Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: Ireland
|Introduction: This happened on a school trip to Austria at the end of the last century|
Eighteen years of age and I was on my last school ski trip to Austria with about twenty five other students. We were accompanied by four teachers – three men and one woman. My fellow pupils were spread across the senior school age group and seventy-five per cent male – though myself and my three room mates were the only group from the final year.
Two of the male teachers, Mr Sands and Mr Anderson had been on several other trips I’d been on, so I knew what to expect from them – authoritarian till they’d a few drinks après-ski, but then pretty relaxed and generally more interested in chatting up any female skiers in the bar than paying too much attention to us. Mr Watters, a history teacher was an unknown factor to me – I’d never had him, though he always had an air of aloof grumpiness about him as he stalked the corridors. He would’ve been the most senior member of staff on the trip, and certainly in his late forties, or maybe even fifties.
Mrs Craig I knew from school – indeed, all the boys knew her from school as she featured strongly in all our schoolboy yearnings and lustful fantasies. She was one of the senior female PE staff and would’ve been in her mid thirties, but had only been married in the last few years, though the rumours were that she was recently separated.
Physically she was lithe and athletic, about five foot six with ample breasts that had somehow survived being worn away by years of blatant staring from her male pupils - and no doubt, some of the male staff. We had all loved her classes, not so much from the physical activity point of view, but from the opportunity it gave to drool over her bouncing breasts as she coached, or aching with lust watching her nipples hardening and poking through her top whenever she took the class outside into the chill air.
Unfortunately, in our senior year, we no longer got her and could only lust after her from afar – maybe passing her shopping in the town in her civilian dress of miniskirt and ‘fuck-me’ heels. So I was pleasantly surprised to be back in her company again, especially when I discovered that she was in the room next to ours – and alone, as she was the only female teacher in the party.
The Swiss style chalet we were all housed in was mid-sized and on the edge of the village butting up against a snowbound pine forest. A small restaurant/bar with a miniature bowling alley just twenty or thirty metres from our lodgings was where we ate and entertained ourselves in the evenings.
Most of the rooms accommodated two pupils, though the second story L-shaped corner room that my friends and I were allocated had four single beds. It was the beginning of the new season and had obviously been recently redecorated with all the bedclothes and curtains feeling crisp and new. A long wooden veranda ran the length of the rear of the building sheltered by the roof overhang and overlooked the forest scene. All of the second story rooms at the rear had a window overlooking the woods and a door opening onto this veranda – though few ever ventured onto it because of the biting cold.
At the end of the first day’s skiing we all arrived back exhausted but exhilarated. We leisurely showered and changed to get ready for the evening’s food and entertainment. While the others were still dressing I decided to have a clandestine smoke – and since the rooms were all non-smoking, and pristine, I slipped on my duvet jacket and went out onto the dark veranda.
I lit up and stared into the snowy woods wondering what wildlife was burrowing about in there, but there was no moon and little ambient light from the town. I idly turned around and noticed, with surprise, that the large patterned curtains into our room weren’t totally opaque – parts of the patterned swirls had three or four inch circles that were virtually see-through, something you would never guess from inside the room. I smiled to myself as I watched my friends then felt a surge of adrenaline as the implication of this discovery dawned on me. I extinguished my cigarette and slowly, quietly, moved over towards Mrs. Craig’s window.
My heart was pounding as I edged towards her curtains – and yes – they were just the same as ours!
Jesus, if I got caught at this I knew I’d be expelled. But, hold on, I told myself – I’ve just come out here for a smoke, and though the smoking would be frowned upon, it wasn’t an expelling offence. It wasn’t my fault the curtains are faulty, and anyway, I could deny I’d even noticed them.
Bolstered by my rationalisation, I peeped through one of the swirls. There she was, standing only a few feet from me, in full profile, midway through the process of getting dressed for the evening.
She already had her bra and panties on - and what a bra! I’d never seen one like it in real life before: it was a black satin half cup that pushed her breasts up and left her jutting nipples uncovered. Her panties were simply a black string thong.
The excitement fizzed in me like a firework. So much so, that I had to grasp the wooden window frame to steady my shaking hands. At the same time I wondered at the incongruity of her attire. I would’ve expected a woman like her, abroad in such a responsible supervisory capacity, to be dressing more soberly for an evening among her pupils.
