Joanna Hires the DP Team Pt. 03

Rebecca had long legs and a good bum. The pose suggested that if you could step behind her, you could squeeze her tits while fucking her from behind. There was a scene in an Anais Nin story which involved a woman being taken that way by a stranger against a wall on the banks of the Seine, which had excited her.

It was clear that Richard was distracted by the sight, especially when Rebecca turned her head and winked at him.

Richard said, "Rebecca?" He sounded surprised by her identity, "I did not expect to see you tonight." Rebecca raised an eyebrow and then approached the group.

"Richard, I hope the sight is not an unpleasant surprise."

"Far from it. I would like to see more of you."

Rebecca giggled and leaned forward so that Richard could look down her cleavage. "So, you do like what more you can see now?"

Richard said, "That's a good start." Rebecca moved closer to Richard, touched his arm with her hand and said, "Would you like to teach me how to play pool on the table in the cellar? I need advice on the correct way to bend over, handle the cue, and perfect my screw... shots." She winked outrageously at this point.

Bess was puzzled. As far as she knew, Rebecca and Claire were friends and yet Rebecca was flirting with Claire's boyfriend designate.

The group of men around Richard laughed and encouraged him to take the challenge. Then she heard David say, "Richard, me and Arabella here are up for a game of mixed doubles."

She looked and saw that Joanna's friend, who had expressed an interest in sports players, was by David's side. Richard looked like a man who had been placed in a position where he could not back out of the challenge. He accepted without even asking Claire's permission.

Dom said, "Let's watch the fun." Gareth laughed but said, "I wish I could, but I'm on duty up here. I demand full details afterwards."

Five minutes later, she was in the cellar watching the challenge. A party can of beer had been brought down with the spectators, and Dom ensured that it was opened safely.

It was an intriguing twenty minutes. Clearly, it was better tactics to be an obvious tart than too clever by half. Arabella had long legs, a plump arse, and was wearing Daisy Dukes and a halter top which left little to the imagination. She also had spent hours on her makeup while Rebecca had hardly bothered in comparison. Arabella spent the game flirting with the two men at the table while Rebecca played to win.

It was almost as if, having hooked the fish, Rebecca had forgotten to reel it in. First, to play the game, Rebecca had put on her NHS glasses, presumably for vision, taken off the red jacket to improve her cuing action and had also undone the ponytail. Second, she took her shots quickly, not giving Richard an opportunity to feel her up, while Arabella demanded and got some up-close coaching from David. Third, and arguably even more irritating to Richard, Rebecca was the best player of the four of them and, going after Arabella, took full advantage of the opportunities offered by Joanna's friend's poor play and left little on for David. It was not helped by her seemingly heartfelt expression of "bad luck partner" when Richard missed a pot he felt he should have made.

At the end of the game, which Rebecca and Richard won easily with the finishing shot being an outrageous swerve shot by Rebecca to pot the black ball, David suggested that he and Richard swap partners for a more even game.

Arabella accepted with alacrity, and Richard did not object. Richard told Rebecca and Arabella that he had just turned eighteen but was having a party in two weeks' time with his older brother at the local rugby club his brother played for. He also made it clear that his father had bought him a car. Arabella accepted the invite, and Rebecca said she'd have to check her diary.

Arabella was more than willing to ask for Richard's assistance in lining up her shots and pushed her bum against his dick. It also seemed that Rebecca was more willing to flirt with David than with Richard, although she wasn't as obvious as Arabella. She wasn't certain that she could blame Rebecca for wanting to piss off Joanna from what she'd heard about the past.

Whether it was because the teams were more balanced or because Richard was more or less taking Arabella's shots for her (or at the very least made certain that she didn't leave anything on for David), the second game was more even. Arabella was playing better and David was worse. Rebecca was still clearly the best player, but not quite so hot as she had been in the first game.

Arabella's shots took increasingly longer as she asked for more intensive coaching, and she was turned on by the sight of Arabella having her arse fondled by Richard. The effects of the drink must have got to Arabella as when Rebecca was taking aim, Arabella asked her, "What is it like to be fucked by two men at once?"

