Midnight Girls

by Lulu Taylor

  Some second-year men, in a motley collection of drag outfits and made up in clownish colours, whooped through the gate, rushing past her into the square where more people had gathered in various stages of undress. Passersby and tourists gaped at the sight as the undergraduates gathered, the males in dresses or women’s underwear and the girls in the skimpiest of clothes, extreme make-up and outfits that looked as though they had come from fetish shops.

  Imogen pulled her coat more tightly around herself despite the warm evening and looked about for Allegra.

  ‘OK, guys!’ shouted a man in an extraordinary blonde wig with glitter lipstick thickly smeared all over his lips. ‘Can everyone bring their tickets, please? The buses are parked just down the road by Merton, so make your way there now.’

  I can’t go on my own! Imogen felt panicky. Where the hell is Allegra? For a moment she hoped that her friend had changed her mind. Then she could go back to her own room, put on some proper clothes and settle down to the piles of notes and books on her desk. The fact that Mods were now only a day away made her feel sick with nerves. She knew that she’d made a dangerous decision – and Sam had been so furious with her when she’d told him what she was planning that she’d eventually pretended that she’d changed her mind and wasn’t going to the Gaveston at all, but would be spending a quiet night in her room revising. That was another reason why she was feeling so uncomfortable. What if Sam or one of his friends saw her?

  Two more minutes then I’m going back to my room, she decided.

  The problem was Xander. Allegra, whether she meant to or not, had dangled him in front of her like a piece of bait, and of course Imogen had been unable to resist it. The magic that surrounded him always reeled her in. She’d seen him several times over the last months and he was always so sweet to her, with that gentle and slightly flirtatious tone he’d always used and his protective attitude. ‘You tell me if you run into any problems, Midge,’ he’d say, ‘and I’ll sort them out for you.’ She couldn’t help what she felt for Xander: a dizzying passion that made her mouth dry, and her palms damp, and her whole being contract with longing at the very thought of him. Just the shortest moments of imagining what it might feel like to be in his arms made her feel faint – and that was something she never felt with Sam, no matter how sweet and kind he was. How could anyone resist the lure of that feeling? It was like a drug that once tried could never be refused: the pleasure it offered – or, at least, the intensity of emotion – was too extraordinary not to be taken.

  The opportunity to spend the evening in Xander’s company, and, more to the point, at a party where she’d specifically been asked to talk to him, and where recklessness was encouraged if not compulsory, was too much. She couldn’t turn it down.

  So here she was, standing in Oriel Square, surrounded by wild-looking people, wondering what she was doing risking her Oxford career for the sake of a few precious moments with Xander.

  ‘Midge, Midge!’ It was Allegra, waving at her and grinning broadly as she marched down towards the square in the company of some other girls. She looked astonishing in miniature gold hot pants and a pair of thigh-high black patent boots with five-inch heels that made her legs seem to go on forever. On top she wore a magenta silk bustier trimmed with sequins from which her breasts billowed upwards, her modesty only just preserved. Her blonde hair was hidden under a pink Afro that bounced round her head like a balloon of candyfloss and she wore gold-rimmed round sunglasses.

  ‘I nearly didn’t recognise you. You look amazing,’ Imogen said as Allegra approached her.

  ‘Thanks, honey.’ Allegra slapped one hand with the riding crop she was carrying in the other. ‘What are you wearing under there?’

  ‘It looks pretty dull next to yours, I’m afraid.’ Imogen opened her mac like a reluctant flasher to reveal a black silk negligee nipped in at the waist with a bondage-style leather corset-belt, covered in studs and buckles. The negligee ended at mid-thigh and below that were fishnets and her silver platform heels.

  ‘Very nice! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Like the boudoir bondage look. It suits you.’ Allegra grinned naughtily. ‘Look at all these boys done up like women – most of them very ugly women, I might add. And isn’t everyone staring!’

  She looked up at all the student faces peering out of the windows of Christ Church and Oriel at the colourful throng in the square, and shouted out, ‘Come and join us! We’re off to do some shagging!’

