Author: Old Softy Title: The Collar Around the Heart Summary: James is sixteen today, and his birthday present is pretty unusual. But the future is a foreign country; they do things differently there. Keywords: mf ScFi rom 1st slave bd oral anal Part: Chapter 12 of 14 Chapter 1 is at /files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_1.txt DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction contains sexual situations not suitable for children. It may not be reproduced in any way where readers are charged for it. Copyright reserved Old Softy 2007 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 12 - Saturday Evening The room was full. The empty hall I had peered into just over an hour ago was now heaving with noise, movement, bright colour and above all people. No one had spotted us yet, so I was able to try and get my bearings. The shapes in the clearer space in the middle were hardly moving the band must have just finished a piece. In fact I could see them putting down their instruments so the deejay must be taking over for a session. That was good timing. Patterns began to appear in the groups of people around the edge. Each gathering tended to have one brightly coloured young thing at its centre often a female surrounded by males, but sometimes a male surrounded by females. There, circulating, the darker colours of the mothers threaded through the clumps, meeting in small groups of two or three and then breaking up to coagulate with others. There was my Mother head to head with two others, no doubt at work already. The colours of the dresses were garish en mass, even for those few that were individually tasteful. But somehow it was appropriate. This was the world, on display, determined to enjoy itself. Suddenly the sombre black of my ancient jacket seemed woefully inadequate. How could simply good lines stand up against this cacophony of shape and colour? Don't panic, I thought. Focus on just one of them that girl, in the shepherdess outfit. God, what a mess of frills she was. She needed the crook so you knew she was a shepherdess, but she couldn't decide how to hold it. How long had she been sixteen? She looked too young to be here. And then it struck me. The room was full of extravagant gowns and glittering jewels, but most of the wearers were only sixteen or seventeen. They were children playing at dressing up as adults, and on the whole not doing a very good job of it. I smiled to myself. I could do this. I could do whatever I felt like. After all, what did I have to lose? I stepped forward, to give the Master of Ceremonies my name. When I told him how I wanted him to introduce us, he demurred politely but firmly. I understood his reluctance it was after all the accepted euphemism for a paid prole prostitute. However a tenner in the hand did wonders. He banged his staff once on the floor and in a majestic voice rolled out the words. "Mister James Pilsbury, and... companion." There was a shiver, like wind through a wheat field, as all looked up, and in a spreading ripple the room fell silent. The deejay looked over at me, grinning. I remembered why I preferred the company of proles. They had a sense of humour. I gave him the nod, and just as we had agreed, the music flared into the room. That old Queen classic We Will Rock You, just that bit too loud. Another ten quid but worth every penny. Now, the girl's in heels, I thought, so let's take the stairs slowly. One step at a time, and one shout from Queen to each step, we descended the staircase. I could feel Annie on the end of her tether, and I could feel all the eyes fixed on me. No, not on me. I knew there was no one in the room not staring at that body, that mask, and that chain. The crowd parted as I reach the floor, to reveal my Mother, frozen, with mouth open. Suddenly the room was loud again, loud with the hiss of urgent syllables. I bowed low to her, and then nodded again to the deejay. He faded down the Queen, before moving on to Strauss. It was not my favourite, but fair enough. The room was back to its usual buzz again, and the crowd swirled except for those around us, who stood to stare unashamedly. Ignoring the expression on my Mother's face, I turned to face my gorgeous partner, and took her in my arms. We danced, and time fell back into place. The waltz was not a rhythm I loved, but Annie danced it really well, and her gliding hips just swept me along. But gone was the bubbling child I had practiced with this afternoon. Instead this beautiful woman swirled around me, her faultless steps matching her flawless silver mask. The loop of chain was still in my hand along with hers, and it swung out in an arc as we spun. Although pretending to dance themselves, the rest of the room watched. The closing chords signaled the end of the piece, and we glided to a halt. I made a small formal bow, and she curtsied elegantly, before taking up her place behind me. The gap in the crowd opened in front and closed behind us as we walk slowly through it to where my Mother stood, staring and motionless. I could not read her expression. "It is your life, isn't it James." she stated, as if bemused. "I can see there is nothing I can do." And with that she turned around, and walked off, heading for the door. I opened my mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say. I had won. So simple, so effortless, and yet the victory was hollow. The feeling of anti-climax was like a blanket. I actually shook my shoulders as if it could be thrown off, and looked around with uncertain eyes. Now what? Over there was Penelope, standing motionless between her friends Emma and Claire, and facing me. Feeling reckless, I gave Annie's chain a little tweak to warn her, and set off in that direction. She was wearing an old fashioned dress of royal blue velvet that was clearly made before the current fashions reached their sillier extremes. It suited her not many could have carried it off, but she had the figure and the bearing. With full-length skirts and a simple waist, the halter neck lovingly held each precious breast and left her back bared. Suspended in the valley between them, that amazing diamond glittered. In a room full of pantomime costumes, she stood out like a lily amongst paper flowers. My urge to shock was still unsated, and as I moved with measured pace in her direction, I felt like a wolf stalking its next victim. She woke up and tore her eyes off the chain and collar, just in time for me to lean forward to kiss the left cheek. I took my time, and felt the softness of her face against my lips before I switched to the right-hand one. She tilted her head as she should and I moved back to the left. She froze while my lips so softly explored the texture of her skin, and then, when I held it much too long to be polite, pulled away, leaving the memory of roses in my nostrils. She looked flushed, and a little perturbed. Interesting, I thought. The society queen was not unshakeable after all. She shook herself and got a grip. "Mr. Pilsbury, how good to see you. You are perhaps looking a little..." I smiled "Unconventional?" I suggested. "Don't worry, this is as far as it goes. No more surprises, I am just here to enjoy myself." Her facade slipped for a second, and a look of relief escaped. She inclined her head in a nod of thanks. "But it may have a price," I whispered, leaning forward, and I grinned again as she pulled back, slightly alarmed. My left hand moved up to cradle the back of her neck and I ran my thumb under her ear lobe. She stiffened, but did not back off, and I gripped it gently but firmly. Slowly, inexorably, I leant in, sliding my other hand around her waist, while her friends watched in horror. She could not pull away without making a scene, although her face betrayed that she would have liked to try. I reached for her lips with mine. Maybe I just wanted to embarrass her a little, but something in me said to do it this way. Taking my time I tasted her, running my lips over her soft mouth, carefully removing her lipstick with my tongue. She exhaled suddenly, and to my surprise, responded. Just for a second she was yielding into my arms; and her lips were moving against mine before she broke away. It was over so quickly an onlooker might have missed it, but the now two of us were panting as we stared at each other. I felt my face break into a grin but she pulled back with a gasp, as if panicking at what she had just allowed, and hurriedly turned away. In a swirl of long blue skirts she was gone. Wow, what was that about! Penelope Jones was the last girl I would have thought would actually allow me to kiss her, but something had definitely happened there. I surreptitiously adjusted my trousers to reposition their contents. It was just in time, as Mrs. Jones stepped up to me. "Such a striking