Spit And Polish

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Anna!' scolded Emma. 'If you needed to pee, why didn't you say so earlier?'

Anna was released. The girls holding her arms and legs got to their feet, as if she were now contagious. She sat up and managed to stem the flow, wincing with pain.

Emma went to the table, took the lemonade bowl — still half-full of lemonade — and put it on the floor in front of Anna.

'I take it nobody wants any more lemonade,' she said. 'If you do, get it quick!'

'No, Emma,' said Anna, in her most serious voice. 'You let me out!'

'I would, but I can't lay my hands on the key.'

'LET ME OUT!'

'Has anyone seen the door key?'

'Then I'll piss on the fucking carpet!'

'I do hope you won't.'

Rafaela said, 'Christ, Emma. I thought I was a bitch.'

'Thank you.'

They waited to see what Anna would do. 'Oh my God! She's going again!' squeaked a voice. But it proved to be a false alarm — or at least, just a few more drops.

Afterwards, Anna chided herself for not peeing on Emma's carpet. But since the age of two she had been peeing into things, and the habit of years is hard to break.

Bent almost double, she got to her feet, pulled the damp shorts a little way down her thigh, and sat on the impromptu potty.

That is, she attempted to sit on it, but it was too low, and she toppled backwards. A delicate arch of urine spurted from between her legs, and disappeared into the carpet. ('Oh Anna!' said Emma, 'That's so gross!')

She tried again, supporting herself with her hands, but that didn't work either.

After some desperate experimentation she found the solution, which was to squat on tiptoe, one foot on either side of the bowl. To do this she had to remove the shorts entirely.

She put her elbows on her knees, and her face in her hands, and she pissed like a sow, loud and long. Her ears reddened, and her eyes were moist with shame. After twenty or so seconds, the flow abruptly stopped. She wobbled on her toes.

'Is that all?' said Emma. Anna shook her head. They waited. And waited. And waited. At last came a little tinkle from the punchbowl. Soon she was spurting intermittently. She kept her head buried in her hands. After several more stops and starts, and a long dribbly squirty period at the end, she was done.

'Honestly, I know five year olds with better bladder control,' said Emma. Wincing, she picked up the shorts, looked at the name tag, and dropped them into a plastic bag.

'Harriet Braithewaite!' She tutted. 'Poor old Harriet! Not very nice for her, is it? You'd better take them home with you, Anna, and give them a first-class scrub, and...'

A blur of motion as Anna launched herself off the punchbowl and onto Emma. She was a ball of fury. Sharp fists connected with Emma's breasts and chin and face. By the time the other girls had realised what was happening, and caught Anna by the arms, she had achieved a good half dozen punches. As she was being dragged away, she landed a kick on Emma's stomach.

They wrested her to the floor and sat on her. The punchbowl was hastily put under the bed before it was knocked over.

'Blimey,' said Emma, wincing as she rubbed her chin. She looked at the heap of girls on the floor. 'What on earth has got into her, do you think...?'

'Emma! Your nose is bleeding!'

'Watch out for your shirt!'

Too late! A single drop of blood fell onto her lapel.

'BUGGER!' cried Emma, and stamped her foot. She tipped her head back and requested tissues, and stood still and silent. When the flow had abated somewhat, she went to the mirror to inspect the damage. There was blood on her face, a red mark on her chin that would turn into a bruise, and the spot of blood on the pristine cotton.

'My favourite shirt,' she said with a sigh.

'You won't get that out,' said Richie, with satisfaction.

'Thank you, my dear. I came to the same conclusion. Bugger that brat!'

Still holding the tissue to her nose, she picked up her towel and asked them to excuse her. 'Yet again, thanks to her, I have to go and clean up.' She left the room.

But to their surprise she re-entered a few seconds later. Without a word she went to the chest-of-drawers, rummaged, and took out a long wooden spoon. This she placed on the floor next to Anna. She left again.

There was an electric silence. They stared first at the spoon, and then at each other. Anna alone didn't see it, as her nose was pressed into the carpet.

'Oh dear Anna,' said one, and sucked her teeth.

'Now you're for it!' said another.

