A Tale of Two Christmases

"No, really! We were in the showers. Three cubicles in a row, you know, and he just crept in and knelt by my feet! I couldn't exactly go anywhere!"

"Like you'd even try."

"Like I've told you, like Andy's told you: no man ever turns down a blow job. Not from someone sentient enough to give it a go, anyhow -- I wasn't letting him potentially bite my foreskin last night!"

I couldn't help laughing at Richie's indignation. I hugged him closer. I guessed even Rich might worry about potential homophobia, even from me. Lots of people think two women, hot, while two men, disgusting, after all.

Eventually, Richie curved his mouth into one of his small smiles. "He was good."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Opened wide, no problem. Enthusiastic... Wouldn't say no if he was desperate to do that again."

I pictured Adrian kneeling before Richie, hair flopping over his face, taking Richie's great cock with gusto. It was a nice picture. "Putting cock in his mouth rather than booze? You should encourage him!"

"I might. But not right now. What do you want?"

"Don't know. You? Stay?"

"I'm no substitute for Ali. Holding hands and smooching in the cinema ain't my bag."

"I know. You're not like Al at all. Right now, that's a good thing." I sighed.

"Not being her. Can do that."

We lay in silence for some minutes. I listened to his heartbeat.

I could be totally honest with Richie. He wouldn't judge. "Rich? Could you put your cock inside me? Please?"

A slow blink. "Sure. One moment."

I could tell he was hard already. Being twenty and naked in bed with a near-naked woman does that.

He found a rubber in my top drawer. Just as well, given he'd just fucked Adrian -- god knows what that poor pisshead might have picked up. "How wet are you?"He applied his fingers, testing and accelerating my response. "Come on top of me, like. There!"

My legs outside his, I settled down over his shaft, slowly impaling myself, then lay down on his chest.

"Ah!" Being filled was simply security and happiness. I didn't expect Rich to move; I wasn't going to jump him, either. We just lay there, his arms clasped round me.

Eventually I apologised for being a crap lay.

"You're not. This is... nice, right? Besides, it's not like I'm desperate to get off, only three hours after getting my cock down someone's throat. I've got no plans for the day. I suppose, lunch, at some point? You settle down, go to sleep if you need. Just say, when you want to get up."

Which was how we both fell asleep, snuggled together, his dick being my comfort object.

Not that I'd use the word 'snuggle' to him.

Around noon, I awoke. I assumed it was Ali in my bed, smooth skin against my naked body. "Hey, love?"

Then I noticed Richie's face, along with his arms still round me and his softening cock under me. And remembered the break-up.

That was when I collapsed and cried my eyes out.

"Ungh? Hey, Laures? Laura...? Mmph."

He rolled me off him so he could reach my already-depleted box of tissues.

"Blow your nose. Come on. What's it they say on EastEnders? 'Leave it aaht! She ain't worth it!'"

"I thought she was."

"Yeah, well, we was both wrong about that. No more tutoring on BDSM or adult life for us. Just as well she said she'd taught me pretty much all she knew, eh?"

I threw another snot-laden tissue at the bin. This one went in. It hadn't occurred to me, in my self-centred grief, that Richie would be feeling the loss of Ali too. Even though they'd never had sex -- well, there were a couple times Andy and Rich had conspired to pleasure Ali together, so he had had his hands and mouth on her -- they were close friends. Had been. We'd been a tight-knit foursome, with our separate relationships within that. Now, all that was adrift, not just my heart.

"You can still practise. Have at me. Might make me feel something." I still felt numb all over.

"No. Not today."

"Ah fuck, man! I don't need rejection from you, too!"

"No! Next week, sure! But not today. You're not in sound mind. I'm not doing it!"

"I'm perfectly sound!"

"Bollocks you are! Who knows what you might claim to be up for, proving you're the best masochist ever? Serving a master if you can't have a mistress? No way, matey. Not going there. Yet."

His meaningful look on the last word filtered through to me.

I sighed. "Yeah. You're probably right."

"I'm always right."

"Yeah, right. I take your point. But, Rich, if you think I'm off my wee tits, how come you're willing to fuck me? And chuck that rubber in the bin, please, before it gets spunk all over my bed."

He shrugged, and obliged, muttering, "Your breasts aren't small, actually..."

