Chapter 6

In which an unfortunate misunderstanding causes Timmy to flee to the gym and become painfully and athletically involved with Imogen, Natasha, Titania, Grizelda and the making of the school blue film.

It is then that I do something silly. I think it may be as a result of leaping about so soon after an energetic bout of in and out. A short breather is always favourite after saying goodbye to a few hundred thousand old friends. Anyway, I suddenly get the idea that I must stop Miss Craghearty recognising me and, to this end, pull Franchise's panties over my nut. Squinting out of one leg hole, I brush past Miss Craghearty-at a guess, the nearest she has got to sexual intercourse in fifty years-and burst into the corridor. I am heading down it at about a hundred and forty miles an hour when I hear the high-pitched chatter of female voices approaching round a corner. A sharp right turn brings me up against a door marked 'Matron' and I bung it open and dart inside. Sitting on a chair is Sid and across his lap a large blonde bird wearing a nurse's uniform, the skirt of which is up round her waist. She scrambles to her feet as the door opens-and practically scrambles Sid's Mad Mick as well if the expression on his boat race is anything to go by. I don't hang about to dictate a congratulations telegram but piss off back the way I have come. Most of this is now filled by Miss Craghearty carrying a pike she has obviously lifted from one of the walls. While I jibber in terror and leap about ten feet in the air the old bag lunges at my cluster like she is training to be a park keeper. With an evasive skill that any cabinet minis ter would envy I dodge Dracula's mother and half fall down a flight of stairs. Behind me I can hear Miss Craghearty's shouts of 'Scrag the bounder!' augmented by a chorus of shrill shrieks and excited screams and the pounding of hundreds of pairs of girlish feet. I must escape! The Noggett Investigation Bureau will never recover from the shame of its star detective being discovered stark bollock naked with a pair of women's knicks over his nut. Even Sherlock Holmes would be pushed to give a satisfactory explanation.

I pick myself up at the bottom of the stairs and blunder towards two doors directiy in front of me. Perhaps they give out on to the grounds. Through the rhododendrons, over the wall and I will be free. Just a question of finding someone who gives lifts to stark naked hitch hikers. But the doors do not give out on to the grounds. As I burst through them I find myself in the middle of a group of birds wearing blue serge panties and white singlets-though they would be better off with doublets most of them. Even in my hunted condition I cannot help noticing that I am in the presence of a veritable knocker harvest. I am also in a gymnasium. There are ropes, vaulting horses, horizontal bars and all that clobber. As the birds squeal and cluster round me, I try to adjust my knickers and look wholesome.

'You've got to help me,' I say. 'There's been a misunderstanding. I'm being chased but I haven't done anything.'

Frankly, I don't reckon that anyone is going to go a bundle on offering me a helping mit but in this respect I could not be more wrong. The birds grab a long gander at the lustre of my cluster and their eyes light up.

'He looks all right to me,' says a redhead with two cracking reasons for saving money on Ostermilk. 'What do you say, Imogen?'

'Definitely!' says a blonde wand with a chassis like the golden years of British motoring. 'I say into the horse with him immediately. Rally round, gels!'

Before you can say Roger Carpenter, the birds have lifted the top three layers of the horse and I have got my leg over the remaining two-sides, not girls.

"Ta a milhon,' I say. 'I'll never be able to thank you enough.'

'Don't bank on it,' says the bird addressed as Imogen.

Before I can concentrate on the exact meaning of her words, the top clamps down and my only view of the outside world is obtained through one of the lifting slits on the side of the horse. Hardly have I disappeared from view than Miss Craghearty bursts into the gym with about forty kids at her heels like beagles.

'Have you seen anything?' she croaks. 'There's a naked sex maniac loose in the building. He's wearing a-a-a pair of short bloomers on his head.'

'Did he have any distinguishing features?' says a voice that I recognise as belonging to Imogen.

Miss Craghearty clearly does not warm to this remark. 'This is no time for facetiousness, Imogen,' she says coldly. 'This is undoubtedly the man we have been waiting for. He will stop at nothing to work his filthy willy-I mean, wiles. Be on your guard. If you see anything untoward, raise the alarm.'

'We will, Miss Craghearty,' chants a chorus of dutiful female voices. 'He won't get past us.'

'Practising for the display?' says Miss Craghearty, relaxing a little. 'Good show! That's the stuff to give the troops. Very well, I'll leave you to it. Keep up the good work. Remember the school motto: Floreat Chiltona.'