Rebecca had stood up from the shot, laughed at the question and replied, "My dear Arabella, the stories about me are much exaggerated. You should assume that anything Joanna says about me is her fantasy of what she wants to do herself if only she dared."

Dom tried to retrieve the situation, "Arabella, you can hardly expect Rebecca to give an honest answer to that question in front of a room full of men. She will either come over as Mary Whitehouse or Mary Millington."

That got a laugh from the spectators, and even Rebecca smiled at him. He then continued, "Besides which, like all sex, a threesome is only as bad or good as those taking part."

Bess said, "What do you mean?" She was honestly interested in the question as she found it hard to visualise the mechanics.

"With two men and one woman, it works best if the men make the woman comfortable about being with the two men. They have to make her feel at ease and ensure that she is enjoying herself more than they are at first." This seemed to make sense to her.

Rebecca said, "At first?"

"It works best if the woman trusts the men to concentrate on her pleasure as well as theirs. It makes her feel happier when they concentrate on their own pleasure later. The other problem can be if the two men are too self-conscious -- either worrying about being thought to be poofters because occasionally their bodies touch or competing with each other to be the most dominant lover. They need to trust each other."

The whole room had lost their interest in the game and were more interested in the conversation. Dom sounded like he had real experience. Increasingly, she felt that if only it weren't bad for her reputation, she would like to sample Dom in bed (or, indeed, Pete or Gareth). Actually, any two out of three. Perhaps all three. Maybe all at the same time. She felt herself blush at the thought and put her hand, which was already around Dom's waist, on his bum and squeezed.

Arabella said, "Does one man concentrate on breasts and kissing and the other on below the waist?"

"That's the basic idea, but there are more erogenous zones than most people imagine. By the way, me and Bess will play the winners."

Both Richard and David accepted the challenge, and shortly afterwards, David potted the black when he shouldn't have because of an unlucky cannon. This meant that Richard and Arabella were the winners despite being two balls behind. Arabella shouted, "Yeeahh," leapt into Richard's arms and gave him a hearty kiss.

Rebecca said, "Good game." She and David shook hands with Arabella and Richard after the winners finally parted their tonsils. It was clear that Richard had decided that Arabella was a sure thing compared to Rebecca and must have realised that he had burnt his bridges with Claire, at least for this evening. David and Rebecca moved upstairs to some cheers from the rugby spectators for Rebecca's performance on the table. There was some ribbing towards David for having let down his partner.

Bess decided to follow Arabella's example of asking Dom for help lining up her shots. Her hips welcomed the touch of his hand. She also discovered that her ears were an erogenous zone as he whispered instructions and gently blew into them. She responded, and pressed her arse back against his dick. It felt hard and large, and she imagined being bent over the table and bonked.

The standard of play was poor, but finally, Dom concentrated and put together a four-ball break, which finished the game. He then asked if Bess wanted to dance. She thought that was a great idea. If they'd been alone or only with Arabella and Richard, she might have been tempted to stay downstairs, but she wasn't drunk enough to be up for being watched by most of the first XV being rogered on a pool table. Arabella felt the same way, and so all four made their way to the lounge.

/-----------------------------/

Joanna had wondered exactly what had just happened with Richard, Claire and Rebecca. She had persuaded Aimi to give her five minutes with George, who had explained that with the ponytail and the red jacket, Rebecca looked a lot like one of the teachers at St Tom's, who was lusted after by all the members of the rugby first XV. Whether Miss Summers did it on purpose or not, the sight of her bending over to do up her shoelaces while watching the rugby or to pick the blackboard rubber off the floor caused an almost Pavlovian erection for the entire team.

Rebecca, in a tight skirt and a red jacket, bent over the back of the sofa, was apparently a good impersonation, and her double entendre had completed the seduction. As a result, Richard had been led by his cock and had taken himself out of the running for the position of Claire's new boyfriend. She had watched Claire's face as he had followed the Tart downstairs, and she had looked at Richard's departing back with a mixture of contempt and relief.

Rebecca had deliberately taken out an admirer of Claire's and left Julian to his own devices. What the fuck was she up to. Still, for the moment, Claire was dancing with Julian, so that was OK on that score. Arabella was in play downstairs, so she had to hope for the best. She was betting that Rebecca could not compete with Arabella on being openly up for a shag.

