Chapter 20: GeordieSlut.com

I woke up late but refreshed on Friday morning having slept really well—with no dreams to disturb me. Well, I say late. I guess that nine-thirty isn’t really that late. Hell, for most students it would be classed as early. But I was an early-bird, usually up and about, showered and dressed by seven-thirty most mornings, so, for me, nine-thirty was a lie in.

Actually, I’d been woken by Mark stomping about getting ready for his nine o’clock exam, but I smiled and rolled over to face the wall and closed my eyes again for another half an hour.

It felt a bit strange, knowing that I quite literally had nothing to do that day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. I’d finished my exams and lectures didn’t start up again until Monday. And because they would all be new courses, with new topics and in some cases different tutors, I couldn’t even get a head start on the reading since I didn’t know what the reading actually was.

So I had nothing to do. And it felt weird.

I was pondering this when my phone beeped. The one-word message was from Imogen.

Breakfast?

I replied that I’d meet her at the foot of the stairs in ten minutes, which would give me just enough time to shower and dress. I wasn’t surprised when Vanessa came down the stairs by Imogen’s side.

We took longer over breakfast than usual, the three of us just sitting in the canteen talking about nothing, looking forward to the prospect of three days free from studies.

“So, what are we going to do today?” Imogen said.

“I planned on just sitting about all day doing nothing,” said Vanessa.

“But that’ll get boring really quickly.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Imogen shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked. What do you think we should do, Paul?”

“I’m all for Ness’ plan. I’ve got a couple of box-sets I downloaded that I haven’t had a chance to watch yet.”

“Paul could take us shopping?” Vanessa said with a grin.

I pointed at myself and said, “Me?”

“Well, you can drive is what I mean. Gen and I will do the shopping. Even if it is mostly window shopping.”

“Now that sounds like a plan,” said Imogen. “How about we go to that big shopping centre they built next to the Olympic Park in London. I haven’t been yet, but it’s supposed to be awesome.”

“Hang on, hang on,” I said, holding up my hands. “If you’re planning on going there, I’m sure there’s a whole lot of our friends who’d like to go too. So maybe we can do that tomorrow?”

“He’s right,” Vanessa said. “People will be pissed if they find out we went without them.”

“We can go on the train,” I said. “Go into central London too, perhaps. It’s been a while since I’ve been. We can make a day of it. Go early, come back late.”

“Okay,” said Imogen. “But what about today?”

I shrugged again. “I don’t know.” After a second’s thought I said, “Have either of you eaten at my sister’s restaurant?”

“Your sister has a restaurant?” Vanessa said. “Where?”

“Back in Micester. I’ve been meaning to take Mark there since he thinks we’ll get a big discount or something. I know it’s his last exam this morning, so maybe we can wait for him, then go there for lunch. Then, in the afternoon, I’ll show you around my hometown. I mean, there’s not much to see really, but—”

“That’s a great idea!” Vanessa said.

“Sorted then. We’ll watch one of the box-sets until Mark gets back, then I’ll treat you all to lunch at Vicky’s place.”

With that, we cleared away our plates and hustled back across the road to Wintersmith. Little did I know that I wouldn’t get to watch the boxset, but I really should have known the trip to Micester would be a bad idea.

Rather than go upstairs to their rooms first, the girls followed me to my room. We stopped off at the kitchen first, where I collected a bottle of coke that I had in the fridge. I had snacks in my room too, so we’d be all set for a morning of vegging out. I’d not entirely legally downloaded the full third season of an American television series based on a horror comic book. I’d seen the first and second seasons during my time in The US, but in the UK the series was shown on a subscription channel that we couldn’t get access to in the hall. At least, I assumed we couldn’t. I hadn’t actually asked the question, but something in my gut told me that the university wasn’t going to let me stick a satellite dish on the side of the building.

“You know,” Imogen said as we walked down the corridor to my room, “You’re going to have to stop all this illegal downloading when you’re a proper lawyer. You’ll get struck off or something.”

