Rebecca

Sorry that I didn't update last night- I'm buried with essays to write and I fell asleep at my laptop... I can't reply to each of your reviews personally as I don't have them to hand, but thank you so much for all of your kind words. Evie. xx xx


And now into the wonderful world of Rebecca.

Now it might not be cool to admit it this, but I think St. Georges is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I'm sitting with my legs dangling off the fire escape at one of the highest points of the school, the tower. The school is built up of lots of large buildings with ivy growing up the sides, all different shapes and sizes, built of honey colored stone. Dotted around are grassy areas with benches. It sits on a hill, surrounded by other bigger hills. From up here you can see everything, the sprawling green countryside, the buildings, girls wandering around arm in arm, chatting and giggling. The sun is starting to go down and the whole place is stained with gold, the sky orange, pink, purple and all of the shades in between, I take a long drag on my menthol cigarette and exhale, watching the plumes of smoke rise, I lean against the stone. It's a little precarious up here, a small metal stair case runs down the side of The Tower. The Tower being my boarding house, its above the English Rooms and as the name suggests, its a tower. It has seven floors. The first one has a kitchen and laundry room, then a sitting room with a fire and Telly, all the usual stuff you'd find in a common room, and then upwards are little rooms, four to a floor. Each small room has a big window, bed, desk, wardrobe and a sink. We decorate them ourselves. On my wall I have a huge collage of pictures, holiday snap shots, photo shoots in the local woods with my friends, famous hotties and postcards and letters. The floor is covered in a huge rug that I bought in turkey (then lugged all the way home!) The sink is lost under beauty products that don't work and make up that I almost never use since I'm a Kohl and mascara kinda girl. The desk is littered with books, plays, cups and saucers, pens, files and in the middle a small space is cleared for my laptop. The wardrobe is a disaster area, stuffed full of clothes with bottles of vodka hidden in the underwear drawer. My bed is in the center of the room, looking out over the hills. You might think that I'm a bit obsessed with that view, but in all honesty its because its the only view I've ever had constant acsess to. Growing up I moved house, and country, at least once a year, if not more. St. Georges is the only place that I've ever really belonged. Bali, Dubai and New York are great, only I never put down any roots until I was 11 and packed off to St. G's. Under the window sits my trunk. It's been empty since the day that I unpacked, six years ago now. It serves as a leg up so that I can slip out of the window onto the fire escape. Theres obviously a door, but its at the side of the tower and even fear getting caught by matron. I'm so immersed with thought that I don't hear the foot steps on the black iron steps, I only notice when someone sits down beside me. I turn around quickly, only to see Holden sitting next to me. To my absolute shock he is holding a packet of Malbro Lights and a lighter. Holden is a dirty smoker too? Well knock me down with a feather, he's not to perfect.
'Well Hello.' I quip.
'Miss Jones, I was just..'
'Having a cheeky fag? Yeah, I noticed Sir. Wouldn't have had you down for 'one of us''
I make no attempt to hide my ciggerett, in fact I brazenly take a drag and exhale smoke at him. He doesn't look amused.
'Aren't you afraid of me?' He asks oddly. I looked at him quizzically.
'I'm only smoking sir. It's not a crime.'
'Yes it is, your seventeen years old.' I wave my hand dismissively.
'I was eighteen last week.'I smiled. He doesn't look impressed. I look at him cheekily and turn around, I'm sitting on the step below him so I sit between his legs and lean my head on his thigh.
'Look at that..' I breath, it doesn't matter how many times I look at it, it still has the same effect as it did the first day that I arrived here. He puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head up towards his.
'I'd rather look at you.' I smiled and kissed him.
'Do you want to..' I gestured at my room.
'I'd love to Jones, but I can't be seen walking into your room!' I sighed.
'You are such an armature! Follow me.' I step up to the balcony that follows around the tower, its very narrow and so you have to press yourself right up against the wall. Holden took a deep breath.
'Fuck, I hate heights!'
'Why on earth did you come up here then?' I saw him smile like a young boy, a flash of youth in him.
'Because I knew you'd be up here of course.' I laughed and then very carefully turned around and hooked one leg over my window sill and then climbed in, landing feet first, lightly on my trunk. A well executed manouver, and one that had taken me three years to perfect. Holden, the athlete, did the same with almost as much grace. He seemed very gratified to be back on safe ground, he looked around my room.