Barely a minute ago they had been ready to tell Emma that enough was enough. The sight of Anna quivering over the punchbowl had melted all but the most hardhearted among them. But now Anna had drawn blood, and ruined a beautiful white shirt, and kicked two or three of them as well. So their pity, if not exactly withdrawn, was put on hold. Never was a tantrum so ill-timed!

They were sympathetic, of course, as they looked at the spoon and winced on Anna's behalf, foresuffering her pain. But it was the sort of sympathy that is laced with more than a little schadenfreude .

'You've only gone and done it now, Anna!'

'Ouch! That's going to ... !'

Anna looked up, as best she could, to see what was going to ... ; saw the spoon; and gave an almighty wriggle. The girls sitting on her were nearly toppled. They lurched like buildings in an earthquake, and only just managed to remained upright. Anna did at least get a hand free. She hurled the wooden spoon across the room and against the wall. It fell with a clatter. What good she thought this would do is hard to tell.

Emma returned, clean-faced.

'It's behind the bed,' they told her.

Emma smiled down at Anna, who was struggling and cursing. 'Still being naughty, is she?' She retrieved the spoon, put it down again by Anna's head, and went to her wardrobe. She took off the ruined white shirt, sighing, and put on a polo shirt.

'Might as well be comfortable,' she said, smiling around the room. Bare-armed and fair-tressed, she now looked like Justice herself.

She picked up the spoon, and tried it on her palm. 'Anna's old friend,' she said. 'Anna ... are you going to kiss your old friend?'

She put the spoon to Anna's mouth.

'You are so evil!' said Rafaela, with admiration.

'That's what they used to do, isn't it? At Eton, or Harrow, or somewhere. Made 'em kiss the cane beforehand. How about it, Anna? Revive a fine old tradition, hmm? No? Not even a little kiss?'

She gave up on the pleasant joke. 'How will we do this? Heffy, if you get off her entirely, leaving the, er, zone of combat free, and the rest of you stay just as you are, I think that will do the trick.... Where are you two going?'

For two girls were putting on their jackets. Their faces said it all.

'You can't leave now! You'll miss the fun!'

'I don't think everyone's having fun, Emma.'

So there were some rather forced thank-you-for-the-partys, and good-byes, and the two girls left with their consciences. Emma shrugged. 'Fancy leaving before the main course!' She knelt at Anna's side, and looked down at the upturned buttocks — white, naked, and waiting. She lay the spoon lightly on one cheek, and saw it quiver. Afterwards her friends would swear they had never seen her so happy.

'Rump-steak!' she said. 'That's what the main course will consist of. A nice, red, juicy...'

'Emma!' said Richie. 'If you're going to do it, just do it.'

So Emma did. She raised the spoon high over her head, and brought it down with all her might.

'Doww-howww-howwww-howww!' said Anna. 'Nahaaaaar! Ha! Ha! Ha!'

The other girls were equally astonished.

'Anna makes the funniest noises,' said Emma, and watched in fascination as a red mark appeared on Anna's backside. It had a distinct shape, like a pair of lips. Emma rubbed it with the back of the spoon.

'We did it through her army skirt, last time,' said Emma. 'This is much, much better. You get to admire your work.'

She raised the spoon high and brought it down again. The muscles in her arm rippled. Emma could lift a fifteen kilogram dumbbell, and often did.

She watched, delighted, as more redness emerged before her eyes. 'Anna, you won't have to bring me a photograph of your bum, this time. Now we can see it in the flesh.'

The third stroke was a little off-target. A second pair of lips flowered next to the first. Anna was now silent. Only those who could see her face realised the pain she was in, because her mouth was an 'O' of agony, and her eyes were shut.

'The funny thing is,' said Emma, running a finger over the sore spot. 'It looks horribly painful, and it sounds horribly painful, but in fact it's not.'

'I think Anna would beg to disagree.'

'Sure, it stings for a couple of seconds,' said Emma. 'And then the pain just vanishes. I've tried it on myself.' She clicked her fingers. 'Just like that!'

'Bullshit.'

Emma brought down the spoon again, very hard. Anna's head moved slowly.

'It's true, though.'

'Emma — bull... shit!'

'Alright, I'll show you,' said Emma, jumping up and approaching the sceptic.

The girl retreated hurriedly. — 'I don't think so!'

'In the spirit of science. You are a scientist, aren't you?'

The girl hesitated. But she was the game sort. 'Just one, then.'