outfit, Mr. Pilsbury. Such an interesting cut! Who could have designed it?" She must have seen the clinch, and was presumably stepping in to exert some damage control. "Chap by the name of Armani" I replied, accepting her interception with good grace and not attempting to go after Penelope. "Long dead now. Mrs. Haversham thought it was time for a revival." Mrs. Jones' face revealed that she knew the name, and she raised her eyebrows. "If that is a real Armani, it is worth more than any other suit in the room. I did not think there were any left in the kingdom." I was impressed that she was even aware of whom I was talking about. But, I suppose one should never underestimate the importance of fashion to the determined socialite. "Just the one that I know of. Needed altering, of course. But hasn't she done it well?" A sneaky notion occurred to me. This would faze her. "Would you care to take it for a spin, Mrs. Jones?" and I held up my arms, inviting her to dance. I had to give it to her, she was game. She raised her eyebrows at my cheek, but stepped into my arms, and off we went. I had only meant it to throw her off, but she was surprisingly light on her feet, and when I bowed and thanked her at the end, it was with real pleasure. As I slipped past other mothers back to where I had left Annie I could hear the gossip already; "At her age!" "Armani it's the only one left in the kingdom!" "I've been told it's worth more than every suit in the room put together!" Annie was standing where I had left her, silent in the centre of a circle of male admirers. They were all staring in fascination but I could see that not one of them dared approach her. I chuckled, as I wondered if the radius of the clear floor around her could be calculated from the contrasting strengths of fear and attraction. As I stepped through them to take the end of the silver lead from her hand they broke up and turned away, each suddenly looking for someone else. Wordlessly, elegantly and with eyes always on us, once more we danced. By now, I was really enjoying myself. There was no doubt that we had made an impression, and I was not sure that I cared if it was good or bad either would do. Under that silk she was so naked, and not just to my eyes but to my touch and my command. Owning this beautiful sexual woman in front of the whole assembly was a heady wine, and it tasted glorious. When the set ended, I set off for the refreshments tables, and discovered that as long as I walked slowly enough, the bubble of space and silence followed us, to be filled in with whispering heads after we passed by. I paced like a king towards the collarwaits and accepted a glass of champagne for each of us. As I sipped and stared back across the room, I watched the actions of the other girls. Dropping Annie in their midst, really had put a cat amongst the pigeons. Those who were not openly staring at us in envy were flirting even more obviously, quite intentionally putting themselves on display for the boys around them. It was as if they actually were for sale, and were desperately competing to get bought first. God this was such a meat market. The boys did not really talk to any of the girls either or not for more than a few minutes. They flitted from one colourful dress to the next, until one caught their fancy and they took it out on the floor. It was almost like bees around a flowerbed quite poetic if you did not know what was going on underneath. Not all were bees, I thought, spotting a familiar bulk amongst the rest. Over there was something more like a stag beetle something ugly, spiky and clumsy. It was Murdoch, and with him his two goons, unintentionally drifting towards me. I started to edge away, and then stopped. If not now, when? "Stay here, girl," I hissed to Annie, and stepped towards them. "Boss?" she asked, uncertainly. I turned back. Where could I park her safely for a few minutes? I cast around for a moment. There was Chatsworth, over there, he would do. "Chatsworth! Hey, Peter, over here!" He approached me warily as if I might bite. I nodded to myself. Yes, solid, socially middle of the road, and basically a decent sort. Peter was perfect. "Peter, this is Miss A." "Eh? What do you mean 'A', eh?" His plump face looked puzzled, and I sighed. I handed him the lead. "She will do whatever you ask. You may dance with her, and talk to her but not touch her sexually or leave the room with her." He stared at the loop of silver chain in his hand with bulging eyes, as if afraid it might bite. I leaned over to whisper in Annie's ear. "Humour him but take no nonsense. Back soon." I could not see her expression of course, but she nodded obediently, and I swung on my heel. Murdoch was now facing me with Burke and Cribbens, and his eyebrows scowled as I strolled up to him. They were all in what I guessed had started off as eighteenth century cavalry uniforms, before someone went mad with the gold braid. I wondered how they could take themselves seriously. "I don't know what you're looking so happy about, Pillsbury," he sneered. "I thought you knew what happened to anyone who crossed me?" "Just remind me, Vince. Pretend I've forgotten." As if by magic Burke appeared at my left shoulder while Cribbens popped up on my right hand side. I wondered how long they had to practice this sort of thing to get it looking good. "A little birdy told me that you might be planning on sending that collarslut back." Murdoch growled, apparently not in a cheerful mood. "If you were even thinking of not handing that thing over on Monday afternoon... " "Oh, no, Vince, your little bird got it all wrong. I'm definitely keeping that collarmaid it's a delightful little thing. Softest, sweetest cunt you ever used to bury your old todger." I put my arm around Burke's shoulder in a matey kind of way, and looked away from him to smile sweetly at Cribbens. "Although it is true that I would never let a fat ugly lump like you get your grubby hands on her." Duck backwards. Twist. RUN. The time delay in slow brains processing unexpected information was a delight to behold. Did dinosaurs work the same way? I was two paces ahead of them as I darted through the crowd, heading for the bar. Now, I just needed a friendly face any one of my parent's friends. God, I hoped this would work. In the room at large, the density of fathers was maybe ten percent. That did not mean they were not there, although no doubt many like my father managed to cry off with one excuse or another. No, it was just that within two arms lengths of the bar, the father density leapt up to about ninety percent. And that's where I was headed. SHIT! Burke had managed to cut in front of me. I ducked to his right and bumped smack into good old Mrs Jones. "Ooof! James! Where are you off to at such speed? In a hurry to ask me for another dance perhaps?" "Not a bad idea!" I gasped in reply, perhaps a trifle ungraciously, and took her hand. We were spinning off into the middle of the dance floor before Cribbens or Burke had quite caught up with what was happening. They could only glare impotently as I steered us away from them. "You're breathing a little heavily," mentioned Mrs. Jones. "I hope that's the excitement of getting your hands on me again!" Despite the adrenalin still flooding me I had to laugh. "Ah, Mrs. Jones. To dance with you will always raise my heart rate. But unfortunately that panting was just me getting out of a spot of bother." "Young Murdoch is more than a spot. He's a blot on the landscape," she muttered darkly. "I see you know him, then?" I asked, surprised at her perception. I wondered if it was a complete accident that had put her in my path. "There is no love lost between his family and ours. Is he giving you any trouble?" "Let's just say that right now he would dearly like to find me alone down a dark alley, and I am quite keen not to be there for him." "Hmmmm. Let me see if I can't help with that. I might have a word with some old friends of mine after this dance." True to her word, after we had bowed and parted, I watched her approaching a couple of burly grizzled fathers propping up the bar, and chat to them for a moment. She returned to my side. "I've just called in a favour, and those nice gentlemen are going to breath down his neck for a while. You should have no trouble for tonight anyway." "Mrs. Jones, you are incredible. Not only beautiful, but efficacious too." She laughed. "Very good, James, but why are you wasting this on me? You should be talking to my lovely daughter." What could I do but grin in reply, and agree to do just that? I had bowed and made my farewells before the implication sank in. Twenty minutes ago, she was steering me away from Penelope. Now she seemed to have changed her mind. Surely she was not trying to foster anything between us? She must have been pulling my