To attain this status, you had to dress the right way, hang out in the right places, be seen with the right people and, usually, your parents had to be either very famous, very wealthy, or both.
There were other ways to gain quad cred, such as excellence in sport or music, for example. It didn’t necessarily mean that you were classified as cool, but you were, at least, acceptable.
One thing that didn’t gain you any points, however, was intelligence. In order to be respected for being intelligent, you had to also possess a sharp wit, great confidence and be able to win a verbal battle. Students who merely used their intelligence in the classroom to consistently achieve top grades were labelled as geeks, nerds, egg heads, boffins, swats or any number of other unflattering names.
The funniest part about this hierarchy of credibility was that the geeks and nerds would go on to own and rule the companies where the super cool elite would be trying, and failing, to get jobs in the future.
Jimmy was acceptable in the quad, due to his position in the rugby team and his friendship with Xavier. Everyone knew that Jimmy was intelligent, too, because of the class he was in, but very rarely did anyone put it to the test by calling him names. Others had done so, in the past, and lost to Jimmy’s greater intellect and way with words. But Jimmy preferred a physical response, via wedgie, where he forcibly pulled the person’s underwear up to become wedged between their buttocks.
This varied from a light-hearted, comedic prank, requiring the wearer to straighten their clothes afterwards, to a prolonged, embarrassing and painful display, sometimes continuing until the complete destruction and removal of the victim’s underwear had been achieved.
To be on the receiving end was seriously uncool.
Word had spread on the subject of Xavier’s exeat. There were stories about the audacious cigarette, in front of Mr. Gibson, the massive brawl at Momo’s and, of course, the decadent orgy in the hotel. Jimmy didn’t want to dissuade any other party animals, but he was also eager to portray the image of private, comfortable rooms and cooked English breakfast. Jimmy had to introduce his friends to his father before he would sign any forms and, whilst Xavier may have gotten away with it, future guests would have to be on best behaviour.
It was done on a first-come, first-served basis and the first person to approach Jimmy about an exeat that week was a Nigerian guy, called Moses. He was not really a friend of Jimmy’s but someone Jimmy knew very well, and respected, from the rugby field.
Moses was a year older than Jimmy and had played on the right wing for the rugby first XV the previous year. Moses was bigger, stronger and faster and Jimmy knew that he was only in, as second choice, by virtue of the fact that Moses had opted to play football that season. He had been told to focus on soccer by the club where he had been training that summer and where he hoped he would play, professionally, in the future.
“Knight, is it true that your dad is letting people stay for exeats?” Moses approached Jimmy in the quad, after school, making sure nobody else was paying too much attention. Whilst Jimmy may have been a permissible associate for certain quad dwellers, he was a little far up the temperature scale for Moses, who was super cool, somewhere near freezing.
“I’m helping people to make use of their exeats, for a small fee, if that’s what you mean. The money is for getting the paperwork signed and returned to your houseparent on time. I need to convince my dad to act as your guardian.”
“Do you think he would do that for me?”
“He will if I ask him. But I have to introduce you first.”
“How do we do that?”
“He should be at home now.” Jimmy pushed himself off the wall. “Do you fancy a beer?”
“Yeah, sure.” Moses was looking around the quad again to check that his exit with Jimmy wasn’t being observed by anyone who mattered. “Is your dad okay with us drinking?”
“You’ll soon see.”
They chatted on the way to Jimmy’s house and it turned out that Moses, although one-year older than Jimmy, was also going to be sitting his GCSEs that year. He had fallen behind in his studies. Moses claimed to have missed a large chunk of the syllabus when he changed schools. Jimmy suspected that, in reality, Moses was a little too cool to study and not bright enough to get away with the same approach that Jimmy used: minimum effort for maximum grades.
One of the subjects causing Moses the most difficulty was maths, a subject that Jimmy had taken one year earlier.
“I can help you with your maths, Moses,” Jimmy announced.
“How can you help me?”
“Have you chosen the coursework option?”
“Yes, all our class has to do a statistics project.”
“What’s an ‘A’ worth to you?”
“I don’t know. Do you think you can make it work?”
“Nobody said anything last year. I did two other projects, in addition to my own, for people in different classes... for a small fee.” Jimmy was lying.
“Really?” Moses was looking very interested at the possibility of lightening his workload and improving his final grade.