She turned around, pulled her sweater clear of her backside, and waited...

'FUCK!' she yelled, straightening and clasping her backside. 'Fuck, Emma! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!'

'And that's through jeans!' said someone else, in awe.

'Bloody hell, Emma. That really really hurts!'

'But it's going away already? The pain?'

'No!'

'Aww, come on!'

'It still bloody hurts.'

'You must have unusually delicate skin, then. Not so Anna.'

She stooped and gave Anna another spank. Tears tumbled down Anna's cheeks.

'Come and look at Anna's face before you go any further,' said a girl.

Emma did so.

'Shamming.' She wiped a tear from Anna's cheek with her finger, and looked at it closely, like a diamond merchant. 'Definitely fake.'

She knelt again, and set to work properly on Anna. 'You're trying to make them feel sorry for you, aren't you? You don't fool me.'

Soon Anna was sobbing properly.

'Emma! Stop it now !'

'I'll stop the moment she tells me where the photos are.'

'Then give her a chance!'

'She's had plenty of chances.'

Emma dealt out another, and Anna bawled. Her buttock glowered like an angry sunset.

'I need to get her properly warmed up first, or she'll just feed us more guff.'

Right in the middle of the glowing sunset exploded the spoon. A long, horrible gurgle of misery came from Anna's throat.

Sugs lay on the floor and put her head next to Anna's. 'Oh, you poor poor thing!' she said, lifting some strands of hair off Anna's tear-soaked cheek. 'Oh why don't you just tell her, Anna? I don't think she's ever going to stop.'

Emma confirmed this with the spoon. Anna yelled.

'Give it a break , Emma!' cried Sugs. 'Let me talk to her!' Then she became gentle again. 'Come on sweetheart! I can't bear this any more! If you don't want to tell Emma, why don't you tell me ?'

Anna looked at the girl through a blur of tears.

'Please tell me, Anna,' said the girl softly, and kissed her on the forehead. 'Please?'

And Anna nodded.

'Emma, she's going to tell!'

Emma snorted. But she leant over to listen.

'Well ... where then?' she said, as Anna lay and sobbed. 'Five ... four ... three... two...'

Anna looked up at her, dislodging several tears. 'I hid them,' she said breathlessly, 'Up your arse ... Your uptight, sadistic, militaristic, lesbian ... NOOOOO!'

Emma had wasted no time. The spoon came down again and again. Anna was soon howling.

Many of the other girls had stopped watching. One nibbled a fingernail and examined the carpet. Another sat with her head buried in her hands, and a third stood with her elbows on the windowsill, looking out into the darkness. As Anna's grief got louder and louder, so too did their remonstrations.

'What's the point of this anyway?' cried one. 'She'll just go and take more photographs.'

'That's what I've been thinking all along,' said another. 'She's more likely to blackmail you now, isn't she?'

'And us! We could all get expelled!'

Mutiny was in the air. And Emma was a wise general. So she tossed the spoon onto the bed, earning sighs of relief from all over the room. Anna continued to bawl. Sugs wiped her eyes and her nose.

Emma got to her feet and looked down at her victim dispassionately. Then, from the drawer of her bedside table, she fetched a pot of cream. She returned to Anna and began smoothing its contents into the critical region with surprisingly tender fingers.

'No, keep to your stations, please,' she said to the girls who were pinning Anna to the floor. 'Or she'll take another slug at me.'

'I wouldn't blame her.'

Emma worked in silence for a while. Then she said, 'Anna has never had any intention of using the photographs.'

'How do you know?'

'Trust me.'

'Then why do you care so much about them?'

'It's not the photos I care about.'

She looked up at their exasperated faces.

'Do you still not get it?' she said. 'Honestly, I thought you'd be a bit quicker. Remember earlier we were talking about the cadet corps? And everyone was saying, what's going to happen to it, after we've left? What's it you said, Raffy? — It would be more like the Brownies than a military corps, and they might as well lock up the barracks entirely, until someone with an ounce of grit came along. Well, someone with an ounce of grit has come along. And you're sitting on her!'

Rafaela looked down at the shuddering heap of misery beneath her legs.

'She dresses like a tramp,' continued Emma. 'She has no respect for authority. Dirtiest mouth I ever heard. No sense of discipline. Workshy....'

