The Trip

In the morning, they woke in the same bed, his hand was still cupping that area – at once magically firm and soft in ways that he could not describe: soft curly hairs and gentle folds of soft skin over that firm pelvis – and his mouth was lodged just beside a nipple like he had just stopped suckling, perhaps he had. It was an hour before the boat was due to dock.

“Well, that was an experience. I suppose I should have satisfied your lust too, I could feel it needed some release.”

“It’s fine Veronica, honestly. I think we’d better get up. Do you want to shower?”

“I do, I think you need one too. Look it is a wet room, we can keep the curtain open and you can wash me if you like. It’s the least I can do.” His erection came back with a vengeance and he said he’d love to wash her, but he had better wash himself too as he’d come on her if she did it. She wasn’t sure she’d mind, but they didn’t have time to debate. “Veronica, can I ask you one other thing? Why did you leave your school.”

“You mustn’t tell. Promise!” So many promises to keep quiet about. “One of the teachers made an indecent proposal to me. It wasn’t just a jokey suggestion. One of the girls had been, well she had been caught alone by him and he’d said better not do it ‘normal’ in case she got preggers and, well he...” Timothy didn’t understand. “He fucked her up the arse. Okay? She said she hadn’t agreed but she wouldn’t complain because it was his word against her and anyway she didn’t want anybody to know she had a penis up her backside. Of course he was a teacher so he’d have been sacked anyway unless he denied everything; but there might have been others, probably were. So when he suggested we could meet, I knew he would target me until he got me alone. I just walked out, there and then. It’s all true, I swear.” Timothy assured her he believed her, and suggested she should report him. “I know, I should. But, well no-one would believe me.” He thought of suggesting she take the high ground and then thought how pompous that would sound coming from him. He let it drop.

He put on the kettle and later stepped out of the shower, naked, like some married couple, to make two coffees. Then they shyly dressed. Her pants were dry (just about – the waist band might still be damp, but it would soon dry on her), so he was give his semi-clean Y-fronts back. Semi-clean because he hadn’t dribbled piss in them (yet), but they did have some lovely stains in the groin. He wanted to sniff them but resisted in case she thought he was a perverted weirdo – but then all boys are. Still, he was right, he was sure they were still warm from encasing her 11 out of 10 body. He put them on and quickly pulled on his jeans to hide his immediate and very solid boner.

Then they packed and went up on deck to mill around with the others where no one person asked which cabin they had been in – nobody took an interest in such things.

Mr Leewondam and Mrs Kent appeared together whilst pretending to be meeting by coincidence. Veronica eyed Timothy and made a face that said ‘told you’. The two adults appeared happy ... no, content would be better. Certainly in a good mood anyway. The two trainees and it was obvious to a few more observant pupils that they were cheerfully tired too. Drifting past Veronica, Timothy whispered “Them as well? Are we the only ones not getting any?” and laughed.

The coach was waiting for them, their luggage still in place underneath. They would have to wait to be able to change clothes, but even Daniel Jenkins suggesting to Mrs Kent that she could get a second job in Amsterdam “As a teacher I mean, miss.” could not dampen the mood.

“Of course you did Jenkins. I’m flattered that you think I could work here, but now we’ve left the EU, I’d need a work permit you see? So I’ll have to meet you down Docker’s Road – that’s where you spend your nights isn’t it?” She was suggesting, with just as much (lack of) subtly that he offered himself of an evening on the road known for Gay pickups. Daniel had met his match with her; she couldn’t be embarrassed that easily.

They went to see the art, stopping at a cafe on the way. Several of the kids had only been to Ibiza or Costa Brava abroad – or Disneyland Florida; the experience of ordering real croissants and real coffee was an adventure. The cafe owner spoke good English, which was lucky since only Mr Leewondam spoke Dutch. He had a chat with the owner, who was delighted to have a customer who understood his native language. All the Dutch cars off the boats would be in a hurry to get home, so he relied on British tourists who had just got off and immediately needed more coffee.

“Mr Leewondam, is your name Dutch? Is that why you speak it?”

“Yes, Linda. My father was your age when he fled from the occupation.”

“Was he Jewish then?” Linda showed occasional flashes of understanding – or at least voiced them. There was always the thought that perhaps she downplayed what she knew to be ‘one of the girls’.

“No, not all who fled were Jewish. My grandparents on both sides were solid, respectable Dutch. Actually I suspect my grandparents on my father’s side didn’t think it so bad to have the Germans there at first. I never asked, but they occasionally said things; oh yes, they survived the war in Antwerp. But my father decided he’d not put up with it and ran and got on a boat with some British soldiers who had got separated. Anyway, one of the Tommies kind of adopted Per Leewondam, and he had a lovely daughter.”