leg again. Penelope herself was over against the wall, along with Emma and Claire. While I watched, the clump of boys around them shifted, and then her two friends were being lead away, each by some eager stud. The two remaining boys were looking at her hopefully and seemed about to speak, but suddenly a pair of mothers claimed them and whisked them off. Just for a second I saw the shadow of disappointment flit over her face, and I recollected what she had confided to me on Thursday night. I slid through the crowd until I was at her side. "So pleased to catch you off the floor, Miss Jones," I smiled, ignoring her glare. I leant over to her ear. "So, how is it going?" "What do you care?" I was surprised at her bitterness, but at the same time, oddly flattered that she was not bothering to be polite. "Because you told me what this meant to you. And I... I am sorry I embarrassed you earlier." I had to hold my face close so we could hear each other, and her eyes were very near. She sighed. "You didn't embarrass me. I embarrassed myself." For some reason the swirling currents of humanity were leaving us alone for the moment, me shoulder to knee with some ghastly statue, and her, with her back against the wall. "Well, let us see," she continued "I have put up with some of the most inept compliments dreamt up by man. I have had three twirls around the floor, all hopeless dancers. And Murgatroyd asked me on a date next week." She waved down my attempt to congratulate her. "I turned him down I am supposed to be going out with you after all." "Penny! You cannot turn someone down just because of our little arrangement." "I couldn't leave you to the mercy of these little bitches. You must have noticed all the hungry eyes on you. It was bad enough when you were just rich. Now after tonight, you are both rich and irresistible." "Well maybe after tonight, I feel like I could handle it. Now, promise me, if anyone else asks me out, you accept, alright?" She shrugged. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. I didn't want to go out with him anyway." "And what do you mean, irresistible? There is no need to get sarcastic, just when we were getting along so well." "Sarcasm? Hmmmph. Have you seen the way every female is looking at you tonight?" "I know. I have actually managed to shock them, haven't I? They are staring at me in such horror!" "No, James, not horror," she corrected gently, as if to an idiot. "Hot, flustered and damp between the legs, but not with horror." She looked at me strangely. "You actually have no idea, have you?" "About what?" I really did have no idea what she was on about. It was getting a bit warm in here, but girls were supposed to 'glow' rather than perspire, weren't they? Never mind about getting damp. "Oh, forget it." She sighed as if forcing herself back to business. "Come on. You should be shocking people and I should be working the room." "Don't you like dancing then?" "I can't dance if no-one asks me!" "Oh. No, of course not. Um, should I wait here and... " "On the other hand, you could ask me to dance." "Penny, I mustn't monopolise you if there's any one who might make a match... " "Come ON!" she interrupted. "Can't I have someone take me for a spin just for the fun of it, just for a moment out of the cattle market?" I suddenly heard the stress in her voice. She was right. I had been having fun while she had been in the thick of it, and not winning. "Miss Jones, may I have the pleasure of this next number?" I asked obediently, with my best bow. With a sunshine mood swing she flashed a smile back at me, one of those rare real smiles that made me want to like her, and took my outstretched hand. The "next number" was a jive; Buddy Holly, one of my favourites, and I like them hot. And it was not just the music; Penny was hot too. She was really moving. When I was in the mood, I could leave any girl in my dance class gasping, but the more I threw her around, the faster she came back for more. I had never understood how girls even managed to walk, never mind dance, in long gowns and high heels, but she was whirling like a dervish and grinning like a maniac. The light in her eyes shone with a challenge I could not ignore. As we wound up to the last eight bars, the band started ramping it up and half the room had stopped to watch us. I finished with that move where you flip her over your shoulder, just knowing she would land on her feet in time for me to catch her hand. It was one of those moves that you must never attempt without lots of practice with your partner first, but she pulled it off. We clung to each other, panting amidst the whistles and claps as while the last chord died away. "Not bad, for a beginner." she puffed. "Thanks for keeping it nice and easy so I could keep up. But I could show you a few steps some time if you had the inclination," she added. "Nice and easy!" I started to splutter, and then caught her grin. "Right, Jones, you're on! Let's see what they are playing next, and then we'll discover who is keeping up with whom. " But the bandleader had decided not to try and cap the last one, and had switched the mood to elegant. The unmistakable intro to "Dancing Cheek to Cheek" floated out and somehow both Fred and Ginger were looking at me over her shoulder. Penny herself was looking at me expectantly, but now the idea of a slow romantic number with Penny was not right, or was it too much. God, I could still feel the texture of her lipstick on my tongue; surely I could handle one slow dance. But I was still standing there in an embarrassed silence, way after we should have started off. "Idiot" she said, in a matter of fact voice, and took my hand to place it about her waist. "Well, if I lead we are going to be all over the place, so you had better get moving!" It was all right. I don't know what I had been worried about, because it was more than all right, it was really nice. Penny was as smooth and elegant in the foxtrot as she had been fiery in the jive, and she moved in my arms like she was part of me. "So, who are the good prospects in the room, then?" I thought I ought to make conversation. "James, do you have to talk about that right now?" The curve of her waist seemed so natural, so right, under my hand. "I just never thought about it from the girl's point of view before." I mused into her ear. It occurred to me that, odd though it seemed, I was not sure I wanted her to find someone. On the other hand, now I was not going to screw up her ball, it shouldn't be for nothing. One way or the other, I was getting interested in what happened to her. "Hah, I can believe that. But to tell you the truth, it feels such an anticlimax now. I have been looking forward to this for half my life, it seems, and now it is here... " She trailed off. All by themselves, the finger tips of my right hand were counting the little bumps in the curve of her spine, and enjoying the rippling of her lower back muscles under the velvet of that dress. I had to concentrate to stop my hand drifting up to the bare skin just an inch or so above where it rested. "But I've seen lots of boys chatting to you!" "They are all hopeless. Half of them get their tongues in a knot trying to say 'Hello'. If they've worked out how to speak then they can't dance, and if they can dance they hold me as if I were a stick of dynamite." I laughed. "You are aware that you do project a certain shall we say aura, that might tempt some to tread carefully?" "What do you mean?" she glared. "Are you trying to say that I'm scary?" I presumed she was unaware that, right at that second, 'scary' was an understatement. "No, no you are beautiful, indeed, magnificent. But occasionally um... a little awesome at the same time." She regarded me suspiciously, while still gliding within my arms, and then suddenly broke into a chuckle. "Magnificent. Awesome. James, if that was your idea of flattery, I think I'm going to have to give you a few pointers." I smiled back into her face, and for a second just let myself swim in the warm tide of her grin. "Hey, I never claimed that our date next week was going to be any good." "Oh, no, its too late to put me off now," she glowered at me. I poked my tongue out at her until that intoxicating involuntary smile cracked her pretend frown again. "But anyway, there is not a single decent man in the lot of them. And if there was, his mother wouldn't let him near me," she carried on. "I don't understand." "It is all set up by the mothers, scheming in the background, and we are the pawns trying to execute the schemes. Watch my mother." As I spun us round, she nodded in the direction of Mrs. Jones on the far side of the room, deep in conversation with two others of the society ilk. "The real trouble is my poor Mum is having such a tough time about the dowry. She is doing the