Hoff and Hols, a Romance Ch. 07

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Clubbing had never been an activity of mine, let alone a favourite one, but AK was not going to be here often, and I did not want to miss too much of her time, so donned my war-paint and best little black dress and went with Chloe to the nearest pub, where we met AK and Cris and his mates. It seemed like safety in numbers to me, and I tagged along quietly.

The noise was deafening. As I watched AK dance with Cris, memories flooded back, and the epiphanies continued to come. I remembered the first time we had danced together when we were twelve, girls having fun, AK trying to help her helplessly uncoordinated friend to get the rhythms! Over the years it had progressed, then boys had become a thing, and now there she was, proud and gorgeous, dancing with her boyfriend. And my heart swelled as I realised something important.

It was suddenly like watching a film of our lives, and I realised that the worst thing I could do was what my feelings wanted to do. I wanted to hold on to what we had, to the life we had lived together; but that was a dead end – the deadest of ends. It was like wanting an acorn not to grow into a tree; futile and stupid. Living things grew, then decayed, then died, and that was true of people – and relationships. If I tried to hang on to the AK I had known since we were both eleven, I should lose the AK I had at eighteen, and never know the AK who would be twenty-eight. If I loved her, and I did, I had to love who she was, who she was developing into, not some version of her curated in my memories and pickled in the aspic of my silly jealousy.

Then, even as I was having such thoughts, I saw it. I had gone to the bar to get a drink, not trusting any of the boys to get me one. I saw someone slip something into Chloe’s drink. Furious, but cautious, I moved to where she was coming off the dance floor:

“Do not drink that, Chloe, it is spiked!”

Bless, she looked shocked.


“That man there, the one talking to Cris’s friend.”

“Rob? Bastard!”

“Leave it to me.”

I went back with Chloe. Rob offered her the drink he had bought. I intervened.

“You know, Rob, there has been a lot of spiking of drinks here, I always ask kind men to sip a drink for me in case someone has been messing with it – why don’t you do that to the drink you are offering Chloe?”

He shot me a look that, well if looks could have killed, I would have been dead.

“Are you implying I have…?”

“No. I saw you. Prove me wrong, drink it, and I will apologise and leave.”

Cris and the others looked at him. Cris pushed things:

“Go on Rob, she must be wrong. I know you fancy my sister, but you can’t be stupid enough to spike her drink!”

He fumed indignantly.

“Don’t be fucking stupid! I am not doing that because some dyke bitch friend of your AK’s is jealous!”

“Do it, or I will make you,” Cris said – a tone of menace in his voice. Suddenly I saw what AK saw in him. There was a core of steel there. Yes, he had been willing to give Rob the benefit of any possible doubt because he was a gentleman, but once it was plain that Rob was not, Cris went straight into the most honourable role any man can fill – the protector of his women. Cris got up. The look on his face said it all and Rob ran for the door.

“Tells its own story,” I said.

As the commotion continued, with Cris running off after Rob, I took the drink to the bar and told the manager what had happened.

“Thanks, Miss, we have had these fuckers coming in. We need help – so it’s appreciated.”

AK had taken charge by the time I got back.

“I have phoned the police, we will all be required to give statements – and Pix, bloody good work! What a fucking dick that man is. He better hope Cris does not catch him.”

He was, as it turns out, out of luck. As we gathered our stuff ready for the police, Cris came back; he was rubbing his knuckles.

“Bastard isn’t going anywhere much this evening. I just dragged him to the police station – meet you all there!”

It was not the end to the evening we had expected, but we were all happy to give statements, and we learned later that Rob had been charged. He was fined, put on the sex offender’s register, and given a year’s probation. But the evening had an unexpected result. As a result of my conversation with the manager, my Church group got involved in a “spot the spiker” campaign, and so oddly, for me, I ended up spending more nights at the Club, but not dancing. It felt good to be helping.

Cris said he’d see to things with the police, and once they had taken statements from myself, Chloe, and AK, they let us go.

“Well,” said AK, “he is going to be some time. I suggest we go back to Chloe’s for a swift one! Cris said he will text when he is done.”

“A quick what?” Chloe giggled.

“You’ll escort kocaeli see.”

