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“How many?” I asked with a growl.“Four of them, Harry, the nasty Collins’ twins, Mr Bambridge and the secretary Mr Cooper. I was expecting the whole board, but only these four at first and then Mrs Tremblett turned up.“Unlock and stand back, Julie,” I growled and then I kicked the door open.In front of me, Gina was spreadeagled naked on the board room table, apparently completely senseless, her clothes discarded on the floor. The bare-legged Collins’ twins were holding up Gina’s legs and Cooper, the Company Secretary, was raping her at the edge of the table. Behind him was Bambridge, also without his trousers on. He was the first to half turn to face me and didn’t even see the champagne bottle hit him across the face with his nose taking the brunt of it.I could see what was happening in slow motion as it appeared his nose just disappeared into his face, his cheekbone shattered and his jawbone broken in more than one place, displaced teeth flying up and down like in a sport’s action. Both of us being hesitant and slightly unadventurous, this turned out not to happen all that much; it happened in long afternoons in the school holidays in my small c***dhood bedroom or his, took the form of the occasional handjob in the middle of a densely wooded area or, once, behind a bakery on a school day trip to Dieppe.But, since all vaguely-acceptable things must come to an end, my undergraduate years at an unremarkable campus university, somewhere out of the way of an already out-of-the-way town in England, turned out to be those of my sexual awakening. I was unencumbered by responsibilities to anyone, it seemed, other than my own cunt. And I was surrounded by sex wherever I went. There were spilling, day-glo fistfuls of free condoms, plucked from plastic buckets left at strategic and student-centric locations. There were thin, prison-issue mattresses, uncomfortable and yet strangely bouncy. There were clumsy efforts at styling one's pubic hair while a harrumphing line formed.
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