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It was November 1983 and I was in my final year of school; the year we call the ‘Upper Sixth’. England was a world without internet, mobile phones, personal computers, e-mails or text messages. Like most of Europe, it was a country with dirty, badly lit phone boxes that seldom worked and letters that got lost for weeks. Students were few in number and fewer still had cars. Sex was much less casual though AIDS was almost unknown. Condoms were made only by Durex and were a source of embarrassed giggling rather than a life-preserving necessity. It was just past my eighteenth birthday so I could now legally drink in pubs and was learning to drive in my Mum’s already elderly Mini. I thought I was so grown-up! Of course I was mostly working flat out for my forthcoming exams the following May and June, with the exciting prospect intended for all of us in our Private School – getting into a good University. There was a lot of sport too. There had always been a lot of good, healthy sport in Private Schools and I enjoyed it a lot. Apart from being a break from the relentless pressure of academic work, it helped to keep me in shape physically and for an eighteen year old girl in 1983, being good-looking was very important indeed. I had always been a bit of a ‘Daddy’s Girl’, especially since my mother died in a car accident when I was at Primary School. For a few years it had just been Dad and me at home before he had fallen in love and eventually married his secretary from work. How corny is that? Corny or not, it had actually been good for all of us. My new Stepmum was a mother already with two boys of her own – Michael two years older than me, Luke one year younger – so she knew about kids if not about girls. Her own husband had, would you believe, run off with his own secretary a couple of years earlier after getting her pregnant. With so many Boss / Secretary affairs it was almost like a cheap TV comedy but the practical result was that, after years living in a quiet father and daughter household, I had to get used to being part of a busy family of five. This type of arrangement wasn’t nearly as common in the ‘eighties as it is today but after a year of settling down, we fell into something close to an acceptable way of life. For the last eight or nine years we had effectively been one family; happy enough to call our parents Mum and Dad without feeling awkward. I was very tall for a girl and skinny and dark like my older stepbrother Michael. I suppose I was considered quite good looking but had always felt self conscious about my height and tended to dress down and be a bit shy. I wasn’t at all confident in my own dress sense so on the few occasions when I wanted to look a little sexier I would try and copy the way Mike’s girlfriend-of-the-moment dressed, whether it suited me or not. This had unfortunately resulted in a number of fashion disasters which, if you remember the ‘eighties’ were widespread and hadn’t help my confidence with boys at all. As a result, most boys didn’t consider me good girlfriend material, still less a prospect for a one night stand, especially after I had spectacularly failed to deliver the goods sexually on a couple of dates. Consequently I had acquired a bit of a reputation for being inaccessible – frigid as one cruel failed date had put it – and my usual dress of jeans, trainers and sweat shirt didn’t do anything to dispel that impression. I wasn’t a virgin though; on two occasions I had allowed a boy’s penis to enter my body. Both times had been with the same boy; my stepbrother’s best friend and look-alike, David. David had taken my cherry at sixteen after my Mike’s eighteenth birthday party at our house. Naive, unaccustomed to drink and full of emotion, I had been swept off my feet by this older, sophisticated, handsome boy I had had a crush on for a long time. He had to chatted me and flattered me until I had allowed him to take me into my own bedroom. Before I really knew what was happening I had Acıbadem Escort let him deflower me on my own bed while my stepbrother slept off his boozy evening on the sofa downstairs. It had been awkward, clumsy and had hurt a lot. Fortunately my stepmother had believed my story of an early period to explain the blood stain on the sheet. The second occasion had been a week later in the same room. With more time to relax together, I learned that my deflowering had been David’s first time too which explained the extreme clumsiness and awkwardness we had both suffered. The second occasion was much better, if rather short and although it still hurt, I did get some pleasure out of the experience. In our naiveté we didn’t think to use condoms – they were much more difficult to get in those days before AIDS made us think more sensibly. On both occasions, unable to control himself, David came deep within me. I was lucky not to fall pregnant. Now I am over fifty and with much more experience, I realise that I was quite tight ‘down there’ and David was unusually large as well as inexperienced. This combination provided an unfortunate and painful introduction to sex for us both and put me off doing it with anyone at all for quite a while. Then David and Michael went off to different Universities and I was left at home with Mum and Dad. David and I kept in touch intermittently by letter for