  There was general laughter, and then they were chivvied out of the square to where three coaches were waiting.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Imogen asked, as she and Allegra climbed into their seats.

  ‘Not sure, but I think Xander said it was James’s farm – remember the one I told you about? Now …’ Allegra opened a plastic bag she’d been carrying and pulled out a bottle of champagne. ‘How about a little something for the journey? You obviously need a bit of warming up. Got to get you out of that coat somehow.’

  The coaches crawled out of Oxford and then they were coasting down the motorway. No one paid much attention to where they were going, the atmosphere was too het up and excited for that, with drink being passed around, along with the odd spliff and a box of pills marked ‘Eat Me’.

  ‘Ecstasy, I should think,’ Allegra remarked as they went past her. ‘No, thanks, darling, never take a pill I didn’t buy myself. Want one, Midge?’

  Imogen shook her head. Exams the day after tomorrow, she reminded herself. But a glass of champagne or two won’t hurt.

  Before long, the coaches came off the motorway and began bumping along country lanes. It was almost an hour after they’d left Oxford when they turned up a long driveway and finally pulled to a halt in front of a farmhouse and a large barn, which had its doors wide open.

  ‘This is James’s place,’ Allegra said as they disembarked. ‘I think his dad gave it to him for his eighteenth.’

  Imogen looked about. She’d got used to some of the extravagant ways of the rich while still at school: there were the girls who drove up the day after their driving test in a brand new car; girls with their own credit cards and accounts at Coutts; girls who seemed to be constantly abroad, skiing, or cruising on luxury yachts, or soaking up the St Lucia sun. It was all so far from her own experience. Her parents didn’t have that kind of money – there was no way they could afford to buy her a car or give her a lavish dress allowance. They had agreed she could have a certain amount of money to live on while she was at university but everything she needed above that was her own concern. Even Allegra, while she was certainly more flush than Imogen, didn’t have mountains of cash at her disposal.

  These rich boys, though … Imogen sighed. They just didn’t seem to realise how lucky they were. Their wealth made them arrogant. James Barclay was average in so many ways, but his money meant he had an endless supply of friends ready to tell him how wonderful he was. And despite his ordinary looks, he had beautiful girls hanging off his arm, fawning all over him, desperate to get their hands on a little of that lovely cash. There he was now, driving his Porsche up to the barn, screeching it to a halt on the driveway. He turned the stereo up to full volume so it was pumping out dance music, opened both the doors and shouted, ‘This’ll have to do, lads, until we get the system working!’

  He looks ridiculous, thought Imogen as they approached the barn. James was wearing a black leather mini-skirt, a black bra stuffed with a couple of fleshy rubber false breasts, and a black feather boa round his neck. On top of a curly dark wig, a black leather cap sat at a jaunty angle, and he stumbled around clumsily on his high heels.

  The atmosphere was charged as everyone made their way to the barn where some early arrivals were already waiting, loitering by the long trestle table that would serve as a bar. The space inside was huge. In a far corner, amps, a sound system and turntables were being set up. Around the walls, bales of hay were stacked on top of each other reaching halfway up the walls, with a single layer of bales in front serving as seat
s.

  ‘Look.’ Allegra pointed up. ‘Tasteful.’

  Severed pig’s heads, eyes closed and their pinkish cheeks waxy, with flaps of skin and dried gore at the neck, had been perched on the high bales, one every few feet around the room.

  ‘Yuk!’ Imogen made a face. ‘What have they done that for?’

  ‘To show us that anything goes …’

  ‘Ladies, would you like a drink?’ A boy in huge gold false eyelashes and a turquoise leotard came up to them. He was holding a stack of plastic cups in one hand and a green watering can in the other.

  ‘What’s in there?’ asked Allegra, peering into the watering can.

  ‘A cocktail.’ He grinned at them.

  ‘What kind of cocktail?’

  He shrugged. ‘Bit of pomegranate juice or something. Some vodka. Lemonade. Simple stuff. Pretty harmless. After all, we’ve got the whole night to get through.’

  Allegra and Imogen swapped glances. ‘May as well,’ said Allegra.