My amazement grew as she placed a thin suspender belt around her hips, sat down on the bed, and proceeded to sheath her amazing legs in dense black stockings. As she ran her hands up over her legs and thighs to smooth the stockings I became aware of my erection.
Here I was, watching the delectable Mrs. Craig dressed up like a tart – the boys just weren’t going to believe this. She pulled on a stretchy lycra-type miniskirt followed by a tight black long sleeved sweater that had a large scooped neck revealing an equally inappropriate amount of bosom. I wondered how dour old Mr Watters, the senior teacher, was going to react to this – I was sure he’d be outraged.
I must say I was slightly disappointed when she slipped her feet into black fur lined boots that came up to mid-calf instead of the killer heels I knew she often wore, but realised that this definitely would’ve been a step too far, as well as being totally impractical in the snow.
I hastily but quietly went back to the room to share my experience with the others.
We had joined the other students in the foyer waiting for the staff to arrive and lead us out for our meal. After describing my peeping experience my friends, Robin, Charles and Nigel were drooling with anticipation. The male teachers, Sands, Anderson and Watters had arrived and had already begun a head count when Mrs Craig joined them. She was wearing a long sleeved zip fronted fleece jacket with a fine white silk scarf around her neck leaving little unusual about her appearance, except of course for her extremely short skirt.
The four of us watched Mr Watters’ gaze lock onto it. Robin, who is one of those people blessed with the gift of mimicry, growled loudly enough for our immediate group to overhear,
“Mrs Craig, what do you mean by appearing in front of the boys like that? You’re a disgrace to the school – don’t you know skirts must be worn at least one inch below the quim? Bend over till I give you six inches of the best!”
A handful of boys and girls within hearing guffawed and laughed loudly enough to draw stern glances from Watters.
Once we were all seated at the long tables Mrs Craig removed her jacket and scarf revealing an expanse of swelling breasts cosseted by clinging black wool. The stares from all quarters were palpable, especially from the boys. To make matters worse, she was sitting almost directly opposite Mr Watters.
I was three or four places down the table on the same side as her and saw Watters eyes widen as she shrugged out of her fleece. Is he going to confront her and tell her to cover herself up? Rave at her for dressing so scandalously, of being a disgrace to the school? Send her back to the chalet?
He did none of those – but throughout the meal, whether eating or drinking, his eyes kept scrolling back to those breasts. Indeed, as he quaffed more and more wine he became animated to the extent that he was obviously chatting Mrs Craig up.
Mind you, he had quite a bit of competition as the two other teachers did likewise. Even the few girls in the party whispered about how sexy Mrs Craig looked as we finished our meal and moved out of the restaurant and into the bar cum bowling section.
This area was packed with the après-ski crowd, mainly French or German. Men began to gravitate towards the part of the bar where she sat drinking on a stool surrounded by her colleagues – trying to strike up a conversation with the group, while the women simply glared at her. However, by nine o’clock the teachers decided it was time to herd us all back to our chalet – we’d had an active day, and tomorrow was another one, so, they said, we’d all better get to our beds.
Once back in the foyer, I dawdled around the staff group eavesdropping. I wanted to know when she was going to her room, as my friends and I were looking forward to peeping on our own personal strip show.
They were discussing having a nightcap or two before turning in, and Mr Sands suggested they should all go to Mrs Craig’s room as the men’s’ rooms were tiny, adding that he knew the top floor rooms were the most spacious. She simply replied that they’d better bring their own drinks and mixers as she only had whiskey. That seemed to settle it, and they agreed to see her in a few minutes – even Watters seemed eager.
From our end room we could hear her door being knocked as they arrived, and a few laughs and mumbles as they entered. Charles pointed out that as there was a new heating system installed maybe we could hear a bit of what was going on if we opened the low level ventilation and heating flaps that were still in place from the old system. It was worth a try, so down on his belly, with a steel table knife, he began to lever the metal flap open. It opened without too much trouble and immediately he could see it was no longer connected to anything; moreover, directly facing it was another one with light filtering through into the wall cavity – even better, with your ear close to the hole voices could clearly be heard in discussion.
