by Kiki Archer
Jenna looked at Amber. “Music and TV, right?”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Of sorts. Give me that tankard of beer. I need to down it in one.”
Marcus addressed the group of students, most of whom were paying attention. “Why was the musician arrested?” A sea of blank faces looked back at him. “Because he was in treble.”
“Huh?” said the girl in the silver tracksuit. “I thought it was questions on drum and bass, grime, and hip hop?”
“And TOWIE,” shouted another girl.
“And Miss Marple,” said Francesca Hamilton more calmly.
Marcus guffawed at himself. “Just breaking the old icicles with a couple of tummy ticklers.” He tried again. “How are trumpet players like pirates?” No one spoke. “They’re both murder on the high Cs.”
“Sir, can we just get to the questions?” The boy with the gold chains was pen in hand, ready, for once, to excel.
“It’s Professor Ramsbottom, please.”
There was a wail of laughter. “Unlucky, mate!” said the boy. “Come on, we’re ready for the questions. You said it was double points.”
Marcus straightened the piece of paper in his hand. “Fine. Okay, here we go. This is a ten question music and television round.” He coughed importantly. “Question one. Which buxom blonde little filly likes nothing better than writhing around in a gaping school uniform, pleading that she needs to be hit just one more time?”
Susan sloshed her tankard back onto the table and muttered under her breath. “Good god, give me strength.”
Jenna looked around the room at the students all whispering and scribbling away. She pushed the tankard back towards Susan and lifted her own beer. “Cheers,” she said, nodding for Susan to pick hers back up. “Here’s to getting through it.”
Susan lifted her tankard and managed a smile. “To sisters,” she said, swigging deeply, “doing it for ourselves.”
Chapter Nine
Marcus strutted back into the dining room and made his way to the bar. He was rubbing his hands together. “He does it again. All of the little ladies are fast asleep.”
Susan lifted her glass tankard and swallowed the last mouthful of beer. She placed it back on the table and looked up at her colleague, wanting to bring him down a peg or two without sounding too condescending. “Jenna got them to sleep last night, and some of the girls were actually dropping off during that quiz.”
Marcus sat down and reached for his dainty Cinzano cocktail. “I hope that wasn’t a dig about my questions, mon amie?”
Amber laughed. “Your questions were the liveliest bit of the evening. I’ve never heard Little Mix described quite like that.”
Marcus sniffed. “Trust you to pay attention to questions involving Little Mix.”
“What does that mean?” questioned Jenna.
Marcus narrowed his eyes in Amber’s direction. “Lesbian lust.”
Jenna bit back. “Amber isn’t a lesbian—”
Susan cut in, “But if she were, it wouldn’t matter.”
“They’re too young for her,” confirmed Marcus, delicately draining the remainder of his pretty drink and cleaning his ginger moustache with his fingertips.
“Who?” frowned Amber.
“Little Mix.” Marcus was shaking his head. “At least idolise one of your own kind. Go for k.d. Lang, or Clare Balding, or someone of that ilk.”
Susan stood up. “For goodness sake, I’m pouring another drink.”
Marcus reached for her hand. “Mon amie, how about you and I head up to my room and sample that bouteille de vin I purchased at the service station yesterday?”
“I’m twenty-four, Marcus,” said Amber, “I go for sporty, good looking, fun loving types.” She looked at Jenna. “I like women who live for the moment.”
Susan shook off Marcus’s clammy hand. “No thank you, there are things I need to discuss with Jenna.”
Marcus frowned. “Such as?”
Susan sighed sharply. “We need to finalise the rest of the evening activities, go over the group feedback from Lisa and Hugo, and discuss the options for the disco on Friday. But regardless of that, I want to stay down here, enjoy another drink, and wind down.”
Marcus looked over at Amber. “I’d really rather you kept your sordid preferences to yourself. Have the Mossyside staff had enough of you too? Is that why you’re here?”
Amber stood up and walked behind Marcus, teasingly shaking his shoulders. “You’re a real hoot, Marcus. It’s a good job I know when you’re playing with me. I’ve already discussed all of this with my team of teachers. I’m off duty so I thought I’d hang around here for a bit and see how the other half live.”