I grinned. “That’s, what? At least five years away? Plenty of time.”

She slapped my arm playfully. “You’re terrible, you are.”

Vanessa was a step behind us and while I was teasing Imogen, I almost didn’t notice her sharp intake of breath.

I did hear her mutter, “Shit. That bastard.”

I turned to ask her what was wrong, but she was already legging it away from us.

“What—?”

“Paul. Look.” Imogen handed me a piece of paper. “It was stuck to this door,” she said, pointing to the nearest one. “There’s one on all the doors. Even yours.” She pointed towards my room.

I ran over and tore down the poster taped to my door then compared it to the one Imogen had handed me. They were obviously the same. Across the top, in large type, was a single word—SLUT. Underneath was a series of grainy photos which, while they hadn’t photocopied particularly well, were clearly of a woman in—shall we be delicate and call them compromising positions—with several men.

I threw a questioning at Imogen and she replied, “Look at the girl in the pictures, Paul. Look closely.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can see who it is. But...” But what? These pictures were of Vanessa. It was no wonder she’d run away.

Imogen shook her head. “There’s time for whos and whys and whatnots later. Right now we need to get rid of them. There’s one on every door down here. There’s probably one on every damn door in the hall! I’ll get the rest of them down here. You go clear the next floor up. I’ll do the third floor then meet you on the top. We’ll clear that then try and talk to Nessa.”

“But...”

“Quick, Paul! Before people start coming back from their exam and see them.”

“But not everyone’s in an exam. Some people will have already seen them.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that. We can’t control the gossip. But we can minimise the damage. Now go!”

I nodded and headed for the stairs. There weren’t just posters on every door. Whoever had done this had stuck the damn things on the stairwell walls, the windows, everywhere. I even checked the bathroom and found posters on the doors of the individual stalls.

I ripped them all down. Every single one I saw. But I had a horrible feeling I hadn’t gotten them all. Some of the bedroom doors didn’t have a poster—either ripped down and disposed of by the occupier already or, more likely, kept somewhere safe to be shown to friends.

I had a better look at the photos while I waited for Imogen outside Vanessa’s room. I daren’t try and talk to Vanessa without her. The lack of shock that Imogen displayed told me she already knew of the photos’ existence.

There were four of them on the poster, but God knows how many there were in total. She didn’t look much different in the photos to now, so my guess was they were taken during her last year at school. And since they were probably taken with the camera on a smartphone, the likelihood was the photographer (pornographer?) had snapped away with abandon. Hell, let’s be honest, the likelihood was that most of the guys at this party had a smartphone and they all took pictures.

In two of them, she was on her back, sucking one cock while getting royally fucked. In a third, she was riding a cock reverse cowgirl style, facing the guy’s feet (and the camera) so you could see the point of penetration clearly. In the final photo, she was again lying on her back, this time legs spread and covered all over her body with pools of semen.

“Stop looking at them, Paul,” Imogen said as she approached.

“I just ... I mean, I...”

“I’ll explain everything. Or Ness will. I hope. But if she doesn’t, then I will. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Good.” Then she faced Vanessa’s door and hammered on it as hard as she could. “Ness! It’s me. Open up.”

“Is Paul with you?” Her voice was quiet, and it wasn’t because of the door between us.

“No.”

“Liar!”

“Okay, he is. But he’s helped me collect up all of those things we could find. We think we got them all. Come on, Ness. He just wants to know what happened. And you know he won’t judge. Hell, he’s probably done worse himself. And besides, if you don’t tell him, you know I will. He deserves to know this wasn’t your fault.”

There was silence from the other side of the door. Then it creaked open slowly and Vanessa said, “Of course it was my fault. I’m the one that let myself get into that fucked up position.”

“Only because they took advantage of you. Now let us in and tell Paul the whole story.”

Imogen and Vanessa sat on the bed—Imogen at the foot, Vanessa at the head. Vanessa had one leg tucked underneath her with the other dangling off the bed. Imogen sat crossed-legged. They both half-faced each other and half-faced me as I sat on the lounge chair. Vanessa’s chair was blue and much more tasteful and modern than the manky old red one in my room.

