The Choice Read Free Page A

who’d got us drunk and teased us into playing cards for our clothes, got us stripped topless and had us suck their cocks, made us kneel and stick our bums in the air, pulled down our knickers and taken turns to fuck us both.
    It was that last awful detail that really got to me, the idea of being shared by two men, and not in private but side by side with my beautiful neighbour so that each of us knew exactly how rude the other had been. I’d lost my balance as I climaxed, sitting hard on the floor and knocking against my door to make it swing back and crash against its hinges. She had to have heard, and I scrambled quickly back into my room on all fours, my legs still shaking from the force of my orgasm.
    I was sure she was going to catch me, and my face was burning hot as I scrambled to my feet, my blushes a sure giveaway that I’d been watching her. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking either, and I felt so hot and wet between my thighs I was sure I’d have a telltale damp patch on the front of my jeans. The only sensible thing to do was to get into the shower, but as I stripped off common sense slowly began to return.
    She couldn’t possibly know I’d been watching her, and all she’d have heard was the bang of my door. Even if she’d guessed, she was hardly going to stride in, wearing nothing but her fancy French knickers, and accuse me of being a Peeping Thomasina, even though that was exactly what I was.

2
    MY GUILTY FEELINGS didn’t last very long. I’d only just sorted myself out after my shower when she knocked on the door to introduce herself. After that things took off at such a pace that I had no time to fret over my bad behaviour. She wasn’t a Victoria, or a Valerie, but a Violet – Violet Aubrey, and she was a graduate, in the second year of a D.Phil. in Fine Art. She was also fascinating; so languid and sensual in her manner that it was easy to see her not as a student of art, but as an artist’s muse.
    I knew immediately that she didn’t have the sort of connections I was supposed to be making, but she knew the college inside out and was keen to show me around. On the Sunday evening I was in her room, sat on the bed with my back to the wall sipping coffee as she explained how to cope with Freshers’ Week.
    ‘… says in the Handbook that there’s something for everybody, which is true, and I know you can’t hope to do everything, but do try to sample as many different things as possible.’
    ‘Thanks, but I know what I need to do, and what to avoid.’
    ‘You’re very confident, but do keep an open mind or you might miss out on something that changes your whole life. How do you mean, what to avoid?’
    ‘Anything that could come back to haunt me in later life. I’m going into politics.’
    ‘Oh.’
    She didn’t sound very happy, let alone impressed, but quickly brightened up again as she went on. ‘Keep an open mind, that’s all. When I first came up I was such a little mouse I hardly knew what to do.’
    ‘I can’t believe that!’
    ‘A lot has happened since then. So you’re going to be a university student, are you?’
    The way she’d suddenly changed the topic of conversation intrigued me, as if she wanted to avoid talking about something, but so did her question, which I didn’t understand at all.
    ‘What do you mean? Aren’t we all university students?’
    ‘Some students stick very much with their college, like the rowing club. Others are more involved with wider university life; the Chamber and that sort of thing.’
    ‘Yes, that’s me, or it will be once I get my feet on the ground.’
    ‘Somehow I don’t think that’s going to take you very long.’
    She was so easy to talk to that I was tempted to explain my grand plan, but at that moment somebody knocked on the door. She went to answer it, opening the door with her normal casual, friendly manner, only to suddenly stiffen and move hastily out into the tiny lobby between our doors and the ‘oak’ as she