have
you
made any plans yet? Are you going back to the States?’

‘I don’t know. I think my parents would like me to.’

She sighs. ‘I’ll miss you.
Promise
you’ll keep in touch.’

I sip my drink before replying, knowing if Immy gets maudlin on me, I might start blubbing in the pub garden. ‘Of course!’ I smile. ‘Hey, I bet when we’re fifty, we’ll all be sitting at the Wyckham Gaudy, talking about the good old days.’

She sticks out her tongue. ‘Fifty? God, that’s a horrific thought! We’ll be all wrinkly and decrepit and sensible.’

‘I hope not! Though we’ll probably have kids by
then, maybe even grandkids.’ Suddenly I picture myself in tweeds and a headscarf, riding behind Alexander across the estate at Falconbury …

‘Never. I intend to stay young, free and single from now on,’ Immy declares. ‘What about Alexander?’ she asks.

‘I expect he’ll look just like his father,’ I say, the image of Falconbury etched on my mind.

‘I didn’t mean in thirty years’ time. I meant what’s going to happen to you two at the end of term?’

I shrug and take a long gulp of my drink.

‘It’s going to hurt, you know,’ she says, refusing to let me off the hook. I’m not sure I like the tough love but she’s right. ‘Assuming of course that you do go back,’ she adds.

‘I have no idea what I’m going to do,’ I sigh. ‘I just can’t think about it right now. So, what about
your
plans? Have you decided to stay on or get a job?’

‘Me? Stay on here! They can’t wait to get rid of me. No, I’ve had enough studying to last me for the rest of my life and I’m not sure I’m employable either. I’m thinking of going travelling for a year, maybe, while I decide, but I have to get through my Finals first.’

‘So you’re not going to be distracted by anything or anyone?’ I say jokily.

‘If the gorgeous Scott is taken, then no. I think I ought to pay a little attention to my work, just for a change.’

‘All
work and no play …’ I say.

Immy winks. ‘Well, maybe I’ll squeeze in a little time for some fun. It’s May Morning tomorrow, you know. I’ll call for you at three-thirty.’

I’ve already been awake for five hours when my mother’s name flashes up on the screen of my phone the next morning. Immy and I got up while it was still dark and went down to Magdalen Bridge with a bunch of friends, to hear a choir sing a madrigal from the top of Magdalen Tower. The whole town was heaving with people from the university and miles around, though I suspect that had less to do with heralding the arrival of spring and more to do with the pubs being open since dawn.

Having breakfasted on Pimm’s and pain au chocolat, I’m now wondering how I’m going to keep my eyes open during Rafe’s lecture on Iconography and Symbolism – but first I have to speak to Mom.

‘Hello, Mom.’

‘Hi, honey, how are you?’

‘I’m – uh – good, thanks.’

‘Are you sure? You sound a little croaky.’

I glance in the mirror, thinking it’s a good job she can’t
see
me too. ‘Do I?’

‘Yes. I hope you’re not going down with strep throat. Leah Schulze’s niece says it’s rife at Brown. Several students have been hospitalized.’

‘With strep throat? No, Mom, I sound croaky because I was in the pub at six a.m.’

‘In
the pub at six! I thought you were meant to be working.’

‘I’m about to go off to a lecture but it’s May Morning today. The bars open at dawn. It’s traditional.’

‘Oh … well, if it’s a tradition, I guess it’s OK. Now, I know you’re incredibly
busy
,’ she says with heavy irony, ‘but Daddy has to go to a lunch reception in London on Saturday so I thought you and I could go shopping, or you can show me around some of the museums and colleges,’ she says.

‘I
am
busy, but I’d like that,’ I don’t hesitate to reply, realizing that I would, and calculating that I can catch up by working late on Friday evening and getting up early on Saturday morning.

‘Then afterwards, when your father gets back, I thought we could go out to dinner.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say, cheerily.

