Author: Old Softy
Title: The Collar Around the Heart
Summary: James is sixteen today, and his birthday present is pretty unusual. But the future is a foreign country; they do things differently there.
Keywords: mf ScFi rom 1st slave bd oral anal
Part: Chapter 12 of 14

Chapter 1 is at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_1.txt

DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction contains sexual situations not 
suitable for children. It may not be reproduced in any way where 
readers are charged for it. Copyright reserved Old Softy 2007 

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Chapter 12 - Saturday Evening



The room was full. The empty hall I had peered into just over an hour
ago was now heaving with noise, movement, bright colour and above all
 people.

No one had spotted us yet, so I was able to try and get my bearings.
The shapes in the clearer space in the middle were hardly moving 
the band must have just finished a piece. In fact I could see them
putting down their instruments so the deejay must be taking over for a
session. That was good timing.

Patterns began to appear in the groups of people around the edge. Each
gathering tended to have one brightly coloured young thing at its
centre  often a female surrounded by males, but sometimes a male
surrounded by females. There, circulating, the darker colours of the
mothers threaded through the clumps, meeting in small groups of two or
three and then breaking up to coagulate with others. There was my
Mother head to head with two others, no doubt at work already.

The colours of the dresses were garish en mass, even for those few that
were individually tasteful. But somehow it was appropriate. This was the
world, on display, determined to enjoy itself. Suddenly the sombre black
of my ancient jacket seemed woefully inadequate. How could simply good
lines stand up against this cacophony of shape and colour?

Don't panic, I thought. Focus on just one of them  that girl, in the
shepherdess outfit. God, what a mess of frills she was. She needed the
crook so you knew she was a shepherdess, but she couldn't decide how to
hold it. How long had she been sixteen? She looked too young to be here.
And then it struck me. The room was full of extravagant gowns and
glittering jewels, but most of the wearers were only sixteen or
seventeen. They were children playing at dressing up as adults, and on
the whole not doing a very good job of it.

I smiled to myself. I could do this. I could do whatever I felt like.
After all, what did I have to lose?

I stepped forward, to give the Master of Ceremonies my name. When I
told him how I wanted him to introduce us, he demurred politely but
firmly. I understood his reluctance  it was after all the accepted
euphemism for a paid prole prostitute. However a tenner in the hand did
wonders. He banged his staff once on the floor and in a majestic voice
rolled out the words.

"Mister James Pilsbury, and... companion."

There was a shiver, like wind through a wheat field, as all looked up,
and in a spreading ripple the room fell silent.

The deejay looked over at me, grinning. I remembered why I preferred
the company of proles. They had a sense of humour. I gave him the nod,
and just as we had agreed, the music flared into the room. That old
Queen classic  We Will Rock You, just that bit too loud. Another ten
quid but worth every penny. Now, the girl's in heels, I thought, so
let's take the stairs slowly.

One step at a time, and one shout from Queen to each step, we descended
the staircase. I could feel Annie on the end of her tether, and I could
feel all the eyes fixed on me. No, not on me. I knew there was no one
in the room not staring at that body, that mask, and that chain.

The crowd parted as I reach the floor, to reveal my Mother, frozen,
with mouth open. Suddenly the room was loud again, loud with the hiss
of urgent syllables. I bowed low to her, and then nodded again to the
deejay. He faded down the Queen, before moving on to Strauss. It was
not my favourite, but fair enough. The room was back to its usual buzz
again, and the crowd swirled  except for those around us, who stood
to stare unashamedly. Ignoring the expression on my Mother's face, I
turned to face my gorgeous partner, and took her in my arms. We danced,
and time fell back into place.

The waltz was not a rhythm I loved, but Annie danced it really well,
and her gliding hips just swept me along. But gone was the bubbling
child I had practiced with this afternoon. Instead this beautiful woman
swirled around me, her faultless steps matching her flawless silver
mask. The loop of chain was still in my hand along with hers, and it
swung out in an arc as we spun. Although pretending to dance
themselves, the rest of the room watched.

The closing chords signaled the end of the piece, and we glided to a
halt. I made a small formal bow, and she curtsied elegantly, before
taking up her place behind me. The gap in the crowd opened in front and
closed behind us as we walk slowly through it to where my Mother stood,
staring and motionless. I could not read her expression.

"It is your life, isn't it James." she stated, as if bemused. "I can
see there is nothing I can do." And with that she turned around, and
walked off, heading for the door.

I opened my mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say. I had
won. So simple, so effortless, and yet  the victory was hollow. The
feeling of anti-climax was like a blanket. I actually shook my
shoulders as if it could be thrown off, and looked around with
uncertain eyes. Now what?

Over there was Penelope, standing motionless between her friends Emma
and Claire, and facing me. Feeling reckless, I gave Annie's chain a
little tweak to warn her, and set off in that direction.

She was wearing an old fashioned dress of royal blue velvet that was
clearly made before the current fashions reached their sillier
extremes. It suited her  not many could have carried it off, but she
had the figure and the bearing. With full-length skirts and a simple
waist, the halter neck lovingly held each precious breast and left her
back bared. Suspended in the valley between them, that amazing diamond
glittered. In a room full of pantomime costumes, she stood out like a
lily amongst paper flowers.

My urge to shock was still unsated, and as I moved with measured pace
in her direction, I felt like a wolf stalking its next victim. She woke
up and tore her eyes off the chain and collar, just in time for me to
lean forward to kiss the left cheek. I took my time, and felt the
softness of her face against my lips before I switched to the
right-hand one. She tilted her head as she should and I moved back to
the left. She froze while my lips so softly explored the texture of her
skin, and then, when I held it much too long to be polite, pulled away,
leaving the memory of roses in my nostrils. She looked flushed, and a
little perturbed. Interesting, I thought. The society queen was not
unshakeable after all.

She shook herself and got a grip. "Mr. Pilsbury, how good to see you.
You are perhaps looking a little..."

I smiled "Unconventional?" I suggested. "Don't worry, this is as far as
it goes. No more surprises, I am just here to enjoy myself."

Her facade slipped for a second, and a look of relief escaped. She
inclined her head in a nod of thanks.

"But it may have a price," I whispered, leaning forward, and I grinned
again as she pulled back, slightly alarmed. My left hand moved up to
cradle the back of her neck and I ran my thumb under her ear lobe. She
stiffened, but did not back off, and I gripped it gently but firmly.
Slowly, inexorably, I leant in, sliding my other hand around her waist,
while her friends watched in horror. She could not pull away without
making a scene, although her face betrayed that she would have liked to
try. I reached for her lips with mine. Maybe I just wanted to embarrass
her a little, but something in me said to do it this way. Taking my
time I tasted her, running my lips over her soft mouth, carefully
removing her lipstick with my tongue. She exhaled suddenly, and to my
surprise, responded. Just for a second she was yielding into my arms;
and her lips were moving against mine  before she broke away.

It was over so quickly an onlooker might have missed it, but the now
two of us were panting as we stared at each other. I felt my face break
into a grin but she pulled back with a gasp, as if panicking at what she
had just allowed, and hurriedly turned away. In a swirl of long blue
skirts she was gone.

Wow, what was that about! Penelope Jones was the last girl I would have
thought would actually allow me to kiss her, but something had
definitely happened there. I surreptitiously adjusted my trousers to
reposition their contents.

It was just in time, as Mrs. Jones stepped up to me. "Such a striking
outfit, Mr. Pilsbury. Such an interesting cut! Who could have designed
it?" She must have seen the clinch, and was presumably stepping in to
exert some damage control.

