I was in my last year at school and the rest of my life was stretching out before me, a featureless landscape and me without a map. The boarding school I attended was all boys so interaction with the opposite sex was restricted and girls remained a mystery to most of us. Not that this stopped us from endlessly discussing girls and their anatomy. Like most seventeen-year-old boys, my pals and I were obsessed with the subject.
My own experience was limited although, in my view at that time, glorious. A couple of weeks on student educational cruise had provided me with several opportunities for some serious groping and I had even scored once with a skinny blonde girl behind a lifeboat on a windless night off the coast of Turkey. This hadnt been my first experience; that had been after a school drama production performed jointly with the local girls school the summer before. My introduction to sex hadnt been entirely satisfactory as I had come within about thirty seconds and the female participant had been less than impressed - it was far from her first time!
So it was that this rampant bunch of perambulating hormones that I called friends met together every Wednesday after Rugby Training to nurse our bruises and talk about girls. As members of the school First XV we enjoyed certain privileges such as being allowed to walk out on Wednesday evenings as well as Saturdays. This meant
we could leave the wooded cloisters of the school and head into the local town, which wasnt much to write home about but at least had a semblance of civilisation.
We all used to gather in the towns single coffee bar, picturesquely named the Cresta Run and it was here, over endless cups of cappuccino, that we discussed that subject closest to our hearts and gonads. Sometimes we were fortunate enough to be vouchsafed a glimpse of a real girl or two as the coffee bar was open to all but most of the town girls avoided the place, probably because of our presence - they deemed us school ... Læs hele novellen