A door slams on a rush of teenage tootsies and I begin to breathe easier. If I can lay my hands on a few articles of clothing in the changing room I may be able to get out more or less threaded. What nice helpful girls I have stumbled upon-but why aren't they letting me out?

Titania's fetching her camera,' is the reply I get when I proffer the question. 'It's awfully good. It's got an exposure meter-jolly appropriate, don't you think?'

'Camera ?' I pant. 'What do you want a camera for ?'

"The school blue film,' says a chick with two of the nicest pins you could ever hope to find steering your hampton into a cool de sac. 'We got fed up with shooting bank raids on the science labs. Do you know how much Emmanuelle has grossed? It's pretty awful too. It takes place in Bangkok and there is sod all banging and absolutely no cock.'

'Very funny,' I say. 'Now can I come out? I'll leave you to get on with practicing for your display.'

'You can forget our display, you fiend,' says Imogen tenderly. 'We want to broaden our horizons. It's not often we come face to face with a real life sex maniac'

'What a heavenly thought,' says another bird wistfully.

'llang on a minute,' I say. 'I wasn't kidding, you know. I'm as normal as the bloke next door.'

'We don't have a bloke next door,' says Imogen. 'That's part of the trouble-ah, here comes Titania. Is the coast clear, Tits?'

The apdy nick-named knocker factory nods her head and the rest of her body shudders in sympathy. 'Shagnasty has taken her posse off towards the pav,' she says. 'We should be able to get a few feet in the can before high tea. Have you out-lined the plot yet?'

'We'll make that up later,' says Imogen. 'All we want now is the filthy bits. Let's get on with it while the light lasts.'

'We drunk all the light during rehearsals,' says a judy, taking the top off a medicine ball and revealing that it is an ice bucket. 'You'll have to make do with gin.'

'It's not the stuff the lower fourth distilled, is it?' says Titania. 'I dissolved my dutch cap in that.'

'Look,' I say. 'You've got the wrong end of the giggle stick. I'm not the bloke who's been knicking the nickers.'

Then how do you know he exists?' says Imogen triumphantly.

'Well,'I say.'Ier-'

'Why do you do it?' says Titania. 'Can you explain the nature of the thrill you get ?'

'Oh, shut up Tits!' says Imogen. 'We're not doing this for the BBC. We haven't even got sound. Let's get cracking with the uncomfortable-making bits.'

'Right ho,' says Titania. 'You keep cave, Tara. Off with the lid, gels.'

The top of the horse comes off and I straighten up and try to rub some circulation back into my cramped limbs. The birds gaze at me with an interest that I find slightly unnerving and I deem it advisable to be on my way. Thanks a bunch, ladies,' I say. 'I won't forget what you've done for me. I was in a tight spot back there-'

'Good,' says Imogen. 'You're going to need all your experience. Grab him girls!'

Before I can open my mouth to shout for help, eager hands seize me and I find myself spread-eagled across the vaulting horse with my limp dick drooping towards the coconut matting. Imogen has a worried expression on her face.

That's hopeless,' she says. 'Surely you can do better than that? After all, you are a professional.'

'We could stick an indian club between his legs,' says Titania.

Imogen shakes her head scornfully. 'With a couple of medicine balls on either side of it? No, it would notice in the close-ups. I can't abide dissimulation. With me it's the real thing or nothing. Dicky pricky makes me sicky.'

'I suppose there's only one thing for it,' says a chick with lips like miniature air beds.

'You mean, get another one?' says a droopy redhead. 'That's what Mummy always does.'

'We haven't got time,' says Titania. 'We'll have to make do with what we've got. OK Natasha. You can suck a Polo Mint for longer than any other girl in the school.'

'Girls, please!' I gasp as melon mouth licks her lips and takes a purposeful step towards me. 'Do you realise what you are doing ? What about the age of consent ?'

'You passed that years ago,' scoffs Imogen. 'You'll have to think of a better one than that.'

'Not me-you!' I shriek. 'I could get ten years for what you're about to do to me.'

'Don't worry about that,' says Titania. 'We're the mature sixth. We're only staying on because Shagnasty wants to win the inter-schools gymnastic competition. Right, Natasha, make great oaks from little acorns grow. Grizelda, up on the wall bars. Imogen, can you get it all in?'