Back in Chloe’s room she served us all a drink. AK sat back and then said something that surprised me.

“Chloe, you were worried last night about getting in the way of myself and Squirt; don’t be. Squirt, what I am going to say now is because I love you. If it is wrong, I apologise, but hear me out.”

Chloe looked as surprised as I did.

AK went over to Chloe and kissed her.

She looked at me.

“Have you ever heard the word cuckquean, Pix? I ask because I am going to do a version of ten questions, and you are going to answer.”

I had to confess I had not. At that point, AK pulled the straps of Chloe’s dress down and began to feel her breasts.

“Well, Squirt, look it up. If I tell you,” she said, looking at me and then Chloe, whose breasts were now fully exposed, “that these beautiful tits are far superior to your tiny titlets, does that make you angry or wet?”

I blushed.

“Truth? Wet, very wet.”

AK smiled.

“Tick one!”

She kissed Chloe, and telling her to stand, pulled her dress down, leaving her in her tiny white G-string.

“If,” she said, sliding her finger along Chloe’s slit, “I said Chloe is far sexier and more gorgeous than you, does that make you angry with me, or arouse you?”

She looked squarely at me. Chloe was beginning to moan. The look on her face told its own story of her arousal. I admitted it aroused me.

“Tick two!”

Pulling aside the scanty covering, AK slide two fingers into Chloe’s pussy, making her whimper and push.

“If I said I prefer her juicy wet pussy to your tight little cunt, cross with me or wetter?”

Even the words, let alone the look AK was giving me, shot through every fibre of my being. It also meant my knickers were soaked.


“Tick three! And if I told you,” She said, taking Chloe to the bed where she began to finger fuck her hard, “that I prefer fucking Chloe because she is so much sexier than you ever were, anger or arousal?”

Feeling myself blush furiously, I admitted to being aroused.

“Tick four!”

She turned to Chloe and began to fuck her in earnest.

“And if I told you to come here, take my dress off and prepare my pussy for Chloe, would you do it happily?”

“I would,” I said, walking toward her.

“Tick five! Do it!”

Shivering, I helped her out of her dress, and then her knickers. The way she looked at me, the love, the affection, it, and the way she was treating me were stoking a furnace in me.

“If,” she said, adjusting herself so I could have oral access to her rosebud and pussy, “I told you to lick me in both my sex holes while I fuck Chloe, arousal or anger?”

“Tick six!” She said, as she felt my tongue on her rosebud hole, then licking down, on her pussy. I could see her driving her fingers into Chloe, who was gasping and moaning. Her pussy was gripping AK’s fingers.

How long I licked I don’t know, but Chloe did not take long to orgasm.

As she came down, AK turned to me.

“Suck her juices from my fingers. Arousal or disgust?”

I sucked hard, tasting Chloe.

“Tick seven!” AK smiled, her hand touching between my thighs.

“She is a much better fuck, isn’t she, Pix?”

“She is, AK, much better!”

“Tick eight!”

AK’s eyes were alight with mischief, but there was something else there too – it was as though she was tapping into something within me.

“Would you like to clean her up for me, Pix – exciting or disgusting?”

“Exciting,” I said, getting between Chloe’s thighs to lick up her gooey mess.

“Tick nine!”

AK then pulled me out and kissed me for the longest time. Stopping, she looked me in the eyes:

“Cuckquean or not, Pixie!”

“Tick ten!” I said as she pulled me into her arms.

We sat with Chloe on the bed, the latter leaning in to be close to us.

“You see, Chloe,” AK said, “this turns my darling on. So the short answer to are you going to get in the way of our love by being my lover is no. The longer answer is what, Pixie?”

I looked at her, deeper in love that ever.

“The longer answer is, Chloe, that for some reason I get off on this!”

I felt myself blush, and AK pulled me into her left breast, as she pulled Chloe into her right one.

“Now, ladies, sleep! I will get a cab back to Headington.”

I went with her to the Porters’ Lodge, deciding I’d go back to my own bed.

“You worked that out, didn’t you, darling?” I said, as we waited for her cab.