Glasses clinked and they congratulated each other on the success of the day – then Watters’ gruff voice announced a toast to Sarah Craig. He complimented her on her appearance saying, “You were the belle of the ball this evening; no-one in the restaurant or bar , male or female, could take their eyes off you. You were a stunning credit to the school!”
Mr Sand’s voice added, with a chuckle, “Yes, you are a sight to restore flagging spirits – and not only spirits! Oh, and did you notice that the boys were drooling as well?”
Anderson responded, “Well, they’re on their holidays – we’re all entitled to a little erotic relief when we’re away from home.”
Glasses clinked amid the laughter, as Mrs Craig replied, laughing as well, “Thank you, I’m flattered to hear my efforts were so well appreciated!”
As someone replenished the drinks Watters suggested, “Shall we play a few hands of cards before we call it a night?”
Both men readily agreed, with Mrs Craig saying, “That’s ok with me, too.”
Watters asked what they should play as he shuffled the deck. Sands and Anderson replied, almost in unison, “Strip poker!” to general laughter.
Then, with humour in her voice, Mrs Craig said, “I don’t know that I’m all that keen on the prospect of sitting opposite three naked old men!”
Anderson retorted, “I suppose you’d prefer some of the boys?”
“Well, it’s hard to say no to a tight young body, I’m sure you’ll all agree?” she replied, to chuckling agreement.
“So, it’s strip poker, then. Agreed?” Watters said.
“Oh, I don’t think so…” Mrs Craig protested.
Sands and Anderson began teasing her about being a wimp, and, referring to her provocative appearance, about not putting her money where her mouth was. Watters seemed to trump the discussion by urging her to remember that ‘What happens in Austria stays in Austria.’
Listening to this amazing conversation we felt that if Mrs Craig had been in any of the other rooms she would have simply said goodnight and left. But she wasn’t – it was her room – and to our utter astonishment and delight, she gave in.
Quietly, we crept outside and clustered on the veranda peering in at the card game. Mrs Craig sat on a chair facing Watters on the other chair. Sands sat on the dressing stool with his back to us, while Anderson faced him seated on what looked like a bedside cabinet.
From outside we could hear nothing, and the first few hands only resulted in shoes, socks, and Mrs Craig’s boots being removed. Then Watters lost, stood up and removed his trousers to all round joviality – including that of Mrs Craig.
They were all evidently quite drunk and getting drunker as they were all drinking spirits steadily. The next hand saw Mrs Craig stand up and remove her skirt.
Their eyes all widened in amazement at the sight before them, then Watters mouth formed a whistling shape as he leaned back and began to applaud. Standing on tip-toe in her stocking sheathed legs, Mrs Craig curtseyed a thank-you before twirling before them and wiggling her beautiful taut, and nearly naked, behind. She sat back down.
Several more hands followed without her losing any more clothes, but both Sands and Anderson had both lost their trousers and were down to their tee-shirts. Mrs Craig stood up a little unsteadily, obviously telling them that she was going to the bathroom. The men poured themselves another drink as she crossed the room. We went back to eavesdrop.
Anderson’s voice was low as he addressed Watters, “Jim, I’ve got to hand it to you, you’re one hell of a card sharp, but stop buggering about and let’s get the rest of the gear off her…”
“Shush!” Watters whispered, just loud enough for us to overhear,“I don’t want her to suspect anything…”
Sands broke in, “You must be joking. She’s totally drunk, she has no idea what’s been going on. Let’s get her stripped.”
“Look, I know you think she’s gagging for it as her husband’s left her for some other tart, but…”
Anderson interrupted him, “Come on Jim, get her naked – and when she’s no clothes left to lose, introduce forfeits. I’m dying to get a feel of those tits!”
“Let’s face it, Jim,” Sands added, “He’s right, we’re all sitting here with hard-ons and I’m dying to slip mine up her!”
“Me, too,” Anderson came back.
“OK, but don’t worry, boys. I’m happy to wait till you’re both finished loosening her up – then she’ll be ready for a real man!” Watters said to laughter.
Suddenly, they heard movement and shortly afterwards the door opened.
