Part 11 (1/2)

18. Mistaken.

It was the Sixth Form girls' turn for fun, but Susie and Charlotte bided their time. The fact that they had taken two of the biggest prizes would not go down well with the older girls so they'd had to keep things discreet.

”Won't we look awful if they meet us in school uniform and all the Sixth Formers are done up to the nines?” Charlotte said.

”They won't care. It will be dark anyway.”

Margery wasn't actively involved in their plans, but was secretly wondering and hoping if the boy she had liked might be there.

Laura had rehea.r.s.ed various break up phrases in her head. She had sought Susie's input to little avail as she had dismissed all of Laura's ideas.

”You can't say 'it's not you, it's me' as everyone knows that's a lie. And you can't tell him that your studies are too demanding because that's obviously a lie to. And 'it's just not working' won't do because let's face it, there's nothing really happening to work or not, is there? A letter or so every month.”

Susie's suggestion was to take a leaf from the Queen Mother's book and simply ”never apologise, never explain.”

But Laura couldn't be quite that harsh.

Not having late prep on the eve of the holiday made it easier for them to sneak out of Michaelmas House to the main school.

They had arranged to meet the St Duncan's boys at eight o'clock by the side of the hall. It was a cold night and Laura felt miserable with nerves.

Jonathan looked really happy to see her which made her feel even worse. She walked with him around the corner, girding herself for the difficult conversation. Unaware, he put his arms around her and went to kiss her. ”Don't,” she said.

Before she could start explaining she looked up. Mr Rydell stood there, just a short distance away.

His face was like ice.

He came over to them. ”Neither of you should be here. Get back to the hall immediately,” he told Jonathan who shot her a worried, apologetic look and left.

”And you, this way.”

He dragged her to the nearby Art room which was unlocked.

Inside it was dark, lit only by lights s.h.i.+ning through the window from outside. He didn't turn a light on. Instead he gripped her shoulders and kissed her savagely. His mouth bruised hers, his teeth grazed her lips.

She was thrilled to be with him, relieved that he wasn't rejecting her, but terrified of his anger. ”It wasn't what you think,” she began when he broke off.

”I don't care what it is, Laura, I need to make you understand why you are not going to mess around with some schoolboy.”

”But...”

He silenced her again with his mouth on hers, tearing off his jacket. He pushed her against one of the tables and tugged her underwear down from under her skirt.

The smell of paint, the smell of clay. The same clay she had used to mould a figurine shaped like him.

She couldn't stop him even if she had wanted to. His hands were already possessing her.

”It doesn't take much to get you wet, does it? Was that for him or me?”

She couldn't believe the effect he had on her. Even being brutal he turned her core to liquid.

He had thrust two fingers inside her, feeling how wet she was, already lubricated enough for him. Removing them, he pushed her down on the table, and replaced them with his full length.

She cried out at the suddenness and the size of him. He didn't allow her a moment to get used to it.

He had never been this forceful before. He drove into her, as hard as he could, again and again, trying to own her, trying to punish her. He gripped her wrists and held her arms above her head so she couldn't move, couldn't fight him.

He twisted as he thrust into her, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g into her as deep as possible. He wanted to hurt her as much as he wanted to bring her over the edge, so she knew that he had command of her, dominion over her body.

And she was lost. Nothing but raw feeling. Her heart ached for him as much as her body throbbed.

”You are mine. Mine, mine,” he repeated as he pushed into her.

”Yes!” she cried out to him as her body took over.

”Come for me, Laura, come for me now.”

She had never o.r.g.a.s.med so hard. She was practically sobbing, clinging to him.

Just as it started to happen he climaxed too, enhancing her own sensations. It was the first time they had come together, he usually got her there first.

Then staying inside her he slumped on top of her, and she felt his weight crus.h.i.+ng her body. She could only just breathe.

”G.o.d, forgive me, forgive me, I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there for, in the near darkness, the hard surface of the art table beneath her and his body above.

Eventually he got up from her and helped her up. He held her to him and stroked her hair. Tenderly.

”It wasn't what you thought,” she said.

”It's okay, you don't have to explain.”

But she told him anyway. How Jonathan had never been any more than a penpal, that she had been about to let him down, that she no interest in him or any other boys.

”And I took my anger out on you like that. What have I come to, a grown man getting jealous of some schoolboy?” He was truly contrite, hating himself.

She tried to make it better. ”I felt bad that you misunderstood and I couldn't explain, but you didn't hurt me,” she said.

”I forced myself on you in anger, I practically raped you.”

”You knew - you could tell - I wanted you too. Otherwise you wouldn't have done.”