‘I hoped you’d say that because I’ve taken the liberty of reserving a table for four at the Churchill. I assumed you’d want Alexander to come?’

Assumed? I guess I ought to have expected this, but I still feel a prickle of unease at inviting Alexander along to a family dinner. ‘I don’t know … He’s incredibly busy.’

‘Well, I think it would be good to return his hospitality, and your father and I would like more time to get to know him. I’m sure he can spare a couple of hours for a meal. After all, he has to eat.’

‘I’ll ask him,’ I say, leaving my mother sounding worryingly cheerful.

To
my surprise – and I don’t why I’m
so
surprised – Alexander agrees to come along. I have no idea what to expect but I can hardly say no, though I have a feeling it won’t be a cosy family dinner.

After a Saturday afternoon of shopping and showing my mother around the Botanical Gardens, I shower and change at Alexander’s. He looks so devastating in an inky-blue suit and open-necked white shirt that my fingers are a little unsteady while I’m fastening Granny Cusack’s marcasite clip in my hair.

‘Want a hand?’ He appears behind me in the mirror and deftly fastens the clip into place.

‘Thanks.’

His fingers linger at the nape of my neck, sending shivers of lust down my spine. ‘You look gorgeous, Lauren.’

‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

He trails his fingertips down my neck to the top of my dress. I bought it this afternoon with Mom, from a gorgeous little shop in North Oxford. I’d actually seen it in a magazine and couldn’t believe my luck when I saw it on the rail. It’s the deepest cherry colour and the fabric drapes in the most flattering way. I knew Alexander would love it. ‘I thought I’d better make an effort. You like?’

‘Oh, I like very much, as you very well know.’ He grins, trailing a hand over my snugly clad bottom.

‘Do
you mind very much coming along tonight?’

‘Not at all but I have the feeling I’m under scrutiny.’

I sigh. ‘I’d like to say you aren’t but, actually, I think we’re both under scrutiny.’

‘I’m not what your parents expected. I can live with that.’

‘Whatever they say, please don’t be offended. It’s just their misguided sense that they have to protect me.’

‘They should do.’ Bending low, he kisses my neck. The warmth of his lips on the exposed skin of my collarbone sends shivers of arousal through me. I close my eyes when he starts to draw down the zip of my dress, kissing his way down the exposed flesh. His mouth is replaced by his hand, resting on my bra fastening.

I open my eyes. ‘Alexander, I’m dressed now and we’ll be late …’

He toys with the strap of my bra a moment longer, then sighs deeply. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t do to be late, but I’m warning you, I might spend dinner with an enormous hard-on.’

Heat rushes to my cheeks. ‘That’s an image I am not going to be able to shake off all evening.’

‘Well, I can’t help it. That dress shows you off so well, I don’t think I can cope.’

‘But I’m more covered up than I often am,’ I tease.

‘That’s the problem: it leaves everything to the imagination and makes me want to pull up the skirt,
take your knickers down and do filthy things to you. I may not last for all three courses, I might have to take you off somewhere and have my wicked way.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ I laugh, knowing even as I say it, that of course he
would
.

I turn around to get a better look at the arrogant, teasing smile on his lips.

‘Try me.’

‘Well, this is going to be fun.’

My mother greets us both with a huge smile and a kiss, and I get a hug from my father while Alexander is treated to the paternal handshake again. Soon, we’re seated at a table by the window overlooking St Giles. The restaurant at the Churchill is like a baronial hall, decorated with university crests. While the waiter fetches our aperitifs, we check the menus but I’m finding it difficult to concentrate with Alexander’s hand on my knee beneath the tablecloth.

‘Gosh, there is so much choice. I don’t know whether to have the sea bass or the venison for an entrée, and I really can’t decide on the appetizer.’

My father closes his menu. ‘I’ll have the pigeon breast salad and then the fillet of beef. What about you, Lauren?’