“Mr Leewondam! Are you telling me what I think you are!”

“No of course not. Think I’d tell you even if it was true? No but they did marry later and much later I was the fifth of six children. We always spoke Dutch at home, just did. Mum had to learn basic Dutch so we could talk about her when she was in the room.”

“That is really romantic. Ahhhh” Linda said.

After the art gallery, they headed to the hostel which was to be the base for the few days. “Girls in rooms 1, 3, 5. Boys in 2, 4, and 8. No, and I mean NO, going into the rooms of the other gender. You can all meet in the recreation room. We will be going across the road for pizza at seven. That’s seven Dutch time! Yes, Peter, I did explain, they are an hour ahead. NO they don’t eat their lunch at eleven! They eat it at twelve, same as us; but their twelve is an hour before ours. Peter, if this is a wind-up, I’ll swing for you; and if it isn’t, the rest of you are responsible for getting him to dinner on time.”

Timothy and Veronica didn’t fraternise much. At the cheese factory on day 2 they were in the same tour group, but that was an accident. Mostly they did what they did well, hang around on the periphery of their groups and not get noticed. Or at least not obviously noticed. When she wore a skirt on that trip, several boys opted to let her go first up the stairs.

The trip to the beach confirmed two things: that Linda was right to be jealous of Veronica. She had a deliciously beach ready body. The other thing it proved was that Timothy would get blown away in a stiff breeze; he was, he knew thin and weedy. He had never worried about it, until now. Now he wanted to be noticed by Veronica, and not for being weedy. He was lucky that Damien was focussed on impressing Linda, so he didn’t think of picking on Timothy. Tim ran into the water, and regretted not being built like Emily (Fat Emily, not Muslim Emily), or Tony (just Tony, there was only one Tony, which everyone agreed was lucky for the coach suspension); they had layers of protective fat.

Mr Leewondam changed into swimming shorts and charged into the water like a bull, sending spray everywhere. Mrs Kent laughed and said she wasn’t showing her body off in front of a bunch of nubile nymphets, she would ‘guard’ the clothes.

It was only a short trip. They saw the art, they saw the cheese, they even saw a Dutch vineyard (Mr Leewondam liked the tour of the vineyard as a lot of people thought there was no wine in Holland: “The Netherlands! Calling it Holland is like calling Britain, England! Holland is one part, I did explain.” “Yes sir”), they saw Arnhem Bridge (“Sir this is like in that film ‘A Bridge Too Far’.” “Yes, Daniel, that’s why we are here, this is the bridge that was too far.” “Sir? It wasn’t far at all.” “I’ll explain again later.”). On the last night, they went to a less age-strict place and ordered more pizza and a bottle of Dutch beer for everyone. It was a celebration, no-one had been arrested, cautioned or fined. The last day was free for five hours on Amsterdam. The boys mostly went to find the Red Light district (the teachers knew they would, and also knew that they would never have to courage to try and book someone who was sitting in the window displaying themselves.) The girls mostly headed for the shops. Once again the vagueries of the adult mind were at play. Alcohol was forbidden, buying the legal cannabis was forbidden, but they were left to decide for themselves whether to risk an STD by spending their holiday money on a woman of dubious virtue and indeterminate age. Actually it showed that the teachers knew their pupils quite well.

The two student teachers went round the Red Light district too, and found the sights quite a turn on for some reason; like the fully qualified teachers, they were looking forward to the journey back in their cabin. Ms Turnnpype was already thinking of other possible career choices, but she had enjoyed the trip over with Miss Smith (Candyfloss), who had been surprisingly forthright, open and honest in her desires. She had brought a vibrating tool which they had used liberally on each other along with hands and mouths. Ms Turnnpype was like a weathervane, she swung round with every new trend. She had been determined and desperate to be a teacher, until she tried it. She had been a very willing and active heterosexual woman, until she tried what Lucy Smith offered her. Next week she would try something else probably. Lucy Smith, for all her flouncy pink clothes that seemed designed to attract men like bees to flowers, infinitely and always preferred a female bee to be nuzzling her flower. She had been totally and exclusively lesbian since she was eleven, she knew what she wanted, and at this precise moment, as they boarded the ship, she wanted Fiona Turnnpype to be on her back, with her legs wide open for business. Her frankness about sex was a surprise to a lot of people. She had told her mother that she was ‘A lezzer’ to which her mother had replied (not listening), “That’s nice dear.”. She had told her again at thirteen, by which time she was more exact in her description so there was no misunderstanding. At college, she had joined the LRUS group, who were quite surprised at such a feminine female with them. Several of their brothers tried to change her views, they never managed it. She was totally and solely interesting in the female body.