She mingled being a good hostess and was pleased when, after twenty minutes, the Tart and David came upstairs together. That meant that Dom and Arabella had successfully parted the Tart from her prey. She might even allow Arabella to use the spare bedroom to be fucked by Richard.

Hold it. Rebecca had undone the ponytail and put on those hideous glasses. She no longer looked like Miss Summers. She then guessed what the Tart had been up to. Joanna had spent much of last spring and summer doing the same with David in tow. Rebecca had shown Julian that she could catch any man she wanted and then throw him back. That would encourage him always to be on his best behaviour. Treat them mean and keep them keen.

Rebecca also had personal reasons for humiliating Richard. Rugger buggers tended to believe that women should be obscene and not heard (unless, of course, they were screaming with pleasure or pain as they were given a good drunken seeing to). Joanna could sympathise with the Tart on that score.

Certainly, at that party last year, the first XV had been eager to believe Joanna's story that the Tart was willing to blow or jerk off each of them in the pantry for £1 or 50p each. That had been a victory for Joanna as it had convinced the Tart not to have a social life until tonight. She smiled at the nickname she had used, Handy Mandy, using her second name. Pity it had backfired on George as it had incentivised Rebecca to concentrate on academic work.

Joanna now knew Rebecca was a worthy opponent, and she still needed a plan for keeping Julian out of Rebecca's clutches. Now that Dom had mentioned it, it was clear that Julian was besotted with Claire. Claire was what Mummy would call a nice, well-brought-up girl, and she would suit him better than Rebecca. She just had to make certain that Claire ended up with him at the end of the evening.

She had asked George who the other runners and riders were for Claire's affections now Richard had been taken out of contention. Irritatingly, George thought Julian had no chance with Claire. He would be too scared to make a move, and the other three contenders were not. Besides, he was boring -- he was decent, devoted, and dependable. Joanna suspected this must be a quote from some book or film, but she was not going to admit her ignorance by asking George.

Joanna saw the point of this objection but still wanted to prevent him from being bagged by Rebecca at the end of the evening. She had three members of the Slut Squad left to play. Well, two, as she doubted that Aimi was really Julian's type and was firmly attached to George already.

Fortunately, the Tart went to the toilet so she could corner David and tell him that the DP Team's objective of cockblocking the Tart now involved ensuring Julian ended up with Claire. David responded well to this. He said that he had liked what he had seen of Julian and would be happy to help him and Claire get together. She said that it would help if she kept Rebecca occupied. She then told him he was a good boy quietly and, when Rebecca reappeared, told him to get her a drink in as imperious a tone as she could muster, suggesting he had been negligent for not having already done so.

It was clear that the message had passed around the party that Richard had FUBARred, and the three other contenders were ready to swoop on Claire. None of them regarded Julian as a real challenger, and when Julian and Claire emerged from the lounge to get another drink, Mark moved in. This was more because one challenger was too cool to make the first move, and the other was halfway through a joke with an audience.

Mark was about six feet tall, well-dressed, intelligent and witty -- not exactly funny, but clever. He was the best student in English at St Thomas's, and even Darling Daddy did not mind that he got better marks in that subject than George. From the first day at school, it had been clear that George was better than Mark at all the other subjects.

After five minutes, it was clear that Mark was dominating the conversation between the three of them. She needed to take Mark out of the picture to leave Claire available for Julian.

She was struggling to think whether any of the remaining members of the Slut Squad would appeal to Mark. He was an intellectual snob -- well, maybe that was unfair, but he would not tolerate fools or moderately intelligent people gladly. He would require brains as well as beauty and availability. She doubted that either Liz or Janice would fit the bill. As George liked to joke, while you could lead a whore to culture, you cannot make her think (or even convincingly fake thinking).

Besides this, Claire wasn't stupid -- she had just been brought up by a mother who believed that women should always pretend to be less bright than men. She recalled George telling her that Claire was in the top five in all the exams last year and had been upset when some of the teachers had drawn attention to the fact. In his view, it was down to having a protestant work ethic rather than natural talent.

