CHAPTER 8: VIRGIN TERRITORY
Introduction: The next chapter in the sexual adventures of a prep school teacher in the 1950s and 1960s, taking on from the ending of Chapter 7.
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I had better give a name to my history colleague, since she now becomes a major participant in my story. I will call her Clio, after the Muse of History, partly because, unlike many prep school teachers then, including me, she had a degree in the subject, and a first class one at that.
In appearance she was plump, and everything about her was short – stature, hair (light mouse, curly), nose, upper lip, skirts. She was not short, however, in energy, wit, ability and rude words. At the same time, she made no secret of her age, 29, and virginity. This was, I guessed, intended to defend her against unwanted sexual attentions – all sexual attention according to our retired art colleague, with whom I had had powerfully moving sex and who had painted us as Theseus and Ariadne. (This woman features in Chapter 6).
Clio was aware of, and sympathetic about, my past entanglements, and, despite her lack of experience, pretty shrewd. She knew about, but not the extent of, the devastation wrought by my affair with Carmen, and there was a significant conversation following Clio's taking our tennis players to the girls' school at which worked the games mistress who had made use of me a week earlier. (This games mistress features in Chapter 7).
The morning after Clio's trip to that school, she said at breakfast. 'Someone was disappointed not to see you yesterday. She was obviously expecting a return match.'
'Well,' I said, 'The first one was rather disappointing, for one of the players.'
'Not a classic game, then. I'm not surprised. Not been so good since our dear art colleague left, has it, Theseus?'
'No, it hasn't. And now you mention it, I wish I could see Ariadne's lovely bottom.'
'Oh,' she said, 'That stays hidden. Though, you never know, one day it might be revealed, if you're patient.'
'Nothing else to be nowadays,' I said bitterly.
'I think we had better have one of our walks later,' she said.
We were in the habit of walking round the lake, when both free, to discuss problems, personal or professional.
After supper, in the summer evening daylight, we began our slow wandering, and I confided my sadness about Carmen and the feelings I had had for her, finishing with, 'I know there was no future in it, even if she'd stayed, because I'm not sure I could have kept on with just the sex, even though that was wonderful.'
'You're going to have to tell me about that, you know, because it's time I knew.'
'You mean,' I said, 'You want me to tell you exactly what we did?'
'Yes, and what you did with our dear artist, too. You needn't be embarrassed. I know all the words.'
'But it might be private, like Ariadne's bottom,' I suggested.
'Well, only half of that was private, if you remember. For all you know the other half may be really ugly.'
'Oh, I think it's pretty symmetrical,' I said, taking a look down her back.
We strolled on a little, till she said, 'Have you got the keys to the boat-house?'
'Yes,' I said, 'Do you fancy a naked swim, like our lovely artist?'
'Not just now. I've got a proposal. Ariadne will show you her behind if you will describe what you do with women. I do need to know, even if I'm not going to do it.'
'Are you quite sure? I don't want you to regret it afterwards. That would spoil our friendship. Which is more important than me ogling your bum.'
'Remember it's Ariadne's bum. Tell me what seeing it would do for you.'
'Solace,' I told her.
'You really mean that, don't you? How can I deny you solace, or, in this case, sol-arse.'
'You do know the words.' And I unlocked the boat-house, last used with Bianca.
We went in and I locked us in. Clio walked a little way forward and turned her back. 'Brace yourself,' she said, 'This may come as a shock,' and she lifted her short pleated skirt and took hold of the waist-band of her knickers. 'Just the boring old white cotton ones. Down they go,' and she pushed them down to mid-thigh.
How do I describe a lovely bottom? I've done my best earlier on. This one was special because the cleavage began, well above the coccyx, quite wide apart, as if the buttocks intended to separate. Then the cheeks closed together a while, before spreading again. The gap at the bottom of the bottom allowed a glimpse of the vulva and some pussy-fur.
After a silence, she said, 'Are you looking? Or is it too hideous to contemplate?'
'It's beautiful,' I muttered, overcome, and my tone prompted her to pull up the pants, drop the skirt and turn round, so that she saw the tears in my eyes.
'Well! I didn't expect my old sit-upon to have that effect. My poor young friend, what a state you're in.'
She moved to and embraced me round the waist, which put her head on my chest. 'Wrong way,' she went on, 'And pulled my head down onto her bosom.' It was an awkward posture but I enjoyed it. Her breasts were warm through the bra and comforting.
'Thank you,' I said, as we stepped apart. 'Theseus was a damn fool.'
We left the place and resumed walking in silence, till she said, 'Before I hold you to your part of the agreement, I should tell you something about my younger life.'
She led the way to one of the rickety benches from which one could enjoy the view of the mansion across the lake. We sat down, and, facing front, she told me that when she had just taken the exams at the end of her university career she had been courted by an older higher-degree student. He was an attractive, clever man, confident and versed in the ways of the world. She was an innocent from a modest background, quite strictly brought up.
She fell deeply in love and he seemed to reciprocate. They spent a good deal of the summer together, thanks to her being welcomed into his opulent home by his charming mother. The relationship deepened in the autumn term, when she began her post-graduate teacher training. But then a serious snag arose.
Their love-making had included mutual masturbation, and at this point in the story she remarked, 'So, if you want to be technical about virginity I don't qualify. Not if you count fingers up the cunt which must have done in the hymen.'
'You really do know the words,' I said, 'Even the rudest ones.'
'I like them,' she said, 'I like to say them aloud for certain occasions.'
The narrative continued. He began to ask her for full intercourse and she wanted so much to agree, but her upbringing and a smidgen of caution made her refuse. Had he offered marriage she would probably have consented.
The liaison became vexed. He said that if she really loved him, she would, and she felt that if he really loved her he would not press her until he could commit himself fully. She became anxious and depressed and nearly failed her course.
Then, in the vacation following she received a letter at home. He was going to marry someone else, who was carrying his child.
She concluded, 'The bastard had been fucking another girl while trying to get me to fuck. So he'd been unfaithful, and I had to wonder what would have happened if we'd done it and I'd got pregnant. Would he have married me? Would I have wanted to marry him for that reason? The imponderables drove me mad. And I had so much loved him, and thought him so fine, and he was just after one thing, like the women's magazines warned.'
'Could you have done it with contraception?' I asked.