  ‘I’m only having one,’ Imogen said. ‘I can’t afford to get too pissed, and we’ve already had champagne.’

  ‘Come on, we had hardly any of that – it got passed around the entire coach.’ Allegra helped herself to one of the plastic cups. ‘I’ll have some, please.’

  ‘A wise decision. You won’t regret it.’ The boy poured some of the cocktail out into her glass. It was boiled-sweet pink. ‘Some for you?’

  Imogen took her own cup, let the bearer of the can fill it and tasted it. ‘It’s quite nice. It tastes just like sugary fruit juice.’

  ‘Have as much as you like, girls!’ said the friendly boy. ‘There’s enough to last all night.’

  Music was pounding away from the huge sound system, filling the barn with its thudding beat. Lights flashed, spinning up to the ceiling and back down again. On the concrete floor, hundreds of people were jumping up and down, dancing wildly to the music.

  What time is it? wondered Imogen blearily. It must be late because it was dark outside, though the summer moon lightened the sky to inky navy and provided enough illumination to show the orchard’s twiggy fingers, spreading out and reaching upwards. Time had become very slippery all of a sudden: it leapt and jumped about, disappearing entirely and then reappearing to slow right down. Imogen tried dancing for a while, but found the beat kept vanishing and then returning unexpectedly, making it very difficult to keep in time. So she stopped dancing and had a long and earnest conversation with one of the pig’s heads that seemed particularly friendly, despite its closed eyes and the coarse lashes brushing its dead cheeks.

  After a while, she thought she should find Allegra but when she tried to walk towards the dance floor, the lower half of her body developed a will of its own and walked off in a direction she had no desire to go. For a while, she was heading off blindly into the darkness, as she tried to cajole her legs to obey her. ‘Turn round!’ she shouted. ‘Go back! I’ll get lost if we go on like this.’ Just as she was tottering on to a dirt lane, she managed to stop, regain control, and then stagger back towards the light and noise of the barn.

  ‘That’s better,’ she gasped to herself. She found herself next to James’s car, the doors now shut and the stereo off, so she leant on it, grateful for something to clutch on to for a while.

  ‘Hey, Imogen, are you all right?’

  She looked up and found Xander standing next to her. She’d seen him earlier in the evening, one of the few men who managed to look gorgeous even when he was dressed in drag. He’d had a long white dress on over a pair of jeans, and his dark blond hair had been pulled back into short pony-tail. His concession to make-up had been some red gloss that only made his lips look more desirable so far as Imogen was concerned. Even though her brief was to talk to him, she hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage and, besides, he looked happy enough without her offering him any words of wisdom. He must have got over his break up – she’d seen him chatting with his friends, laughing and smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ she said breathlessly, gazing up at him. He was haloed in light from the strobes in the barn, his white dress glowing. He’s like an angel!

  ‘You look a bit funny. Sure you’re all right?’

  She nodded and stood up straight, swaying violently. ‘It’s my legs,’ she explained. ‘They’re being very disobedient. Naughty, naughty legs. I shall have to smack them.’

  He laughed. ‘What’ve you been drinking?’

  ‘Nothing!’ She looked up at him solemnly. ‘Nothing at all. Well … I had some cocktails. But that was ages ago.’

  ‘Some of that pink stuff in the watering cans?’ He shook his head. ‘Never take the drink they offer. It’s spiked, you little idiot.’

  ‘Spiked? What with?’

  ‘Speed or something. Come on, let’s walk you around, get you some air.’

  He took her arm and led her across the yard towards the orchard. She leant on him, feeling suddenly very tired and unable to focus well. For ten minutes they stumbled along together in the darkness, the noise from the barn fading away.

  ‘Ah – I’m a bit pissed,’ he said apologetically as he tripped over a branch on the ground.

  ‘That’s all right. Turns out I’m stoned!’

  They both giggled. They were in darkness now, weaving their way between the trees with no particular destination in mind. Then Imogen felt her platforms slip under her and tumbled down, taking Xander with her, and the next moment they were lying on the cool grass, tangled up together. There was a startled pause and then she said, ‘Whoops!’