'Annoying,' murmured Richie.

' Highly annoying...'

Rafaela scoffed. 'And that's the future of the corps?'

'Exactly!'

'Gawd help us.'

Emma ladled more cream onto Anna's backside. 'This girl,' she said, 'Has more imagination in her little finger than the rest of 'em put together. And she's as brave as a bunny. That's what matters. Everything else can be worked on.'

'Why bother?' said Lou. 'She hates the cadets. More than anyone.'

'If you'd heard her the other week, Lou, you wouldn't think that.'

'What was she saying?'

'Nothing. She was doing the most wonderful impersonation of you, in your best parade ground manner. It was hilarious. Absolutely spot-on. We'll make her do it in a minute.'

'I look forward to it,' said Lou, giving a wry smile. 'I hardly see how that proves your point, though.'

'She takes more interest in the corps than half of ... well, than nearly anyone. I bet you, if I dropped dead next Saturday afternoon, she could step up and drill the entire parade herself, and just as well. Well, almost, anyway.'

They looked at Anna, trying to imagine this sobbing lump drilling five hundred cadets. Emma emptied yet more cream onto her.

'She's a natural. Sadly, she's also a little squit who doesn't know what's good for her. I came to her as a friend and mentor, and she came back at me with photos. Therefore, you see, I just have to keep on bullying her until she sees sense and gives them to me. As a gesture of goodwill. Until she does that, she's just going to keep laughing at me. See?'

She looked around at them. 'Trust me on this.'

'I was sceptical,' said Richie. 'Now I've got a horrible feeling that Emma might be right.'

'I'm always right.'

'I'm not saying you aren't,' said Lou, 'But you're not having much luck, are you? Unless you now use thumbscrews, what more can you do...?'

'I've one or two ideas.'

Emma scooped all of the remaining cream onto Anna's backside. Sugs relieved her of the empty pot. She glanced at the label.

'This is face cream!'

'So what?'

'This stuff costs a bomb!'

'Emma's loaded,' said Rafaela.

'It's important to keep one's buttocks well-moisturized,' said Emma. 'Thereby fending off premature ageing and unwanted wrinkles.'

True to her word, she began smoothing the cream into the second, unharmed, buttock. Anna was growing restless now. Emma spread the cream far and wide. Before long, Anna's whole backside gleamed. And still there was an excess. 'I put a bit too much on, Anna. I might as well rub it in, eh?' She did so, working it into the crack, subtly and gently. Anna wriggled in protest. But when Emma's fingers continued downwards, she exploded. She bucked, and kicked, and swore. Once again the girls sitting on her were nearly unsettled.

'Fuck off, Emma! Don't you dare! Don't you dare! Don't you dare!'

'Dare what?'

'You fucking know what I mean!'

'Anna, dear, the spoon is right here. And if you swear at me one more time, I'll use it.'

'Oh why can't you just leave me alone!' sobbed Anna, as she felt a creamy finger slide between her legs. 'Why can't you leave me alone?'

'I'd rather hoped you were listening to our conversation just now,' said Emma. 'Which would answer that question. Anyway, what else am I to do with all this gloop?'

She winked at the spectators. They sighed and shook their heads, wondering if there were no end to her villainy.

'I may have lied when I said Anna likes tickling,' said Emma. 'But she really, really, really loves this.'

'Go fuck yourself, Emma!'

Emma reached for the spoon, and gave Anna five resounding spanks in quick succession.

'Her! Her! Her! Her! Her! Her! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!' said Anna. 'Haaaaaaaaarrrrr!'

'I warned her,' said Emma, throwing the spoon back on the bed.

Then she bent down and kissed the reheated buttock. 'Poor Anna's bum!' she said. 'Sugs, would you mind rummaging in the drawer for something else I can rub into it?'

'Nothing you do will make me give you those photographs,' said Anna. 'Nothing!'

'We'll see.'

So Anna she lay silent and let the inevitable take shape. Some oil was discovered, and Emma announced they would give Anna the most wonderful massage of her life — 'We've all seen how tense she is, haven't we?' The girl sitting on Anna's legs was ordered off, the legs were parted, and the oil soothed into her thighs and calves, and the soles of her feet. She continued to swear under her breath.