Sitting back in bed with me, under the duvet for warmth, he went on, "Wanting my cock? That's understandable. All covered up, you're on the pill anyway, it's not going to harm you. Just a hug with benefits, really. You asked, I gave. Nice and cosy, yeah? But if you want me to tie you up, get you into happy floaty subspace when there's a risk of you agreeing to anything... forgive me for being a lot more fussy. It's not that I don't want to, believe you me!"

"I suppose so." I sighed. "All right. When, this week?"

He considered. "I'll have an essay crisis tomorrow night. I said I'd see Sanj's new show on Tuesday. You should come too."

I often promised to see each show Sanj was in -- the ADC and other student theatres changed their productions weekly, and she was in one roughly every other week. I hadn't been to one this term. I should. It would help add to that distraction.

"OK."

"And then, we'll leave her to deal with all the director's notes, and you can come back to mine. If you still want a good scene, I'll give you it." He whistled and inspected his fingernails, attempting nonchalance. "Be careful what you wish for..."

"Now that sounded like Ali."

"See. You don't have to miss her that much. You've still got Andy to look after you, me to beat you up, and I'm sure you can find a girl to let you shove your face between her legs. Go to that dyke bar on Saturday night. The Junction?"

"Scary place." The club to the south of town was full of older townie women who disliked students. "If I want hot babes, I might as well go down to London for a better selection. The bar at First Out gets a dance floor going..."

"Good. You have a plan."

"Mm." I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. "What about today?"

"I'm told people don't like being alone when they've had a breakup. Come on, we'll get lunch downstairs, tell Sanj and Gavin and those other guys, then I'm happy to bring my reading over and keep you company, working."

So I made cheese toasties for us both, and explained to Sanj, somehow without crying.

"Oh! That sort of 'visiting friends in London', was it?" Gavin finally caught on. "Just a minute! I thought you said they were a couple? Whoo-hoo!"

"Gav? Shut the fuck up." My sweet stern voice got there first, which was as well. Both Sanj and Richie looked about to punch him on my behalf.

"Oh, all right! Only asking! Sorry it didn't work out." He pushed off.

Sanj, my best friend in college, looked from me to Rich. I'd explained how the four of us had become close, and I'd ended up going out with Ali, but glossed over me sleeping with the guys. She'd guessed.

"Thanks for coming over to look after Laura, Rich. I heard Adrian stumbling out just after I got in -- were you drowning your woes together?"

"Yeah. Well, he drowned, I did the woe..."

Sanj chuckled. "Sounds about right. Feeling a bit better now?"

"A bit. Rich said he'd get his stuff and keep me company, essay-writing and that."

"You really are the devoted student, aren't you? Wouldn't catch me doing that much on a weekend."

"Which is why she'll get her good 2-1 or First, and you'll be lucky to get above a Third," Richie informed her."

I winced. Richie had no tact when it came to other people not studying hard enough to do well. Luckily, Sanj had got used to the guy during our first two years at college.

"Ouch! You do have to prick our illusions, don't you? I'd best hope the acting career goes somewhere, hadn't I? Or the scriptwriting. That's getting me some leads! Channel 4 might have a show I can work on..."

"Ooh, nice!" I said. I worked in the theatre sometimes, lighting shows, but this year I was stepping back. Getting the grade I needed to go do a PhD was my priority.

I stayed chatting to Sanj while she cooked, until Richie returned with a stack of photocopied papers and a large notepad.

"Right. You draft your essay, I'll work on mine. If I can understand this key paper, written in what they claim is English..."

"Oh dear. Are they French or Chinese?"

"Japanese, I think."

"I feel your pain. At least this one I'm trying to understand is just written in maths..."

"Mm."

I doodled some equations, made some calculations, and embarked on my essay, while Richie made notes and kept us both stocked with tea. I fed him some of our communal pasta for dinner -- he'd likely buy me a drink another time -- and we decided to call it a night by nine.

"Right," Richie declared "Getting there. I'll work on my project tomorrow around lectures, then write in the evening. You?"

"I'll hit the lab in the morning, and finish this before meeting my supervisor at four."

"Right. I'll tell Sanj to keep an eye out for you, in the evening."

"She'll be in the dress rehearsal."

"Oh, yeah. Other friends, then."

"I'll talk to Andy. I hope he's OK."

Richie considered. "Yeah. He says he always knew it was short-term, but, really?"

"Even if he did, it still sucks," I said.

"Yeah. So, do you want a good fuck before I go tonight?"

"Yes. Make it so."

"Not if you're going to quote Star Trek, no."

"Not a fan?"

He shrugged. "Only when Jeri Ryan was in it."

