by Lulu Taylor
‘Don’t be in love with him,’ Octavia said swiftly, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. ‘Please? Let me be in love with him on my own.’ Throughout their lives they had shared every passion, but Octavia wanted this time to be different.
‘You can if you like,’ Flora said equably, ‘I don’t see what difference it will make. It’s not as though anything can ever happen. Anyway, who am I allowed to be in love with?’
‘You can be in love with Antonio,’ offered Octavia, and then they both collapsed in giggles because their riding instructor was a barrel-chested man with a huge head and torso and a very small lower half with tiny bandy legs; both Flora and Octavia found him hilarious.
But Flora was wrong – something could and did happen. Octavia did her best to communicate her attraction to the tennis coach with her eyes and movements – fluttering glances over her shoulder, coy smiles, requests for help in gripping her racket correctly that meant he had to stand behind her and put his arms around her – and as he was a healthy, heterosexual nineteen-year-old, he soon responded to the signals he was getting from the gorgeous blonde.
One day after many longing glances had passed between them, Brandon lingered after the lesson. He came up to her and said quietly to Octavia, ‘Hey, any chance we could maybe have a little time on our own? Would your aunt let me take you out on a date?’
‘No chance of that, I’m afraid,’ Octavia had replied throatily, her heart pounding with excitement and her whole body responding to his proximity. ‘She would never allow it. But I know what we could do, if you like …’
She already had her plans drawn up. She’d spent many night-time hours gazing wide-eyed into the darkness formulating how she could be alone with Brandon if the opportunity should ever arise. As she explained to him what they could do, he looked rather startled as his shy request for a date was transformed into a clandestine meeting, but still keen for all that.
They would have to meet early in the morning, Octavia explained. She couldn’t get away in the early evening, and the alarms went on at 9 p.m. After that there was no way she could get out of the house or off the grounds. But the alarms were switched off early, at 5 a.m. when the morning staff arrived, and as breakfast wasn’t until 9 a.m. while they were in Connecticut, this was her only chance to get out unobserved.
‘So, can you do it?’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘Can you meet me at the lake house at five-thirty tomorrow morning?’
‘Sure,’ Brandon said, still a little taken aback but entering into the spirit of her request with a pleased expression. ‘Why not? It’s crazy but maybe it’ll be fun.’ He frowned. ‘But how am I going to get down there?’
‘The gateman knows you, doesn’t he? Just say my aunt has requested some early-morning instruction. Her word is law round here, they won’t question you. And she’s well known for doing things at odd times, whenever suits her.’ Octavia sounded more confident than she felt. She was sure that the gateman would just wave Brandon through but it was still a risk. She had to take it, though.
‘Okay,’ he said, reassured. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She’d been so excited it was almost impossible to sleep, and when she did it was to be tormented by delicious dreams of seeing Brandon that then turned into horrible sickening nightmares of discovery and punishment. She was wide awake at 4 a.m. and up at 4.30, showering in her bathroom and then spending half an hour rubbing scented lotions into her skin and drying her hair into a long golden curtain. The girls were only allowed a very little make-up, so she had to content herself with just some mascara on her lashes and a DIY lipstick, using a crayon from the art box and some Vaseline to give her lips some light redness and gloss. The effect was much better than she’d expected.
Then she’d slipped down to the small sitting room with French windows out on to the terrace at the back of the house. As she unlocked them she held her breath, half expecting to hear the alarms start wailing, but there was nothing. She opened them to the cool morning air, the sky a soft unclouded blue and the sunlight pure, then stepped out on to the terrace. She made her way towards the lake, staying close to the hedges when she had to pass under her aunt’s window, but as soon as she was clear of the house, she began to run, her feet soon wet from the still-damp grass. She reached the lake house, panting and triumphant, but was disappointed to find that Brandon wasn’t there. Octavia sat outside and waited, her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms wrapped round her legs as she stared out over the dark purply blue waters of the lake. The old rowing boat bobbed about in the reeds where it was tethered to the jetty.
