27. The Happy Hooker - And Raiding The Larder

Life at boarding school really is so humdrum. It’s the same old same old, every day. We only leave the grounds to go into town if we are not on exeat. We have breakfast, lunch and dinner, tea and break in the same prefab dining room. We play in the same hall and the same field. There is nowhere new to explore, no one new to meet, no creative activities to engage with, there are no board games or bikes, no roller skates, no skipping ropes. We are not allowed to watch telly and music is limited to very few moments in the week. If we didn’t do something to spice it up I think we’d die of boredom. So we create adventure how and when we can. Raiding the larder is exciting and dangerous.

For some reason that baffles us all a little, the key to the larder hangs on a hook by the larder door. Quite high up but not out of sight or reach.

The larder is a treasure trove of loaves of white bread, pots of jam, shelves of biscuits and crackers and chest freezers full of frozen veg and, importantly for us, blocks of vanilla and Neapolitan ice cream which can be sandwiched between two wafers.

We’ve decided that tonight is the night. We’re going for ice cream. It’s summer and it’s warm and we’re planning a little feast after lights out. No big game plan for a midnight feast, we have learned our lesson. Just a quick dash to the larder and back to the dorm with ice cream. It should all be fine, as long as we don't get caught. Our dorm is right opposite the back stairs so it should be really easy.

We need to wait until it’s dark and Webb and Dodds clock off for the night. So to pass the time we take turns reading out bits from The Happy Hooker by Xaviera Hollander. It is very explicit, it’s just one long compilation of sex scenes, or maybe it’s just that those are the bits we read out loud. We are both shocked and thrilled by it. The women seem powerful and very sexual. We know that we shouldn’t have this book but it’s just too fascinating. It does the rounds of some of the dorms and we guard it carefully, we have no intention of letting matron or any teacher confiscate it! I’m not sure who brought it to school. Moll maybe? She’s from Australia and seems so much older and more mature than us.

Caz is reading out loud:

“ … Sylvia meanwhile is masturbating and thoroughly enjoying the scene. Finally, I mounted her, pushing my legs between hers while Daedo, supporting himself on his elbows and knees climbed on top of me. He thrust his hard cock into my pussy from behind while I rubbed my Venus hill against Sylvia’s cunt and the three of us came in a great simultaneous orgasm which was quite an acrobatic performance.”

We listen in silence. We are enthralled and slightly embarrassed. We don’t talk about it, we just giggle a little and then Caz says, “It’s getting dark. Time to go” She has checked the time and it’s almost ten o’clock. It’s mid June and the days are long, it doesn’t get dark until late.

“Let’s wait until it’s properly dark,” I say. They might see us from the quad window.

So we read another chapter, quietly, by torchlight and then it’s time.

We open the door, careful not to make a sound and tread silently down the back stairs. It’s just me and Caz going tonight. If we all go we’ll make too much noise. We can bring back enough for all of us. Me, her, Nicky and Emma. The school is quiet and dark. We don’t have torches, our eyes are adjusting to the darkness and we can see where we are going, the moon helps, shining through the windows. I like creeping down the long school corridors at night. It’s so peaceful and it feels like the school belongs to us for a moment.

At the larder door, Caz reaches up for the key and then we’re in, quickly grabbing ice cream blocks and wafers. I put some in my dressing gown pockets and carry the rest of the cold, silky little packages in my arms. We lock the door behind us and put the key back in its place. We are good at this. No one will ever know. I feel a little scared but more excited.

We pad barefoot back along the cold stone corridor and up the back stairs. We’ve made it all the way back to the dorm, safe and sound. Phew!

We hand out the ice cream blocks, wrapped in paper and the wafers and we assemble our ice creams. I’m sitting up in bed, holding the cold, little block between my thumb and forefinger, licking it all around the edges, creating a groove with my tongue. Mmmm… this is fun. It’s sweet and icy and very satisfying. I nibble the corner of the wafer, I don’t want the ice cream to squeeze out of the sides. I’m taking it slow.

Suddenly the door flies open. I swing my ice cream hand behind my back at lightning speed, concealing the little block out of sight. It’s Webb. She must have heard us. Maybe we were talking too loudly what with the excitement of ice cream.

“Sophie Boss, lie down” she commands, glaring at me. I lower myself gingerly, feeling the ice-cold cream squish under my back. I try not to put all my weight on it.

“Properly” she insists.

I lie all the way down, sensing the ice cream completely flattened under my weight.

Caz and Emma look at me, their eyes wide. They know what Webb doesn’t. Caz is grinning.

“I don’t want to hear another peep out of you” Webb says glaring around the room, looking at each of us for a moment or two before pulling the door closed loudly and heading back to her study.

I want to screech, but I control myself and laugh silently, my hand covering my mouth. And then I realise that I’m in trouble. There is a huge puddle of half-melted ice cream on my sheet. The stain is getting bigger by the second. “How will I explain this when it’s laundry time?”

I scrape the melted ice cream off as best I can but it looks terrible. I’ll have to roll it up tight when they come to collect the sheets for the laundry and in the meantime, I have to sleep in a wet, sticky patch. The really sad thing is I barely ate any of the ice cream, I had been so looking forward to it. Webb always spoils our fun. I think that’s the top line of her job description: Ensure that no Oakdene girl has fun, ever. (Especially Sophie Boss).

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This story made me laugh out loud at the memory. Comical though it sounds and is, there is a sad and tragic truth to it too. Fun was not easy to create at school, it was definitely not part of my daily experience. I am grateful for the resilience of youth, for my determination to find fun and laughter in my life. Today I almost refuse to do anything unless it will be fun. Of course I do all the boring necessary stuff like flossing my teeth and completing my tax returns, hardly a bundle of laughs, but I also make sure that all the things I choose to do, day in day out, bring me joy. That is the top line of my job description today: Enjoy yourself, have fun, laugh a lot.