rounds, but she has to prevaricate, trying to play it down. Did you see how Bertie and Cholmondlley were pulled off?" "What, their mums took them away?" I said in disbelief. "Who would let their mother tell them who they can talk to?" "They are not like you, James. They care too much about their inheritance, and what Grandma will say, and... oh, basically they are all wimps anyway." "My poor Mother. She was really upset when she saw me tonight. You know she has stormed off home." I explained. "I was really pleased at how my idea worked, but maybe I went a bit far." "You know what's ironic? She should have stayed to see what's happened." "I don't understand" "Look around. You could ask any girl here for a date, and she would bite your hand off." "But what about the mums. If my performance tonight has not put them off, nothing will, and you just said... " "Two hundred and forty seven kay is pretty persuasive. Teenage rebellion doesn't last, but gold in New Threadneedle Street is a very different matter." Penny pulled her head away from my shoulder and looked at me. In heels like those, she was almost my height and could look straight into my eyes. The rest of the room receded. "Half of them would defy their parents any way see how they're drooling." "Why do you keep saying that!" "Because it's true, you idiot!" she replied, but with strange gentleness. The blue in her eyes really was extraordinary. "Look, I have had enough of this crowd. Shall we go and get a breath of air on the terrace?" she asked. "Of course" I concurred, not really thinking about it. I steered us over to that side of the room, and we broke out of the dance zone. It felt wrong to take my hand away from Penny's back, but of course I could not leave it there. It was only when we were out there amidst the black silhouettes of pairs of young people clinging to each other, amongst the whispered moans and muttered protestations, that I remembered what "the terrace" was used for. "Ah, Penny, I am not sure this is a good idea. What happens if people saw me take you out here?" "Well," she replied thoughtfully but in a teasing voice, "Hanging on your arm can only make me more interesting. If we are back inside really fast, the chaps will assume that you blew it and they will be considering having a go themselves. But if we are here too long, every one will think we got it together, and then most of them will write me off." "So it's all in the timing." I got into the game. "What do you think, say a couple of minutes then?" "Oh, I would say three, no, four. Now what can we do out here for four or five minutes?" She looked at me and suddenly even in the dim lamplight her eyes were very big and very close. "That thing you did when you kissed me. I think you should teach me that properly." How did she manage to turn the tables so effortlessly? Now I was the one feeling like a shy virgin, but before I could object or think, her arms were around my neck and her mouth was fastened to mine. I could feel her soft shape inside her clothes as she moulded her body to me, and her opening lips were yielding and warm. Her hands were holding the back of my head, and now she was doing the kissing urgently, hungrily, her tongue actually entering my mouth to find mine. The inside of her mouth was mine to explore. Her lips sucked me into her in welcome, her tongue was an eager accomplice, and her fingers gently roamed in my hair to hold my head against hers. If anyone had told me before that kissing could be sexier and more intimate than actual shafting, I would have called them nuts. But this... I was lost in a universe containing only our mouths, and the person I was exploring it with was as eager as I was. To return to real life again was like waking up. "Wow." I whispered. She was staring at me as if she had never seen me before, and had to memorise my face. Then without warning her head was pressing on my shoulder and she was clutching me to her, hugging me so tightly I could hardly breath. Shit. I had not meant this, and I had no idea what to do next. "Umm... Penny... " I managed to say, "We have to go back. You need to go and join the others, to be available. This is your ball!" For a moment it was as if she had not heard, but slowly the pressure slackened, and she released me. She stepped back to look at me, and sighed deeply. "Alright, but you have to give me one more dance." As we walked back to the room, her hand clung to mine. Warning claxons were sounding in the back of my head, but I could not bear to disengage it. I steered her back to the ballroom floor, but the waltz was in its closing bars, and we were soon standing still again. "That didn't count," she said, her frown daring me to object. "This next, then I will be good, and put myself out for the wimps again." But the next one was what old Moxley, my dancing master, would have dismissively called a "smootch". Barry White, I think, was the name of this guy. I shrugged. "Are you all right with something as slow as this?" She answered by taking my hand and moving into my arms again. I led her off in a down tempo foxtrot, but it was hard work making it feel smooth enough at that pace. "Hey, let's just chill," she murmured, and moved in to hang both arms around my neck. I slid one hand around her waist and let the other rest just a little lower. Her cheek was against my neck and I was suddenly aware that her chest was pressed against mine. Now we were just swaying together while our feet slid over the floor on their own accord. Old Moxley was right about most things to do with dance but I think he had missed the point about "smooching". We swayed together in silence. I had inspected earlier how nicely Penelope's amazing breasts filled the top of that dress, but now I had to steel myself not to look down and admire the cleavage formed by the way they pressed against me. Wow, I realised with a shock, those little pressure points were her nipples. I could feel her nipples through my jacket. "James, what do you want with your life?" Where did that come from! This was hardly a question I could answer for anyone; let alone Penelope Jones. Yet perhaps for her of all people... "The chance to make my own choices. A good position. A girl." That last, I would never have dreamed of considering a week ago, but now things were different. Only one layer of velvet cloth separated my left palm from the smooth muscles gliding in her behind. "You thinking about your prole girl?" "How did you know about that?" "This is a small town and you have hardly been secretive. Someone has seen you together, and when I put it out that I was making a play for you, they took some pains to warn me. Or to try and warn me off." she added darkly. Hell, I should stop. I did not know what had got into her, but I had promised not to muck up her ball, and this sure as hell was not going to help. I took a deep breath, and moved my hands back up to the centre of her back. Her bare skin was warm and silky smooth, and if anything it was sexier than where my hands had been before, but they had to go somewhere. "Yes, well Liz and I were thinking of getting together, but of course we can't marry. And the whole mistress or companion thing I hate the hypocrisy." "I am amazed she is happy to stand against the wall over there, and let us dance like this." "Who, Liz?" I queried in shock, looking around. "Don't lose step. Yes, your 'companion' with the collar and chain." "Oh, her!" I exclaimed, laughing with relief. "That's... ah... that's someone else." Penny herself now slowed down and threatened to break our rhythm, staring at Annie, who was standing with Peter, surrounded by a cloud of boys against the far wall. "You haven't. You have! That's your collarmaid! You dressed up your collarmaid as a companion pretending to be a collarslut, and that's her over there!" Penny's face was creased in delight. "You don't pull any punches, do you James!" I laughed with her. "Keep the secret?" The music had ended and we had drifted to a standstill but were still holding each other. "For you James, anything." She was still grinning, but now we were at arms length and I was feeling as if I were on firmer ground. "And James..." she paused uncertainly. "Oh, hell." She kissed me quickly, but full on the lips; a short fast determined kiss, and then was gone. I watched her blonde hair merge into the crowd. So what had happened there? Light headed I moved in the direction of Annie, wondering who had been pulling pranks on whom. I had no idea what was going on, except that I was completely out of my depth. Somehow I didn't care. Peter looked up as I approached him through the crowd, He seemed to have become quite used to being the center of attention. "Thanks for looking after her, Peter." "My pleasure, old chap!" The stunned expression I had last seen