Roots of Outrage. John Davis Gordon

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      He swallowed. ‘Because … you’re a historian, and … and you deserve it.’

      She grinned. ‘Why do I deserve it, Luke?’

      ‘Because you’re –’ (he wanted to blurt ‘the most beautiful’) ‘– the best teacher I’ve ever had.’

      ‘An apple for the teacher?’

      ‘No, Miss Rousseau.’ He wished the earth would open.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘And Lisa, please.’

      ‘No, not an apple for the teacher. Lisa.’

      She smiled. ‘The teacher? I’m only twenty-one, you know, Luke. Only four years older than you.’

      ‘Yes, I know …’ Luke croaked. ‘Lisa,’ he added.

      ‘And I’m not really a teacher, you know. I only got my B.A. last year, I haven’t done my teaching diploma yet.’ She paused. ‘And d’you know what?’

      ‘What?’ he croaked. ‘Lisa,’ he added.

      ‘I’ve decided I don’t want to teach kids, Luke. Next year I’m going back to university to do my M.A. And then a doctorate. I want to teach at university level – teaching minds like yours.’

      Minds like his?! Not kids … !

      ‘You’ve no idea how bored I’ve been in this town, Luke.’

      Goddesses get bored? ‘Really?’

      ‘Really. In fact …’ She paused, then grinned at him. ‘Can you keep a secret, Luke?’

      A secret from Miss Rousseau?!

      ‘Promise,’ he said. ‘Lisa.’

      ‘In fact –’ she smiled her mischievous creamy smile – ‘the only stimulating thing that’s happened to me this year has been you and those journals.’ Miss Rousseau looked at him with a twinkle in her eye: ‘You and your riding past the hostel every Friday. To impress me? And undressing me with your eyes in the classroom. And – ’ her smile widened – ‘your monstrous erections in the swimming pool.’

      Luke didn’t know whether he wanted to lunge at her or the earth to swallow him up. Monstrous erections? His heart was pounding and he was blushing furiously and he couldn’t think of anything to say except: ‘I’m sorry.’

      She grinned widely. ‘Oh don’t be sorry – it’s very pleasing.’

      Pleasing?! That could only mean one thing! Oh God he didn’t know what he dare do!

      Miss Rousseau smiled. ‘Are you a virgin, Luke?’

      He couldn’t believe this was happening. All beyond imagination. He blushed. ‘Yes …

      She smiled. ‘Well, Luke? I seem to have taught you all the history you need. What shall we do about what you don’t know?’

      Luke’s heart was hammering, his ears were ringing, his face on fire, his stomach was faint, his legs trembled. ‘I – I don’t know, Miss Rousseau.’

      ‘Lisa.’ Miss Rousseau smiled. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘let’s think … Now, if I were seventeen, and not your so-called teacher, what would you do now, Luke?’

      Luke looked at her with utter, confused adoration. He swallowed and whispered hoarsely: ‘I’d kiss you.’

      ‘Very good, Luke. So, you may kiss me, you know how to do that, I’m sure.’

      He stared, then he lunged at her. He seized her and plunged his gasping mouth onto hers so their teeth clashed, and she laughed in her throat and toppled over, and he scrambled frantically on top of her, and he ejaculated. In one frantic surging the world buzzed into a blurry flame that promptly crescendoed into the most marvellous feeling in the world, that exploded into a frenetic thrusting towards the source of all joy through jodhpurs and all. Luke Mahoney pounded on top of Lisa Rousseau, exploding, and she held him tignt, grinning up to the sky.

      When he finally went limp, gasping, on top of her, his mind in a whirl, she smiled. ‘There … Now we can really talk about this like adults.’ She took a handful of his hair and lifted his suffused face. ‘Tonight, instead of going to the cinema, or wherever, why don’t you come to see me? The hostel’s empty.’

5

      Those school holidays were wonderful. Wonderful, marvellous, divine, delicious, heavenly, breathtaking, walking-on-air – a head-over-heels, laughing-out-loud, do-backward-somersaults love affair, a secret so delicious he wanted to bellow it to the world.

      Umtata was quiet, the school silent, the sunshine golden, the birds atwitter, the bees buzzing. And the big girl’s hostel was empty, except for the beautiful, long-legged, big-busted, sparkly-eyed, wonderful Lisa Rousseau. Every day they went galloping over the hills to the reservoir to make love on a blanket. Twice a week she came to the house to type up the journals (‘No, Luke – your mother may come home …’), every night he climbed out of his bedroom window and hurried across town to the hostel, let himself in the kitchen door and bounded up the stairs – and there was Lisa Rousseau, a grin all over her lovely face, and he seized her in his trembling arms. And, oh God, the wonderful feel of her against him, her strong-soft athletic body, her breasts crushed against his heaving schoolboy chest, her belly and loins crushed against him, his hands frantically sliding over her, feeling, feeling, feeling her. Then she swept her nightdress over her head, and the sight of her nakedness, each night, took his breath away. Then she tumbled onto her narrow bed, a grin of fun all over her lovely face. ‘The first one’s for you; the second one’s for me …’

      So it went every night, those school holidays. The first one was over in minutes, two or three minutes of frantic thrusting, then a searing explosion of cascading joy. And Lisa Rousseau lay there, legs wide, smiling, receiving this explosive accolade, then, when that bit of heavenly nonsense was over, it was her turn. Miss Lisa Rousseau toppled him onto his back, and he lay there, exhausted, happy, wildly in love, and she began her magic. She slithered down to his loins and she grinned at him up his belly, her long hair awry and her big eyes twinkling, then she slowly, so slowly, lowered her head and, oh, the wonderful feel of her warm wet mouth, her teeth playfully nibbling, her full lips sucking, her warm pink tongue slithering, her eyes sparkling with the sheer fun of it all, and when she had done her magic she climbed joyfully on top of him, for her turn.

      At the end of the second wonderful week Luke had a brilliant idea: his father owned a fishing camp down on the Wild Coast, sixty miles away: how marvellous to have the last week of the holidays there with Lisa all to himself, out in the wide open, sleeping together all night long, swimming naked in the crashing surf, romping together in the languid lagoon, walking along the wild deserted beach together like real lovers … It would be just like a real honeymoon. Lisa thought it a wonderful idea provided his parents didn’t know about her being there. ‘And provided we have some intellectual activity – I, my friend, am going to ensure you get an A for history …’

      Luke said СКАЧАТЬ