Lowewood Academy

After dark and all on my lonesome.

What’s a girl to do?

Well with no Ursula, no boyfriend and no shame, there was clearly only one option: it was time to have some more fun with my favourite Christmas present.

I hadn’t had the opportunity since I got back to school, what with one thing and another. Lack of privacy has been the main issue, especially with Ursula’s insistence that she was ‘giving up Monty’ as one of her New Year’s Resolutions. Thankfully, that didn’t last and she is now back in his sickening embrace (heave).

I’ve also been spending a lot of time over in Sandwich with Jen and (occasionally) Rosie, and this isn’t exactly conducive to losing oneself in an onanistic frenzy. Whilst we’re pretty close again these days, I think ‘entertaining myself’ in front of them with my new toy might be pushing things a bit.

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I gazed at my reflection and tried to smile… but it didn’t quite work.

Jen bustled around behind me, adjusting the straps of the gorgeous silvery dress I had borrowed from her, and generally fussing over my hair and make-up in a most un-Jen-like kind of way. I wondered if maybe all the time she spent with big macho Laurence might be bringing out her latent feminine side. Or if it was some kind of once-a-year festive thing.

Either way, it hadn’t rubbed off on me. I knew I should be excited about the Sixth Form Christmas Party, but somehow I just wasn’t. I wasn’t even really that excited about Christmas. Or about the party at Jen’s on the 23rd.

To be honest, I just felt detached from the whole thing.

“Right, let me look at you.” Jen stood back and took me in. She sighed. “I was planning on watching Laurence cum in his pants when he saw that dress on me,” she said, with a decidedly wistful look on her face. “Oh well, it looks better on you.”

Not that I’m vain or anything but in this instance I had to agree with her. Whereas Jen’s generous cleavage had distorted the line of the dress and bulged out to the extent that even Jordan would have considered putting on a cardy, on me it looked sleek, contained and sexy-but-demure. The shimmery silvery fabric gleamed against my skin in contrast with my long dark hair, that Jen was in the process of artfully pinning up in a half-up half-down sort of way (yes, there is probably a technical term for this but I don’t know it, ok?!) and, for the first time in ages, I felt that I looked beautiful. Sad, but beautiful.

Because it still hurt.

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I had just returned the leather paddle to its rightful place and pushed the desk drawer closed when I heard them.

Two voices: one female, one unmistakeably Ollie.

Tight, white panic gripped my entire being. There was no time to escape.

Without consciously thinking about what I was doing, I skidded across the hardwood floor and dived behind the sofa.

I had just tucked my legs out of sight when I heard the door swing open.

Shit, shit, shit!!!

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