"Chap by the name of Armani" I replied, accepting her interception with
good grace and not attempting to go after Penelope. "Long dead now. Mrs.
Haversham thought it was time for a revival." Mrs. Jones' face revealed
that she knew the name, and she raised her eyebrows.

"If that is a real Armani, it is worth more than any other suit in the
room. I did not think there were any left in the kingdom." I was
impressed that she was even aware of whom I was talking about. But, I
suppose one should never underestimate the importance of fashion to the
determined socialite.

"Just the one that I know of. Needed altering, of course. But hasn't
she done it well?" A sneaky notion occurred to me. This would faze her.
"Would you care to take it for a spin, Mrs. Jones?" and I held up my
arms, inviting her to dance. I had to give it to her, she was game. She
raised her eyebrows at my cheek, but stepped into my arms, and off we
went.

I had only meant it to throw her off, but she was surprisingly light on
her feet, and when I bowed and thanked her at the end, it was with real
pleasure. As I slipped past other mothers back to where I had left
Annie I could hear the gossip already;

"At her age!"

"Armani  it's the only one left in the kingdom!"

"I've been told it's worth more than every suit in the room put
together!"

Annie was standing where I had left her, silent in the centre of a
circle of male admirers. They were all staring in fascination but I
could see that not one of them dared approach her. I chuckled, as I
wondered if the radius of the clear floor around her could be
calculated from the contrasting strengths of fear and attraction. As I
stepped through them to take the end of the silver lead from her hand
they broke up and turned away, each suddenly looking for someone else.

Wordlessly, elegantly and with eyes always on us, once more we danced.
By now, I was really enjoying myself. There was no doubt that we had
made an impression, and I was not sure that I cared if it was good or
bad  either would do. Under that silk she was so naked, and not just
to my eyes but to my touch and my command. Owning this beautiful sexual
woman in front of the whole assembly was a heady wine, and it tasted
glorious.

When the set ended, I set off for the refreshments tables, and
discovered that as long as I walked slowly enough, the bubble of space
and silence followed us, to be filled in with whispering heads after we
passed by. I paced like a king towards the collarwaits and accepted a
glass of champagne for each of us.

As I sipped and stared back across the room, I watched the actions of
the other girls. Dropping Annie in their midst, really had put a cat
amongst the pigeons. Those who were not openly staring at us in envy
were flirting even more obviously, quite intentionally putting
themselves on display for the boys around them. It was as if they
actually were for sale, and were desperately competing to get bought
first. God this was such a meat market.

The boys did not really talk to any of the girls either  or not for
more than a few minutes. They flitted from one colourful dress to the
next, until one caught their fancy and they took it out on the floor.
It was almost like bees around a flowerbed  quite poetic if you did
not know what was going on underneath.

Not all were bees, I thought, spotting a familiar bulk amongst the
rest. Over there was something more like a stag beetle  something
ugly, spiky and clumsy. It was Murdoch, and with him his two goons,
unintentionally drifting towards me. I started to edge away, and then
stopped. If not now, when?

"Stay here, girl," I hissed to Annie, and stepped towards them.

"Boss?" she asked, uncertainly. I turned back. Where could I park her
safely for a few minutes? I cast around for a moment. There was
Chatsworth, over there, he would do.

"Chatsworth! Hey, Peter, over here!" He approached me warily as if I
might bite. I nodded to myself. Yes, solid, socially middle of the
road, and basically a decent sort. Peter was perfect.

"Peter, this is Miss A."

"Eh? What do you mean 'A', eh?" His plump face looked puzzled, and I
sighed. I handed him the lead. "She will do whatever you ask. You may
dance with her, and talk to her but not touch her sexually or leave the
room with her." He stared at the loop of silver chain in his hand with
bulging eyes, as if afraid it might bite.

I leaned over to whisper in Annie's ear. "Humour him but take no
nonsense. Back soon." I could not see her expression of course, but she
nodded obediently, and I swung on my heel.

Murdoch was now facing me with Burke and Cribbens, and his eyebrows
scowled as I strolled up to him. They were all in what I guessed had
started off as eighteenth century cavalry uniforms, before someone went
mad with the gold braid. I wondered how they could take themselves
seriously.

"I don't know what you're looking so happy about, Pillsbury," he
sneered. "I thought you knew what happened to anyone who crossed me?"

"Just remind me, Vince. Pretend I've forgotten." As if by magic Burke
appeared at my left shoulder while Cribbens popped up on my right hand
side. I wondered how long they had to practice this sort of thing to
get it looking good.

"A little birdy told me that you might be planning on sending that
collarslut back." Murdoch growled, apparently not in a cheerful mood.
"If you were even thinking of not handing that thing over on Monday
afternoon... "

"Oh, no, Vince, your little bird got it all wrong. I'm definitely
keeping that collarmaid  it's a delightful little thing. Softest,
sweetest cunt you ever used to bury your old todger." I put my arm
around Burke's shoulder in a matey kind of way, and looked away from
him to smile sweetly at Cribbens. "Although it is true that I would
never let a fat ugly lump like you get your grubby hands on her."

Duck backwards. Twist. RUN.

The time delay in slow brains processing unexpected information was a
delight to behold. Did dinosaurs work the same way? I was two paces
ahead of them as I darted through the crowd, heading for the bar. Now,
I just needed a friendly face  any one of my parent's friends. God,
I hoped this would work.

In the room at large, the density of fathers was maybe ten percent.
That did not mean they were not there, although no doubt many like my
father managed to cry off with one excuse or another. No, it was just
that within two arms lengths of the bar, the father density leapt up to
about ninety percent. And that's where I was headed.

SHIT! Burke had managed to cut in front of me. I ducked to his right
 and bumped smack into good old Mrs Jones.

"Ooof! James! Where are you off to at such speed? In a hurry to ask me
for another dance perhaps?"

"Not a bad idea!" I gasped in reply, perhaps a trifle ungraciously, and
took her hand. We were spinning off into the middle of the dance floor
before Cribbens or Burke had quite caught up with what was happening.
They could only glare impotently as I steered us away from them.

"You're breathing a little heavily," mentioned Mrs. Jones. "I hope
that's the excitement of getting your hands on me again!"

Despite the adrenalin still flooding me I had to laugh. "Ah, Mrs.
Jones. To dance with you will always raise my heart rate. But
unfortunately that panting was just me getting out of a spot of
bother."

"Young Murdoch is more than a spot. He's a blot on the landscape," she
muttered darkly.

"I see you know him, then?" I asked, surprised at her perception. I
wondered if it was a complete accident that had put her in my path.

"There is no love lost between his family and ours. Is he giving you
any trouble?"

"Let's just say that right now he would dearly like to find me alone
down a dark alley, and I am quite keen not to be there for him."

"Hmmmm. Let me see if I can't help with that. I might have a word with
some old friends of mine after this dance."

True to her word, after we had bowed and parted, I watched her
approaching a couple of burly grizzled fathers propping up the bar, and
chat to them for a moment. She returned to my side. "I've just called in
a favour, and those nice gentlemen are going to breath down his neck for
a while. You should have no trouble for tonight anyway."

"Mrs. Jones, you are incredible. Not only beautiful, but efficacious
too."

She laughed. "Very good, James, but why are you wasting this on me? You
should be talking to my lovely daughter."

What could I do but grin in reply, and agree to do just that? I had
bowed and made my farewells before the implication sank in. Twenty
minutes ago, she was steering me away from Penelope. Now she seemed to
have changed her mind. Surely she was not trying to foster anything
between us? She must have been pulling my leg again.