‘Hey, good morning,’ came a laughing voice from behind her. She looked round to see Brandon striding towards her through the shaggy grass behind the lake house. ‘I don’t get up this early for just anyone, you know.’
‘Thanks for coming,’ Octavia said breathlessly. She was about to stand up, but he came and sat down next to her. He was in his tennis kit, sparkling white shorts and white polo shirt, and she could see the golden hairs on his legs. His nearness was making her dizzy. God, he’s gorgeous, she thought, high on the realisation that her plan had worked – here they were, together, alone. I’ve never been alone with a boy in my life, she realised. This might be her only chance. She couldn’t waste it.
‘It’s beautiful here,’ Brandon said softly. ‘Almost as beautiful as you.’
Her stomach flipped with pleasure. ‘Thank you,’ she said, flushing.
‘So all this meeting at dawn stuff – I guess you don’t get much freedom, right?’
She nodded, noticing his eyes wre light blue with dark rims around the iris. He was so handsome she could hardly think straight.
‘Uh-huh. I’ve met girls like you before. Kind of over-protected, you know? Parents don’t realise it achieves the opposite effect. It’s always the ones who are restricted the most who turn into the wildest.’ He grinned. ‘But you’re not quite there yet, are you? How old are you? Seventeen?’
Octavia nodded, not wanting to give the lie a voice. I can’t risk him leaving, she told herself. If he guesses I’m fifteen, he’ll definitely go …
‘Sweet seventeen,’ he murmured. He put out his hand and touched her hair. ‘And very hot.’
She’d been meaning to play it cool but she simply couldn’t help herself: she turned her body to face him full on and raised her face to his. The next moment, his lips were pressed against hers and she was opening her mouth to his probing tongue in her first kiss.
Her mind whirled; she was incapable of thinking of anything except how blissful the sensation of kissing was. It was like soaring away on a magic carpet into a night of stars as she felt herself melt into his arms, her whole being centred on the unfamiliar sensation of their two mouths pressed together.
Then she became aware that his hands were roaming all over her, but in particular straying to her chest where they were pressing down on her breasts, squeezing and rubbing them through the light cotton of her shirt. He pulled away from her kiss for a moment, panting, his eyes glassy. ‘How far do you want to go?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘Which base?’
She had no idea what he was talking about. ‘I don’t care,’ she said quickly, keen only to renew those hot kisses.
‘You don’t?’ He looked half pleased, half concerned.
‘Uh-uh.’ She pushed her mouth back against his, impatient to taste him again and to feel that soaring pleasure.
They kissed for a very long time, lying back on the wooden deck, their hands roaming all over each other. Brandon’s returned over and over to her breasts until Octavia could feel her nipples become tight and sensitive. She was aching between her legs and aware that she was wet there too: she had the overwhelming sensation that all this was building up to something, though to what she couldn’t guess. She knew what the mechanics of intercourse were – Miss Bailey had taught them basic reproductive biology in a cold, formal way – but that didn’t explain this curious physical yearning, a sense of being propelled towa
rds some outcome she didn’t yet understand.
All she knew was that when Brandon finally pulled away, looked at his watch and swore, saying he had to go, she felt a terrible sensation of unsatisfied longing.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said ruefully, standing up. For the first time, she saw the hardness in his shorts. ‘God, you’ve driven me crazy. But I gotta go.’
‘I suppose I’d better get back to the house. They’ll all be up soon.’ Octavia sighed.
‘I’ll see you on the court,’ Brandon said, and with a smile was retreating across the grass.
Back at the house, Flora was anxiously looking out for her sister. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. ‘Your room was empty! It’s nearly time for breakfast!’ Then she stared at her sister’s face. ‘You look different – what have you been doing?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Octavia said. ‘You won’t believe it. Now come on, we can’t keep the muesli waiting, can we?’
Flora had been appalled by the risks she’d run when Octavia told her what she’d done. ‘What if you’d got caught?’ she’d cried.
