Chapter 14: The Question

I slept well. Very well. With no dreams of green cliff-top pastures and cryptic conversations to disturb me. It felt good.

I wasn’t quite so keen on the whole waking up alone thing, mind you. I’d kind of gotten used to the heat a sleeping woman generates, not to mention the early morning encores.

But this particular Sunday I was able to shower, dress and have breakfast over in the canteen all before most of the rest of the boys on Wintersmith’s ground floor had even woken up. By nine I was in the rather unusual position of having a few hours with nothing to do. Sure, I had an essay to write, but I’d had planned to set aside the afternoon to do that—giving myself the deadline of when everyone turned up for our weekly DVD fest meant I’d work better and actually finish the thing.

So I was able to settle down in the big red chair (which I hardly ever used) and indulge myself in a novel I’d been meaning to start for weeks but never gotten around to.

Come midday, when Mark knocked on my door to see if I was ready for lunch, I’d ploughed my way through almost half of it.

Usually, Sunday lunch was just me, Mark and Jem, but this Sunday, Phil said he wanted to come and, naturally, he brought Emily with him. And because Emily was there, so was Amanda, Lottie and Libby. If I’m honest, when I found myself sat between Amanda and Lottie, I suspected that this had all been Amanda’s idea and Phil’s wish to come with us was just her excuse to come too.

In fairness, the interrogation didn’t start until the main courses had arrived. My first thought was that it was weird that she wanted to know all about my time with Vanessa but hadn’t asked about any of the other girls I’d been with. But when I thought about it, I realised that all the other girls were her friends and she probably got the gossip from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. But she hardly knew Vanessa, as was evident in her opening salvo.

“So, how was it last night with ... What’s her name again?”

“Vanessa.”

“Yeah, right. So, how was she? Does everyone who wants a P.R.E. have to turn up early now and treat it like a date, or was this a one-off?”

“First, what happened between me and Ness is none of your business, and second, anyone else you’ve got lined up needn’t turn up early, or even bother turning up at all, because as of now this shit ends. It’s over. I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Oh, come on Paul, don’t be ridiculous. You say that every time, but come the next weekend, you step up like a man.”

“Not this time.”

“But I’ve promised Rachael, Kimberly and Hannah they can all have another turn with you soon, and then there’s that other fresher, the one from your course. Oh, what’s her name...?” She snapped her fingers repeatedly.

“Katie or something,” said Lottie.

“What?” I said. “Katie? Brunette? Bit taller than you?”

Amanda nodded. “That’s the one. Are you really going to let them all down?”

“I won’t be letting anyone down.”

“Oh, good.”

“You will. You made promises to them you had no rights to make so now you can just go and unmake them.”

“Paul, don’t be so fucking miserable all your life. I’m throwing girls at you, and you are turning them down. Is that normal?”

“No,” said Jem and Mark together. I shot them a stern look but they both sat there with grins a mile wide. Sure, they were good mates, but when it came to this, they were a couple of arseholes.

“This is because of last night, isn’t it? The little bitch talked you into being her boyfriend or something, didn’t she? Or was she so amazing in bed that no one else compares? ‘Cause if that’s what you think, I can change your mind again pretty damn quick. There’s no way some skanky fr—”

“IF YOU MUST KNOW,” I said, far too loudly. I just wanted to make sure she stopped talking, but I succeeded in drawing the attention of the people at nearby tables too. I continued in a quieter voice, “If you must know, we didn’t sleep together.”

“What?” said Amanda, Lottie and Libby at the same time. Emily gave me a smile that seemed to say she approved.

“We didn’t spend the night together,” I said. Then to clarify, just in case they didn’t understand, “We didn’t fuck. There was no shagging. No cock sucking or pussy licking. We didn’t have sex. Got it?”

“But ... But...” I think this was the first time I’d seen Amanda lost for words.

“But why?” said Lottie.

“It didn’t feel right,” I said.

“How do you mean?” said Libby. “How could it not feel right?”

I shrugged. “We had a good time, in the pub and the club and stuff, and when we got back to Wintersmith ... I guess we didn’t want to spoil it.”

“Spoil it?” said Amanda, incredulity dripping from her words. “Spoil it? Fuck me, how could a million orgasms and a night of endless pleasure spoil it? What, is she a fucking lesbian or something? Does she not like cock? This is mad. I’m fucking mad! Fucking livid. I swear, if she wasn’t going to go through with it, she could have said something. Someone else could have had their turn instead.”

“Amanda,” said Emily softly. “That’s enough. I’m sure she didn’t plan—”

“Damn right that’s enough!” I said. I pointed at Amanda. “Now listen here. This stops. Right now. Got it? I’m not some piece of meat. I’m not some god-damn stunt cock you can pass around your friends like a new toy. I didn’t have sex with Vanessa, so what? Big fucking deal! I’ll tell you now, I got more out of last night, from when she turned up at my door to when I kissed her goodnight, than I did from any night I’ve spent with you—” I pointed at Libby next. “Or with you.” Then I pointed at Lottie. “Or with you, or with any of the others. And it’s nothing to do with sex or the lack of it. It’s because she treated me like a person. She talked to me. She listened to me. Yeah, I said from the start it wasn’t a date, but by the end it sure as hell felt like one.” I took a breath and enjoyed the looks on the three girls’ faces. “And you know what? I enjoyed it so much, I’m going to ask her to go out with me again next weekend. Hell, I might not even wait until the weekend.”

“Good on you, mate,” said Mark.

“Yeah, good for you,” said Phil.

“Does this mean we can take your place with the girls waiting their turn?” said Jem.

“Really, Paul?” said Emily, quietly. In her eyes was a mix of concern and hope.