'Now, Anna, Rafaela's going to get off your back, and you're to lie still and relax,' said Emma. 'Remember the spoon.'

Rafaela got off. Anna's sweatshirt came off too.

She lay naked, and put up no struggle. But they could see the muscles in her neck stand tight with anger.

Sugs, who had once done a massage course, took charge of the operation. She straddled Anna, warmed oil in her palm, and began smoothing it across Anna's back. She told Anna to relax, and to ignore nasty old Emma. She began work on the shoulders, kneading out every knot, and when this was done, moved onto the spine, and then the neck.

Emma grew impatient.

'Side Two,' she announced, before Sugs could think of something else. 'Time for the big flip, Anna. Need a hand?'

Anna at first didn't move. They waited. Then she turned her head. 'Emma, remind me to tell you afterwards, how much I hate you.'

'I promise.'

Anna turned over and for the second time that evening showed them all. Sugs began work at once on her shoulders. Emma ordered others to help her.

She stood back and watched.

Anna was balling her fists, and glowering, and grimacing. Meanwhile her body began to gleam from head to toe. The only sound in the room was the squelching of oily hands upon oily flesh.

'Haven't you forgotten her breasts?' said Emma, looking at these. Like two fresh spring buds, Anna's nipples had raised themselves, very long and very red.

'Tch! You don't do breasts!' said Sugs.

'They're looking rather tense to me,' said Emma. 'Give them the once over, why don't you?'

Sugs shook her head sadly at Anna, and sighed. 'If I don't, she will,' she said. 'Shall I do it? I'll be ever so gentle.'

They watched in fascination as Sugs poured more oil into her palm, winked at Anna, and began gently massaging one breast. Anna shut her eyes, and started sniffing, as if she were going to cry. Her breath grew heavy.

Sugs spent only a few seconds on the breast.

'You've forgotten the top bit,' said Emma. 'The sticky-up bit on top. What's it called?'

'I'm not going to do that!'

'If you don't, I will.'

Sugs sighed, and said to Anna, 'I suppose it had better be me, huh?'

She put more oil on her fingers, and with the gentlest of touches trailed them up and down Anna's nipple. Anna tried to look nonchalant. But they saw her jaw quiver.

'There!' said Sugs to Emma. 'Satisfied?'

'Now the other side.'

So Sugs did Anna's other breast in the same brusque manner, finishing up again with the nipple. Anna breathed slowly and deeply. Once she moaned. She also bit her lip.

'That's the spirit!' cried Emma. 'Now who else wants a go?'

'We're finished,' said Sugs. 'Just leave Anna alone, now!'

'That's hardly fair on the others,' said Emma. Her eye swept the room and came to rest on Rafaela.

'Raffy! What do you say?'

Rafaela came forward eagerly. She took the bottle of oil from Sugs, and started massaging Anna's breasts all over again.

Anna lay still. She was screwing up her face, as though she had just taken a swig of milk, and discovered it had turned to cheese.

'What's the matter, Anna?' said Rafaela, mocking. 'Don't you like it?'

'Of course she likes it!' cried Emma. 'But she's pretending not to. Look at her! Isn't she a poppet?'

'Are you going to give me a smile then, Anna?'

'Anna, give Raffy a smile, like a good girl.'

'I wish you would, instead of pulling faces at me.'

'And I wish, Rafaela,' said Anna quietly, 'That you would keep your revolting lesbian fingers to yourself.'

Rafaela raised her eyebrows in surprise. She shrugged. Then, using thumb and middle finger, she gave the tip of Anna's long nipple a ping with her fingernail.

It was hard and painful. Anna yelled, clamped her hands over her breast, and half-sat. She whimpered in misery and shock. But Emma got her to lie down and put her arms by her sides again.

'Now say you're sorry to Rafaela,' she said.

Anna only shut her eyes, ground her teeth together, and got ready for more pain. Rafaela, her face darkening, prepared to obliged her. But Emma shook her head.

'Just keep going, Rafaela dear, and rise above these petty taunts.'

So Rafaela instead dribbled more oil onto the reddened nipple, and returned to caressing it.

'When Anna has an orgasm,' said Emma, 'You can take that as an apology.'

Anna's scowl deepened.