“Give it some thought,” Jimmy said, as they reached the house. “But not a word to the old man, about coursework or exeat fees.”
§
But working from home was a lonely existence for someone who had been used to daily life in the city, lunching until late with clients on a regular basis. With business concluded and whatever deal signed, he could often be found sleeping off a bottle of wine too many, behind a closed office door in the afternoon, having left an instruction for his secretary not to bother him with any calls except for emergencies or the wife.
That lifestyle seemed a long time ago.
All those afternoons spent with his feet on the desk, snoozing until the peak time trains had passed so he could catch a less crowded one, later in the evening. Returning home in time to eat dinner and say goodnight to the wife and kids, before popping down the road for last orders.
Yes, those days were long gone.
No more lunchtime drinking sessions.
As a self-employed consultant, he neither had the company Amex card to play with, nor the secretary to hide behind.
But he was still quick to jump at the opportunity of a drink, when it arose, and he had just heard the front door.
“Alright there, fellas. Can I get you a beer?” he said, already making a beeline for the fridge. “John Smith’s okay?”
“Sounds great, Dad,” Jimmy grinned at Moses, whose question about Jimmy’s dad being ‘...okay with us drinking?’ had been answered. “This is Moses.”
“Rugby player?” Peter asked, extending a hand and a can of beer in Moses’ direction.
“Yes, Mr. Knight,” Moses shook his hand and took the can. “But I’ve let Jimmy have my place this season.”
“He jumped before he was pushed,” Jimmy said. “Ran off to play football before I stole the spot from him.”
“My money’s on Moses, I think, Son...” Peter looked at the difference in size between the two of them, weighing them up. “if a competition for the place comes up.”
They enjoyed a couple more beers each in the living room, where the conversation ranged from the obvious: rugby and sport in general, to the not so obvious: Moses’ mother was an opera singer and he was quite knowledgeable on the subject. Jimmy knew that his father would be sold at this little gem of information and decided to get the exeat bid in while the going was good.
“I’ve asked Moses if he would like to come on exeat this weekend, Dad.” Jimmy casually threw it into the conversation, imagining it would meet with immediate approval. “Is that okay?”
“Not this weekend, I’m afraid,” came the reply. “I’m going to be in London. And I can’t commit to being a guardian if I’m not here.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Knight,” said Moses. “I understand.”
“You’re more than welcome next weekend, though,” Peter promised him. “I will remember to stock up on beer.”
“Thanks, Mr. Knight, I will look forward to it.”
§
“Jimmy!” Peter called to him, before he could give the matter any further thought. “Phone!”
“Thanks, Dad, I’ll take it in the kitchen.”
“Hello, sexy!” Gemma’s voice caught him off guard.
“Oh! It’s you. Hello.” he spluttered.
Smooth, Jimmy.
Really Smooth.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Nothing much. How about you?”
“I’m on my way over to your house.”
“You’re what?!” Jimmy said, in horror. “Where are you? I’ll meet you at The Crown in ten minutes.”
“Okay. See you there, handsome.”
Jimmy got to The Crown first and ordered a pint, plus a vodka and lemonade, for Gemma.
He sat down at a table, rather than his regular spot at the bar. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, in case anyone else from the rugby club came in.
He had to do a double take when Gemma arrived. No farmer’s daughter in Barbour coat and wellies, no cheap tart in a little black dress, but a sexy, young woman in tight jeans, boots and a white sweater. She had obviously taken some care over her hair and make up, too.
Gemma was looking hot.
And she was his for the taking, if it weren’t for the small matter of imminent death that would follow soon after.
“Wow!” Jimmy was genuinely impressed. “You look stunning.”
“I scrub up quite well, when I try.” She was pleased with the compliment and the look on Jimmy’s face. “Nice to see you made an effort.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy was still wearing his school uniform, minus tie, which wasn’t a bad look, apart from the fact that Gemma knew he had not changed to come out. “I got you a vodka and lemonade.”
“Well remembered,” she said. “It’s a shame I’m driving or I could quite happily have several of these tonight. I’m in the mood.”
“I didn’t know you drove. How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen. Eighteen next month. You don’t mind older women, do you? I know you’re only sixteen, from the game on Sunday, but I thought you were older because I have seen you playing rugby on Saturdays.”