‘I didn’t. And I’m going to do it again,’ Octavia said, her voice determined. ‘So don’t try and stop me.’
Seeing Brandon on the tennis court later that morning had been more delicious than ever. He had taken extra care over her ground strokes, wrapping his body round hers to demonstrate how to move the racket. He had said nothing in front of Flora, but at the end of the lesson had murmured, ‘Same time tomorrow?’ and Octavia had nodded, still bubbling inside with excitement and full of that strange languid longing that was simultaneously wonderful and frustrating.
The next week had been spent in an erotic dream. She’d almost sleepwalked through life, living only for those two hours before the rest of the world was awake when she and Brandon were together. They became more adventurous, and she had touched his hard penis, first slipping her hand down his shorts to brush its velvety soft tip with her fingers and then holding its hot weight in her palm. She had begun trying to move her hand up and down it and Brandon had responded so enthusiastically that she’d known she was doing something right. A few times he put his own hand over hers and helped her rub harder and harder until he had stiffened and made a high sobbing noise and then her hand had been covered in warm blobs of white stuff. Then he’d smiled at her, kissed her and thanked her softly.
He had begun to explore her most secret places as well, pushing his hand up under her skirt, hooking a finger under the elastic of her panties and rubbing the soft wet entrance to her pussy. He’d stroked upwards until he hit that hard little nub that was so desperately sensitive, that seemed to long for his touch at the same time as being almost unable to bear it. Despite her gasps and the way she’d twitched when he touched it, he’d go on playing with it until she felt on the brink of something huge, like being in a roller-coaster poised on the summit of its highest loop, about to plummet downwards. When he wasn’t toying with that electric bud, he was pushing his fingers further and further inside her, making her want to open her thighs to him and welcome him in. He unbuttoned her shirt, lifted her bra and sucked on her nipples until they were hard, dark-pink nuggets and she thought her whole pussy was melting with liquid longing.
Then, one morning, they took off their clothes, pressing their naked flesh together. Brandon’s rearing cock pushed and rubbed against her, getting closer and closer to finding its way inside her, but they stopped, breathless and gasping, just before it could press in.
Tomorrow, she thought, we’ll go all the way …
But the next morning, just after Brandon had arrived and they were kissing passionately on the cushions she’d laid out on the deck, they were interrupted by a shout. They scrambled to their feet, Octavia’s heart pounding with panic. It was a security guard from the gate lodge.
‘Hey, you, tennis boy!’ he was shouting. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ He held his walkie talkie up like a weapon, obviously about to radio his colleagues.
‘Stop!’ cried Octavia.
The guard approached, his face wary. Then he saw who was with the tennis coach and his face cleared, understanding dawning. ‘Oh, I see. I get it … a nice little get-together happening here, huh?’
‘Please don’t tell,’ Octavia begged as the guard came up to them. ‘We’re not doing anything wrong …’
‘That all depends, miss,’ the guard said, giving Brandon a look. ‘You’re just a kid.’
‘Please, please, don’t tell!’
He frowned and then relented. ‘Listen, I ain’t going to spill the beans on you. I know what your aunt’s like, we all do. But that don’t mean I’m gonna let this guy back in for his early-morning visits, okay? You better stop all that right now. It’s for the best,’ he added, seeing Octavia’s stricken expression. ‘I’m a father with daughters, and I can tell you, I’m doing you a favour.’ He turned back to Brandon. ‘Now get out of here.’
‘Yes, sir,’ mumbled Brandon, and, giving Octavia an apologetic look, headed back towards the gate.
Someone must have said something because at 11 o’clock that morning it was a tracksuited lady coach who arrived to take the lesson. Brandon never came back. There were no other repercussions and nothing was ever said. It was as if he had never existed.
For months after that Octavia had been driven wild by her newly awakened desire until at last, unslaked, it had died down to a level where she was able to cope with her physical needs alone, thanks to the dream of Brandon she kept alive through the power of her imagination and her own exploration.