'You haven't lived,' continued Emma, addressing the whole room now, 'Until you've seen Anna come. It's the sweetest thing in the whole world. Watch her face.'

Rafaela looked doubtfully at Anna's face, which was still a mask of disgust.

'Still not enjoying it, huh?' she asked. She reached between Anna's legs. 'I'm sure that's not face-cream I can feel.'

She kept her hand there, and began stroking, up and down, with one insolent fingertip; and then with another began seeking out Anna's secret folds, and the wetness within. The room watched in fascination and horror. Of all the tortures Anna had suffered that evening, this was the cruellest.

The bittersweet tormentress worked in silence for several minutes. Then there were tears in Anna's eyes, and she began whispering. 'Oh ... why do you have to humiliate me? Why do you have to humiliate me? Oh please! Oh, why do you have to do this?' She took a long deep breath, and her back arched. 'Oh, why?'

'Just be quiet,' said Emma gently, 'And come.'

Even as Emma spoke, they could see Anna gave up the struggle. Her legs relaxed. Her head lolled. Her eyes became dreamy and distant.

'Oh,' she said. 'Oh, oh, oh. I'm not going to come. Hm-hm!'

'Shhh,' said Emma.

Anna's breathing grew loud. Her face pinkened. — 'Oh my gosh.'

Her lips parted, her eyes shut, she began sniffing rapidly. The flush spread. She seemed to sneeze two or three times. Then she shuddered.

They craned to watch her face as she came, and it was as good as Emma had promised. Anna had a diffident style of orgasm, as though she was trying to keep it to herself but not succeeding. She smiled, opened and closed her mouth, hummed through her nose, and turned red. Her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes turned aside. The audience was enraptured. They put their arms around each other, and sighed, and moaned. Nearly all of them would gladly have swapped places with Anna, at that moment. (But Richie looked out the window and frowned. She disapproved of this sort of thing.)

It was over. They gave Anna a few scant seconds to breathe, and then started again. This time Raffy used her mouth, washing the tip of Anna's nipple with her tongue. Anna went pink again. When she was approaching orgasm, Emma asked her if she had something to say to Rafaela.

'I'm sorry for calling you a lesbian, Rafaela' murmured Anna, as Rafaela's fingers went deep inside her. Emma chuckled. Soon Anna was humming and smiling again.

Emma, like a shrewd impresario, went scouting for fresh talent to keep the act alive. Her eye lighted upon Heffy. She chose well. Heffy's demurral, necessary for modesty's sake, last barely five seconds. Then she came over, knelt between Anna's legs, and began work with nimble fingers. Others were recruited. Soon Anna was being kissed, and suckled, and entered, all at once

'This is a first,' she murmured, as desire scooped her up again, and bore her away. She came again and again. Emma, ever the commanding officer, kept them busy. She got Sugs to snog Anna, and properly this time. She persuaded Lou to use her tongue on her, too, and watched as she did so, and said she bet Anna had never dreamed she'd one day be sucked off by her head of house. Lou raised her head in alarm, hearing it put like this. Then she shrugged and went back to work. And so the sweet Bacchanal continued. If Anna even noticed the camera flashing away, she gave no sign.

They anointed her with more oil. They discovered that nibbling her earlobes made her squeal with laughter. The wooden spoon was reintroduced in a more kindly manner. They played hide-and-seek with marshmallows. Then they spotted Emma's fruit bowl, and this opened up all sorts of new and exciting avenues. Inspired, Lou was just asking Emma if she had an electric toothbrush, when...

Tap! Tap! Tap! on the door.

They froze. Then — oh horror! — the voice of authority, asking Emma to open up.

Emma held up a finger, telling them not to panic. — 'Coming Miss Morgan!' she cried.

She took stock of the situation. She looked at Anna, and she looked at her school trunk, and came to a instant decision. Within seconds Anna was inside, and the rug on top straightened, and Sugs sitting on it with a glass of lemonade in her hand.

Then Emma breathed deeply and smiled, like an actress about to go onstage, and unlocked the door. The housemistress entered impatiently, looked around the room, and demanded to know what they thought they doing. Didn't they know it was nearly midnight? Did they have permission to be out of their houses? How had the carpet got into such a state? Had they been drinking?

The party was over. The guests departed. And inside the trunk, Anna, as quietly as she could, started removing fruit from various of her orifices.