Marcus straightened in his seat, thrown by the female contact. “Aha,” he said, “you’re one of those bisexuals.” He looked up at her and flashed his stubby yellow teeth. “I can live with that.”
Amber hid her shudder, tapped his shoulders once more, and made her way behind the bar. “I’m pouring the drinks,” she said, smiling at Susan. “Another tankard?”
“Yes please.” Susan looked over at Jenna. “Are you having another?”
Jenna nodded. “Count me in.”
Marcus pushed his chair backwards and stood up. “Let’s take it steady, ladies.” He pointed at the ceiling. “Remember we’re responsible for the sixteen students sleeping soundly upstairs.”
“Exactly,” laughed Amber. “They’re sleeping soundly. Some of the states I’ve seen teachers get themselves into of an evening! It’s part and parcel of the fun. Relax and enjoy yourselves. The kids are always so shattered from skiing that you won’t hear a peep out of them all evening.” She grinned at Marcus. “Be a devil. Let’s have a Jägerbomb.”
“A what?”
“It’s a cocktail shot that only men and lesbians can handle.” Amber reached for the bottle of Jägermeister. “I’m pouring myself one.”
Marcus peered over the bar. “No, I don’t believe I’ll partake. My bottle of Burgundy looks far more appealing.”
Amber shrugged. “It’s probably sensible if you’re not used to the drink. It packs quite a punch and you’ve probably got black runs planned in for tomorrow.” She raised her eyebrows. “Where did Jenna take you today?”
Marcus shifted on his heels. “I wasn’t with Jenna.”
“Oh right. Hugo then. Up to the Nabor? That’s a beautiful run.”
Jenna interrupted. “I asked Marcus if he would stay in the ski garden today with Lisa. One of the girls took quite a bad knock this morning and I wanted an extra pair of eyes on her.”
Amber frowned. “Everyone’s always taking knocks. It’s a ski trip. There are first aiders all over the place.” She dropped the shot glass filled with Jägermeister into her tall glass of beer. “That must have been a blow to your confidence, Marcus? Scooting around the ski garden like you’re a beginner?”
Marcus reached over the bar and lifted the freshly poured Jägerbomb. “A man does what a man needs to do.” He studied the drink inside the drink and nodded. “Men and lesbians you say?” He lifted it to his lips and flung his head back far too quickly, causing the glass of Jägermeister to shoot forwards and hit his two front teeth. He spluttered and coughed as the beer splashed over the corners of his moustache and down his shirt. He gasped for air as most of the potent brown shot found its way down his throat.
“Are you okay?” asked Susan, trying not to laugh.
Marcus had slammed the glass back on the bar and was banging his own back and signalling with wide eyes.
“You want me to pat you on the back?” asked Susan slowly.
He nodded frantically.
Susan started to tap, only to have Marcus twist around and pull her in closely. He panted heavily into her ear. “That’s better.”
“Stop it,” protested Susan.
Marcus rested his head on her shoulder. “How uncivilised of me. I should steer clear of these faddy drinks. Please, mon amie, join me in my room for something rather more classy?”
Susan loosened herself from his grip. “Look! Now you’ve got me wet too.”
Marcus glanced at Amber and smirked. “That’s what all the women say.”
Amber tittered cheekily. “I bet they do, you tiger.”
Marcus roared and swung his hand like a claw, accidentally catching Susan’s neck. “Oh, mon amie, I’m so sorry.”
“Ouch,” gasped Susan, pressing her palm against the stinging sensation. “You’ve just scratched me. Have you got long nails?”
Marcus lifted his fingers and presented them to Susan. “Let’s just say they’re long enough.”
Susan looked at the brittle yellow nails and shook her head at the dirt that was clearly visible under their tips. “I’m going to need some antiseptic,” she said shuddering.
Marcus stepped forwards. “Here, let me blow on it. That often helps.”