'I think so,' says Imogen starting to pull her panties down. 'I'd better have a trial run though.'

'I was referring to the picture!' scolds Titania delivering a stinging slap on the wrist. 'You wanted to be camerawoman, didn't you? I suppose now you want the Linda Lovelace role?' I am beginning to worry about Grizelda. Why is she climbing up the wall bars with that rope in her hands? She couldn't be intending to-no! It's impossible. If she missed it could be finis for my penis.

'A-a-a-argh!' I say. 'O-o-o-o-h! Wha-a-a-a-t are yo-u-u-u-OOOOOOOOOOOH!!!' I wish I could be more specific but it is difficult to concentrate with Natasha inflating my love joint-from 'he-low' to 'lilo' in fact.

Titania reads the terror behind the ecstasy in my eyes.

'It's all right,' she says. 'I'm going to cut, the moment that Grizelda swings away from the wall bars. We'll pick her up enjoying the fruit of your loins.' I nod gratefully. For a moment I thought that it was me they were going to have to pick up. 'OK Natasha, hold it' snaps Titania. 'You're not getting a prize for it. Let's see what we've got going for us. Hhmm, not bad. It's pointing in the right direction anyway. OK Immers. Crash off a few shots in case it wilts. Natasha, stand by with your lips. Harriet, get the rings ready.'

"The rings ?T gulp.

'Yup.' Imogen begins to wax lyrical. 'It's going to look absolutely super. You're hanging upside down with your legs through the rings and Peta is spread-eagled against the wall bars. You zoom down and-eh voila! Just like two bats mating.'

Or one poor bastard getting a U-bend in his hampton, I think to myself. Why couldn't they get Robin Askwith to play my part-or, better still, my parts?

'Don't you think it's all a bit complicated?' I say. 'Not to mention dangerous.'

'We don't know the meaning of the word fear,' says Imogen. It just shows what a lousy education you get at these private schools, doesn't it? And no prizes for guessing why they call them private. These bints clearly never think about anything else.

'Look,' I say. 'I want to get something straight.'

'Natasha has already got it lovely and straight,' says Titania. 'You could draw isoceles triangles with it if you wanted.' So saying, the wicked wench runs her fingers along the length of my hampton like she is playing a scale on it.

'Maybe we should shoot it as it comes,' says Imogen wistfully.

'Oh we will, darling,' says Titania. 'That's going to be the climax of the film-if you'll excuse the expression.'

'I think you misunderstand me,' says Imogen. 'I was referring to continuity not content. Once I've got Grizelda launching herself from the wall bars we might as well snap off a few shots of her in the saddle.'

'Oh su-u-u-pa!' squeaks Grizelda who is by no means an undelectable bit of totty. 'Hey ho, Slaver away!'

'It's "Hey ho, Silver, away!" ' corrects Titania. 'Still, in your case you may be right. Wipe away that drool and let's make movies. Are you ready, Imogen? Right, roll em.

'We're not stopping for a joint now, are we?' says Grizelda sounding really broken up. 'Golly, what a swizz. Just when it was getting to an interesting bit.'

'I was referring to the camera, you fool!' hisses Titania. 'llonesdy, you're so stupid, Grizelda. I don't know why I gave you such a large part.'

'It's just ordinary, really,' I say.

'It's because Grizelda let you eat all her tuck,' says Natasha reproachfully. 'When I gave you my gatefold of Burt Reynolds showing his all you said I was going to get it.'

'Shut up, both of you!' says Imogen. 'Shagnasty is going to be back in a minute and we haven't done anything.'

'Right!' says Titania. 'Ready Grizelda? Open your legs and try and look like a gel who's about to impale herself on half a foot of ecstasy. Stand by for the cunt-down. On three. One-two-three!'

Grizelda reveals a snatch like a fur lumber jacket and launches herself into space. She skims inches over my hampton and the vibration alone sends a tinkle through my tonkle. Thank goodness we are faking the action shots.

'Did you get it?' says Titania addressing Imogen. 'Right, print it-and don't go to Boots this time.'

'Now for the tender love interest,' coos Grizelda tossing aside her rope and starting to scramble astride my thighs. 'I reckon this beats mixed hockey any day.'

'Back, you impetuous fool!' scolds Titania. 'What in the name of Norman Cohen do you think you're doing? Have I given you your motivation yet?'

'I don't know,' says Grizelda. 'I thought it was just a case of climbing on to his naughty part and joggling up and down a bit.'

