Lowewood Academy

Phone for you Jess!”

I looked up from ‘Social Behaviour and Customs in England: 1750 – 1815’ in surprise. It was quickly replaced by a sense of foreboding. Was this the call to tell me that my so-called guardian had finally expired of a heart attack in a puddle of scotch whiskey, grouse, Ladbrokes tickets and final demands? Nobody ever called me at school (apart from Beth or Sylvie in the holidays). The common room was pretty noisy and full and I could see Sylvie looking up at me quizzically from ‘The Devil Wears Prada’. I went to the payphone outside the Dashwood common room.

“Hello?” I said cautiously

“Jess! Christian. You ok? Bloody hell, it would be easier to get through to Bill Clinton than you. Why don’t you have a bloody mobile?”

“Oh! Hi Christian! Nice to hear from you. Why are you calling me at school? Is Saturday cancelled?”

I was aware that Amelia had just come out of the common room and appeared to be tying her shoelace. I curled my body around the phone, lowering my voice. He boomed back through the receiver.

“No no, everything is fine. I’m calling about your birthday. The good news - I spoke to Mr Black about tickets for you lot and that’s all fine. But the even better news is that when he heard it was your birthday, he said to tell you that he was giving you two cases of champagne with his compliments. Now aren’t you lucky! He never gives me bloody champers.”

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Knowledge is power, and part of the power lies in knowing when best to impart the knowledge in question; in this instance, it was when to tell Beth that I had witnessed her – from the roof, you may recall – alone in her room, masturbating when she should have been in prep.

The brief scene had played on my mind a lot – that captured glimpse of a personal moment. Dan was all for bringing her to our study. “C’mon Jason,” he implored, “it’d be worth it just to see the shade of pink she went when you told her you’d caught her at it.” But two things changed my mind; the first, Mr Shaftebotham’s recent reminder to the prefects that we should be extra vigilant for “lewd practices” (yes, he really does speak like that); the second, a late-night chat I had with Madame Couchette.

“I hear the Headmaster is cracking down on… self abuse…” she had purred as I lay alongside her, the candle playing across her breasts’ wide areola. “And quite right too, Jason, do you not think?”

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After the events of last week, I’m please to say that this week has been pretty quiet. I’ve managed to find time to do a little more work on my art project, and attach my third picture of Gina to this post. She’ll take her knickers down in the next one – I hope I can keep my mind on my project enough to do the job correctly!! Still, it’s more fun than Latin prep - life at Lowewood isn’t all fun and games….

I’m sure there are people who are of the opinion that being Head Boy is an easy job. There are no doubt people who think that my days are filled entirely by eating crumpets, playing sport and spanking the bottoms of beautiful but naughty young ladies. Well, it isn’t true. For a start, not all of the young ladies are beautiful; one only has to take a look at the size of Bridget Cadbury to realise that having her lie across your lap for more than two minutes is likely to lead to the onset of premature arthritis and produce a need for a hip replacement. But, I digress. Seriously, being Head Boy isn’t quite as straightforward as people might think, and finding a ‘place’ within the school is a difficult task.

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