Penelope herself was over against the wall, along with Emma and Claire.
While I watched, the clump of boys around them shifted, and then her two
friends were being lead away, each by some eager stud. The two remaining
boys were looking at her hopefully and seemed about to speak, but
suddenly a pair of mothers claimed them and whisked them off. Just for
a second I saw the shadow of disappointment flit over her face, and I
recollected what she had confided to me on Thursday night.

I slid through the crowd until I was at her side. "So pleased to catch
you off the floor, Miss Jones," I smiled, ignoring her glare.

I leant over to her ear. "So, how is it going?"

"What do you care?" I was surprised at her bitterness, but at the same
time, oddly flattered that she was not bothering to be polite.

"Because you told me what this meant to you. And I... I am sorry I
embarrassed you earlier." I had to hold my face close so we could hear
each other, and her eyes were very near.

She sighed. "You didn't embarrass me. I embarrassed myself." For some
reason the swirling currents of humanity were leaving us alone for the
moment, me shoulder to knee with some ghastly statue, and her, with her
back against the wall.

"Well, let us see," she continued "I have put up with some of the most
inept compliments dreamt up by man. I have had three twirls around the
floor, all hopeless dancers. And Murgatroyd asked me on a date next
week."

She waved down my attempt to congratulate her. "I turned him down  I
am supposed to be going out with you after all."

"Penny! You cannot turn someone down just because of our little
arrangement."

"I couldn't leave you to the mercy of these little bitches. You must
have noticed all the hungry eyes on you. It was bad enough when you
were just rich. Now after tonight, you are both rich and irresistible."

"Well maybe after tonight, I feel like I could handle it. Now, promise
me, if anyone else asks me out, you accept, alright?"

She shrugged. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. I didn't want to go out with
him anyway."

"And what do you mean, irresistible? There is no need to get sarcastic,
just when we were getting along so well."

"Sarcasm? Hmmmph. Have you seen the way every female is looking at you
tonight?"

"I know. I have actually managed to shock them, haven't I? They are
staring at me in such horror!"

"No, James, not horror," she corrected gently, as if to an idiot. "Hot,
flustered and damp between the legs, but not with horror." She looked at
me strangely. "You actually have no idea, have you?"

"About what?" I really did have no idea what she was on about. It was
getting a bit warm in here, but girls were supposed to 'glow' rather
than perspire, weren't they? Never mind about getting damp.

"Oh, forget it." She sighed as if forcing herself back to business.
"Come on. You should be shocking people and I should be working the
room."

"Don't you like dancing then?"

"I can't dance if no-one asks me!"

"Oh. No, of course not. Um, should I wait here and... "

"On the other hand, you could ask me to dance."

"Penny, I mustn't monopolise you if there's any one who might make a
match... "

"Come ON!" she interrupted. "Can't I have someone take me for a spin
just for the fun of it, just for a moment out of the cattle market?" I
suddenly heard the stress in her voice. She was right. I had been
having fun while she had been in the thick of it, and not winning.

"Miss Jones, may I have the pleasure of this next number?" I asked
obediently, with my best bow. With a sunshine mood swing she flashed a
smile back at me, one of those rare real smiles that made me want to
like her, and took my outstretched hand.

The "next number" was a jive; Buddy Holly, one of my favourites, and I
like them hot. And it was not just the music; Penny was hot too. She
was really moving. When I was in the mood, I could leave any girl in my
dance class gasping, but the more I threw her around, the faster she
came back for more. I had never understood how girls even managed to
walk, never mind dance, in long gowns and high heels, but she was
whirling like a dervish and grinning like a maniac. The light in her
eyes shone with a challenge I could not ignore.

As we wound up to the last eight bars, the band started ramping it up
and half the room had stopped to watch us. I finished with that move
where you flip her over your shoulder, just knowing she would land on
her feet in time for me to catch her hand. It was one of those moves
that you must never attempt without lots of practice with your partner
first, but she pulled it off. We clung to each other, panting amidst
the whistles and claps as while the last chord died away.

"Not bad, for a beginner." she puffed. "Thanks for keeping it nice and
easy so I could keep up. But I could show you a few steps some time if
you had the inclination," she added.

"Nice and easy!" I started to splutter, and then caught her grin.
"Right, Jones, you're on! Let's see what they are playing next, and
then we'll discover who is keeping up with whom. "

But the bandleader had decided not to try and cap the last one, and had
switched the mood to elegant. The unmistakable intro to "Dancing Cheek
to Cheek" floated out and somehow both Fred and Ginger were looking at
me over her shoulder.

Penny herself was looking at me expectantly, but now the idea of a slow
romantic number with Penny was not right, or was it  too much. God, I
could still feel the texture of her lipstick on my tongue; surely I
could handle one slow dance. But I was still standing there in an
embarrassed silence, way after we should have started off.

"Idiot" she said, in a matter of fact voice, and took my hand to place
it about her waist. "Well, if I lead we are going to be all over the
place, so you had better get moving!"

It was all right. I don't know what I had been worried about, because
it was more than all right, it was really nice. Penny was as smooth and
elegant in the foxtrot as she had been fiery in the jive, and she moved
in my arms like she was part of me.

"So, who are the good prospects in the room, then?" I thought I ought
to make conversation.

"James, do you have to talk about that right now?"

The curve of her waist seemed so natural, so right, under my hand.

"I just never thought about it from the girl's point of view before." I
mused into her ear. It occurred to me that, odd though it seemed, I was
not sure I wanted her to find someone. On the other hand, now I was not
going to screw up her ball, it shouldn't be for nothing. One way or the
other, I was getting interested in what happened to her.

"Hah, I can believe that. But to tell you the truth, it feels such an
anticlimax now. I have been looking forward to this for half my life,
it seems, and now it is here... " She trailed off.

All by themselves, the finger tips of my right hand were counting the
little bumps in the curve of her spine, and enjoying the rippling of
her lower back muscles under the velvet of that dress. I had to
concentrate to stop my hand drifting up to the bare skin just an inch
or so above where it rested. "But I've seen lots of boys chatting to
you!"

"They are all hopeless. Half of them get their tongues in a knot trying
to say 'Hello'. If they've worked out how to speak then they can't
dance, and if they can dance they hold me as if I were a stick of
dynamite."

I laughed. "You are aware that you do project a certain  shall we
say aura, that might tempt some to tread carefully?"

"What do you mean?" she glared. "Are you trying to say that I'm scary?"
I presumed she was unaware that, right at that second, 'scary' was an
understatement.

"No, no  you are beautiful, indeed, magnificent. But occasionally
um... a little awesome at the same time."

She regarded me suspiciously, while still gliding within my arms, and
then suddenly broke into a chuckle. "Magnificent. Awesome. James, if
that was your idea of flattery, I think I'm going to have to give you a
few pointers."

I smiled back into her face, and for a second just let myself swim in
the warm tide of her grin. "Hey, I never claimed that our date next
week was going to be any good."

"Oh, no, its too late to put me off now," she glowered at me. I poked
my tongue out at her until that intoxicating involuntary smile cracked
her pretend frown again. "But anyway, there is not a single decent man
in the lot of them. And if there was, his mother wouldn't let him near
me," she carried on.

"I don't understand."

"It is all set up by the mothers, scheming in the background, and we
are the pawns trying to execute the schemes. Watch my mother." As I
spun us round, she nodded in the direction of Mrs. Jones on the far
side of the room, deep in conversation with two others of the society
ilk. "The real trouble is my poor Mum is having such a tough time about
the dowry. She is doing the rounds, but she has to prevaricate, trying
to play it down. Did you see how Bertie and Cholmondlley were pulled
off?"