him wearing had been replaced by a grin that split his face. "Why don't the rest of the gals dress like that!" As he moved away, I could see that nurse-maiding Annie had done his rep no harm at all. Three girls, all lookers, were hanging in his way, and looking at him hopefully. He paused and considered them, before addressing the tall slim brunette. I approved of his taste. "Petunia, m' dear. Care for a scramble?" "Oh, yes please Peter," she cooed. And then unwittingly, he changed the world. "Now, m' dear, what are you wearing under that gown?" She looked puzzled, and simpered slightly. "The usual. Petticoat, slip and corset." "Decent, are they? You know, to look at?" Poor Petunia was looking a little worried now. "I suppose so. But... what is this all about, Peter?" "Off with it then. Lets get rid of that gown. In fact..." and to our surprise he started on the toggles at the front of his jacket, and in only a minute had slung the heavy embroidered thing over the heads of those behind him. More by luck than good aim, it snagged on the head of a statue and hung there, swaying slightly. For some reason having the top half covered up made the bare bottom half of the stone nymph seem obscenely nude. In a plain loose fitting white shirt Peter actually looked quite good. Now that his barrel chest was no longer straining the toggles of a slightly tight jacket, you could notice the width of his shoulders. "Come on girl, don't be shy!" Giggling helplessly, she allowed him to pull the gown off, over her head. Sure enough, there was no more skin displayed than before, but she was blushing as if we were watching her get out of the bath. "Much better," he declared, taking her in his arms. "I like to feel I'm taking a girl for a spin don't y' know, not a sofa!" And with a squeal of delight from her, they were off across the floor. Shaking my head, I wandered into the crowd surrounding the dance floor. Every girl I passed looked at me hopefully, or blushed and turned away. I began to see what Penny was talking about. How ironic. Last week, when I would have been stunned to get even a smile from any one of these girls, they could not see me. Now I did not care if they were throwing themselves at me. I tuned in to the whispering around me. "That Petunia's such a slut!" "Yeah, but who ended up dancing with him, and who's still standing here against the wall?" "Well I'd slip my gown off for a go with Bertie any time!" Taking Annie for a spin around the floor seemed a quiet and conservative pastime in comparison. But then, dancing with her was just such a pleasure. I did not have to be trying to shock people all the time. At the start of the next number, I spotted Michael Flanningan a thin Irish lad I had always liked, partly because he was even shyer that I used to be. Why not, I thought, and decided to hook him up with Annie for a dance, to see if the magic would rub off on him as well. "Are you sure, James?" he asked, uncertainly. "Of course I am. Look after her now, won't you." I said as I took the half full champagne glass out of his hand and replaced it with Annie's lead. I downed the glass in one, and watched them slip across the floor. It was fascinating to see him gather confidence as Annie's movements somehow managed to make his footwork look competent, and I smiled to myself. God, that girl was good. Now, where could I find my next amusement? Madeline and Charlotte were standing in a circle of admirers. The buzz from the champers was making me feel both mischievous and reckless as I strolled up to them. "Hello girls. Having fun?" I asked, leaning in to peck Charlotte on the cheeks. Madeline somehow managed to twist her face to catch her kiss on the lips, but I pressed on with it anyway. She glanced at Charlotte in triumph as I pulled away. Charlotte was, of course, wearing the 'Wedding Cake'. What else? "You are looking quite lovely, my dear. Such a special dress." I murmured to her, with just enough sincerity to fool many people. She smiled in pleasure, but Madeline sniggered. "James, how unkind of you to tease her. Charlotte actually believes her dress looks good, don't you dear?" "Well... doesn't it?" asked Charlotte, suddenly confused and uncertain. "Of course not. It's an over-the-top collection of frills aimed specifically at silly young girls with more money than sense. How astute of James to spot it. I believe Mrs. Haversham calls it the 'Wedding Cake'. Isn't that right, James?" Charlotte turned to me, looking for denial, but I was half a second too slow in forcing it out. Her face fell, as she held out the body of the skirts in front of her, and I could see her excitement collapse with her confidence, right before my eyes. "Madeline!" I glared at the bitch. She stepped right in front of Charlotte, blanking her from me, and smiled sexily. Her poor friend turned and rushed off into the crowd. "Charlotte!" I called out, and stepped around Madeline to stride after her. She ignored my cry, and I had to catch her elbow to get her to slow down. "What?" she demanded. I could see tears gathering in her eyes. There was a slow dance playing, so I said nothing but took her hands, and pulled her into the music. Amazingly, her well-trained feet followed mine before she could think to stop them. For a couple of bars she shuffled along woodenly, and then, as if someone had pulled a plug, she softened and leaned in against me. "James, I know I shouldn't ask... but could you just hold me for a bit?" What sort of bastard would have refused? Not me. After a while of moving softly in sync, she sighed deeply and sniffed. "I don't suppose you have a handkerchief?" I pulled one out of my top pocket, and she blew her nose without loosing step. "It doesn't matter, you know." Her voice was resigned and empty. "I'm going to get married off, whatever I look like. It's just... oh, well, who was going to be interested in fat little me anyway?" "Charlotte, half the boys in the room are watching us right now. How can you say that!" "Because it's you they are watching, and the money." "The money?" "Yes, my money. The dowry. The bloody, bloody dowry. All they see is the money, like a glowlamp in front of me. I'm just the body that carries it around. Tonight I was just hoping that maybe someone might be interested in me, you know, the girl not the investment, but... oh hell, in the end it doesn't make any difference." We moved silently for a few moments, comfortably together but no longer clinging. "So is there no-one who you liked, who you get on with as a person?" "Well there might be, but of course he's not interested in me that way. Charlie the mate, fine but he would not dream of asking me out, or even for a dance. " She pulled back a little, still hand in hand, to look at me. "But... James, after the way we treated you, last week why are you doing this? You're not going to play a trick on me are you? Like... like I did?" "Hey, even I thought that it was funny in the end." Not quite the truth, but just then I was desperately trying to get her to feel better. "But it wasn't. It was just mean. Although... well you really did go on about motorbikes such a lot..." "What, like a really, really big bore?" She giggled, helplessly. "I'm sorry, but you were! And now you are being so nice to me, I don't know why." "Don't worry. I'm just interested. Now, who is it?" "Who is who?" "The boy you like, your male friend." "Oh. I'm not sure you would call him a friend. Well, alright, I suppose he is, although we never go out or anything. It's Charles Harrison." "Ah, Charles and Charlotte!" How funny about the names. I knew him vaguely. He was a real swot. I didn't think his family had much money, and he worked like a maniac, as if he was trying to prove something. As he was pretty bright with it, he nearly always got the top marks in everything. "Actually, I call him Charlie, and he calls me the same. We would be Charlie and Charlie, if anything. I think that's why he first noticed me." "Not because you look almost edible when you smile like that?" "James! Anyway, it's no good. I did actually ask Mum to put out a feeler for me, but she refused to. I think she didn't like the name thing. And, well, his family are not up to much, you know." "I know about his family, but she was completely wrong. Look, that chap is hardworking and clever, and if he cares for you, that's all you need. Why look for some well heeled ignoramus when the one thing you are not short of is money?" "I suppose, when you put it like that, we would make quite a team. And sometimes I did think he was, you know, interested. But I can tell you, he has never made any sort of approach." "You'd be surprised, Charlotte, how few boys are keen on getting shot down in flames. It's very difficult to even ask if you think there is no chance of succeeding. Now is he here