'Joggling up and down a bit!' says Titania scornfully. 'No wonder people say that cinema is dead in this country. Where's the unsullied art in that? Thank goodness I'm here to lend a little style and dignity to the proceedings. I didn't see Confessions of a Window Cleaner forty-six times for nothing, you know.'

'I thought you did,' says Natasha. 'You told me that the manager gave you a free pass after you'd given him a blow-'

'Must we go into the tedious details?' says Titania wearily. 'Step aside and I'll show you how I want this scene played. Natasha, make with the molars. The star of our movie is making droopy instead of whoopy.'

It is true that all the chat has caused percy to start dropping off but a quick touch of the Hoover Constellations from Natasha-call me 'Jaws', folkssoon has my happy hampton pointing out the moon to his bum buffers. Oh, the agony of it all. Pinned against a vaulting horse by half a dozen knock-out nymphets whilst number seven satisfies her nunga hunger and number eight peels off her panties and starts doing limbering up exercises. Nip outside and shout for help, will you?-hang on! I was only kidding.

'It's a rotten swizz,' sulks Grizelda. 'You're going to do this all the time. We're never going to get a look in.'

"That's right,' agrees Imogen. 'What chance have I got, stack behind this camera?'

There is an ugly murmur of agreement and Titania waves her arms in the air in frustration. 'Crumbs!' she says.'I suppose everybody wants to direct this sequence? Marvellous, isn't it? It's my camera, too.'

'Well you use it then and I'll direct,' says Imogen trying to push the camera into Titania's arms and take off her knicks at the same time.

'llold it-not his thing, Natasha! Honestly you are a twit! I'm glad we don't have a clapper board. Back the lot of you. I'm having first go!' So saying, Titania straddles my thighs and wriggles forward until my action man kit is threatening to activate her trip switch. I struggle manfully-well, I readjust my bum in a more comfortable position and prepare to take her quimper without a whimper. Titania seizes my hampton like it might sting her if she did not grab it hard enough and staffs it away in the first place you would look if you were playing hide and seek. 'Now,' she says. 'Now-oo-oh-OH! This is what I want you to do, Grizzy-oooooh!'

'Are we making a sex film or a documentary on bronco busting?' says Imogen tartly. 'Do stop hopping up and down, Titters. His eyes are beginning to glaze over.'

'Shall I pull the knickers over his head again?' says Natasha grabbing Mademoiselle Fourchette's panties.

'He's not a parrot!' scolds Titania. 'Stop flapping all of you! I know what I'm doing.'

'I know what you're doing, too, and I want to do it!' protests Grizelda. She gives Titania a push and within seconds the whole lot of them are thumping each other. Mighty-taxing on the hampton it is too. Titania is determined not to be displaced and she is exerting considerable leverage on my whelk stirrer. 'Girls, please!' I gasp. 'Control yourselves!' My protests are silenced by some chick who decides that she wants to kiss me. While she rearranges my lips, Titania continues to bounce up and down on my hampton and it becomes clear that I am about to be taken out of myself. The situation is not helped by an unseen pair of hands that start massaging my orchestras. That really puts the kibosh on it. A damsel's digits delicately dusting my Maltesers has never failed to winkle forth the liquid pearl.

'Y-a-a-a-rgh!' I yodel-or it might have been 'W-a-a-a-u-u-ugh!' I can't really remember-'Geronimo!'

My one shout ricochets off all four walls of the gym and silence falls faster than a South East Asian government. 'Now look what you've done!' accuses Imogen. 'You've blown it.'

'I brew it, she blew it,' says Titania, nodding towards Natasha. 'Oh dear, what a shame. You are a naughty boy, aren't you? No staying power.'

'It's all your fault,' grumbles Imogen. 'You did that on purpose so that we couldn't have a go.'

'Nonsense!' snaps Titania, slipping out of the saddle and pulling on her panties. 'Back to your positions and let's make movies! We'll do the rings sequence and then go on to the roller skates.'

'llang on a minute!' I gasp. 'What's with the roller skates? I'm already complaining to EQUITY.'

'It's going to be lovely,' says Titania, getting all excited again. 'I got the idea from watching ice dancing. It's very nice but it needs another dimension to make it really come to life.'

I begin to have an unpleasant suspicion about what may be corning next. 'You mean, the couples actually-?'