a few months, though looking back, most of the letters were written by me. Then I learned through Mike (who didn’t know he and I had actually slept together) that David had found a new girlfriend at University. I cried a lot for a few days then got on with my life. ‘Getting on with my life’ mostly involved working flat out for my exams which of course added to my reputation for inaccessibility and frigidity. Although I did have occasional boyfriends, none of them got further than the heavy petting stage so I had remained secretly ‘busted’ but celibate until the moment this story begins. *** It was Winter Term at school and the pressure was on! The English education system involves taking Advanced Level exams in three main subjects at the end of your final year, which is usually at the age of eighteen. Known as A Levels (please don’t laugh), they are all-important in that the University you go to, or indeed whether you go to University at all, depends entirely on the grades achieved in those subjects. The final year at school is therefore focussed hard on exam success and of course, on choosing the right course at the right University. There is still time for some sport and a few other activities but academic pressures always come first. Part of the selection process in those days involved attending Open Days and having interviews at Universities. We were allowed to select a short list of five. Being a ‘Straight A’ student I was looking only at those colleges that offered the best course in my chosen field. Inevitably, some Universities were strong in more than one discipline and among my top five choices were Oxford and the place where my older stepbrother had been studying for a whole year already. Mike had done well at school and was at that time in his second year of Medical School in a prestigious University in the south west of the country. Tall, dark and athletic, he had played rugby throughout his schooldays and had continued playing at University. He had always been a favourite with my school friends, most of whom had at some time had major crushes on him. To be honest I had always had something of a crush on him myself and knew for a fact that at least two of my friends had tried unsuccessfully to tempt him into bed. Their failure had partly been due to a lack of self confidence on Mike’s part but mostly due to a reason I didn’t realise at the time. So I had applied to Mike’s University as one of my five choices and had been called to interview. The first important step had been passed! My appointment Acıbadem Escort Bayan was to be on a Saturday morning following the department’s Open Day on the Friday. Open Days were days in which all important parts of the University would be offering presentations and demonstrations so potential students could get a really good idea of what life there would be like. I had attended just such an event at a college about twenty miles away the previous month so knew what to expect and was excited about the whole, grown-up experience. I was, as you would expect, very nervous about the interview but Dad had given me lots of practice and I was as prepared as I could be. The plan was to go down by train on Thursday evening, stay overnight at Mike’s and spend Friday at the Open Day. Afterwards I would spend another night with Mike and have my interview in the morning. Then Dad would pick me up straight afterwards and drive me home so I would be in time to play hockey for the school that Saturday afternoon. All went well with my journey, despite the best efforts of British Rail. Mike met me at the station looking even taller and more handsome than I remembered, confident in his new stomping ground and wearing the obligatory student uniform of jeans, trainers and a brightly striped rugby shirt. After we had hugged our hellos, he took my suitcase and we caught a bus through the big city towards his house. I was enchanted. We lived in a market town in the midlands so the city and the prospect of living there for three years was quite an adventure. As cities went, this one was special too, filled with imposing buildings from bygone periods but still bright, busy and trendy with a waterfront, hills and plenty of green areas. I could tell why Mike loved being there so much. My stepbrother shared a house with four other boys in a pleasant but run down area not far from the University. The house was big with high ceilings and was rather tatty but to the eighteen year old me it seemed like a palace and the freedom it represented was a dream come true. I had met some of Mike’s housemates before at rugby matches and had got on well with them. They had tended to treat me like a little girl at times but I was determined not to let this happen again. One or two had made attempts at chatting me up but it seems Mike had declared me ‘out of bounds’ and all attempts had been half hearted, though I had felt very flattered by the attention of good looking older boys. It certainly helped that they were almost all well over six feet tall, which made me feel a lot less self conscious about my own skinny figure and height. After I had dumped my bag in Mike’s room and seen the mattress on the floor where I was to sleep for the next two nights, we ate the classic student staple diet of spaghetti Bolognese in their kitchen. Then the boys and two of their girlfriends took me on a