tonight?" "Yes, but what are you suggesting?" "That you go over to him now, and take his hand, and tell him in clear words that if he was to ask you to dance, you would say yes." "I couldn't do that! It would be so forward!" "Then could you spend the rest of your life with some arrogant prat who ignored you from the moment he had signed the marriage license, and your money became his?" Her expression changed. "But my parents?" "Sort out Charlie first, and then the two of you tackle them together. You are their only daughter, and they care for you. If you are resolute, how long will they stand in your way?" She stopped moving, and with a determined look in her eye, said, "You know, I think I can do this." She dropped my hands, and without a goodbye or a thank you, she marched away from me, eyes searching looking for Charlie Harrison. Invite me to the wedding, I thought after her, and smiled to myself. Good deed done for the day, I returned to the sea of bodies to find Madeline standing right there, in my way. Now what the hell did she want? I shook my head at her, puzzled. "I can understand you treating me like that, but I thought Charlotte was your friend?" "Oh, she is, but it's you I'm going to dance with." I turned on my heel, about to cut her dead. "Lost your balls, James? Afraid risk a dalliance with little old me?" Yes, it's immature, but I was no more able to resist a dare then, than I was when I was six, and the anger burning in me was not going to be satisfied with just walking away. I bowed and took her hand, determined to see what the opportunity would bring. There was something odd about dancing with Madeline's body in my hands. We are twisting to a Latin Samba of all things, and if a girl couldn't make that sexy than there was no hope for her. But although her face smiled at me, and her hands appeared to be eager to touch me, it is as if her body was not happy to be there. I tried to put the uncertain feeling to one side, and just enjoy the sight of her splendid melons bouncing away on that cantilever undergarment in front of my nose. She leaned into me and whispered into my ear. "How does it feel to be dancing with a real woman, James?" The answer was the memory of Penny's back under my fingers, and for a moment I was too distracted to reply. Her head next to mine, she pushed on; "How would it feel to be fucking with a real woman?" There was no polite answer to that, even if I were not tongue-tied. Possibly taking my silence as shyness in the face of her brazen offer, she stepped up her attack. "I'm not wearing any knickers under this dress, James." My obvious assumption that she was bluffing was dashed as she coyly pushed a small squashed parcel of silk into my hand. "Doesn't that turn you on?" It was, in fact, only a sense of propriety that stopped me dropping them with revulsion on the dance floor. I was not keen on holding anyone's soiled underwear, least of all anything from Madeline. The assault continued. "If you haven't felt my lovely box around your manhood, you haven't felt nothing, baby!" "Her box around my manhood?" I thought to myself. Was this girl for real? And while I was trying fruitlessly to work out why she was doing this, she launched into the most bizarre and pornographic sexual description, apparently in an attempt to turn me on so much that I would sweep her off her feet. The possibility that I was resistant to her charms obviously had not occurred to her. "Wouldn't you like me naked, writhing on the bathroom tiles while you pee on me? Your hot piss would run all over my tits and between my legs and it would make me so hot that I would even drink it!" She didn't mean it. She couldn't possibly. So why did she think it would turn me on? "Come with me. I know a place where we can be alone!" she invited in what was supposed to be a suggestive whisper. It was as much curiosity as bravado that made me follow her. I assumed we would be going out on the terrace, but in fact she headed in the opposite direction, and slipped out of a door at the back end of the ballroom. Down a short corridor, she pulled out a key from the depths of her dress, and opened up the door to another room. This was a lavish stateroom, furnished almost like a parlour, and obviously for entertaining small numbers of important guests. The ornate gilt tables had marble tops under the lace tablecloths, and the embroidery on the sofa looked very expensive. I wondered how she knew this was here, or indeed why she had the key. Madeline shut the door and immediately pressed up to me provocatively, grinding her hips against me. "Alone at last. Like what you see?" She flirted coquettishly and lifted her breasts from beneath to push them up even more unnaturally. I smiled to myself. I was not going to have to do anything here. It was a fair bet she was going to make a complete fool of herself, completely unaided. I even went along with her when she pushed her face up to mine for a kiss. It was the strangest experience. As I kissed back, her mouth flew wide open and my tongue was alone in a cavern. It was as if her head knew that sexy kisses involved open mouths and swapping saliva, but her tongue was cowering in a corner. I pulled away, oddly disturbed, but she carried on as if all was hunky dory. "Let's get him out to play!" she husked, working at the buttons on my trousers. I almost balked at her clumsy fingers but I couldn't resist seeing how far she would go with this. I found out soon enough. Despite my reservations my cock was more than half erect well, they were fairly amazing breasts! But at the sight of it, she stopped, stepped back, and produced an odd forced laugh. "Is that it? That sorry little thing?" she asked, pointing at it. I shrugged. I was hardly worried if she was attracted to me or not. "Seems to be enough for most." "Oh, James. I'm so sorry if I said something unkind about your little weeny. It is kind of sweet in a way. Some girls might like it. But I couldn't possibly get excited about a thing that size." She gazed at me in mock concern. "Oh, dear, and here you were, looking forward to getting in my pants. I'm so sorry about that." I frowned. Her expression made it plain that she was far from sorry. She paused as if she had suddenly had the greatest idea. "I know. Why don't we pretend that we did it? No one need know. I will tell my girl friends that you were the greatest lover, and you can brag to all your chums about how many times you made me cum, and how loudly I cried out." She giggled. "You can even suggest that I let you do me up the bottom if you like. How do you like that idea?" I stared at her in amazement as I did up my flies. "Sorry, Madeline, I'm just not interested. As you can see I am not very interested in you sexually, and I am certainly not interested in concocting silly stories about how we got it on. I don't indulge in bragging, and if anyone saw us go in here, we should simply tell them that it didn't work out." "You can't! You mustn't! I mean you have to tell them how good I was!" Weird. Her reaction was quite disproportionate. "But as far as I am concerned you weren't," I explained reasonably. "If you don't tell everyone you had the most amazing sex of your life, I'll tell them about your tiny cock. I say you couldn't get it up! I'll say you prefer little boys!" Her face was snarling. The veil had finally dropped. "You think I care what your friends think of me? Do you think that anyone I do care about would believe you?" "You little stuck up prig! I'll get you! I know stuff about you who do you think told Penelope about your skanky prole slut, in the town!" She must have seen from my expression that that got to me, and she carried on viciously. "I'm the one who told Vince that you had a little collarslut he ought to try out. And today I told him you're sending it back, so he won't get to enjoy it after all. You are going to get pulverised on Monday when he catches up with you!" Shit! So that was how he knew! I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he had already caught up with me, but now my blood was boiling. "This was all a set-up, wasn't it? How can you do it to yourself flaunt yourself like that just to get me alone in here? Don't you have any self respect at all?" "Don't you talk about self respect! You're the one with the stupid prole cunt out there. I can't believe Penny agreed to dance with you while that tart was around. I'm going to rip that mask off and show every one who she is!" she screeched. She was half way to the door before I could grab her. I had to stop her leaving the room. She turned and scratched at my face, claws flying. I hung on to the shoulder of her dress, holding her away. With a tearing noise the fabric ripped, exposing half a breast, and then the red mist had me. I don't think I was going to rape