Susan almost fainted at the stench of stale breath and spittle that gushed in her direction. “Please, Marcus, just go upstairs and open your bottle of wine.”
Marcus studied Susan, trying to interpret her true meaning. “And you’ll be following me up?”
“Amber’s poured me a drink and I have things to discuss with Jenna. But yes, I’ll be following you up,” she spoke firmly, ‘but I’ll be heading to my OWN room.”
Marcus started to unbutton his wet shirt and nodded his head slowly. “I’m sure the smell of Burgundy will entice you.” He flashed his ginger chest hairs. “Unless these entice you more?”
“Go,” said Susan, pointing at the door to the stairs.
Marcus pursed his lips. “I love it when you’re firm.”
“Go,” she said, with her finger still pointing.
Marcus opened the door, glanced over his shoulder, and wagged his finger. “Don’t talk about me too much, girls.”
All three waited for the door to click shut before turning to one another. Amber was the first to react, sticking her tongue out and starting to heave. Jenna stretched out her arms and did a full body shudder while Susan simply shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry,” she uttered.
Amber was still dry retching. “Gross.”
Jenna did one final shudder, as if freeing herself from his creepiness. “You were the one licking his hairy orange arse, Amber.”
Amber doubled over and performed one more huge bout of silent sickness before standing upright and pretending to wipe her mouth. She grinned. “Just putting my training to good use.”
“What training?” asked Susan. “I think I need some.”
“Difficult customers.” Amber nodded. “We’re taught how to respond to the constantly complaining teacher, or the customer who’s never satisfied.”
Susan reached across the bar and lifted the tray of tankards, carefully walking back to the table. “What about the colleague whose constant inappropriateness leaves you in utter despair?”
Amber came out from behind the bar. “Jenna’s not that bad. She can be a bit straight laced at times, but I find a few drinks soon sorts that out.”
Jenna laughed. “I’m not straight laced.”
Amber patted the seat next to her. “I know.” She pushed over the tankard. “Here, have a drink.”
Jenna sat down and lifted the handle in a toast. “To sisters,” she said, “doing it for ourselves.”
“I already said that one,” laughed Susan, taking a slow sip of beer and tasting a glimmer of relaxation as the cool liquid washed over her tongue.
“It was a good one,” nodded Jenna, lifting the glass to her mouth and following suit.
Amber wiped the froth from her top lip and returned her tankard to the table. “The trick’s to flirt. I flirted with him. He dropped his guard. I think he even quite fancied me by the end.”
Susan shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t. I’d rather suffer his low-level infantile inappropriateness than make him think I’m interested.”
Amber shrugged. “Just change the subject then. Don’t rise to his ridiculousness. He said I had sordid preferences and I said he was a hoot.” Amber paused. “It stumped him.”
Jenna frowned at Susan. “I thought you said he was an option?”
Amber gulped too quickly and started to splutter. “What? With who? With Susan?” She looked completely perplexed. “I thought you were gay?”
Susan exhaled in disbelief. “You’re the third person who’s told me that in less than three days. Where am I going wrong?”
Jenna looked at Amber. “Should I call her a hoot?”
Susan lifted her hand to her mouth. “Goodness, I’m sorry. I’m no better than him, am I? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a lesbian, but I’m not. I’m straight.”
“Okay,” said Jenna and Amber in unison.
“I am, really.”
“Okay,” they said again.
Susan sipped some more beer, filling the silence. She swallowed and finally spoke. “What makes you think I’m gay?”
Amber shared a knowing look with Jenna.
Susan spotted the connection and frowned. “What?” she asked.
“Why do you need to know?” shrugged Amber. “If you’re straight, you’re straight.”
“Fine,” said Susan, hoping that her cheeks weren’t too flushed. “Can we run through the schedule for the rest of the week and then I’ll head up.”
Jenna leaned around the table and pulled on Susan’s shoulder. “Nooooo! We’re teasing you. We’re sorry. It’s only nine, let’s have some giggles.”
Amber nodded, but her tall pink hair hardly moved. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all evening. Let’s play truth or dare.”