'Couple. Yes, dear heart. Ice copulation that's what we're going to call it. Imagine a couple of pirouettes, two spin turns and then ending up on his thing. All to Swan Lake. It must be the most exciting sporting event you've ever seen mustn't it?'

"They'll be fascinated down at the accident clinic,' I tell her. 'Frankly I think that "Grandstand On Ice" would be a better name for it.'

Titania ignores my little joke. 'It's a pity about the ice,' she says. 'Still, it will probably be easier to perfect the movements on roller skates.'

'And not getting frostbite of the hampton will be a bonus, as well,' I say. Honesdy, some birds don't care, do they? Once they get an idea in their heads, they are not interested in tedious little details like whether your giggle stick ends up as the first flesh-flavoured ice lolly. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to put my foot down,' I say.

'I'm afraid you're going to have to put it up,' says Titania firmly. 'Don't let him escape, gels!' Before I can take a step towards the door I am seized and held upside down while my legs are thrust through two metal rings at the end of a couple of ropes. 'Let me go!' I screech. 'Why are you doing this ? Have you got it in for me ?'

'Not yet,' breathes Imogen. 'But I will do as soon as we've done this long shot.'

'llaul him up to the ceiling,' commands Titania. 'I'll tell you when to let go.'

'his thing is looking in pretty poor shape,' says Natasha. 'Do you think I ought to-'

'Down, Fang!' says Titania. 'You won't see it in this shot he'll be coming down so fast. Maybe the rush of cool air will put some metde in it.'

I start to whimper but I am wasting my breath. These girls are as heartless as I am shortly to be partless. A rope is flung over a beam and I am hauled up so that I am in the position of a trapeze artist about to be released on his downward swing. The floor seems about a hundred feet below and I am parallel to it. If my legs slip out of the rings I will be a gonner. As it is, I have a good chance of picking up a hooter full of splinters-very handy if I want to pick my teeth with my nose.

'Ready, Immers?' Titania sounds as posh as the Meals on Wheels lady and I would love to treat her to a bunch of fives up her upper class bracket. Imogen squats by the door of the gym and squints through her aperture-it's all right, she doesn't have to be double-jointed to do it.

'Fine,' she says. 'Arabella, shin up a rope and prepare to release Batman.'

'Don't you mean Robin?' I say, game to the last. 'I feel more like a bloody bird in this position.'

'Do you want me to pull the knickers over his head?' says Arabella who has made a fair job of shinning up the rope. 'I thought he looked rather groovy when he came in.' She gives my goolies a playful tweak and I recognise the fingers that were partly responsible for the damp patch on top of the vaulting horse.

Titania looks thoughtful. 'llhhhm,' she says. 'I don't usually expect to receive advice from the camera crew but I must concede that you have a point which, incidentally, is more than our star seems to have at the moment. The symbolism appeals to me. The hooded falcon escaping from the wrist and blindly hurling itself into space. It adds a totally new dimension to our movie: sex with a message.'

I am just about to tell her that as far as I am concerned the message is 'HeLP!' when the door bursts open and Tara rushes in. 'Cave!' she shrieks. 'Shagnasty is coming this way. Scoot everybody!'

'llold your ground!' orders Titania sternly. 'The first girl to panic forfeits her turn with the house turnip. If we carry on as if we were practicing, everything will be all right. Shaggers is as blind as a bat.'

'It's no good,' gasps Arabella. 'I can't hold him much longer. He's slipping away from me!'

'What are you holding him by, you fool?' says Titania, beginning to sound alarmed. 'We've got a lot more close-ups to do, you know.'

'She's coming!' squeaks Tara.

Even as the door bursts open I feel Arabella's grip on my heels slacken-yes, it is my heels, Lea-lovers. The wicked ha'porth has pulled the panties over my nut but I don't need extrasensory perception to know that I am about to take off-that's a joke, isn't it? The only thing I have left to take off is the sticking plaster on my left elbow.

'll-e-e-e-e-lp! !' I scream as I sail through the air. It's not going to help butit makes me feel better.

'What ON-UGH!!!' Miss Craghearty is probably not aware of it but she has just copped the world's highest muff dive. I know because I can taste the tweed through Francoise's panties. My legs have come out of the rings so I scramble to my feet-luckily I don't have far to scramble because they are just beside me-and start belting down the corridor.

It gets a bit hectic sometimes but I do lead a rich and varied life.