David returned with her drink and then muttered, "Gareth." Of course, David was thinking outside the box. "Good boy," she said and collected Gareth from the kitchen. Gareth was studying English and loved acting in and directing plays. Gareth was happy to meet an intellectual and to play his role in the evening. He was normally more of a director and producer but was happy to participate as a performer so long as he wasn't expected actually to shag anyone.

She and Gareth joined Mark, Julian, Claire and, to her surprise, Dom and Bess. Well, maybe not a surprise. Bess had gone shopping with Claire this afternoon, and Dom was bright enough to run some interference with Mark. She was less happy when, almost simultaneously, the Tart joined them, dragging David behind her.

The woman had changed into a knee-length skirt (it looked like the sort a waitress would wear) and lost the glasses and the red jacket.

Still, it didn't matter. Within five minutes, it was clear that Mark and Gareth were fellow enthusiasts in their love of theatre. They were soon discussing recent Shakespeare productions at the RSC in Stratford. Mark was saying he was applying to Cambridge, and Gareth talked about his experience at Birmingham University and some friends at Cambridge producing and directing plays. He then moved on to discussing how one could balance academic life with directing plays.

Bess then intervened, "Why do women who like sex always end up badly in fiction?"

"To paraphrase Alfred Doolittle, Middle-Class respectability." This was Gareth's contribution, but she saw Mark and Rebecca laugh in agreement.

Rebecca said, "Actually, more 19th-century middle-class respectability. Besides which there are exceptions."

"I'm not disagreeing, but further and better particulars." This was from Mark. His mother was one of the few female barristers in Birmingham, so he occasionally lapsed into legalese.

"Compare the 18th century and Moll Flanders and Fanny Hill. Both get punished for their sins along the way if only to move the plot along, but end up financially secure and happy; still, it was the 18th century, so only a few people could read, and the Georgian aristocracy were a mixture of dissolute load of lechers who would not have their morals corrupted any further or could pretend the books did not exist. Come the 19th century, and things change."

Gareth then said, "It's not always the case that they die, even in the 19th century. Take Vanity Fair. Becky Sharpe is clearly a lot more fun and on the ball than everyone else. It's only in the last thirty pages Thackery had to let the unspeakably drippy heroine win, and even then, he allows Becky to get away with an implied murder and live off an annuity, albeit as a social outcast and in relatively straitened means."

Mark said, "Wilkie Collins. OK, his anti-heroines were not promiscuous, but in No Name and The Woman in White, it was quite clear that his feisty women who don't get a man were his favourite characters. He even had to make Marion ugly to explain why only the main villain valued her at her true worth."

Rebecca said, "You're more of a French literature enthusiast, aren't you, Bess?"

"I didn't know you knew French, Rebecca?" This was from Mark.

"Got an A at O level, but I can't think in anything but English and maths. I read the translations."

"You were saying, Rebecca." Bess clearly wanted to know what the woman thought.

"The lesson from them is if you want to be a promiscuous woman, you need to be rich or learn not to spend the wages of sin on your own lovers. Oh, also, don't get too close to the fire when you're burning your letters and don't catch smallpox or syphilis."

Gareth laughed, "So a modern-day Madame Bovary should insist on her lovers paying for everything; Zola's characters should bank half their money, have a good doctor, take antibiotics and insist on their lovers wearing a Durex, while Madame Merteuil should have a paper shredder."

"He's got it. By George, I think he's got it." Gareth and Mark laughed at this remark from Rebecca. The upper-class accent suggested that there was an in-joke there and she then recognised the quote from My Fair Lady -- fitted in with Gareth's middle-class respectability. She hoped Claire was as pissed off as she was by the intellectual wanking going on.

This conversation was still far too comprehensible for her purposes, and she suspected that it had gone as far as it could go in persuading Bess that indulging herself need not end badly (even though it would). OK, time for her fake apology. "Rebecca, I'm sorry for what I said when you arrived this evening. I was just annoyed at how you taunted George at the prizegiving. Thinking about last year, I am sorry that you felt that your behaviour was justified. I don't want to spoil the party tonight, so can we just forget what was said." She loved the I'm sorry line- it implied that Rebecca was both over-sensitive and did not know how to behave in public.