Chapter 7

Sunday

The journey back was uneventful, tiring, a let down. The end of a holiday is always a let down.

School took over their lives again. Helen was running up to A Levels, Peter to GCSEs. Both found their lives more stressed by the helpful advice from teachers, parents, and every other adult that thought they knew best. Helen and Peter opted to retreat to their rooms more and more.

One other event occurred. Angelique had told him two things: one, she would not be sleeping with anybody else until he came, and two, he was gratifyingly enthusiastic but needed practice. “If there is anybody who wants sex ‘sans attaches’ then that would be fine (he looked up sans attaches, and came away bemused but smiling).

At first he thought ‘Jeanette Riley’, but getting permission from his girlfriend didn’t make her anymore available. But Tracy Longtemp proved more interesting. He found himself beside her in the library, she was reading. He looked over and realised that she was reading not one of the English texts, but a trashy novel. She saw him looking and looked suitably embarrassed. Was it that she been caught reading trash, or been caught not working. “I can’t help it. I keep getting distracted. I don’t know what to do.” Actually, Tracy would walk the exams, she probably had the word ‘swot’ running through her like a stick of rock. But she also had blonde hair and nice legs. She wore glasses but only because she needed them to read small print, she found it easier to keep them on all the time. She probably had a bust but she made no attempt to emphasise it.

“You need to relax more. Look, come to the flicks with me. Yes, you can. You know you are the cleverest girl, cleverest girl or boy.”

“What about Tristan Cun – I mean Tristan de Cunla?” His nickname had become Tristan de Cunha, and that had now become Tristan Cunt. Naturally he hated it.

“Okay, cleverest girl then. Still, you’ll be fine in the summer. There is a foreign language – French – film on at the Arts Cinema – Day For Night. Oh you must know it - Truffaut, you can treat it as revision.” She agreed.

There was no nudity, no actual sex, but plenty of implied sex off screen, and some nipples showing through clothes. Tracey was intrigued. “I thought when you suggested a French film, you’d take me to some raunchy French film with lots of nudity, I wouldn’t have minded. I heard you met a girl when you were skiing, is she very nice?” Peter told her how lovely Angelique was. “You are lucky. You have a girl and yet no distraction from work.”

“Oh, that’s not true. She said I needed to practice.”

“Practice French?”

“Well yes I do, but that’s not what she meant. No, never mind.” something in his voice gave her a clue.

“Ohhhh. She wants you to practice ‘that’. But ... is that why you suggested we go to the cinema?” Did you think I’d be your practice dummy?”

“Not at all. I thought it would be nice to go with you.”

“We’d have to be careful, your parents would think you were two timing her otherwise, and parents tend to have a thing about that. Don’t know why. You could come round on Tuesday so we could work on our homework.”

He tried not to look surprised. She was interested in the idea of sex with no strings. Boys often got attached and clingy.

It turned out it was that easy. On Tuesday, and Friday, her mother worked late at the charity shop. Tuesday they sorted the donations, Friday they stayed open late. “I want to know what it’s like. But I don’t want it to get in the way. If you start getting all yummy, I’ll dump you.” was her offer.

The first afternoon after school, they actually did their homework. Then they started to make out and Tracey’s mother came home so they stopped. On the Friday, they decided to make out first. “You tell me what to do. Should I be on top or under?” she asked.

“Up to you.”

“Wow! You aren’t very forceful. Well?”

“You on top. Here.” He undid her school blouse and her bra and then pulled at her pants and tights.

“You’ll tear them. Here watch.” She rolled down the tights and then pulled off her knickers. The skirt covered her below the waist. He undid his trousers and pulled her astride of him, and stroked her breasts. One was a cup size bigger than the other, she padded one side to compensate. He said nothing, which was the right approach. “So, what do you need to practice?”

“I’m not sure that’s for me to say.”

“Your foreplay could do with some help – you’re in the ‘get your coat, you’ve pulled’ standard at the moment.”

“I was better in France. Honestly.”

“Well, you’d better demonstrate, otherwise I can’t give tips.”

“Tracey ... you aren’t a virgin are you?”