her. It was not about sex, or hurting her. It was about humiliation. I was going to humble her and bring her down. I was going to strip her and leave her there naked. I was going to see her face at my feet. We struggled in the folds of cloth surrounding her but they hindered her as much as they protected her, and I was stronger and angrier. In no time I had dragged the dress up over her head, so it held her struggling but helpless. It was like a bag, smothering her head and arms above her armpits but exposing her naked below there, except for the corset and stockings. I dragged her off balance, and threw her on her back on the sofa. Suddenly she stopped struggling and collapsed back limp on cushions. I paused, panting. With the world calming down, I regarded the body in front of me. The arms and head were hidden, but everything below the neck was displayed. The corset was torn, spilling her breasts out, and she really had taken her knickers off. With her long legs splayed open like that she was a sight not to be ignored. Her breasts were amazing. Even while she was on her back, they stood up and out, still spherical. A sudden suspicion occurred to me. She couldn't have. Her Father would never have allowed it! I looked close, and there on the underside of each swollen curve was the telltale pink line. She had had a boob job done! Even I knew the derision that would be heaped on the head of a lady who felt desperate enough to get her breasts enhanced. Boob jobs were for collars. It was so unlikely, that I had never suspected it before now, although now I knew, it was all too obvious. That shape and size of course they were false! Bemused, I let my eyes wander lower. There was something very arousing about the limp body, lying there headless and armless, completely open to my gaze, or even my touch. And what a fantastic body it was. With her legs open like, that her sex was offered on display like a picture. The pubic hair was neatly trimmed, again the behaviour of a collar not of a lady. Fascinated, I knelt down to inspect the smooth trim lips looking so neat and innocent, despite being pulled apart so her actual vaginal opening was clearly visible. If ever a woman's cunt could be called pretty, this was it. But now I looked more closely that was odd, what was going on here? With only a small hesitation, I brought my hands to her groin and gently parted her outer lips with my thumbs. The pink inner folds pulled apart under the tension, and, clearly visible, there was some sort of membrane across the entrance. It was a thin piece of skin so thin as to be almost transparent, and not complete it had a gap at the top. I had never seen one before, but that had to be a hymen. She was a virgin! The body shifted, and through the layers of cloth I could just hear the sound of her catching her breath. Carefully, I broke the laces in the remnants of the bodice around her neck, and gently pulled the dress up off her face. Her eyes were shut and tears were trickling down her cheeks. I sat down next to her and cleared the remnants of the torn outfit from her head and wrists, and waited for her to open her eyes. "Madeline, What does this mean?" I asked, in a voice calmer than I felt. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The great Madeline Carter, the sexiest girl in the school, has never actually had a cock in her. She's too terrified." "What? But you've been out with half the boys in my class. They all say you were the greatest lay they ever had!" "Yeah, well they would, wouldn't they?" The bleak bitterness in her voice chilled me. It took me a few minutes to get the story out of her, but eventually she sat up, heedless of her naked state, and let it out. It turned out she had never been all the way with any of the boys she had dated. Every time she had pulled the same trick she had tried on me. She led them on, and when it came to the crunch, she mocked them, and made them feel inadequate. Then, as a big favour, she agreed to say that the sex had been amazing as long as they said the same thing. Each and every one of them had thought they were the only ones who had failed that they alone were inadequate while everyone else had had an amazing time with her! How did she get away with it every single time? She sighed and sank back, spreading her legs again. "Go on. Do it, go ahead. You may as well. After all someone has to; it might as well be you." Her voice was low and shaky, and I caught something heart wrenchingly sad beneath the bitter bravado. I looked at the most lusted after girl in the school laid out in front of me, offering herself, and despite my unease my prick began to be interested again. No matter what I thought of her, the smooth curves of that female shape were still something else. I slowly reached out to run my fingers up the inside of one thigh and then across the delicate lips above it. Although I had only ever seen two other girls like this, there seemed something odd about the sweet sex lips displayed for me. I stroked them, with the barest brush of my fingertips. The soft skin felt warm and smooth under my fingers. They were quite cute really, but there was something missing. Then it hit me. They were quite dry. Not hot, not swollen, and not wet. Her body was no more interested in my cock than I was in her dowry. "Sorry, Madeline. Save your virginity for someone who wants it." "But you have to! I'm supposed to be experienced and knowledgeable. How can I go to bed with a chap, not even knowing what it feels like to have one up me?" She lifted her head to look at me. Something had occurred to her. "Don't be a gentleman. This is where you can get your revenge God knows I deserve it. I know it will hurt, and this is your chance to make me suffer!" "You're a manipulative bitch and no doubt you would deserve it, but rape doesn't do anything for me." "Rape." Her voice was strange as she repeated the word. "Rape. Me," she mouthed as if trying the combination out. "Rape me! Please, you have to! It's what I need. I'll give you anything if you can force me, you know, do it to me." "Don't be silly, I won't do it" "You have to! I want it so much, to have someone's thing in me, but I can't let go. I am so tired of this. I so want it to be over, but I just can't. I need someone to make it happen for me. Please. It's that part of me that hates boys... I don't know, I'm frightened of myself, as much as them. If you could overcome it, restrain it you can tie me down!" She sat up and looked around wildly. "Here, get those tiebacks, they would do." My mind struggling to work all this out, I slowly collected four tiebacks from the tall velvet drapes, almost for something to do, and let the curtains swing across the floor in front of the windows. In front of her, I hesitated. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" she urged. "Are you sure?" I held up the thick cotton ties, uncertainly. Revenge, yes, it would be some kind of payback. But now that seemed less important than it had ten minutes ago. I had no idea even where to start, and I was uncomfortably aware that a mistake here could land me in deep trouble. Then the image of Annie, this afternoon, in my room, flashed in front of me. Is that what this was? What was it with these girls! "Madeline, you don't need this." "Oh, God, don't tease me. I do want it, I do. I mean, in a way I don't, but I know I need it to be done. Please, I'm sorry I tried to mess with you, I will do anything to make it right!" "Yes, but this would not be it," I said slowly. "Oh, yes, you think want me to take you now. But what you actually need is someone to control you, to take you on permanently. And I am sorry Madeline, but I am not that man." I tossed the curtain ties to a chair and looked at her solemnly. "You mean it, don't you? Oh, shit, some siren I am I can't even get one guy to fuck me." She sighed deeply, and sat up in a more normal position. It was funny. With that face and body, and especially in that getup, she should have looked like a porn star. But for some subtle reason, instead she just looked like a girl without her dress on. "I suppose it's what I deserve, after all's said and done. Do you know how old I am James?" "Yes, seventeen isn't it?" I had a feeling I knew what was coming. "My birthday is third of December. In nine weeks I shall be eighteen. My Mother is so desperate she would accept anyone. My father has upped my dowry to seventy thousand. And with every chap I meet, I screw it up. I can't help it. So who wants a wife older than they are? Who wants a wife that got left on the shelf somehow? Who will still be unmarried by the time they come into the goodies at eighteen? I'll tell you. No-one." In spite of what I used to feel about her, I could not help smiling at her words. "You're too hard on yourself. You are still