Since I’ve barely been able to take a word in, I may as well order a burger and fries. Momentarily, Alexander removes his hand from my thigh to turn over the menu and I refocus on the choices. ‘Hmm. Tricky when there are so many tempting choices in front of me … It’s so hard.’

‘There
are indeed.’ Alexander closes his menu. ‘Scallops and venison for me, I think.’

He sips his apertif and seconds later I feel his cool fingers stray to the top of my thigh-highs again.

‘Have you decided yet?’ My father sounds amused.

‘It can’t be that hard, surely?’ Alexander adds.

‘Oh, it is. Very hard indeed,’ I say, desperate to grind myself against the chair, but forced to act the demure young lady. ‘I’ll have the scallops and the sea bass.’

In truth, I’ve just seized on anything the others have ordered, hoping it will be OK. What I really want is to drag Alexander out of the restaurant and back to the house, much as I love my parents and want to enjoy this last meal with them. That’s if I can enjoy it without them interrogating Alexander – or me – on our future plans. My mother was pretty restrained during our shopping trip this afternoon, although she did ask me more about Alexander, Emma and their family circumstances. I said, truthfully, that I know very little about Lady Hunt. Our visit to the Pitt Rivers was a great idea because it kept her distracted.

My mother lays down her menu and speaks to me while Daddy and Alexander are checking out the wine list.

‘I forgot to mention to you earlier that Scott’s mother emailed me to say I should look him up while I’m in Oxford. Have you bumped into him while you’ve been here?’

‘A couple of times,’ I say, apprehensive of Alexan
der’s reaction. Scott’s a cousin of my ex, Todd, and my parents know the Schulzes well so naturally the grapevine has been at work.

‘Have you met him, Alexander?’

He smiles politely. ‘I’ve had that pleasure once or twice, yes.’

‘Really? Well, I did half think of inviting him to join us for dinner this evening, and if I’d known you two were friends, I would have.’

It’s all I can do not to heave a huge sigh of relief that my mother
didn’t
ask him. I couldn’t have coped with refereeing a match between Alexander and Scott in front of my parents. ‘Scott’s probably far too wrapped up in his work, Mom. He has so much to catch up on after all the time he spent training for the Boat Race.’

‘Of course he is. He did so well and his mother sounded so proud of him when we last spoke. He managed to make it back to Washington for a couple of weeks, you know, and I saw him briefly at a charity reception. Leah persuaded him to go along as an added incentive to the guests. I think he added a considerable amount to the fundraising total just by turning up.’

‘They
should
be proud, it’s a huge achievement. Now, shall we order a bottle or two? What do you think about this French Meursault to start with?’ Daddy cuts in.

I’m not sure if my mother is hinting that I should have made the effort to go home too, despite Alexander’s injury. Then again, it’s not her style to be that sneaky – or at least I didn’t think it was, but with
Alexander on the scene, I wouldn’t put anything past her. I’m sure she must think that Scott’s far more suitable for me. Hell,
I
think Scott’s far more suitable for me, but the way I feel now, with Alexander’s palm on my thigh, I know I’m lost.

By the time we tuck into our appetizers, the conversation has moved on from Scott. On the surface, Alexander is behaving impeccably, acting the diplomat to some of my father’s more probing questions – after all he is studying International Relations – and being gentlemanly and interested in my mother’s questions about Falconbury.

However, under the table, he’s again managed to slip his hand under my dress and is playing with the top of my thigh-highs with his fingers. It’s all I can do not to squirm in my leather seat. I just thank heaven for the long cream tablecloths that reach almost to the wooden floor. The arrival of the entrées provides temporary relief because he needs both hands to eat his steak.

I return my knife and fork to the plate, with half the sea bass uneaten.

‘How’s your sister? Lauren tells me she has some kind of exams coming up?’ my mother asks as Alexander finishes the last morsel of venison.

‘She’s in the middle of studying for her A levels but she has AS exams in June.’

‘It must have been very difficult for her, losing your father only a few months ago.’

‘Yes, she’s had a rough time.’