"What, their mums took them away?" I said in disbelief. "Who would let
their mother tell them who they can talk to?"

"They are not like you, James. They care too much about their
inheritance, and what Grandma will say, and... oh, basically they are
all wimps anyway."

"My poor Mother. She was really upset when she saw me tonight. You know
she has stormed off home." I explained. "I was really pleased at how my
idea worked, but maybe I went a bit far."

"You know what's ironic? She should have stayed to see what's
happened."

"I don't understand"

"Look around. You could ask any girl here for a date, and she would
bite your hand off."

"But what about the mums. If my performance tonight has not put them
off, nothing will, and you just said... "

"Two hundred and forty seven kay is pretty persuasive. Teenage
rebellion doesn't last, but gold in New Threadneedle Street is a very
different matter." Penny pulled her head away from my shoulder and
looked at me. In heels like those, she was almost my height and could
look straight into my eyes. The rest of the room receded. "Half of them
would defy their parents any way  see how they're drooling."

"Why do you keep saying that!"

"Because it's true, you idiot!" she replied, but with strange
gentleness. The blue in her eyes really was extraordinary. "Look, I
have had enough of this crowd. Shall we go and get a breath of air on
the terrace?" she asked.

"Of course" I concurred, not really thinking about it. I steered us
over to that side of the room, and we broke out of the dance zone. It
felt wrong to take my hand away from Penny's back, but of course I
could not leave it there.

It was only when we were out there amidst the black silhouettes of
pairs of young people clinging to each other, amongst the whispered
moans and muttered protestations, that I remembered what "the terrace"
was used for.

"Ah, Penny, I am not sure this is a good idea. What happens if people
saw me take you out here?"

"Well," she replied thoughtfully but in a teasing voice, "Hanging on
your arm can only make me more interesting. If we are back inside
really fast, the chaps will assume that you blew it and they will be
considering having a go themselves. But if we are here too long, every
one will think we got it together, and then most of them will write me
off."

"So  it's all in the timing." I got into the game. "What do you
think, say a couple of minutes then?"

"Oh, I would say three, no, four. Now what can we do out here for four
or five minutes?" She looked at me and suddenly even in the dim
lamplight her eyes were very big and very close. "That thing you did
when you kissed me. I think you should teach me that properly." How did
she manage to turn the tables so effortlessly? Now I was the one feeling
like a shy virgin, but before I could object or think, her arms were
around my neck and her mouth was fastened to mine.

I could feel her soft shape inside her clothes as she moulded her body
to me, and her opening lips were yielding and warm. Her hands were
holding the back of my head, and now she was doing the kissing 
urgently, hungrily, her tongue actually entering my mouth to find mine.

The inside of her mouth was mine to explore. Her lips sucked me into
her in welcome, her tongue was an eager accomplice, and her fingers
gently roamed in my hair to hold my head against hers. If anyone had
told me before that kissing could be sexier and more intimate than
actual shafting, I would have called them nuts. But this... I was lost
in a universe containing only our mouths, and the person I was
exploring it with was as eager as I was. To return to real life again
was like waking up.

"Wow." I whispered. She was staring at me as if she had never seen me
before, and had to memorise my face. Then without warning her head was
pressing on my shoulder and she was clutching me to her, hugging me so
tightly I could hardly breath.

Shit. I had not meant this, and I had no idea what to do next. "Umm...
Penny... " I managed to say, "We have to go back. You need to go and
join the others, to be available. This is your ball!"

For a moment it was as if she had not heard, but slowly the pressure
slackened, and she released me. She stepped back to look at me, and
sighed deeply. "Alright, but you have to give me one more dance."

As we walked back to the room, her hand clung to mine. Warning claxons
were sounding in the back of my head, but I could not bear to disengage
it. I steered her back to the ballroom floor, but the waltz was in its
closing bars, and we were soon standing still again.

"That didn't count," she said, her frown daring me to object. "This
next, then I will be good, and put myself out for the wimps again."

But the next one was what old Moxley, my dancing master, would have
dismissively called a "smootch". Barry White, I think, was the name of
this guy.

I shrugged. "Are you all right with something as slow as this?" She
answered by taking my hand and moving into my arms again. I led her off
in a down tempo foxtrot, but it was hard work making it feel smooth
enough at that pace.

"Hey, let's just chill," she murmured, and moved in to hang both arms
around my neck. I slid one hand around her waist and let the other rest
just a little lower. Her cheek was against my neck and I was suddenly
aware that her chest was pressed against mine. Now we were just swaying
together while our feet slid over the floor on their own accord. Old
Moxley was right about most things to do with dance but I think he had
missed the point about "smooching".

We swayed together in silence. I had inspected earlier how nicely
Penelope's amazing breasts filled the top of that dress, but now I had
to steel myself not to look down and admire the cleavage formed by the
way they pressed against me. Wow, I realised with a shock, those little
pressure points were her nipples. I could feel her nipples through my
jacket.

"James, what do you want with your life?"

Where did that come from! This was hardly a question I could answer for
anyone; let alone Penelope Jones. Yet perhaps for her of all people...
"The chance to make my own choices. A good position. A girl." That
last, I would never have dreamed of considering a week ago, but now
things were different.

Only one layer of velvet cloth separated my left palm from the smooth
muscles gliding in her behind.

"You thinking about your prole girl?"

"How did you know about that?"

"This is a small town and you have hardly been secretive. Someone has
seen you together, and when I put it out that I was making a play for
you, they took some pains to warn me. Or to try and warn me off." she
added darkly.

Hell, I should stop. I did not know what had got into her, but I had
promised not to muck up her ball, and this sure as hell was not going
to help. I took a deep breath, and moved my hands back up to the centre
of her back. Her bare skin was warm and silky smooth, and if anything it
was sexier than where my hands had been before, but they had to go
somewhere.

"Yes, well Liz and I were thinking of getting together, but of course
we can't marry. And the whole mistress or companion thing  I hate
the hypocrisy."

"I am amazed she is happy to stand against the wall over there, and let
us dance like this."

"Who, Liz?" I queried in shock, looking around.

"Don't lose step. Yes, your 'companion' with the collar and chain."

"Oh, her!" I exclaimed, laughing with relief. "That's... ah... that's
someone else."

Penny herself now slowed down and threatened to break our rhythm,
staring at Annie, who was standing with Peter, surrounded by a cloud of
boys against the far wall.

"You haven't. You have! That's your collarmaid! You dressed up your
collarmaid as a companion pretending to be a collarslut, and that's her
over there!" Penny's face was creased in delight. "You don't pull any
punches, do you James!"

I laughed with her. "Keep the secret?" The music had ended and we had
drifted to a standstill but were still holding each other.

"For you James, anything." She was still grinning, but now we were at
arms length and I was feeling as if I were on firmer ground. "And
James..." she paused uncertainly. "Oh, hell." She kissed me quickly,
but full on the lips; a short fast determined kiss, and then was gone.
I watched her blonde hair merge into the crowd.

So what had happened there? Light headed I moved in the direction of
Annie, wondering who had been pulling pranks on whom. I had no idea
what was going on, except that I was completely out of my depth.
Somehow I didn't care.

Peter looked up as I approached him through the crowd, He seemed to
have become quite used to being the center of attention. "Thanks for
looking after her, Peter."

"My pleasure, old chap!" The stunned expression I had last seen him
wearing had been replaced by a grin that split his face. "Why don't the
rest of the gals dress like that!" As he moved away, I could see that
nurse-maiding Annie had done his rep no harm at all. Three girls, all
lookers, were hanging in his way, and looking at him hopefully. He
paused and considered them, before addressing the tall slim brunette. I
approved of his taste.