the wet dream of half the boys in that room out there, you know." I paused, and then decided I need hardly worry about offending her here. And I was curious. "How did you get the boob job? Does your Father know about it?" "That obvious, is it? It was only a little re-shaping, they were actually quite big before, but I... oh, fuck, I don't know." I thought of Penny's words, from what seemed so long ago, on the subject of marriage. "The mating game is a horrible gamble, Maddie, and everyone worries and feels insecure. But you, of all people, should have less need to worry than most." "If only that were true. And yes, of course Father knows. Who do you think paid for it? My poor parents are so desperate they would agree to anything. And you know what happens? They set up some hopeful stud, and I am determined that this time it will work, that he will be the one, and then... something takes over, and I piss it all away like I have a death wish." "Look, of all the chaps you went out with, was there not even one you respected or liked?" She looked at me with curiously still eyes, and for the first time that evening I had the feeling she was being true, to herself and to me. "Yeees. Perhaps one. Bradford Smith. I almost let him take me for real in the Michaelmas term, but I lost my nerve. His cock wasn't small quite the opposite. I had to tell him I was frightened to let such an ugly great thing near me, and it was half the truth. He was embarrassed about the size of the thing can you credit it? But I dreamt about it for the next month, and I still sometimes wonder what it would have been like." She shivered. "Tallish sort of bloke, dark hair, and glasses?" I knew just whom she meant. Most of the year called him 'Beanpole', not always kindly, and I was pretty sure he was here. "That was him." "Get dressed. We are going to sort something out." She was as obedient as a lamb, but the getting dressed was easier said than done. I attempted to make some sort of repair of her ruined ball gown, but it was beyond rescue. Then I had an inspiration. There was something else that would suit my purposes much better anyway. "Clear the things off that side table, and pass me the tablecloth." She obeyed without objection, but began to look worried when she saw what I was doing to it. "Is this some sort of game?" "Yes, that's it. A bit of a game. You put your head in here, and hold out your hands." With a hole in the centre for her head and a curtain tie around the waist for a belt, the lace cloth looked almost Grecian. And the way it fell over her swelling breasts was a bonus. With that wire-framed corset her figure was something to marvel at, and you could just nicely make out her nipples through the lacy holes. "What... what are you doing?" she asked nervously as I tied her hands loosely behind her back and looped another tieback around her neck as a halter. "Come on then," I said tugging her towards the door. "What? I can't go out there! Not like this!" She backed away to the limit of the halter, clearly panicking. "Like this or as naked as the day you were born." I grated. I stepped up to her and forced her face up into mine. "Understand this, Madeline. The old you is dead. The school queen, the prick tease, the prize daughter all gone with that dress, and good riddance. But what is left is not worthless, and now I am going to see what I can make of her. So... naked or like this?" She bowed her head. "Like this," she answered quietly. The gasp from the people nearest us as we entered the ballroom could be heard over the music. It took only a few minutes to spot Bradford Smith's tall head above the rest on the far side of the room. Half naked girl in tow, I set off in his direction. This was in danger of becoming a habit - the bubble of silence that followed us across the floor was as shocked as the one that had followed Annie. Although as I crossed the floor, I looked around and noticed with interest that Petunia was not the only one who had discarded her heavy gown, for a simple slip and petticoat. They all looked as sexy as hell, and none of them were without a partner. Smith stood facing us as I reached him and raised an eyebrow at our appearance. "Pilsbury. Interesting party, " he greeted me. "Thank you, Smith. I believe you have had the pleasure of Miss Carter's acquaintance?" "Ah, yes, Madeline. That pleasure was indeed mine," he replied dryly, and frowned. "This is not quite the Madeline you may remember. Tell me, Smith, have you reached an understanding with any of these lovely young women yet?" "Not as such, no. I er... have not really had my heart in the hunt since crossing Miss Carter's path." "Would you still be interested in Miss Carter?" "I would indeed, but not everything works out as we would like best, Pilsbury." I held out the heavy cotton braided rope, tassel and all. "She can be yours. The breasts aren't real and she is to say the least inexperienced, but the dowry is decent. With a firm hand and enough discipline she could make a wife in a million. You must decide now, though. Right now." "What? Is this some kind of joke?" I was suddenly aware of the size of the ring of silence around us. A sea of faces waited expectantly. "Madeline. If you want to be his, offer yourself." I freed her hands from behind her, gave her the lead and put my hand on her back reassuringly. She knelt in front of Bradford, and held up the end of the rope attached to her own neck "If you will have me, I will be your most obedient wife." Bradford looked around, as if someone else could help him, and then gave a bark of a laugh. "I must be mad, but yes." The crowd cheered and clapped, and the two of them were surrounded in a swirl of congratulations. I just hope he can square it with his mother, I mused to myself. I tore my eyes away from the sight of Maddie offering her face up to Bradford's kiss, and looked around for Annie. Oddly, she was over there, deep in conversation with Penelope Jones. What could they have to chat about, I wondered with a little concern. But as I approached them, Penny addressed me first. "So, what have you been up to?" "Oh, just getting out of a scrape," I told her, carelessly. For some reason it was nice to see that smile again. "I've been looking for you. It's ten to midnight, and almost time to wrap up." "What about the last dance?" She grinned cheekily. "Shouldn't you be keeping that one for your 'date' here? " "No, I wanted to keep that one for the most beautiful girl in the room." "Better," she said. "If you keep this up we'll make a decent flatterer out of you after all. But look, the reason I came to find you is that, without your mother... Well it will be a bit strange if there is not even one Pilsbury in the farewell lineup." "So you want me to help shake hands and murmur polite nothings to the departing guests?" "Unless it is against your plans to embarrass your family... " "No, I think I have done enough of that tonight. Bit it will cost you." She regarded me warily. "Spit it out then." "The last dance, of course. Did you think I was joking?" So she took my hand to dance the last dance together, and when I started to talk to her she just shushed me. "Don't say a thing. Let's just pretend." 'Pretend what?' I asked myself, but I kept quiet, as I had been bid, and let the music wash over us. It was, of course, a waltz, and I steered through half closed eyes and thought of nothing but the warm soft human body moving with me in my arms. The dance seemed endless and yet ended before I could begin to get used to the feeling. "James, how are you going to get home?" asked Mrs. Jones as she and Penny stood by my side at the top of the stairs shaking hands with the queue of departing guests. "No idea," I replied out of the corner of my mouth, in between inane platitudes to the stuffed shirts nodding to me. My Mother had presumably taken the Town Hall limo with her, ages ago. "You must come with us, then. We will give you a lift." And so, bang on time, with midnight chiming from the ancient clock in its niche above the door; it was all over. A fair sprinkling of drama, I thought, but on the whole a much more enjoyable occasion than I had deserved. I had turned down sex with Madeline Carter. I had even done both her and Charlie favours, that hopefully they would still thank me for in years to come. I had faced down Murdoch, and got away with it. Above all, I had discovered that I was no longer afraid to do anything. I was the equal of anyone in this room. But oddly, of all the triumphs of tonight, do you know what filled me with a rush of excitement? It was the thought of ten minutes in the back seat of a darkened limousine with Penelope Jones beside me. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 13 is at /files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_13.txt