“Just tell him what you told me,” Imogen said softly.

Vanessa just stared at her hands as she wrung them in her lap as if she was trying to clean them of some unseen dirt. Or maybe it wasn’t her hands she was trying to clean.

Imogen sighed and began, “His name—”

“No!” said Vanessa, snapping her head up to look at her friend. “I’ll ... I’ll tell him. Just ... In my own time. Okay?”

She stood and walked across the room to her desk. For a moment she stood stock-still, eyes seemingly fixed on the photos that adorned the pinboard above the desk, but I sensed she wasn’t really looking at them, that she was looking somewhere else. Or maybe somewhen else.

“You have no idea,” she said, “how hard it is to move from somewhere like South Shields to somewhere like Richmond.” She faced the wall, but her words were directed at me. And perhaps Imogen too. I had the feeling that while Imogen knew what happened, she perhaps didn’t understand why it had happened.

“I thought we were pretty well off when we lived back home. Some people even thought we were dead posh.” She chuckled. “But I didn’t understand the meaning of posh or well off until we moved down south. We had a big, five-bedroom house in South Shields. Lovely location, big garden, double garage. In Richmond, we were lucky to find a three-bedroom terrace we could afford.” She laughed. “There are two-bedroom flats on sale in Richmond for what our house back home cost.”

“I can understand that. I’ve seen—” Imogen shot me a stern look and I shut up.

“It’s hard enough being the new girl in school, but being the new girl and sounding like me in a school full of posh kids who sound like they’ve got a plum or two in their mouth ... That’s really hard. No one could understand us at first. Some acted like they still couldn’t understand us even after I’d been there for a year. Just a bunch of posh, stuck-up snobs, all of them. I made a few friends, but not many. And none I’d call best friends, you know?” She twisted to look Imogen in the eye. “Not like you.”

Imogen’s face split into a comforting smile, which Vanessa returned before she looked back at the wall.

“So I was pretty lonely really. Which is why I agreed to go out with him when he asked. James. That was his name. Back home I’d have run a mile from him. He was the last type of guy I’d have gone out with. But when you’re feeling so completely alone...”

“Been there,” said Imogen.

Vanessa shook her head. “Not like this.” She finally turned to face us, leaning her bottom against her desk and gripping the edge tightly in her hands. Her shoulders we hunched up, as if she were standing outside in a storm.

“Actually, at first, he was fine. Attentive. Complimentary. Exactly what you’d expect from a rich, posh kid. He bought me gifts—flowers, chocolate, even jewellery. And I’m sorry to say I let him get further than I really should. If you know what I mean.

“That’s when things changed. After the first time we had sex. He’d bought me a really nice phone and I got a text from him one night asking me to send him a picture. So I did. Then he asked for another one and asked if I’d show him some skin. So I did. And he kept asking. And each time he asked, he wanted more. In my pyjamas. Wrapped in a towel after a shower. In my bra. Then bra and panties. Then just the panties. Then completely nude.

“Then when we were together, he started asking if he could take pictures, after all, it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Just something to remind him of me. Nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t show anyone. I should have known better. I really should have known better.

“Then he wanted a photo of me performing on him. Nothing to worry about. Just for him. He wouldn’t show anyone.”

“I think I can see where this is going,” I said. “You don’t need to go on.” I knew this must be difficult for her. Why prolong it?

“No. I need to do this.” She took a deep breath. “When he asked if he could video me on his phone giving him a blowjob, that’s when I knew I was in real trouble. When I knew how far I’d let myself get into this mess. I said no, of course, but he said if I didn’t, he’d make sure everyone in our school saw the pictures he already had. All the kids. All the teachers. Even the parents. Even my parents.

“After the first video, there was a second, this time a blowjob followed by him fucking me from behind. Then he invited a friend to join us. Then a different friend. It spiralled out of control, and I knew I had no choice because if I refused then everything he already had would get out there. It went on for nearly a year.