"Petunia, m' dear. Care for a scramble?"

"Oh, yes please Peter," she cooed.

And then unwittingly, he changed the world. "Now, m' dear, what are you
wearing under that gown?"

She looked puzzled, and simpered slightly. "The usual. Petticoat, slip
and corset."

"Decent, are they? You know, to look at?"

Poor Petunia was looking a little worried now. "I suppose so. But...
what is this all about, Peter?"

"Off with it then. Lets get rid of that gown. In fact..." and to our
surprise he started on the toggles at the front of his jacket, and in
only a minute had slung the heavy embroidered thing over the heads of
those behind him. More by luck than good aim, it snagged on the head of
a statue and hung there, swaying slightly. For some reason having the
top half covered up made the bare bottom half of the stone nymph seem
obscenely nude.

In a plain loose fitting white shirt Peter actually looked quite good.
Now that his barrel chest was no longer straining the toggles of a
slightly tight jacket, you could notice the width of his shoulders.

"Come on girl, don't be shy!"

Giggling helplessly, she allowed him to pull the gown off, over her
head. Sure enough, there was no more skin displayed than before, but
she was blushing as if we were watching her get out of the bath.

"Much better," he declared, taking her in his arms. "I like to feel I'm
taking a girl for a spin don't y' know, not a sofa!" And with a squeal
of delight from her, they were off across the floor.

Shaking my head, I wandered into the crowd surrounding the dance floor.
Every girl I passed looked at me hopefully, or blushed and turned away.
I began to see what Penny was talking about. How ironic. Last week,
when I would have been stunned to get even a smile from any one of
these girls, they could not see me. Now I did not care if they were
throwing themselves at me.

I tuned in to the whispering around me.

"That Petunia's such a slut!"

"Yeah, but who ended up dancing with him, and who's still standing here
against the wall?"

"Well I'd slip my gown off for a go with Bertie any time!"

Taking Annie for a spin around the floor seemed a quiet and
conservative pastime in comparison. But then, dancing with her was just
such a pleasure. I did not have to be trying to shock people all the
time.

At the start of the next number, I spotted Michael Flanningan  a
thin Irish lad I had always liked, partly because he was even shyer
that I used to be. Why not, I thought, and decided to hook him up with
Annie for a dance, to see if the magic would rub off on him as well.

"Are you sure, James?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Of course I am. Look after her now, won't you." I said as I took the
half full champagne glass out of his hand and replaced it with Annie's
lead. I downed the glass in one, and watched them slip across the
floor. It was fascinating to see him gather confidence as Annie's
movements somehow managed to make his footwork look competent, and I
smiled to myself. God, that girl was good. Now, where could I find my
next amusement?

Madeline and Charlotte were standing in a circle of admirers. The buzz
from the champers was making me feel both mischievous and reckless as I
strolled up to them.

"Hello girls. Having fun?" I asked, leaning in to peck Charlotte on the
cheeks. Madeline somehow managed to twist her face to catch her kiss on
the lips, but I pressed on with it anyway. She glanced at Charlotte in
triumph as I pulled away.

Charlotte was, of course, wearing the 'Wedding Cake'. What else?

"You are looking quite lovely, my dear. Such a special dress." I
murmured to her, with just enough sincerity to fool many people. She
smiled in pleasure, but Madeline sniggered.

"James, how unkind of you to tease her. Charlotte actually believes her
dress looks good, don't you dear?"

"Well... doesn't it?" asked Charlotte, suddenly confused and uncertain.

"Of course not. It's an over-the-top collection of frills aimed
specifically at silly young girls with more money than sense. How
astute of James to spot it. I believe Mrs. Haversham calls it the
'Wedding Cake'. Isn't that right, James?"

Charlotte turned to me, looking for denial, but I was half a second too
slow in forcing it out. Her face fell, as she held out the body of the
skirts in front of her, and I could see her excitement collapse with
her confidence, right before my eyes.

"Madeline!" I glared at the bitch.

She stepped right in front of Charlotte, blanking her from me, and
smiled sexily. Her poor friend turned and rushed off into the crowd.

"Charlotte!" I called out, and stepped around Madeline to stride after
her. She ignored my cry, and I had to catch her elbow to get her to
slow down.

"What?" she demanded. I could see tears gathering in her eyes. There
was a slow dance playing, so I said nothing but took her hands, and
pulled her into the music. Amazingly, her well-trained feet followed
mine before she could think to stop them. For a couple of bars she
shuffled along woodenly, and then, as if someone had pulled a plug, she
softened and leaned in against me.

"James, I know I shouldn't ask... but could you just hold me for a
bit?"

What sort of bastard would have refused? Not me. After a while of
moving softly in sync, she sighed deeply and sniffed. "I don't suppose
you have a handkerchief?" I pulled one out of my top pocket, and she
blew her nose without loosing step.

"It doesn't matter, you know." Her voice was resigned and empty. "I'm
going to get married off, whatever I look like. It's just... oh, well,
who was going to be interested in fat little me anyway?"

"Charlotte, half the boys in the room are watching us right now. How
can you say that!"

"Because it's you they are watching, and the money."

"The money?"

"Yes, my money. The dowry. The bloody, bloody dowry. All they see is
the money, like a glowlamp in front of me. I'm just the body that
carries it around. Tonight I was just hoping that maybe someone might
be interested in me, you know, the girl not the investment, but... oh
hell, in the end it doesn't make any difference."

We moved silently for a few moments, comfortably together but no longer
clinging. "So is there no-one who you liked, who you get on with as a
person?"

"Well there might be, but of course he's not interested in me that way.
Charlie the mate, fine  but he would not dream of asking me out, or
even for a dance. " She pulled back a little, still hand in hand, to
look at me. "But... James, after the way we treated you, last week 
why are you doing this? You're not going to play a trick on me are you?
Like... like I did?"

"Hey, even I thought that it was funny in the end." Not quite the
truth, but just then I was desperately trying to get her to feel
better.

"But it wasn't. It was just mean. Although... well you really did go on
about motorbikes such a lot..."

"What, like a really, really big bore?"

She giggled, helplessly. "I'm sorry, but you were! And now you are
being so nice to me, I don't know why."

"Don't worry. I'm just interested. Now, who is it?"

"Who is who?"

"The boy you like, your male friend."

"Oh. I'm not sure you would call him a friend. Well, alright, I suppose
he is, although we never go out or anything. It's Charles Harrison."

"Ah, Charles and Charlotte!" How funny about the names. I knew him
vaguely. He was a real swot. I didn't think his family had much money,
and he worked like a maniac, as if he was trying to prove something. As
he was pretty bright with it, he nearly always got the top marks in
everything.

"Actually, I call him Charlie, and he calls me the same. We would be
Charlie and Charlie, if anything. I think that's why he first noticed
me."

"Not because you look almost edible when you smile like that?"

"James! Anyway, it's no good. I did actually ask Mum to put out a
feeler for me, but she refused to. I think she didn't like the name
thing. And, well, his family are not up to much, you know."

"I know about his family, but she was completely wrong. Look, that chap
is hardworking and clever, and if he cares for you, that's all you need.
Why look for some well heeled ignoramus when the one thing you are not
short of is money?"

"I suppose, when you put it like that, we would make quite a team. And
sometimes I did think he was, you know, interested. But I can tell you,
he has never made any sort of approach."

"You'd be surprised, Charlotte, how few boys are keen on getting shot
down in flames. It's very difficult to even ask if you think there is
no chance of succeeding. Now is he here tonight?"