When she finally found the release she’d been searching for, it wasn’t in Brandon’s arms, the weight of his body on hers, but on her own, in the solitude of her four-poster bed at Homerton. It was pleasurable and a triumph of sorts, but she still longed for what she was sure was the ultimate climax: being driven to ecstasy in the arms of a man.
Is Ferdy that man? she wondered now, a pleasant shiver running through her. Maybe. Maybe he is.
18
‘You can’t hide it from me,’ Vicky said seriously. ‘I’m living here with you. I can see what’s going on.’
They were in Flora’s bedroom, Flora curled up under the covers of her bed, Vicky in the velvet button-back armchair opposite.
‘What do you mean?’ Flora said, her voice muffled by the pillow. She felt as though the only safe place in the world was here, tucked away from the world under the silk duvet in an almost stiflingly warm little cocoon.
‘You were doing so well at the art school. But now … Flora, you never go out. You haven’t stepped outside the front door for nearly a week.’
‘What do you expect?’ Irritation surged through her. ‘I was attacked!’ The fear had grown inside her until she could feel it crippling her. All she wanted to do was stay somewhere safe, where no one could find her and hurt her.
‘I know,’ Vicky said, her voice soft and compassionate. ‘I think you should see a doctor or a counsellor. Someone who can help you get over it.’
Flora stayed stubbornly silent. She didn’t trust doctors. Aunt Frances had paraded them in front of dozens and not one had seen to the heart of the problem. Outsiders couldn’t help. They couldn’t understand. Only Octavia could help her, and she was leaving in the morning for her trip away.
There was a pause and then Vicky spoke again.
‘I want you to think about coming out with me. It’s not right for you to be shut away, and the longer it lasts, the harder it will be to go out. Maybe tomorrow night, or the night after, we could go out together. Will you think about it?’
Flora sighed. ‘Okay … I’ll think about it.’
‘Good.’ Vicky got up. ‘Now try and get some sleep. You still look so tired. Call me if you need anything.’
Octavia finished packing the bag she was taking to Mabbes and zipped it shut. She felt a pleasurable tingle of excitement at the prospect of the next few days. But, right now, she had to see Flora.
She jumped up and padded out into the corridor to make her way towards her sister’s rooms. As she crossed the landing, Vicky appeared on the stairs.
‘Hi, Octavia, where are you going?’
‘To see Flora, of course,’ replied Octavia. Vicky, she noticed, was wearing a plain grey tee-shirt with an excellent cut that betrayed the fact it was a designer label, and what was obviously a very expensive black cashmere cardigan along with black skinny jeans and grey Converse trainers.
She’s looking much more stylish, Octavia thought. And I’m sure her hair’s different too. We must be paying her well.
Vicky came quickly up the stairs and stood in front of Octavia, blocking the way to Flora’s bedroom door. ‘I really don’t think you should do that,’ she said, her voice low but authoritative. ‘Flora’s very tired. I’ve given her a pill to help her get off.’
Octavia blinked at her cousin in surprise. ‘Are you stopping me from seeing my own sister?’ she asked icily.
‘I’m just saying I don’t think it’s a good idea. She’s probably asleep by now.’
‘I see.’ Octavia gave her a hard stare. ‘I think you should remember that you work for me, Vicky. You don’t tell me what to do.’
‘Actually,’ Vicky said, her voice still low and measured, ‘I work for Flora. My contract was issued and signed by her. It’s my job to look after her, and that’s what I’m doing. She’s not as tough as you, Octavia, you must know that. After what’s happened, she’s terrified of going outside. She’s still getting over it and for now she really needs to sleep. She’s completely drained.’ Vicky smiled, her eyes suddenly warm. ‘Talk to her tomorrow, by all means, or call her from the place you’re staying. I know she’d love it. All I’m saying is – leave her to sleep for now.’
Octavia hovered uncertainly, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to back down, but what Vicky said sounded reasonable enough – and waking a tired Flora wouldn’t be the ideal basis for a heart to heart. It could wait. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave her to it. But only because I don’t want to wake her up if she’s sleeping. Not because you say so.’