“Squirt, I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you, and if my being with Chloe gets both of us off that seems a double benefit to me. If, for a second, I thought it would hurt you, I wouldn’t do it. I know it would sound odd to anyone gölcük escort else, but though, of course, I enjoy it, I enjoy it more because you do.”

We kissed in the cool early morning air. I watched the taxi go, and making my way by the side streets, I arrived back at Coll in time to shower before morning service.

We all met up for coffee before AK and Cris had to leave. He and Chloe were tactful enough to leave AK and myself some private space.

“That was great last night, Pix. Don’t be surprised if the police and the club follow through, I mentioned to them the work you did with the Church; hope that was okay?”

Smiling, I assured her it was.

“It’s been a funny old weekend Pix! So lovely to see you. I love you – and who you are becoming – I hope Cris and me won’t spoil Hoff and Hols?”

She seemed concerned, which touched my heart, because it meant she had been where I had been. So I explained my thoughts from the night before to her.

“Such a wise little Squirt you have become, darling! Yes, that is just it! We are always US, Hoff and Hols, but we grow and develop – but unless one of us is unusually stupid, we will always be US.”

Oh golly, I must have had something in my eye. We hugged. I kissed her.

“I will always love you AK!”

“Me, you, Hoff!”

We kept in close touch over the months to Christmas. It was as though the visit had built a bridge over which we could cross with ease. I enjoyed her success on her course, and she liked to hear about mine.

Chloe became a good friend, and we met up regularly, but there was no repeat of our sexual intimacy – it was as though that required AK!

I went home for Christmas, happy with the way the work was going. Mother Emma had, in collusion with my papa, arranged for me to have a lay license to help him at Communion, which meant I could serve at Midnight Mass – something I had long wanted to do.

The Church was bright with candle-light, and full, as it always was. I robed up with Papa, and when he smiled that smile and said:

“Pixie, you are my pride and joy!”

I thought my heart might break with joy!

In the breaking of the bread, and the sharing of the wine, I felt a deeper Communion than before – and there was a moment of transcendence.

Then my world collapsed!

Christmas day was always a busy one for a vicar, and I helped Papa at the morning service. I noticed then how tired and grey he looked. But I put it down to exhaustion.

He ate little over lunch. Mama, who never seemed very sympathetic, was unusually attentive, asking how he was and whether she could get him something to tempt his appetite. She was even nice to me – which made a change. It was clear to me something was going on.

We sat in the drawing room of the Rectory to relax with the Queen’s Christmas message. When that was over, Papa looked at Mama, then at me.

“Rose, it is time I think.”

“It is, Hector, it is.”

“Now you have me worried!” I said.

Pape looked at me, his grey eyes suddenly damp, his face seemed more lined than usual, as though he was ageing before my eyes.

“Pixie, there’s no good way to put this. I have pancreatic cancer. I won’t see in another Easter – indeed I may not last to Candlemas.”

I burst into tears.

He came over and hugged me.

“It’s okay little one. God wants me home and I will go. But your Mama and I need to talk with you about the future.”

“Oh Hector!” Mama interrupted. “You mollycoddle that girl! Pixie, what papa is trying to say is that when he has gone, I shall leave here too.”

I hope I looked as shocked as I was.


“Pixie, I will let you and Mama discuss this, I am going to the library.”

Oh my darling Papa, anything to avoid an argument with Mama.

She looked me in the eye.

“Pixie, your father and I have been married in name only for years now. It suited us both, and he was concerned about you. But when he is gone, I am off.”

Even by her standards that was brutal, and I felt my anger kindle.

“Mother, what have I ever done to you that you treat me like this?”

“You are you. I never wanted a child. I got pregnant unexpectedly.”

“Thanks Mama!”

“I tried to abort you, if you want to know. It failed. You Papa doesn’t know, and if you don’t want to hurt him, you will keep the secret. Be careful what you ask for Pixie. You asked why I was like this with you; now you know.”

“So where will you go?”

“After a decent interval, Lord Howard and I will get married, as you know his wife died last year.”

“Granville? You and him?”

“Yes, you almost caught us that time you came back from choir practice early because you had a cold.”