"Yes, but what are you suggesting?"

"That you go over to him now, and take his hand, and tell him in clear
words that if he was to ask you to dance, you would say yes."

"I couldn't do that! It would be so forward!"

"Then could you spend the rest of your life with some arrogant prat who
ignored you from the moment he had signed the marriage license, and your
money became his?"

Her expression changed. "But my parents?"

"Sort out Charlie first, and then the two of you tackle them together.
You are their only daughter, and they care for you. If you are
resolute, how long will they stand in your way?"

She stopped moving, and with a determined look in her eye, said, "You
know, I think I can do this." She dropped my hands, and without a
goodbye or a thank you, she marched away from me, eyes searching
looking for Charlie Harrison. Invite me to the wedding, I thought after
her, and smiled to myself.

Good deed done for the day, I returned to the sea of bodies to find
Madeline standing right there, in my way. Now what the hell did she
want? I shook my head at her, puzzled. "I can understand you treating
me like that, but I thought Charlotte was your friend?"

"Oh, she is, but it's you I'm going to dance with."

I turned on my heel, about to cut her dead.

"Lost your balls, James? Afraid risk a dalliance with little old me?"

Yes, it's immature, but I was no more able to resist a dare then, than
I was when I was six, and the anger burning in me was not going to be
satisfied with just walking away. I bowed and took her hand, determined
to see what the opportunity would bring.

There was something odd about dancing with Madeline's body in my hands.
We are twisting to a Latin Samba of all things, and if a girl couldn't
make that sexy than there was no hope for her. But although her face
smiled at me, and her hands appeared to be eager to touch me, it is as
if her body was not happy to be there. I tried to put the uncertain
feeling to one side, and just enjoy the sight of her splendid melons
bouncing away on that cantilever undergarment in front of my nose.

She leaned into me and whispered into my ear. "How does it feel to be
dancing with a real woman, James?"

The answer was the memory of Penny's back under my fingers, and for a
moment I was too distracted to reply. Her head next to mine, she pushed
on; "How would it feel to be fucking with a real woman?"

There was no polite answer to that, even if I were not tongue-tied.
Possibly taking my silence as shyness in the face of her brazen offer,
she stepped up her attack. "I'm not wearing any knickers under this
dress, James." My obvious assumption that she was bluffing was dashed
as she coyly pushed a small squashed parcel of silk into my hand.
"Doesn't that turn you on?" It was, in fact, only a sense of propriety
that stopped me dropping them with revulsion on the dance floor. I was
not keen on holding anyone's soiled underwear, least of all anything
from Madeline.

The assault continued. "If you haven't felt my lovely box around your
manhood, you haven't felt nothing, baby!"

"Her box around my manhood?" I thought to myself. Was this girl for
real? And while I was trying fruitlessly to work out why she was doing
this, she launched into the most bizarre and pornographic sexual
description, apparently in an attempt to turn me on so much that I
would sweep her off her feet. The possibility that I was resistant to
her charms obviously had not occurred to her.

"Wouldn't you like me naked, writhing on the bathroom tiles while you
pee on me? Your hot piss would run all over my tits and between my legs
and it would make me so hot that I would even drink it!" She didn't mean
it. She couldn't possibly. So why did she think it would turn me on?

"Come with me. I know a place where we can be alone!" she invited in
what was supposed to be a suggestive whisper. It was as much curiosity
as bravado that made me follow her.

I assumed we would be going out on the terrace, but in fact she headed
in the opposite direction, and slipped out of a door at the back end of
the ballroom.

Down a short corridor, she pulled out a key from the depths of her
dress, and opened up the door to another room. This was a lavish
stateroom, furnished almost like a parlour, and obviously for
entertaining small numbers of important guests. The ornate gilt tables
had marble tops under the lace tablecloths, and the embroidery on the
sofa looked very expensive. I wondered how she knew this was here, or
indeed why she had the key.

Madeline shut the door and immediately pressed up to me provocatively,
grinding her hips against me.

"Alone at last. Like what you see?" She flirted coquettishly and lifted
her breasts from beneath to push them up even more unnaturally. I smiled
to myself. I was not going to have to do anything here. It was a fair
bet she was going to make a complete fool of herself, completely
unaided.

I even went along with her when she pushed her face up to mine for a
kiss. It was the strangest experience. As I kissed back, her mouth flew
wide open and my tongue was alone in a cavern. It was as if her head
knew that sexy kisses involved open mouths and swapping saliva, but her
tongue was cowering in a corner. I pulled away, oddly disturbed, but she
carried on as if all was hunky dory.

"Let's get him out to play!" she husked, working at the buttons on my
trousers. I almost balked at her clumsy fingers but I couldn't resist
seeing how far she would go with this. I found out soon enough.

Despite my reservations my cock was more than half erect  well, they
were fairly amazing breasts! But at the sight of it, she stopped,
stepped back, and produced an odd forced laugh.

"Is that it? That sorry little thing?" she asked, pointing at it.

I shrugged. I was hardly worried if she was attracted to me or not.
"Seems to be enough for most."

"Oh, James. I'm so sorry if I said something unkind about your little
weeny. It is kind of sweet in a way. Some girls might like it. But I
couldn't possibly get excited about a thing that size." She gazed at me
in mock concern. "Oh, dear, and here you were, looking forward to
getting in my pants. I'm so sorry about that." I frowned. Her
expression made it plain that she was far from sorry.

She paused as if she had suddenly had the greatest idea. "I know. Why
don't we pretend that we did it? No one need know. I will tell my girl
friends that you were the greatest lover, and you can brag to all your
chums about how many times you made me cum, and how loudly I cried
out." She giggled. "You can even suggest that I let you do me up the
bottom if you like. How do you like that idea?"

I stared at her in amazement as I did up my flies. "Sorry, Madeline,
I'm just not interested. As you can see I am not very interested in you
sexually, and I am certainly not interested in concocting silly stories
about how we got it on. I don't indulge in bragging, and if anyone saw
us go in here, we should simply tell them that it didn't work out."

"You can't! You mustn't! I mean you have to tell them how good I was!"
Weird. Her reaction was quite disproportionate.

"But as far as I am concerned you weren't," I explained reasonably.

"If you don't tell everyone you had the most amazing sex of your life,
I'll tell them about your tiny cock. I say you couldn't get it up! I'll
say you prefer little boys!" Her face was snarling. The veil had finally
dropped.

"You think I care what your friends think of me? Do you think that
anyone I do care about would believe you?"

"You little stuck up prig! I'll get you! I know stuff about you  who
do you think told Penelope about your skanky prole slut, in the town!"
She must have seen from my expression that that got to me, and she
carried on viciously. "I'm the one who told Vince that you had a little
collarslut he ought to try out. And today I told him you're sending it
back, so he won't get to enjoy it after all. You are going to get
pulverised on Monday when he catches up with you!"

Shit! So that was how he knew! I wasn't going to give her the
satisfaction of knowing that he had already caught up with me, but now
my blood was boiling. "This was all a set-up, wasn't it? How can you do
it to yourself  flaunt yourself like that just to get me alone in
here? Don't you have any self respect at all?"

"Don't you talk about self respect! You're the one with the stupid
prole cunt out there. I can't believe Penny agreed to dance with you
while that tart was around. I'm going to rip that mask off and show
every one who she is!" she screeched.

She was half way to the door before I could grab her. I had to stop her
leaving the room. She turned and scratched at my face, claws flying. I
hung on to the shoulder of her dress, holding her away. With a tearing
noise the fabric ripped, exposing half a breast, and then the red mist
had me.