night time tour of the city, stopping off at a few favourite pubs as we walked down by the waterfront and along the old streets. As a gesture to the ‘big night out’ I had put on a little more make-up than usual and was wearing a slim fitting jumper rather than my usual shapeless sweat shirt, though the jeans and trainers remained. After a couple of hours of really enjoyable drinking and chatting I was having a great time. The city was fun and exciting, and being out on the town with the slightly older group made me feel bright, attractive and grown-up. I’m sure Mike was keeping an eye on me because he subtly slowed my drinking at times and made sure I wasn’t too dominated by his rugby pals. When we called in at an old corner pub from which live jazz music was booming I was feeling a bit tipsy, unused to the strength of the local cider I had been drinking rather too casually. A small group of students came to greet us as we arrived. From their powerful builds they were obviously more of Mike’s rugby playing friends and he introduced me quite Escort Acıbadem proudly to them all. But I didn’t really remember their names because at that moment a Greek God came into the pub and was walking towards me, smiling. Tall and dark, amazingly like Mike but with an even stronger build, he had striking hazel eyes which right now were boring straight into mine. “Hi,” he smiled at me, then at Mike. “You must be Nicky!” He held his hand out and I automatically took it, almost speechless. His grip was firm but friendly. “I’m Max.” My knees felt a bit weak and my tummy fluttered as I stammered ‘Hi’ in reply. Something told me that Mike wasn’t too pleased to see Max but he was polite and fairly friendly. “Nic, this is Max,” Mike turned to me and smiled awkwardly. “We’re in the same team but he’s one of the glory boys, not a worker like me!” It was clearly an in-joke which made the rugby boys laugh but went above my head. I pretended to understand and laughed simperingly. Max joined our group and for the next hour we sat near to each other, chatted and sipped our drinks. He was absolutely charming – I had never been the centre of such a good-looking boy’s attention for such a long time and was flattered, loving every minute. He was funny, attentive, bought me rather more drinks than perhaps I should have had and I was aware of his legs pressing against mine under the table. I was also aware of Mike giving me dark looks from time to time but I ignored him. It was time he realised I wasn’t a little girl anymore and got used to the idea that boys liked me. The evening passed quickly; all too soon it was closing time and we had to go back to Mike’s place. Max walked me to the bus stop – I put my arm through his in a brave attempt to be romantic – and to my delight he kissed me goodnight just as Mike arrived. I think he was aiming for my cheek but something happened and his lips ended up on mine. It was a magic moment. For a split second our mouths opened and we kissed properly but then we both realised all our friends – including my stepbrother – were nearby and broke the kiss quickly, embarrassed. “Are you staying tomorrow night too?” Max asked as Mike moved deliberately alongside me. I nodded. “I’m going to the Open Day tomorrow.” “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he suggested. “I hope so,” I said, my face turning red as I got on the bus. “Goodnight!” Mike made a point of sitting next to me on the bus, scowling. I could tell he had something to say and, sure enough, after a few minutes, out it came. “Watch your step there, Nic.” “What do you mean?” I demanded aggressively. “I’m just saying, be careful. Max isn’t as nice as he seems, that’s all.” I was getting angry as well as tipsy – a dangerous combination! “He was charming tonight. Just charming. You just can’t cope with me growing up!” “It’s not that, Nic! He’s… well he hasn’t got a good reputation. Be careful!” “I can’t help it if boys like me,” I half shouted. “I’m not a little girl anymore; I can look after myself. You’ll just have to get used to the idea!” The rest of the journey passed in angry silence and we went to bed having exchanged barely a dozen more words. *** The following morning was the Open Day itself. After a brief breakfast during which there was definitely ‘an atmosphere’, Mike walked me to the Department. A few minutes down the road he spoke. “I’m sorry Nic. About last night. I was a bit heavy handed.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been very upset too; partly because of the implication that I was irresponsible, but also because I hated falling out with my stepbrother. “It’s ok Mike. I was nasty too. I know you meant well but I’m not just a little girl now.” I paused as we walked. “But it’s sweet of you to be so protective”. “You promise you’ll be careful?” he asked sincerely. “I promise. He was just so nice to me!” I took his hand and squeezed it. We walked hand in hand for a short while. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” “I know you meant well. I’ll be careful but you’ve got to trust me too,” I insisted. “See you this afternoon!” I kissed him on the cheek and skipped into the Department. The day passed quickly. I loved the people and the places they showed us, from the classrooms to the sports hall, from the gym to the library.

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