As you can imagine, we were wonder-struck: like listening to a mixture of a porn radio play alternated with a porn silent movie. We quickly made our way back to the window where we saw Watters, as good as his word, deal two losing hands to Mrs Craig in succession.
Her knickers came off first. She turned her back on the men as she stood up to remove them, giving the four of us outside a magnificent view of her pubic topiary trimmed into a ‘landing-strip’. She sat down, spun back round on her seat, took another mouthful of whiskey, and played again. This time she had to remove the sweater.
This was a repeat performance of the miniskirt removal – her colleagues never expected this. A half-cup bra with her melon-sized tits, nipples and all, spilling out of it and pointing directly at them. Another round of applause, as Sands stood up to refresh the drinks. His erection jutting through his underpants was obvious to us all outside, so Mrs Craig couldn’t possibly be missing it. They seemed to be having a discussion about something, so Charles, who was nearest our room door, dashed in to see what it was about.
Drinks were replenished, and Watters was starting to deal again by the time Charles returned.
“They’re insisting on forfeits now – saying that as she’s so little left on it wouldn’t be fair to have her sitting there completely naked! In other words they want to fuck her with her tits pushed out like that and wearing her stockings!”
Robin, beside him, whispered, “Don’t blame them!”
Nigel, on my left, held his finger to his mouth and shushed the other two.
We went back to concentrating on the scene before us. Watters dealt again, and she lost again.
Anderson was doing the talking, though we couldn’t hear. Mrs Craig seemed amenable enough to his suggestion though. Then Anderson mouthed the words “Stand up and close your eyes”. She did as she was bidden and while Anderson lifted her fine white silk scarf and bound it around her eyes as a blindfold, Sands stood up and turned on the small dressing table lamp and moved over to switch off the overhead light.
Swiftly Sands and Anderson were groping all over her, and while they each sucked on a nipple and groped her cunt, dour old Mr Watters came up beside her, gripped her head towards him and began to kiss her passionately on the mouth.
The strange thing was that no-one either outside the room or inside was in any doubt that Mrs Craig was enjoying it and beginning to reciprocate with enthusiasm.
In the dimmer light and the mêlée of bodies it was now difficult to discern exactly who was doing what and when. Either Anderson or Sands was the first to enter her, I couldn’t tell. But whichever, it didn’t take either of them long, and once they’d finished, they dressed, looked at heir watches, and with hand signals bade goodnight to Watters before quietly exiting. This must have been an agreement they had made earlier or that we’d failed to overhear.
Watters was now stripped to his underpants – his erection straining to escape. He moved Mrs Craig round to the bottom of the bed, almost as if to give us a better view – she was now no more than four or five feet from the window. He bent her over, her outstretched arms on the bed supporting her torso – and stepped out of his underpants.
Later, we all agreed that we were stunned at the sight. Dour old Mr Watters had a cock like one of those monster vibrators you see in magazines – but not only that, it was as hairy as his balls! It stood out from his groin like a tree bough matted in hair – and right before our eyes he started to rub it up and down what must’ve been by now her well lubricated slit.
We could see her body tensing as this monster entered her. Watters was gentle at first, gripping her hips and easing it in, then, as she started to buck against him, he reached round under her arms, grabbed her tits and pulled her onto him.
We could see she was calling something – whether in pain or ecstasy we couldn’t tell. Watters, too, was yelling – but definitely not in pain. Releasing her tits he started to viciously smack her behind with one of his hands and pulled her hips onto him with the other. He was pounding her with his cock, now going faster and faster. His hands moved down to her stocking-tops which he gripped like reins as he rode her. We could see he was building to climax. Yes, he threw his head back at the same time as his grip ripped the reinforced nylon tops to shreds, and emptied his balls into her.
A grunting noise to my right alarmed me and I spun – to see Charles with his cock in his hand in mid-ejaculation, spurting onto the overlapped planking of the wall.
I turned back just in time to see Watters pulling out of her, then tossing her onto the bed face down, his hairy black member still enormously engorged.
But he wasn’t finished. He turned her onto her back, checked her blindfold was still secure, and looked around the room. He lifted a long scarf and went to the closet where her clothes were hanging and found another one. Using them as long ties, he secured each of her wrists to the slats of the bed head in such a fashion that she still had a range of movement but just wouldn’t be able to reach the other wrist to free herself. She lay on the bed virtually motionless. He bent over and splayed her legs apart and spoke to her. He paused, gazing at the tableau he had created before turning towards the window and staggering towards us.