Jimmy had never noticed Gemma before at the club, but if she had been wearing the farmer’s daughter’s clothing, then it was no surprise. She sure as hell hadn’t been in the members’ bar looking the way she did right then, or Jocky would have had to fight off the whole room. He would have probably won, though, had the situation arisen.
“No, I don’t mind older women.” Jimmy couldn’t help staring at the ongoing battle, between breasts and sweater, that was taking place just across the table. He was sure the sweater was at least one size, maybe two sizes, too small and wondered if he ought to offer the breasts some assistance in their bid to escape. “I love older women.”
Two horny teenagers, who were supposedly an item, and had yet to hit the sack together, plus a few more drinks, meant that the inevitable was going to happen later that evening. And the few more drinks, which may well have been six or seven, had clouded Jimmy’s brain about the consequences of his actions.
Gemma drove to Jimmy’s house at around ten o’ clock. Her previous concerns, about drinking and driving, had been lost somewhere along the way, filed under the same category as Jimmy’s earlier worries about his post-coital health. Gemma had only grown more and more tempting to Jimmy, as the ale tally had risen, to the point that there was no return. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, Jimmy had known that his father would be working in the study and there would be no opportunity to close the deal. But Peter, having had a couple of tinnies earlier, with Jimmy and Moses, had developed a thirst of his own, and popped out for last orders.
§
Oh shit!
Wakey, wakey!
Jimmy tried to engage his brain and take stock of the situation. Gemma was naked in his bed and clothes were spread all over the room.
He prayed there were none left on the stairs or anywhere else around the house, but he was quite sure they had headed straight for his bedroom upon arrival.
“I picked up some Chinese. There’s some in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Peter shouted, and he sounded as though he was quite happy with his take away, the question about the car already forgotten. The sound of the TV being switched on confirmed Jimmy’s suspicions.
“Gemma!” Jimmy whispered to her, the memories of the previous Saturday night flooding back, when he had been unable to wake her from her slumber.
She wasn’t giving any indication of moving.
Jimmy tried to consider all of his options but the only thing that occurred to him was that, as long as Gemma wasn’t going to wake up in a hurry, he could check out her body in more detail.
He pulled back the duvet cover, exposing the breasts he had been admiring for the best part of two hours in The Crown.
They were magnificent.
He uncovered the rest of her body and, lying down, she appeared perfect. What slight traces of puppy fat she had around her belly and upper thighs completely disappeared when she was laid out, exposed, on her back.
Jimmy was becoming aroused again and wondered if Gemma would mind being woken in such a fashion. The risk of her making too much noise outweighed the temptation... well, it stood in the way of the temptation long enough for him to try waking her again quietly first.
An erect penis has no conscience.
Jimmy lay with his torso on top of her and kissed her on her mouth and breasts until she stirred. She moaned slightly and put her arms around him, which he took as the signal to mount her as he had done before they fell asleep. He had to put a hand across her mouth, to muffle the noises she was making, but he came inside her quickly and she relaxed again into a state of rest.
§
“Some documentary. You can turn over if you want. I’m going to bed as soon as I’ve eaten this.”
“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that Gemma’s asleep in my room. She can’t drive home because she’s had a drink. It’s okay if she stays, isn’t it?”
“What’s she doing in your room?” Peter’s attention shifted from the Chinese to the subject of Gemma. He knew exactly what she was doing in Jimmy’s room. “Where’s your sister?”
Jimmy’s sister hardly came home at all since leaving Bankside. She left after she had completed her GCSEs, opting to study A-levels at the local college. She wasn’t a very sporty person and didn’t have the same robust personality as Jimmy to deal with the monied bitches who made the school a misery for outsiders.
She had new friends at the local college and some of them lived in a shared house, where she spent most of her time. Whether or not there was a boyfriend, Jimmy didn’t know. But she popped home to pick up clothes and do laundry whenever the mood suited her, helping herself to the contents of the fridge and cupboards as she went.
“At the usual place, I guess.” Jimmy wasn’t sure, but she would have been in touch if there was any emergency, or if she was desperate for cash. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
“Okay, if your sister’s not here, I guess it’s alright if Gemma stays in your room.” Peter consented, but then added, “Just for tonight.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Jimmy repeated the words for effect but without any sincerity. “Just for tonight.”
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