age, in profile, looking deadly fierce and ever so soft all at the same time. Our copy is a family heirloom. Oma Davina’s name is written on the first page next to the date – 1955.
I tried to sound breezy and confident. I was not the sort of girl to get giggly and stupid about these things. They were, after all, just a function of nature. I swatted a hand through the air to demonstrate how it would be absolutely no big deal when it came to discussing the ins and outs (so to speak) with us girls. ‘I’m sure most of our Mädelschaft have seen the book too,’ I added.
They had, ages ago. We’d all brought our copies into school and had a good snigger over our favourite sections. Well, they had sniggered. I, as always, as the continual ambassador for my father, had controlled myself.
Fisher nodded, moving off to another corner of the store where a box of rubber quoits had tipped over and spilt. I went with him. My eyes had adjusted by then. I could see where I was going.
‘But it’s one thing to read a book, Jessie.’ He began threading the escaped quoits onto one of his arms. ‘It’s another to have practical expertise.’
The knowledge sections of our meetings were usually followed by hands-on experience. We were told how to pitch a tent, then we put up a tent. We were told how to clean out a gun, then we practised doing just that. So in some way I managed to convince myself that it was entirely normal that Fisher should, once we’d both shed our armload of quoits into the box, take hold of me by the hips.
They weren’t allowed to touch us. It wasn’t proper. There was a rule. So this had to be some kind of practical demonstration, it just had to be.
He put his lips to mine.
And I let him. Of course I did. How could I have said no? He had chosen me. Also, I did want to know.
He started pushing his tongue into my mouth.
And the first thought that came into my head was,
so this is what it feels like, on the other side of things, when one person kisses another, unexpectedly, without asking
.
Or had I asked him? I wondered. Silently, somehow? When Fisher put his face up-close to ours during uniform inspection, his hot breath hitting our noses, had I given him some signal that he should, at the first available opportunity, close off that gap? Or maybe it wasn’t even as considered as that. I had no conscious thought before leaning in and pushing my lips against Clementine’s
. Only men obey commands of the blood. Men and animals.
That’s what our school books told us. Men, animals … and me.
I focused on the scent coming off his clothes, tried to work out what brand of washing powder he used, because I thought this would keep me calm.
He pulled away.
‘You have to use your tongue too, Jess,’ he breathed. His eyes were heavy lidded, full of something.
I nodded, cleared my throat. The idea of putting my tongue in his mouth seemed ridiculous, revolting even, but also entirely natural. Hadn’t that been my instinct, after all, the instinct that I had held back? I couldn’t decide if continuing what we were doing was a terrible sin, word of which would reach my father, or if not doing as Fisher asked was actually the very worst sin, guaranteed to enrage him. The inspirational quotation poster on the wall of the meeting hall that week read: LOYALTY IN FEELING MEANS ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE. I put my mouth back on his and slotted the tip of my tongue between his lips. He loosened my spine with his hands, fought my tongue back with his, then began kissing his way down my jaw and neck. He went close to my ear.
‘You have skin like milk,’ he whispered. ‘My sweet little Jay-Jay.’
My back became rigid at his words. To be spoken to like this, by a grown man, by my superior. The knowledge we were taught was always general, it applied to everyone. These words were just for me. I think this was the first time I had ever felt truly alone.
I tried to conjure up one of the phrases the girls had used to
I tried to sound breezy and confident. I was not the sort of girl to get giggly and stupid about these things. They were, after all, just a function of nature. I swatted a hand through the air to demonstrate how it would be absolutely no big deal when it came to discussing the ins and outs (so to speak) with us girls. ‘I’m sure most of our Mädelschaft have seen the book too,’ I added.
They had, ages ago. We’d all brought our copies into school and had a good snigger over our favourite sections. Well, they had sniggered. I, as always, as the continual ambassador for my father, had controlled myself.
Fisher nodded, moving off to another corner of the store where a box of rubber quoits had tipped over and spilt. I went with him. My eyes had adjusted by then. I could see where I was going.
‘But it’s one thing to read a book, Jessie.’ He began threading the escaped quoits onto one of his arms. ‘It’s another to have practical expertise.’
The knowledge sections of our meetings were usually followed by hands-on experience. We were told how to pitch a tent, then we put up a tent. We were told how to clean out a gun, then we practised doing just that. So in some way I managed to convince myself that it was entirely normal that Fisher should, once we’d both shed our armload of quoits into the box, take hold of me by the hips.
They weren’t allowed to touch us. It wasn’t proper. There was a rule. So this had to be some kind of practical demonstration, it just had to be.
He put his lips to mine.
And I let him. Of course I did. How could I have said no? He had chosen me. Also, I did want to know.
He started pushing his tongue into my mouth.
And the first thought that came into my head was,
so this is what it feels like, on the other side of things, when one person kisses another, unexpectedly, without asking
.
Or had I asked him? I wondered. Silently, somehow? When Fisher put his face up-close to ours during uniform inspection, his hot breath hitting our noses, had I given him some signal that he should, at the first available opportunity, close off that gap? Or maybe it wasn’t even as considered as that. I had no conscious thought before leaning in and pushing my lips against Clementine’s
. Only men obey commands of the blood. Men and animals.
That’s what our school books told us. Men, animals … and me.
I focused on the scent coming off his clothes, tried to work out what brand of washing powder he used, because I thought this would keep me calm.
He pulled away.
‘You have to use your tongue too, Jess,’ he breathed. His eyes were heavy lidded, full of something.
I nodded, cleared my throat. The idea of putting my tongue in his mouth seemed ridiculous, revolting even, but also entirely natural. Hadn’t that been my instinct, after all, the instinct that I had held back? I couldn’t decide if continuing what we were doing was a terrible sin, word of which would reach my father, or if not doing as Fisher asked was actually the very worst sin, guaranteed to enrage him. The inspirational quotation poster on the wall of the meeting hall that week read: LOYALTY IN FEELING MEANS ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE. I put my mouth back on his and slotted the tip of my tongue between his lips. He loosened my spine with his hands, fought my tongue back with his, then began kissing his way down my jaw and neck. He went close to my ear.
‘You have skin like milk,’ he whispered. ‘My sweet little Jay-Jay.’
My back became rigid at his words. To be spoken to like this, by a grown man, by my superior. The knowledge we were taught was always general, it applied to everyone. These words were just for me. I think this was the first time I had ever felt truly alone.
I tried to conjure up one of the phrases the girls had used to
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