I don't think I was going to rape her. It was not about sex, or hurting
her. It was about humiliation. I was going to humble her and bring her
down. I was going to strip her and leave her there naked. I was going
to see her face at my feet.

We struggled in the folds of cloth surrounding her but they hindered
her as much as they protected her, and I was stronger and angrier. In
no time I had dragged the dress up over her head, so it held her
struggling but helpless. It was like a bag, smothering her head and
arms above her armpits but exposing her naked below there, except for
the corset and stockings. I dragged her off balance, and threw her on
her back on the sofa. Suddenly she stopped struggling and collapsed
back limp on cushions.

I paused, panting. With the world calming down, I regarded the body in
front of me. The arms and head were hidden, but everything below the
neck was displayed. The corset was torn, spilling her breasts out, and
she really had taken her knickers off. With her long legs splayed open
like that she was a sight not to be ignored.

Her breasts were amazing. Even while she was on her back, they stood up
and out, still spherical. A sudden suspicion occurred to me. She
couldn't have. Her Father would never have allowed it! I looked close,
and there on the underside of each swollen curve was the telltale pink
line. She had had a boob job done!

Even I knew the derision that would be heaped on the head of a lady who
felt desperate enough to get her breasts enhanced. Boob jobs were for
collars. It was so unlikely, that I had never suspected it before now,
although now I knew, it was all too obvious. That shape and size  of
course they were false!

Bemused, I let my eyes wander lower. There was something very arousing
about the limp body, lying there headless and armless, completely open
to my gaze, or even my touch. And what a fantastic body it was. With
her legs open like, that her sex was offered on display like a picture.
The pubic hair was neatly trimmed, again the behaviour of a collar not
of a lady. Fascinated, I knelt down to inspect the smooth trim lips
looking so neat and innocent, despite being pulled apart so her actual
vaginal opening was clearly visible. If ever a woman's cunt could be
called pretty, this was it.

But now I looked more closely  that was odd, what was going on here?
With only a small hesitation, I brought my hands to her groin and gently
parted her outer lips with my thumbs. The pink inner folds pulled apart
under the tension, and, clearly visible, there was some sort of
membrane across the entrance. It was a thin piece of skin  so thin
as to be almost transparent, and not complete  it had a gap at the
top. I had never seen one before, but that had to be a hymen. She was a
virgin!

The body shifted, and through the layers of cloth I could just hear the
sound of her catching her breath. Carefully, I broke the laces in the
remnants of the bodice around her neck, and gently pulled the dress up
off her face. Her eyes were shut and tears were trickling down her
cheeks.

I sat down next to her and cleared the remnants of the torn outfit from
her head and wrists, and waited for her to open her eyes. "Madeline,
What does this mean?" I asked, in a voice calmer than I felt.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The great Madeline Carter, the sexiest
girl in the school, has never actually had a cock in her. She's too
terrified."

"What? But you've been out with half the boys in my class. They all say
you were the greatest lay they ever had!"

"Yeah, well they would, wouldn't they?" The bleak bitterness in her
voice chilled me.

It took me a few minutes to get the story out of her, but eventually
she sat up, heedless of her naked state, and let it out. It turned out
she had never been all the way with any of the boys she had dated.
Every time she had pulled the same trick she had tried on me. She led
them on, and when it came to the crunch, she mocked them, and made them
feel inadequate. Then, as a big favour, she agreed to say that the sex
had been amazing as long as they said the same thing. Each and every
one of them had thought they were the only ones who had failed  that
they alone were inadequate while everyone else had had an amazing time
with her! How did she get away with it every single time?

She sighed and sank back, spreading her legs again. "Go on. Do it, go
ahead. You may as well. After all someone has to; it might as well be
you." Her voice was low and shaky, and I caught something heart
wrenchingly sad beneath the bitter bravado.

I looked at the most lusted after girl in the school laid out in front
of me, offering herself, and despite my unease my prick began to be
interested again. No matter what I thought of her, the smooth curves of
that female shape were still something else. I slowly reached out to run
my fingers up the inside of one thigh and then across the delicate lips
above it. Although I had only ever seen two other girls like this,
there seemed something odd about the sweet sex lips displayed for me. I
stroked them, with the barest brush of my fingertips. The soft skin felt
warm and smooth under my fingers. They were quite cute really, but there
was something missing. Then it hit me. They were quite dry. Not hot, not
swollen, and not wet. Her body was no more interested in my cock than I
was in her dowry.

"Sorry, Madeline. Save your virginity for someone who wants it."

"But you have to! I'm supposed to be experienced and knowledgeable. How
can I go to bed with a chap, not even knowing what it feels like to have
one up me?" She lifted her head to look at me. Something had occurred to
her. "Don't be a gentleman. This is where you can get your revenge 
God knows I deserve it. I know it will hurt, and this is your chance to
make me suffer!"

"You're a manipulative bitch and no doubt you would deserve it, but
rape doesn't do anything for me."

"Rape." Her voice was strange as she repeated the word. "Rape. Me," she
mouthed as if trying the combination out. "Rape me! Please, you have to!
It's what I need. I'll give you anything if you can force me, you know,
do it to me."

"Don't be silly, I won't do it"

"You have to! I want it so much, to have someone's thing in me, but I
can't let go. I am so tired of this. I so want it to be over, but I
just can't. I need someone to make it happen for me. Please. It's that
part of me that hates boys... I don't know, I'm frightened of myself,
as much as them. If you could overcome it, restrain it  you can tie
me down!"

She sat up and looked around wildly. "Here, get those tiebacks, they
would do." My mind struggling to work all this out, I slowly collected
four tiebacks from the tall velvet drapes, almost for something to do,
and let the curtains swing across the floor in front of the windows. In
front of her, I hesitated.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" she urged.

"Are you sure?" I held up the thick cotton ties, uncertainly. Revenge,
yes, it would be some kind of payback. But now that seemed less
important than it had ten minutes ago. I had no idea even where to
start, and I was uncomfortably aware that a mistake here could land me
in deep trouble. Then the image of Annie, this afternoon, in my room,
flashed in front of me. Is that what this was? What was it with these
girls!

"Madeline, you don't need this."

"Oh, God, don't tease me. I do want it, I do. I mean, in a way I don't,
but I know I need it to be done. Please, I'm sorry I tried to mess with
you, I will do anything to make it right!"

"Yes, but this would not be it," I said slowly. "Oh, yes, you think
want me to take you now. But what you actually need is someone to
control you, to take you on permanently. And I am sorry Madeline, but I
am not that man." I tossed the curtain ties to a chair and looked at her
solemnly.

"You mean it, don't you? Oh, shit, some siren I am  I can't even get
one guy to fuck me." She sighed deeply, and sat up in a more normal
position. It was funny. With that face and body, and especially in that
getup, she should have looked like a porn star. But for some subtle
reason, instead she just looked like a girl without her dress on. "I
suppose it's what I deserve, after all's said and done. Do you know how
old I am James?"

"Yes, seventeen isn't it?" I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

"My birthday is third of December. In nine weeks I shall be eighteen.
My Mother is so desperate she would accept anyone. My father has upped
my dowry to seventy thousand. And with every chap I meet, I screw it
up. I can't help it. So  who wants a wife older than they are? Who
wants a wife that got left on the shelf somehow? Who will still be
unmarried by the time they come into the goodies at eighteen? I'll tell
you. No-one."