"Perfectly understandable." I shucked my shirt. "Go on. Full thrust."

"You're just ensuring I don't feel at all guilty about spanking you on Tuesday. Trust me, I won't."

"Good. Now, will you fuck me, or do I have to cry about that to Andy, too?"

"Pressure, much?"

"Obviously, if you don't feel like it, don't?"

"I wouldn't. I mean, I will, just the idea of guilt-tripping is wrong."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Though I could see how he'd interpreted it. "Please fuck me, it would help cheer me up, but I won't tell Andy either way, when I call him later. Just that you've been lovely, today."

"Lovely," he scoffed. "Me?"

"Yeah, I insisted. "You've been here. Sometimes, that's all that matters."

"Whatever." He changed the subject. "Part your legs."

He held my bent knees near my breasts, and fucked me good and hard, as long as he could. Happy endorphins started circulating past my brain.

"Right. You give Andy a bell, both of you share your woe. I'll see you soon. Tuesday at Sanj's show, if not before."

"Yeah. Thanks, Rich."

He squeezed my shoulder before he left. From that git, I guessed it expressed heartfelt emotion.

My heart felt less hollow as I put my winter pyjamas on. I picked up my phone and dialled Andy.

"Eh, hen! How you doin'?"

"Hung out with Richie all day, mostly working. So I don't need to panic tomorrow about my essay."

"Good on ya. I shoulda worked more today, but I couldnae concentrate. Went to watch the fitba instead, couple pints after."

I looked at my watch. Ten. "Are you home now?"

"Aye, no worries! I was a good lad, didn't get shitfaced, was back home for tea. Still no' in the mood for working, though but."

"Oh, Andy! Don't let her get you down! You're aceing this degree!"

"It's ma second year now. It's harder."

"You've still got the maturity and practical experience the other students don't have. You can do this! Come on, tell me what your assignment is."

He sighed, and told me about his essay title. By the time I'd asked enough questions to understand what it meant, he'd come up with a coherent plan of how to answer it. Andy was bright, just lacked confidence. He'd started his degree as I began second year, managing a full-time course load round his work shifts, thanks to using his role for all his case studies. He'd got a solid 2:1 at the end of the year, and respect from his tutors, but I knew he was still scared he'd be written off if he referenced his own teenage prison experience in his submitted work.

"Sounds like you're sorted, love."

"Thanks. It's weird, here, now. Ali's in bed, alone. I'm in the main room." A lounge with kitchenette. The bathroom separated the two. "Way more space than my old place, but it feels smaller, now, the bedroom being kinda off-limits. I think I'm going to look for residential jobs."

"You're not going to give up your course, are you?" I didn't want my friend throwing his opportunities away.

"Nah. Not if I can avoid it. But somewhere else to be in the vacations, bein' useful, not all unwelcome at home -- sound like anyone we know?"

We both knew that was why I'd taken the summer job and met Ali and Andy.

"And still relevant to your degree. Maybe even work it as another case study?" My summer job between second and third year had been written up as one of my two pieces of required coursework, giving me more spare time now.

"Aye, maybe. I mean, it's no' that it's bad here. We're polite, and she tries to be nice, and her Becca is kind... Sweet lass."

I don't want to know about her Becca. Stupid name.

Andy continued, "Sorry. I guess I've seen it coming over the last month, been in relationships before: the shock wore off for me a couple weeks ago."

"Mm. I suppose it's partly shock."

We blethered a while, though Andy was never one to talk that much. He made to hang up.

"Andy? Come visit me this weekend? Or whenever you're off shift."

"Really? You'd like that?"

"Yes, you divot, I would! You may still end up on the couch, but only because my single bed is small. I may be able to borrow a mattress."

"Ah. Ach, it's a fine idea. I'm working this one, though, but aye, I should do that soon, maybe come up Monday."

"It's a date."

"In the most unromantic way!" Andy checked.

"Yeah. Just 'Daddy' coming to visit."

"Ha. Aye. Feeling haggard enough to be that old. Still, you want the kinky daddy stuff, you'll have to get that from Richie or someone else.

"Already in the diary."

He chuckled. "Good lass. Enjoy."

"I will. Actually, Richie suggested I go clubbing this weekend, see if I can pull some cute girl, so that's the plan before I see you."

"You tell me all about it when I see ya. Except for any fucking and kinky shit with Rich, because I don't want to know."

"You too, love. The world's your oyster."

"Aye, right. I might have some variety. A date with my left hand instead of my right, for once."