'Nice.. a little..' he looked around, at the bra hooked over the door handle, piles of books and papers and empty cups.' 'untidy for my tastes, but its very you.' How did I know that he was going to be a complete neat freak?
'Very me?' I replied, coming closer to him, 'You like it then..? You seem to like me very much.' I smiled back and kissed me.
'Cheeky wench!' I laughed at wench.
'Isn't that pirate talk?' I giggled, he pushed me back onto the bed.
'Yarrr!' he replied, in a shockingly bad pirate parody. He seemed much lighter and more care free today, I liked it. I straddled him and lent forward, kissing him from his lips and the neck, working my way down his body. I steadily started to work my way down his shirt, undoing buttons. On the third he rolled over, pinning me down.
'You know how I like things done, Jones.'
'You're way?' I smiled as he kissed my neck.
'Control freak.' He bit lightly onto my neck, I squealed.
'That hurts!'
'Does it? Oh, that reminds me, I owe you a trip over my lap for that little smoking foray.'
'What? But sir, thats not fair!' I play fought but he over came me, and flipped me over his lap and lightly pulled up my skirt, my knickers abandoned. He began to rein down slaps all over my arse, I squealed and kicked my legs, relishing my role as reprimanded Harlot. Once he felt me resistibly chastised he lay me down, my wrists above my head, he pulled off my blouse before he pinned down my arms. I lay, unconformable under his gaze. He seemed to see everyone pore of me.
'You want to do this?' He asks, he seems concerned. I nod.
'You know it'll hurt?'
'Of course I know that it'll hurt, I'm a virgin, not a child!'
'It can hurt a lot more if your going to be cheeky...'
'Sorry sir..' I say resignedly.
He kisses me lightly on the lips and the works his way down my body, he stops at my breasts, caressing them and gently nipping at my nipples, which are now rock hard. The raw sowbelly feeling of his face rubs against my breasts, which seems to have a magical connection to between my legs where I am wetter than I've ever been. Cruelly slowly his fingers travel down between my legs, where they very gently brush my clit, slowly he builds up a rhythm and pace, I feel my excitement rising. He slips a finger inside me and continues to pressure my clit, I explode into my first orgasm ever to be instigated by another person. After years of parties, sweaty hands clamped on my tits and teeth clashing with other teeth I didn't believe that it could be like this. I pulled off Holden's shirt and undid his belt. The belt made me shudder a bit. He saw me looking at it and smiled.
'Better keep on my good side then Jones.' Someones witty this evening..
Looking at Holden naked was weird, Good weird, but weird none the less. He was a well built, athletic rugby player, tanned and toned and just generally delicious. All was fine until l I looked between his legs. I got the shock of my life- I had been around one before, obviously, but those were boys. Holden was clearly all grown up. There was no way that he was putting THAT inside me. I started to panic, but tried to hide it. He smiled in a self satisfied way.
'Don't worry Jones, I'll go easy on you.' I was pissed off that he'd seen my fear, but also kind of hoped that he really would go easy. He was seriously big.
'Right' he said, business like.
'Condom?'
'Oh.. Yeah right. I scrambled around and found on in the dressing table next to my bed. This slightly broke the magic.'
'Beside the bed.. Trollop.' He laughed,
'Would you rather get me pregnant?' I pointed out.
'Point taken.' He knelt between my legs and gently rubbed my clit again. I was wetter than ever and as ready as I ever would be. He gently put his cock up against my entrance, and slowly slipped it in. Just as I was starting to think that actually this was nothing, He pushed fully inside me. I inhaled sharply and I had to hold back from crying out. It hurt, but it was like a good kind of hurt. Already I could start to feel myself relaxing as he filled me up. It was a strange feeling of being complete, all filled up. He began to thrust, gently and slowly to start with, building up rhythm. I moaned. He slowly rubbed my clit at the same time. I gasped loudly as I came again, I dug my nails into his back (which I was sure I'd have to pay for at a later date) A moment later I felt him stiffen and the relax. After a couple of moments he withdrew and rolled over. He held me close to his chest and stroked my now very ruffled hair.
'All that you expected?' he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
'And so much more,' I said breathily, telling the truth. I smiled at him and he held me closer. We gazed out of the window.
'How did you discover that amazing escape plan with your window?'
'Ran out of phone credit when I was 14, its been invaluable ever since.' He stroked my cheek.
'I'll bare that in mind.' The bell rang, cutting through the perfect illusion of lovers in a bed together, reminded us that we were not lovers, we were a teacher and a student caught up in an illicit relationship. We both sighed deeply.
'Prayers' he said.
'I'm going to skip it.'
'I'll have to notice, Bex.'
' In which case I'll see you in your office tomorrow at nine.'