I remembered it well. I had been feeling unwell in the morning, but izmit sınırsız escort Mama had been keen that I should do choir practice, so I went. But halfway through I had felt so ill that I had asked to be excused and had gone home. I had noticed the strange car parked in front of the Rectory, but thought little of it, Papa was always having parishioners pop over. I had let myself in and, after taking a paracetamol, I decided to go to the library and read – only to find Mama and Lord Howard hastily brushing themselves down. I thought nothing more of it, but her words brought it all back.

“Does Papa know?”

“He knows, but we have been discreet; I advise you to be the same, Pixie. You wouldn’t understand.”

Cut to the quick, mainly for Papa, I rounded on her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You have never been in the slightest like me. You are a bookish swot, you don’t ride, you don’t hunt, you don’t do anything sporty. Why couldn’t you be like AK? What did I do to get you?”

I felt the iron enter my soul.

“I presume, Mama, you don’t need me to explain the birds and bees to you?”

Riled, she shot back:

“What would a dyke like you know about that? Have you even had a man yet? Look at AK, she’s got a promising career ahead of her, and Cris, who is going to make money in the City, and what are you doing? Reading books, that’s what you’re doing – and making cow’s eyes at other girls, no doubt. You disgust me.”

I had two choices. I took the harder, but more dignified one.”

“Thank you for finally sharing something with me, Mama. I shan’t bother you again.”

With that, I turned on my heel and went to see Papa in the Library.

He looked old and sad and ill.


“The worst, Papa. But the air is clear.”

He held my hand, and squeezing it gently, said:

“She wasn’t always like that Pixie. She got her head turned when she got into politics, decided that was where she should be, hence the County Council stuff and the working for Howard.”

Poor Papa. He was the best man I ever knew, and I swear he’d have made excuses for Judas Iscariot, indeed somewhere or other in his papers there is a sermon for Good Friday which does just that. He saw the good in us all. It was better for him that way. I squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry Papa. Now, shall we play “Scrabble” and forget about everything else?”

So we did. We had our own theological version of it, every word had to have a biblical connection; you could do really well with a strategically placed “Zion,” and as for “Zachariah” or “Melchizedek” you could win on those alone! It passed the time until tea, and we reconvened, Mama and I acting as though our conversation had never taken place.

I texted AK to thank her for her thoughtful gift of a sold silver necklace with a beautiful plain silver cross; it must have been expensive, and it showed thought, as, I hoped, my gift of a beautiful watch designed to go with her uniform did. We chatted briefly. She was with Cris and his family, and they sounded happy. I was glad to have some connection that day with some cheerful people.

Boxing day was quiet, not least because it was Monday, and Papa let me take Morning Prayer, which had only the few faithful old ladies who would always turn up. When I go back Mama was not there. Papa explained she had gone over to Lord Howard’s.

I looked at him.

“Papa, why, how?”

“Pixie, marriages are indissoluble. She may have been unfaithful, I cannot and will not be.”

“I know Papa. There’s something I have been meaning to tell you.”

“If it is that you are gay, that is not news, Pixie, that is ancient history. Anyone who ever saw you and that pretty AK together could have guessed instantly.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yes, bless you. Mother Emma and I have spoken about it. Things are changing Pixie. I have lived to see women ordained as Bishops, something they said would never happen when I was your age. You will live to same same-sex couples accepted. Be true to who you are. I love you the way you are, and I am a mere sinner, so imagine what God thinks.”

A surge of relief ran through every fibre of my being. Of course he knew!

“Oh Papa, you have no idea what that means to me!” I said hugging him.

With that sweet, almost shy smile, he responded:

“I suspect I do, Pixie, and that is why I said it. Oh Pixie!”

He grimaced in pain. I held him.

“Can you get me the strong pain killers, Pixie, this is a bad one!”

I ran into the kitchen to get them. When I got back a minute later, he was slumped in his chair. gasping for breath. I dialled 999 for an ambulance and phoned Dr Sturgess, our GP, and a parishioner.

I held him while we waited.

“I thought I might have more time, Pixie, my beloved Pixie. I am so proud of you. I could not have had a better daughter. Follow your vocation, darling.”

And with that, he faded. I prayed over him, holding his hand as he went. I kissed him. Then, of a sudden, I knew he had gone. Life would never be the same.

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