Chapter 2: End of School Celebrations

Summer holidays were days of worry for those of us who had taken our examinations earlier in the year. There were 2 sets of exams: the CSEs for 16 year olds and “A” Levels 2 years later. My CSEs were safely kept in my writing desk at home but must admit I was concerned about my “A” levels which I had sat in June as they determined which university or college (if any) you would go to. If, on opening the results envelope in mid-August, you saw an “A” or even better, an “A+” alongside each subject, you could expect a place at one of your top choices of University, especially if you had a conditional letter of acceptance from a university.

I eagerly ripped open my envelope, but my hopes were dashed when I saw an A and 2 Bs. This was not a poor score but competition for the “top” universities was keen, especially as this was a “bulge” year with a higher number of students my age applying for places.

I was more than happy a few days later when I received an offer from one of my selections, to commence in September. I had intended to go into teaching and my future placement would give me a BA degree followed by a 1 year teaching certificate course near London.

I rang round my friends to compare notes with congratulations and commiserations being exchanged as appropriate. I was disappointed that my band of friends were being scattered far and wide by the University Admissions system and I felt a frisson of fear when I realised, I would be alone for the next four years in a foreign city.

During the phone calls, a suggestion was made to have a little celebration of the start of what would be, a new life after school. The telephone companies probably made a fortune as we all rang back and fore, identifying participants and proposing venues.

It was my suggestion that we book a meal at a moderately expensive restaurant in Cardiff after a day of sightseeing, then spending the evening in one of Cardiff’s numerous clubs.

A dozen of us subsequently congregated excitedly at the railway station, early one Saturday morning. We each carried small overnight bags with our “clubbing” clothes and had booked a convenient hotel room for us to change in.

Most of the day passed sightseeing in some (most of) Cardiff’s upmarket clothes shops. We ignored the museum, the churches, the river, and Cardiff Castle! So much for sightseeing!

The restaurant we had chosen was in the hotel where we had booked the room. Our meal was splendid and with so much female presence, the waiters hovered industriously, bringing our several courses; filling, and refilling glasses.

Three of us rose, a little giggly, and made our way to the “Ladies”. On exiting we were approached by three of the waiters who had given each of us close personal attention during the meal. They were young, although older than us and without much ado, engaged us in conversation with little regard to personal space.

Leon (my waiter) was black while the other two were possibly from the Middle East somewhere. All were good looking, and they conducted the conversation with little touches and nudges, subtly exploring our bodies as they questioned us about our plans, who we were, where we were from etc. I flirted with them in the belief that numbers would prevent matters from getting out of hand.

My friend Marion blurted out that we were going to a particular club afterwards and the men nodded and said they may go there too.

We returned to our table while the rest of the gang exchanged knowing looks and whispered asides.

The club later was fabulous; packed with young people dancing to music from a big local group. I had several drinks as the heat was phenomenal, especially as it was a very warm summer day.

I am not sure when I lost the gang, but we were all dancing together (with one or two boys mixed in from time to time). Suddenly they disappeared and I spent the next half an hour checking the “Ladies” and the recesses around the club to no avail.

Mildly peeved, I stood scanning the dance floor again without success. On feeling a tap on my shoulder, I turned to find Leon and the other two waiters from the restaurant smiling like Cheshire Cats. (I later discovered that the other girls had spotted them and left the club to avoid another meeting, not realising that I was missing until they had boarded the train for home) I explained to the three men that the others had disappeared without explanation and the four of us toured the club in case I had missed them previously.

The music was now giving me a headache and Leon suggested we go somewhere cooler and quieter. I agreed and we all trouped from the club as I gave them a run down on why we were there and what we had done.

We came to a gate next to the castle and on going through, I was assailed by the scent of flowers. One of the men produced a bottle of wine and paper cups while another had a bag of petit fours and we sat on a bench under some trees to partake.

Between the wine with our meal and drinks in the club, I was already a little squiffy and the bottle of wine, I think, was a little more than a bottle of wine.

Leon was kissing me, his hands releasing a zipper while other hands explored my unresisting body. Still sitting, my little “clubbing dress” pooled around my hips and fingers sprung the clasp on my bra, exposing my breasts. A mouth closed on a nipple and Leon’s tongue in my mouth blocked any protest. Other hands were sliding my panties down past my knees and yet another mouth closed on my sex.

As they lay me down on the bench, I opened my eyes to see a long, slim dark olive penis approaching my face and, almost instinctively, my mouth opened, and it slid between my lips. Without thinking, I began sucking and licking the intruder while the body in front of my face prevented me from seeing Leon kneeling between my legs, his rod closing in on my pussy. The other man was still occupied with my breasts.