Susan puzzled. “Crikey. I’ve not played that since school.”
“No one had any truths to tell back in school,” laughed Amber. “But that’s all changed now.”
Susan coughed lightly. “I’d rather just clarify the week’s plans and head on up. I really am quite tired.”
Jenna pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pocket and flattened it out on the table. “We’re ice skating tomorrow, swimming on Wednesday, tobogganing on Thursday, and it’s the disco on Friday, which we’ll hold here with the students from Mossyside.”
“It’s all booked?” asked Susan.
“All booked,” nodded Jenna. “The skiing reports from Hugo and Lisa are short. Hugo says the girls are listening well and flirting wholeheartedly and Lisa called Marcus a knob.”
“What did she say about the girls?” asked Susan, not rising to it.
Jenna nodded. “Yes, they think he’s a knob too.”
Susan couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop it.”
Jenna wrapped her arm back around Susan’s shoulder. “He is. Don’t even entertain him as a last ditch option.” She batted her eyelashes. “Please, for me?”
Susan exhaled. “I’m not.” She shook herself free from Jenna’s arm and reached for her drink. “He’s not my type.”
“Who is?” asked Amber, conscious of the attention Jenna was heaping on Susan.
Susan struggled. “George Clooney?”
Amber laughed. “Every middle aged woman says George Clooney.”
Jenna jumped to Susan’s defence. “Oi, we’re the same age.”
“I know, it’s crazy isn’t it,” nodded Amber. She rose to her feet and walked to the bar, reaching down for an empty bottle of beer. “Come on, let’s liven this up. Truth or dare.” She moved back in her seat and laid the bottle in the middle of the table on its side. “I’ll spin. Whoever it lands on gets the choice.”
“Really, I couldn’t,” said Susan shaking her head.
Jenna shuffled her chair closer to Susan’s and bent her head to look into her embarrassed eyes. “Would your performance as the snail have been better if you’d tried that absinthe?”
Susan laughed. “It might have made it more memorable.”
“So live a little,” encouraged Jenna. “It’s only a bit of fun.”
Susan exhaled again and lifted her tankard. She took a long slow si
p and thought for a moment, imagining Amber was Andrea Akram and they were all fifteen. What she’d have given to be part of their gang. She took another sip of beer, aware that it could be a timely distraction from the stress caused by Marcus. “Why not,” she announced, placing her tankard back down and spinning the bottle. “But there’s no snogging.”
Jenna lifted her hands in apology. “Don’t worry. You’ve made it perfectly clear that snogging women just isn’t your bag.”
“Anyone seen my holdall?” laughed Amber, peering around the empty room.
****
Marcus jumped out of the shower, ran his fingers through his wet hair and grabbed his hand towel. The knocking was getting louder. “One moment my impatient little mon amie.” He pulled the old wicker chair from under the dresser and angled it towards the door. He sat down quickly and dropped the hand towel onto his lap. He glanced at the mirror on the dresser and was thrilled with the reflection. Droplets of water were moving seductively down his naked body. His hair was slicked back and two large glasses of deep red Burgundy were waiting to be consumed. He looked down at the hand towel resting between his legs and glanced back at himself in the mirror. “Go for it, you tiger,” he said, lifting the hand towel up and hurling it across the room. “Come on in,” he shouted. “I’m ready for you.” He watched as the handle moved down and the door started to open. He lifted his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and moaning erotically. “I knew you’d succumb.”
“Can I borrow your phone please, Professor?”
Marcus jumped out of the seat and opened his eyes, wailing at the pale girl standing in his room. “Daisy Button, get out!”
Daisy stood motionless, fixated by the thin dangly thing covered in curly orange hairs. “You invited me in,” she whispered.
Marcus dropped onto the floor and clutched one hand between his legs, using the other to shoo her away. “Not for this!” he shouted, as he crawled on two knees and one elbow in the direction of the hand towel.
Daisy spotted the mobile phone on the dresser next to the two glasses of wine. “If you let me use your phone then I won’t tell Madam Quinn.”