"Ah, well. Work hard, wank hard."

"You too, hen."

"Night-night, Daddy."

I felt much better. Even if the Ali-shaped hole in my life would take time to heal.

I got through Monday, two lectures sitting next to Adrian, poking him awake, some hours in the lab, and a few in the Materials library finalising my essay before meeting my supervisor. He didn't get too sarcastic, which I took as a win. I hung out at home with Gavin and the other lads, and embarked on more reading while keeping half an eye on the TV. Andy called; I assured him I was coping, he did likewise. There were a number of live-in jobs going around the country, which might still enable him to complete his degree.

In bed, I sulkily convinced myself that a vibrator was a good substitute for a girlfriend. With both that and Richie on hand, I shouldn't miss Ali too much, right?

I only cried a little before falling asleep.

On Tuesday, I scraped myself up for my Ceramics lecture. One of my favourite topics. Adrian was less of a fan, tending to the Engineering side of the subject rather than my chemistry interests. More hours in the lab; my second coursework project was coming along nicely. With luck, I'd finish it soon after Christmas.

Fuck. Christmas.

Ali and Andy's flat was out of the question. Andy might visit his mum. I supposed I'd have to do the same. It was good to check periodically that the house was still standing, and meet the latest man Mum had moved in, right?

I wangled a free ticket to the theatre by working as front-of-house for half an hour, and was quite cheered up by Sanj's show. Richie found me at the interval, and helped me by returning glasses to the bar.

"I'll wait for you at the end," he said.

"Oh. Yeah."

I appreciated the comedy on stage distracting me during the second half. As soon as the house was empty, the few bits of litter collected, I found Richie on the stairs.

"Ready?" he asked.

"We need to go congratulate Sanj on her performance."

"Do we?"

"Yes. First night, friends, all that. Then we can push off." I led Richie backstage, where Sanj and the rest of the cast were finishing changing and deciding who would go to the bar first.

"Oh, you were fabulous! The whole show was great, loved it! Really tight direction," I added, noticing the director behind her. "Congratulations!"

"Nice one," Richie nodded.

I wondered which she'd take as more complimentary.

Richie led me to the back stairs to his rooms in the roof of the oldest part of college. I'd learned to adjust for the odd sizes of the steps and the pairs of stairs into his bedroom and then between that and the living room. It was picturesque to visit, but I liked the creature comforts in my more modern block, like a full kitchen between only four of us, and toilets and showers on the same floor.

"You ready to get your brain melted by some filthy kinky sex?"

"Yes."

"You really are bonkers. Here goes."

I spent the next few hours, and a fair bit of the next five days, in Richie's rooms. That first night proved I really was a masochist with submissive tendencies; after that it was straight fucking, letting me recover. It turned out sex was a damn good distraction, but he also ensured I did a reasonable amount of work, by refusing the sex until I'd done it. A fair bargain. If you can feel sad when a guy's going down on you, he's not being enthusiastic enough.

On Saturday, I'd planned to go down to London and dance my cares away in a cosy lesbian basement bar. That was scuppered when I saw Ali head down there ahead of me, along with a woman I assumed was the infamous Becca.

It turned out all right, though. The girl eating at my table upstairs also needed company for the night. I took her to a women's sauna, introduced her to lesbian sex, and we became firm friend.

After that week, Richie and I returned to our previous pattern of sex and/or playing every week or so. It helped both of us relax, as term progressed and Finals approached.

At the end of term, most of us stayed on until around the 17th of December, when our college required us to be gone. Just as well, in Richie's case -- he'd been daft enough to get into a pub fight over a pool table, getting a black eye and cracked cheekbone for his trouble. By the time he headed back home to Coventry, it had just about healed. I was resigned to a week with my mother in rural Yorkshire.

I didn't trust Mum's driving, even if she'd answered any of my messages, so I hiked the mile from the station, past the church and through the village, to our house. It sprawled, all grey stone and slate, behind a dry stone wall and increasing mounds of dying brambles. Maintenance wasn't on Mum's radar.

"Oh, Laura, darling! Mwah!" Air kisses. "You haven't met Craig! He's been keeping me company recently."

Another one. There usually was a new man every time I met my mother. They never lasted more than a few months. This Craig seemed better than most: sober, shook my hand without creepy fondling, and was in the middle of trying to fix Mum's dishwasher. But come the evening, both he and Mum were ten sheets to the wind, sniffing, pupils dilated. The usual type, then.