  Xander laughed. He propped himself up on one elbow so that he was staring down into her face, his nose only an inch from hers. His eyes looked almost black in the darkness, glittering a little. He smiled gently.

  ‘Little Imogen. What are you doing here, in a place like this? You’re not like this lot.’

  ‘Yes, I am!’ she declared, wanting to belong.

  He shook his head. ‘I remember you at Foughton – in your denim skirt and your Disneyland T-shirt, those big grey eyes of yours like saucers as you trotted about after Allegra. You’ll always be that little kid to me. Don’t turn into one of these girls – hard as nails. Brittle.’

  ‘Like Temple?’ she ventured.

  Xander sighed. ‘Yeah, like her. She’s in there right now.’ He darted his gaze towards the barn. ‘Doing Christ knows what. Last time I saw her, she was dancing on a hay bale with her girlfriend, taking her clothes off. I don’t know if she does it because she knows it hurts me or because she just doesn’t care.’

  ‘Poor Xander,’ whispered Imogen, and touched his face softly. She didn’t care about his ex at that moment. The whole world had shrunk to just the two of them and she felt bizarrely happy, as though nothing could separate them now, not even the dreaded Temple. In a second Xander would see her, really see her, feel the purity of her love coming out and embracing him. He would realise that they were meant to be together …

  He smiled at her. ‘Poor me? Why?’

  ‘You’re lost, I can see that. You’re lonely. You’re all alone.’

  He looked startled, then puzzled. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘It’s what I know. You don’t need to take all those drugs and drink so much. I’ve been trying to find you, to tell you. You don’t have to be lonely …’

  His eyes grew tender. ‘You want to look after me, don’t you? You want to make everything all right.’

  ‘I can, you know … I can do that.’

  ‘Oh Imogen … sweet little Imogen … you really mean it, don’t you? I wish you could.’

  ‘Let me try, please.’ The soft night breeze lifted her hair and whipped it lightly over his cheek. She turned her face to his, yearning for him, trying to convey her longing. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was sad, happy or angry. ‘Xander …’ she whispered. She trembled on the brink. She wanted to say ‘I love you’ and, as she gathered her courage and for
med her lips to say the words, he suddenly put a finger on her mouth.

  ‘Shhhh,’ he said. ‘Don’t say anything. Oh, God. This is wrong, I know it is.’

  She shook her head, her eyes filling with happiness. The next moment, to her astonishment, he was kissing her. His arms went round her, one hand behind her head, pulling her close to him, and then he had taken possession of her mouth. It was the sweetest kiss she could ever have imagined. She’d fantasised hundreds of times about kissing Xander but nothing prepared her for the reality: it was as though she’d met her perfect match. Their mouths fitted together like two halves of a whole, and the taste of him was the most wonderful thing she’d ever known. It felt as though her body were melting into his.

  After what seemed like a long time, he pulled away, panting, his eyes surprised. ‘Bloody hell, Imogen!’ he stuttered out.

  ‘Please don’t stop!’ she begged, and pulled him back to her. More than anything she didn’t want to stop. She wanted more and more. She wanted to be completely joined to him, to be entirely one. The dream was coming true at last – and he could obviously sense how right it was as well. Why should they stop?

  She lost herself in his kiss again, this time putting her hand down to feel for him, pushing back the skirt of the negligee he was wearing. It seemed so deliciously wanton and forward, to slip her hand down the front of his trousers and touch the silky smooth tip of his cock, but she needed him to know, without a doubt, that she wanted him, completely and entirely. He moaned lightly as she touched him.

  Am I doing it right? she wondered, hoping that she wasn’t hurting him somehow, but she carried on and the next moment had managed to undo the front of his trousers and release him. She ran her whole hand up and down his cock, glorying in its smooth warmth and solid heft.

  ‘Christ, watch out, don’t do too much of that,’ he murmured.

  She wrapped him in her hand, moved him gently towards her, shifting her thighs apart and pulling her knickers away so he had access to her.

  He pressed himself against her entrance, then seemed to consider for a moment. She put her arms around him and pulled him closer. He didn’t need any further urging and the next moment he was inside her, moving slowly.