‘You
both have. I’m so sorry about your mother too.’

He lays his knife and fork carefully on his plate. ‘Thank you and yes, it’s been … difficult, but we’ve had no choice but to muddle though somehow. Lauren’s been a great help.’

I turn to him, surprised. ‘
Have
I?’

He smiles. ‘Of course you have. I don’t know what I – or Emma – would have done without you.’

That’s not what he said when we had the row over Henry Favell at the end of last term, but I guess he’s entitled to revise his opinion. My cheeks glow and I know that both my parents are studying me intently.

‘Lauren has always been a very caring person,’ my mother says, but I’m sure I detect anxiety behind the pride in her voice. I think she and Daddy are both taken aback that I’ve gotten in so deep with the Hunts. ‘Do you mind me asking what Lady Hunt was like? Lauren told me she was quite an art connoisseur, like my daughter …’

Oh, I wish my mother wouldn’t take this tack, but I know she only means well. At least I think she means well, or maybe she’s trying to draw Alexander out.

‘She loved collecting art and
objets d’art
for the house. Many of the pieces we have are there because of her. I was only a teenager when she died so I didn’t appreciate them when she was alive, but I do now, of course. Lauren has taught me more about some of our own pieces than I knew myself.’

‘Really?’ My mother raises her eyebrows.

‘I
don’t know that much about the period Lady Hunt was interested in …’

‘Probably a lot more than I do,’ my mother shoots back.

I blush fiercely now, uncomfortable with the spotlight full on me.

‘There’s obviously a lot we still don’t know about Lauren,’ my father says.

Alexander smiles politely. ‘I’m sure there’s even more I don’t know yet.’

I snatch up the menu. ‘I’d really love some more wine.’

Despite having finished our main courses, my father orders another bottle of white and we sip it while the talk, thankfully, turns to anything but Alexander and me. By the time the waiter has cleared the plates and asked us twice if we want to order dessert, Alexander’s hand is back on my thigh and I’m finding it hard to concentrate again.

‘I’ll have to pass. I’m full.’

‘You haven’t eaten that much.’ My father eyes me suspiciously.

‘Mom and I had afternoon tea while we were out. I guess it dented our appetites.’

‘Are you absolutely certain you couldn’t fit anything else in?’ Alexander says, in a peeling-off-my-dress-with-a-look voice. My cheeks burn and I wonder, with horror, if my parents have any idea quite how turned on I am and how very much I want to finish what
Alexander has so outrageously started. By the end of the meal, my muscles are aching from the tension. ‘Absolutely sure. I couldn’t even manage a petit four,’ I say.

My mother places her napkin on the table. ‘I’m not surprised; the scones at teatime were gorgeous, but maybe we should have passed on them. This meal was wonderful, but I don’t think I’ve done it justice. However, I wouldn’t mind a coffee.’

‘Just coffee then, I think,’ says my father to the waiter.

‘Would you like it served in the lounge, sir?’

Daddy gives us a questioning glance and we all nod agreement. ‘Yes, that would be good.’

We get up.

‘I need the bathroom,’ I say, desperate to get some relief from Alexander’s relentless teasing. He removes his hand from my thigh, but I can’t shake off the warmth of his palm on my skin and the painful knot of desire at my core.

He glances at his watch. ‘I know this is incredibly rude of me but would you mind if I made a phone call?’

‘Not at all. Bill and I will wait for you in the lounge.’

Alexander holds out his hand behind me. ‘After you, Lauren.’

The moment we’re out of the room, he takes my hand. ‘Right, we have about ten minutes max before they get suspicious.’

‘Ten minutes! I can’t take that long in the bathroom.’

‘Say
you saw a friend from college and got talking. Or your hair came down. I don’t care.’ He sweeps me along a corridor away from the restaurant.

‘But we can’t just – do it – in here. Someone’s bound to see us.’

‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’

Emerging from a door marked ‘Staff Only’ is a uniformed bell boy. Alexander hurries over to him and whispers a few words in his ear. The young guy frowns, then his face cracks into a grin. Next thing I see is Alexander handing him what appears to be a bunch of banknotes. The boy scuttles off and the corridor is deserted.

Alexander’s back. ‘Quick. The porter says there’s a store cupboard just on the other side of that door. Apparently we won’t be disturbed.’

‘We can’t have sex in a storeroom.’

He holds up a key. ‘Yes, we can and we are. Come on.’

Even though it goes against every rational instinct, all the instincts that
really
matter kick in. My pulse flutters like crazy and I’m already hot for him by the time we’ve slipped into the storeroom.

There’s a click as Alexander turns a key in the inside of the lock.

Actually, it’s more like a large closet and the smell of furniture polish and freshly laundered table drapery fills my nostrils. The only light comes from a tiny window with opaque panes high above our heads. Fabric fibres and dust motes float in the air, suspended in a dim shaft of light. He shifts a floor-polishing machine
to one side and pushes my dress up to my waist before helping me wriggle out of my panties. As he unzips his trousers, I’m giggling with nerves and the absurdity of the situation. The moment his boxers are down, I’m greeted with a truly magnificent sight.

‘My God, you weren’t joking.’

He points to his erection. ‘I’ve been in agony all through that bloody meal. I told you what would happen.’

The sight of him has made me even wetter. He grasps me and lifts me bodily off the floor. I press my back against the only spare patch of wall in the closet, and the whitewashed bricks are cold against my exposed back. I throw my arms around his neck and feel his fingers digging into me as he enters me. It must be agony for his arm and I can hear him groaning and breathing with the exertion, but I don’t care. I am so ready for him.

‘Lauren, you will finish me off one day,’ he murmurs, driving up and into me.

I’m not capable of replying, and grip his back tighter as his thrusts grow more urgent. Perspiration breaks out on my back and I squeeze him hard. Behind him, the room is dark and silent but I can see feet and legs passing the window. There are voices outside the door too, laughter, swearing. The staff …

The danger only adds to my excitement and I grind myself against Alexander and his breathing grows ragged and fast.

‘Oh,
Christ.’

With a monumental shudder and a groan, Alexander comes and to my surprise, an orgasm rocks me too, just as I picture the door opening and a group of staff and guests watching us going at it like crazy in the closet.

‘That was incredible. I could do it all over again, what’s more …’

He lets me down to my feet and I stumble as my heel twists.

‘Careful.’

We’re both puffing with the effort and I’m sure someone must hear us. The air is sticky and still. He holds me and kisses me so deeply I almost pass out.

‘We have to get back,’ he says. My face is flushed from effort and the fantasy I had of being watched while we ravished each other.

I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. ‘I must look like hell!’

He pushes the strand behind my ear. ‘No, you look freshly shagged, which, believe me, is a great look. Now let’s get out of here.’

I do my best to smooth down my dress while Alexander unlocks the door and opens it a crack, listening for sounds outside. We slip out and I almost run up the corridor back towards the public areas while Alexander leaves the key in the outside of the door.

I make the fastest visit ever to the bathroom, refasten my hair, slick on some lip-gloss and head for the lounge.

My
mother and father are already sipping coffee when I arrive.

‘Are you all right, honey? You look a little warm. I was on the verge of coming to find you in the washrooms.’

‘I’m fine. I … um, bumped into a friend on the way out and I couldn’t get away.’

‘You do seem flushed,’ my father says. ‘Are you going down with something?’

‘No, I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here.’

‘Coffee?’ he holds up the cafetière.

‘You know, I think I’d rather have some iced water.’

My father signals to the waiter and orders a glass for me, just as Alexander saunters into the lounge.

‘I must apologize. My call went on,’ he says as Daddy hands him a cup.

‘Cream?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Everything OK?’ asks my mother.

‘Yes, I was returning an “urgent” call from my sister but it turns out she’s absolutely fine. For once.’