In spite of what I used to feel about her, I could not help smiling at
her words. "You're too hard on yourself. You are still the wet dream of
half the boys in that room out there, you know." I paused, and then
decided I need hardly worry about offending her here. And I was
curious. "How did you get the boob job? Does your Father know about
it?"

"That obvious, is it? It was only a little re-shaping, they were
actually quite big before, but I... oh, fuck, I don't know."

I thought of Penny's words, from what seemed so long ago, on the
subject of marriage. "The mating game is a horrible gamble, Maddie, and
everyone worries and feels insecure. But you, of all people, should have
less need to worry than most."

"If only that were true. And yes, of course Father knows. Who do you
think paid for it? My poor parents are so desperate they would agree to
anything. And you know what happens? They set up some hopeful stud, and
I am determined that this time it will work, that he will be the one,
and then... something takes over, and I piss it all away like I have a
death wish."

"Look, of all the chaps you went out with, was there not even one you
respected or liked?"

She looked at me with curiously still eyes, and for the first time that
evening I had the feeling she was being true, to herself and to me.
"Yeees. Perhaps one. Bradford Smith. I almost let him take me for real
in the Michaelmas term, but I lost my nerve. His cock wasn't small 
quite the opposite. I had to tell him I was frightened to let such an
ugly great thing near me, and it was half the truth. He was embarrassed
about the size of the thing  can you credit it? But I dreamt about it
for the next month, and I still sometimes wonder what it would have been
like." She shivered.

"Tallish sort of bloke, dark hair, and glasses?" I knew just whom she
meant. Most of the year called him 'Beanpole', not always kindly, and I
was pretty sure he was here.

"That was him."

"Get dressed. We are going to sort something out."

She was as obedient as a lamb, but the getting dressed was easier said
than done. I attempted to make some sort of repair of her ruined ball
gown, but it was beyond rescue. Then I had an inspiration. There was
something else that would suit my purposes much better anyway.

"Clear the things off that side table, and pass me the tablecloth."

She obeyed without objection, but began to look worried when she saw
what I was doing to it. "Is this some sort of game?"

"Yes, that's it. A bit of a game. You put your head in here, and hold
out your hands."

With a hole in the centre for her head and a curtain tie around the
waist for a belt, the lace cloth looked almost Grecian. And the way it
fell over her swelling breasts was a bonus. With that wire-framed
corset her figure was something to marvel at, and you could just nicely
make out her nipples through the lacy holes.

"What... what are you doing?" she asked nervously as I tied her hands
loosely behind her back and looped another tieback around her neck as a
halter.

"Come on then," I said tugging her towards the door.

"What? I can't go out there! Not like this!" She backed away to the
limit of the halter, clearly panicking.

"Like this or as naked as the day you were born." I grated. I stepped
up to her and forced her face up into mine. "Understand this, Madeline.
The old you is dead. The school queen, the prick tease, the prize
daughter  all gone with that dress, and good riddance. But what is
left is not worthless, and now I am going to see what I can make of
her. So... naked or like this?"

She bowed her head. "Like this," she answered quietly.

The gasp from the people nearest us as we entered the ballroom could be
heard over the music. It took only a few minutes to spot Bradford
Smith's tall head above the rest on the far side of the room. Half
naked girl in tow, I set off in his direction. This was in danger of
becoming a habit - the bubble of silence that followed us across the
floor was as shocked as the one that had followed Annie. Although as I
crossed the floor, I looked around and noticed with interest that
Petunia was not the only one who had discarded her heavy gown, for a
simple slip and petticoat. They all looked as sexy as hell, and none of
them were without a partner.

Smith stood facing us as I reached him and raised an eyebrow at our
appearance. "Pilsbury. Interesting party, " he greeted me.

"Thank you, Smith. I believe you have had the pleasure of Miss Carter's
acquaintance?"

"Ah, yes, Madeline. That pleasure was indeed mine," he replied dryly,
and frowned.

"This is not quite the Madeline you may remember. Tell me, Smith, have
you reached an understanding with any of these lovely young women yet?"

"Not as such, no. I er... have not really had my heart in the hunt
since crossing Miss Carter's path."

"Would you still be interested in Miss Carter?"

"I would indeed, but not everything works out as we would like best,
Pilsbury."

I held out the heavy cotton braided rope, tassel and all. "She can be
yours. The breasts aren't real and she is to say the least
inexperienced, but the dowry is decent. With a firm hand and enough
discipline she could make a wife in a million. You must decide now,
though. Right now."

"What? Is this some kind of joke?"

I was suddenly aware of the size of the ring of silence around us. A
sea of faces waited expectantly.

"Madeline. If you want to be his, offer yourself." I freed her hands
from behind her, gave her the lead and put my hand on her back
reassuringly.

She knelt in front of Bradford, and held up the end of the rope
attached to her own neck "If you will have me, I will be your most
obedient wife."

Bradford looked around, as if someone else could help him, and then
gave a bark of a laugh. "I must be mad, but  yes."

The crowd cheered and clapped, and the two of them were surrounded in a
swirl of congratulations. I just hope he can square it with his mother,
I mused to myself.

I tore my eyes away from the sight of Maddie offering her face up to
Bradford's kiss, and looked around for Annie. Oddly, she was over
there, deep in conversation with Penelope Jones. What could they have
to chat about, I wondered with a little concern.

But as I approached them, Penny addressed me first. "So, what have you
been up to?"

"Oh, just getting out of a scrape," I told her, carelessly. For some
reason it was nice to see that smile again.

"I've been looking for you. It's ten to midnight, and almost time to
wrap up."

"What about the last dance?"

She grinned cheekily. "Shouldn't you be keeping that one for your
'date' here? "

"No, I wanted to keep that one for the most beautiful girl in the
room."

"Better," she said. "If you keep this up we'll make a decent flatterer
out of you after all. But look, the reason I came to find you is that,
without your mother... Well it will be a bit strange if there is not
even one Pilsbury in the farewell lineup."

"So you want me to help shake hands and murmur polite nothings to the
departing guests?"

"Unless it is against your plans to embarrass your family... "

"No, I think I have done enough of that tonight. Bit it will cost you."

She regarded me warily. "Spit it out then."

"The last dance, of course. Did you think I was joking?"

So she took my hand to dance the last dance together, and when I
started to talk to her she just shushed me. "Don't say a thing. Let's
just pretend." 'Pretend what?' I asked myself, but I kept quiet, as I
had been bid, and let the music wash over us. It was, of course, a
waltz, and I steered through half closed eyes and thought of nothing
but the warm soft human body moving with me in my arms. The dance
seemed endless and yet ended before I could begin to get used to the
feeling.

"James, how are you going to get home?" asked Mrs. Jones as she and
Penny stood by my side at the top of the stairs shaking hands with the
queue of departing guests.

"No idea," I replied out of the corner of my mouth, in between inane
platitudes to the stuffed shirts nodding to me. My Mother had
presumably taken the Town Hall limo with her, ages ago.

"You must come with us, then. We will give you a lift."

And so, bang on time, with midnight chiming from the ancient clock in
its niche above the door; it was all over. A fair sprinkling of drama,
I thought, but on the whole a much more enjoyable occasion than I had
deserved. I had turned down sex with Madeline Carter. I had even done
both her and Charlie favours, that hopefully they would still thank me
for in years to come. I had faced down Murdoch, and got away with it.
Above all, I had discovered that I was no longer afraid to do anything.
I was the equal of anyone in this room.

But oddly, of all the triumphs of tonight, do you know what filled me
with a rush of excitement? It was the thought of ten minutes in the
back seat of a darkened limousine with Penelope Jones beside me.
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Chapter 13 is at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_13.txt