*

It took Emma a long time to get rid of the housemistress, for even after the guests had been sent away, 'Tina' had plenty to say about prefects who abused their privileges. But at last Emma wished her goodnight and shut the door. She looked over at the trunk, and decided to make Anna stay put for a while. The one thing everyone knows about housemistresses is their habit of creeping back. Especially those like Tina, who go about their jobs as amateur sleuths.

So she began clearing up, dropping plastic cups and paper plates and napkins into a bin bag, picking up stray bits of food, plumping cushions, and straightening the bed. Not a peep meanwhile came from the trunk. It was a solid, old-fashioned affair, and Anna probably could hear nothing from the inside. She would stay until called for. In fact — Emma grinned — she could make Anna stay in there all night, if she wanted, for the trunk had locks. Here Emma began dreaming, imagining herself locking Anna in the trunk whenever she'd been insolent. She'd buy a water bowl, and make air holes...

Air holes! A thrust of horror. Before her eyes the trunk turned into a coffin.

She raised the lid with eyes averted. When she forced herself to look, her worst fears were realised. Anna was motionless, curled up, her eyes closed. Emma's heart stopped. And then, disturbed by the light, Anna grunted, stirred, and smiled. Emma put a finger under Anna's nose, and felt her warm breath. Anna was sleeping like a baby. Fruit lay all around her.

Emma went and sat on a hard chair until her nerves recovered, and cursed herself two dozen times for a fool. When she had calmed down she went to the trunk again, and stood looking down at Anna, smiling. Then she fetched the camera and took a photograph.

The flash woke Anna. She sat up in the trunk, rubbing her eyes. — 'Is she gone?'

'She's gone. Arise!'

'Did you get into trouble?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' Anna climbed out of the trunk and looked around her. 'Where've you put my clothes?'

'Not yet. We've still got some business.' Emma sat down on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. 'Come and sit.'

'Can I put my clothes on?'

'No. Come and sit.'

So Anna went over to the sofa. Emma glanced between her legs. 'Actually would you mind kneeling? You're all sticky.'

'Can I have a shower?'

'When we're finished. Now kneel and be quiet.'

So Anna knelt at Emma's feet.

Emma held the camera so that Anna could see the little screen at the back. She began scrolling through the photos. Crude, pixellated, naked Annas appeared one after another, in various decadent attitudes.

'All of me, huh?' said the real Anna.

'Why don't you look?'

Anna shrugged.

'Well, you know what they are. It's a nasty trick, but you've left me option, have you? Now — you have photos, and I have photos. Here's what's going to happen. Tomorrow morning, straight after chapel, you will go and get your photos, come round here...'

'Oh Emma!' said Anna, in disappointed and exasperated tones. She put her finger to Emma's lips. 'Shush!'

Emma stopped talking. An angry spark danced in her eye.

'Stop being so boring!' said Anna. She got to her feet, found her jacket, and took out a parcel tied with a silver ribbon.

'I'd have given it to you earlier,' she said, 'But what with all your games...'

She knelt again at Emma's feet and gave her the present. 'Happy Birthday!'

Emma weighed it with her hand. She glanced at Anna, not daring to believe yet.

'I hope you like it,' said Anna.

Emma untied the ribbon, and slid a finger under the seam of the paper. If she noticed the pattern on the wrapping-paper — toy soldiers — she gave no sign.

Inside was an envelope. And inside the envelope were eleven polaroid photographs. Emma flicked through them, almost in a state of shock. And if Anna hadn't know better, she'd have sworn she saw a hint of dampness in Emma's eyes.

Anna didn't want to see that. So she went to have a shower. She took the punchbowl with her, wondering why Emma had put it back on the table. In the bathroom she had a gorgeous soapy shower that lasted all of thirty seconds before the hot water went, cleaned her teeth with a toothbrush that may or may not have been Emma's, and emptied and rinsed out the punchbowl, which she should have done first. She wrapped a towel around her and went back into Emma's room

Emma was still on the sofa. But she had recovered. 'You little toe-rag! You were laughing at me the whole time!'

'Hardly that.'

'You've been taking the piss! What the hell for?'

'Tonight, Emma, you have learned a valuable lesson, one which I hope you'll never...'