I nodded. “Yeah. Really.”

“Good. I think you should give it a chance. See how it goes.”

“Emmy!” said Amanda. “How can you tell him that? That’s, like, so not fair!”

“Not fair on who? On you?” So the two best friends could have disagreements. “Paul needs to do this. He needs to at least try it. You’ve had your fun.” She glanced at Lottie and Libby. “All of you. So give him some space now. Okay?”

Amanda had the grace to actually look chastised. Grudgingly she said, “Okay.”

This was echoed by the other two.

“Now,” said Emily, “Can we put this topic to bed and enjoy the rest of the meal in peace?”

Jem and Mark laughed. Then Emily realised what she’d said. “Yeah, sorry. Bad word choice. So sue me.”

I found it surprisingly easy to concentrate that afternoon. I finished the first draft of my essay with a solid two hours of research and writing. I always hand-wrote the first draft, which my friends, particularly Imogen, told me was foolish, but I found it easy to spot errors and make changes when I had something to make notes on rather than work off a computer screen. I did a red-pen revision over the next half an hour and had it all typed and printed an hour after that. A very satisfying afternoon all in all.

After a fairly light evening meal, the usual suspects piled into my room. They were still showing DVDs in the common room upstairs, but I’d taken to buying the latest DVDs each week and my friends seemed to prefer that to the older films upstairs. I’d actually built up quite a collection. So much so that I was starting to seriously think about the need for some storage. I’m surprised that no one questioned how I could afford them all. But they didn’t. And I wasn’t about to give anything away.

My spot was on the bed with my pillows propped against the headboard. Mark sat in the big red chair, Jem dragged a bean bag from his room and anyone else who turned up took a spot on the floor. Imogen quite often sat on my bed, further down and crossways from me, leaning up against the wall under the window. Vanessa, when she came, typically sat on the floor with her back against the bed, her head by her friend’s feet. But this time she sat on the bed, next to Imogen.

She smiled at me and I smiled back. No words passed between us, but none were needed. We both knew things had changed. We could feel it.

The films ended a few hours later and, with a series of good night calls, the room emptied. I had wanted to talk to Vanessa, but she and Imogen left as I was putting the DVD away. I considered going after her but figured there was no urgency. It could wait.

“I wanted to thank you,” Imogen said in that sweet accent of hers.

“What for?”

“Saturday. You know, with Vanessa.”

“It was my pleasure. And I’m not just saying that. I really did have a good time.”

“And you didn’t even fuck her.”

“Gen!” It was rare that Imogen used bad language. I guess it had more impact when she did because of it.

“Well, it’s true isn’t it?”

“I know, but...” I shrugged. There’s nothing so useful as a good shrug.

“Anyway, I wanted to say thank you. You know, for not turning her away. For not treating her like all the others.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

“I know, I know. You’re the one treated like a piece of meat by them, not the other way around. You’ve been telling me that all term. The point is, Ness has been on edge ever since she put her name on that stupid list. I thought she was all excited but turns out she was dead scared and just acting excited to cover it up. She did a good job too. Had me fooled right up until Friday night.”

“It was your idea she come and find me early, right?”

“No, it was her idea. I just convinced her you’d not be a prick about it and tell her to get lost. I’m glad I got that right. I was worried.”

“Worried? What, that I’d be a prick or that I’d tell her to get lost?”

“Both. Don’t look at me like that, Paul, we both know how you’ve been about this whole stupid thing.”

Guess what I did. Yep. Shrug.

“So, thank you for not being a prick. Thank you for making sure she had a good time and, I suppose, for not fucking her and dumping her.”

“I never—”

She held her hand up to stop me. “I know that! I also know that all those other girls have a lot more experience than Ness. Know what I mean?”

“You mean she’s a...”

“No. She isn’t. But she’s had a couple of bad experiences with her last boyfriend. Her only boyfriend actually. She’ll kill me for saying this, but I think that’s part of the reason she put her name down in the first place.”

“Eh? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does. Look, she’s never been done properly, right? Then there’s this guy, who she quite likes anyway, who apparently is some kind of super-stud who’s guaranteed to make sure the girls he’s with are done good and proper. And all she has to do is go and get herself in the queue.”

I rubbed my face and sighed. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just ... Things suddenly seem more complicated than they did five minutes ago.”

“Why?”

“They just do.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Not now. I need some time to think.”

“Oh. That’s not a good sign.”

I was quiet for the rest of the day. I really had no idea what disturbed me more about what Imogen had said. Was it that Vanessa had had bad experiences and had come to me looking to get done good and proper and receive the good experience she’d been missing? Did that mean that all I was now was a bloke girls came to make sure they got their rocks off? Only, Vanessa hadn’t, had she? We didn’t do it, did we? So what did that mean? Did she get scared because of her past experiences? Or was she scared of what I might do to her having heard the stories? Did this reputation I’d developed by knocking girls out with orgasms mean I’d never be able to have normal sex with a girl again? And what was normal sex anyway?

Or was it that simple phrase, “There’s this guy she quite likes anyway...”? What did that mean? How did she quite like me? As a friend? Or something more than that? Did she see me as a potential boyfriend? Future husband maybe? No, that’s a step too far, isn’t it? She was still eighteen as far as I was aware (although I’d never asked), and she wouldn’t be thinking about marriage and kids and what not just yet. Would she? Or would she?

The more I thought about it, the worse it got. The same things kept swimming around my head and I didn’t seem able to come to any conclusions. By the time I got back to Wintersmith that evening, I was beginning to think that maybe just going along with Amanda’s list of girls was the easy option. Certainly, the voice in my head thought it was the best option, but as I’ve said before, her opinion really didn’t count. Or shouldn’t count.