Room 2D

From Whispers 1 He never knew who would be coming, but none of the circle ever did. He waited at home as usual on the third Saturday of the month, half expecting a ‘phone call to say it had been cancelled, looking down the drive from time to time and hoping to see a car, which he probably wouldn’t recognise, bringing whoever it was to be this month. When the car came it was Freddie, whom he’d met once before; the girl in the back of the car was blindfolded, which lent a tang of mystery to the whole thing from the word go. Freddie said that Julia had arrived safely, though he didn’t say  where  she’d ‘arrived’, but George knew she’d be back home by Sunday night; no doubt she’d relive the thrill of her own weekend with him when he, in his turn, told her about his. They would both tell little lies, of course, but even that was part of the game. They left the girl with him and said they’d collect her on Sunday afternoon. ...

Photo-story from Janus 160 Harriet Grace, Head Prefect at St Catherine’s School for girls. The epitome of all the virtues: beautiful, full of grace, bright and studious, Oxbridge-bound. Flowing blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. A face and figure most girls would die for. Perfect personality, wonderful singing voice, virtuoso violinist, superb athlete — holder of the school record in long jump and hurdles. A halo would not look odd on that flaxen head. Goodness glows from her. Even her name is perfect. Harriet Grace. Girls in younger years have crushes on her. The hearts of male teachers thump when they glimpse her going through her paces in the gym or bounding in skin-tight shorts down the runway to soar into the air on shapely legs, hair tossing like wheat in a breeze. Harriet Grace. Could any of her admirers and acolytes have imagined that she could ever be Harriet in disGrace? The story is painful to relate — yet strangely thrilli...

The Women’s Cricket World Cup kicks off today and to mark the occasion here is a sporting tale from Uniform Girls 6 ‘Good luck then, Shona. I am as you know expecting great things of the team this year.’ Miss Cartwright rose to her feet and Shona Ashford got up as well. The coffee session, the little tête-à-tête with the Head, was evidently over. ‘Yes, Miss Cartwright, I… er… I hope we will.’ The Headmistress raised her eyebrows. ‘Hope, Shona? I expect more than hope. I expect results; and I imagine that Mr Kirby will  ensure  we get them.’ ‘Yes, Miss Cartwright,’ said Shona, exiting, somewhat red in the face. At 18 she was a big girl and a pretty one, short blonde hair and clean attractive features, tall and sturdily built with solid but shapely thighs and buttocks, not to mention big firm breasts. The sturdy but shapely buttocks seemed to be tingling slightly as she walked down the corridor from the Head’s office,...