'Quiet, you piffler! Get over here! Get over here this instant!'

Anna put down the punchbowl, and came to sit next to Emma.

Emma put her arms around her and laid her cheek against Anna's. 'You snot-nosed brat,' she said. 'Think you're funny?'

'Like your present, then, do you?'

'Nicest present I ever had.'

She kissed Anna on the cheek, and then on the forehead. She squeezed her tightly, and told her she hated being made a fool of, and that Anna had better watch out. Then she kissed her again on her fresh pepperminty mouth.

'You taste nice,' she said. And then gave a low gurgle of laughter, shot a glance at Anna, and said, 'Tina thought you tasted nice, too.'

'The housemistress? What do you mean?'

Emma grinned at her. But Anna couldn't guess the riddle, so she continued, 'Tina was convinced we'd been drinking. "Miss Morgan," I said, "Nothing but soft drinks have passed our lips all night." "Then why, Emma," she says, "Did you hide the punchbowl under the bed, before you unlocked the door?"

'Oh my God! Oh ... my ... God!'

'Nothing I said would convince her. And look here, Anna, you're not to tell anyone. The poor woman finds it difficult to keep order as it is.'

'What did she say?'

'She took a sip, and simpered, and said it was nice, and said anyway she hoped for our sakes we hadn't been drinking...'

'I should have made you drink it. That would have been poetic justice.'

They kissed again, and Emma said that anything which may have befallen Anna was entirely in her best interests. They kissed once more. Anna was sweet and amorous. The towel had fallen to her waist, and she made no effort to restore it. She pressed her mouth to Emma's, and for a moment their tongues met. But then Emma sat back, wrinkled her nose at her, and said, 'We musn't. We are at school, remember.'

Here Anna hotly demanded to know which school rule allowed fucking with bananas, but not a bit of kissing.

'We come to school to improve ourselves,' said Emma primly. 'Not to wallow in sinful pleasure. That's for the holidays.'

She wrapped the towel around Anna's breasts, gave her a peck on the cheek, and stood up. Anna pouted.

'Speaking of which,' said Emma, 'My other birthday party is on the seventeenth. You're coming, of course.'

'As a guest or as the entertainment?'

'Guest. But I want you there a few days early, to help with the arrangements. Lifting chairs and so on. It'll be fun. My Dad's away most of the week, so we'll have the place to ourselves.'

'Well ... I'll have a look in my diary...'

'Diary! As if you have a diary! I'll buy you a diary. You're going to need it, too. Life's about to get rather busy for you, young Miss Hargreaves. Now listen up and attend!'

'Can't this wait till tomorrow?' sighed Anna.

'No.'

Emma spent the next few minutes pacing to and fro, like a Brigadier before battle, discoursing on Anna's future existence. Anna's days of ease and comfort were over, she announced. Anna the brat and Anna the non-achiever were no more. All the things she was most fond of — cigarettes ('Oh, you know you do!'), and a lie-in, and insubordination, and lazy afternoons spent doing nothing at all — were in the past. Henceforth she should consider herself at boot camp for delinquent youth, which is what she was. Anna listened with a sort of glum euphoria as Emma outlined a typical day in this new regime, which would begin with a run before breakfast, and end either in the gym, or with extra maths tuition from Emma. (Anna had failed the exam four times in a row, and was famous for it. But no university would touch her without it.)

'Those are just some preliminary thoughts, anyway,' said Emma, when she had talked herself dry. 'What do you think?'

'I want my photos back.'

'Tomorrow we'll work out a proper schedule.'

'Or we could watch Private Benjamin, and take notes.'

'You're tired and are therefore getting snotty. Off you go to bed, and be outside the back door at 0630. Have you got a decent pair of trainers? And something waterproof if it's wet?'

She chivvied Anna into her clothes — Anna protesting all the while at this rude treatment — and held the door open for her.

'Goodnight,' she said. 'That's an order.'

Anna was hustled out into the corridor. She turned around and came straight back in, stood on tiptoes, and kissed Emma again, full on the mouth. Emma was not pleased. But she relented, and for a few moments their tongues met. Then Anna ran off into the dark. She knew she wouldn't see much of the nicer side of Emma until the holidays. But tonight she wanted to go to bed with the taste of her on her lips. She deserved that at least.