As we bolted back to our room I could hear him struggling to open her door – we made it in, and locked our door, just in time. With the lights off we stripped in seconds and scrambled under the duvets. We lay, in terrified silence, expecting him to come hammering on our door – but nothing happened. I crept to the window and peeked through the curtains; Watters was leaning over the veranda, stark naked and obviously unwell. Suddenly, he started to vomit, projecting it outwards onto the snow below. After a few moments, he spat, wiped his face with his hands, and turned back to Mrs Craig’s room.
In seconds, I was at the vent listening to his words.
“The lovely Mrs Craig – you fucking slut! It’s not over yet – the other boys will be back for seconds when they get a second wind. And, rest assured, I’ll be back myself after I get a night’s kip – only this time I’ll be squirting some of your sunscreen up your asshole to get you ready for a good ass-fucking! So, you’d better try and get some sleep before round two.”
“But the door, are you taking the key?” her voice was pleading.
“No, I’ll just pull it closed, otherwise Sands or Anderson wouldn’t get back in.” he replied.
“But if someone else, tries the door?” she said, panic in her voice.
“Well – it’ll be their lucky night!” and he laughed. There was silence as he pulled on his clothes. Ready to leave, he said, “Sleep tight, I’ll see you in the morning – before breakfast.” The door opened and closed.
We all lay there silently, hardly daring to breathe.
Then Robin whispered, “Watters is probably back in his room by now. I wonder is her light still on?”
I volunteered to have a look. Naked, I jumped out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown. I dipped my hand into my backpack and grabbed the new digital camera I’d been given for my birthday. Furtively, I opened our front door and checked the hallway – all was silent and vacant.
Robin said, “She’s probably asleep by now.” He crept out of bed and wrapped his dressing gown around him, quickly followed by Nigel.
“Get back into bed,” Charles urged quietly, “it’s too risky”.
“Easy for you to say – you’ve already taken the pressure off by your wank outside. We’re still hornier than hell.” Nigel replied.
Back out on the veranda we could see the dressing table light was still on. Restrained as she was, she was still lying on her back though Watters must’ve thrown a duvet over her to keep her warm while she slept.
I was massively disappointed – I had hoped to get a shot or two of her nakedness through the window. The other two said nothing, just stared at her bound sleeping form.
I knew it was crazy, but I tried the veranda door. The handle turned – Watters hadn’t locked it behind him! I looked at Nigel and Robin; their eyes were wide with horror at the prospect of what I might be thinking. I turned the handle fully and eased the door open. The slight scraping noise it made didn’t disturb her, and I beckoned to them to follow. Reluctantly, they crept after me. This wasn’t just an expelling offence - this was total madness.
The room was warm – much warmer than ours, and I quickly tiptoed to the corridor door and locked it. As I looked down on her, Nigel and Robin went up the other side of the bed. Despite the little I could see I could feel the passion rising in me. I no longer felt my heart pounding with fear – lust had taken over.
Attracting the others’ attention, I mimed easing the cover off her. Without hesitation Robin mirrored my movements and we peeled the duvet completely from her in unison. She squirmed a bit, made a mewling sound and vainly tried to move her hands, but still didn’t awaken. Her knees were together, drawn up tilted to her left side. The suspenders and torn stockings paired with the half cup bra presented us with a vision of sexual decadence that we’d never imagined having the good fortune ever to see.
I took my new camera out, pressed the On button, took a photo of the scene, then walked to the foot of the bed. Following my mute instructions, Robin crossed to the other side of the bed where he and Nigel gently eased her legs straight. She began to wriggle a bit, they were disturbing her – but it was in for a penny, in for a pound. I began to shoot frame after fame while they continued to open her thighs revealing her tightly trimmed pubic area and swollen vagina. Robin went the furthest; he slipped a couple of fingers inside her. She froze – she was awake!
“Who’s that? What are you doing?” she called, but not too loudly.
Robin bent down close to her ear, and in a gruff voice indistinguishable from Watters’ said, “I told you I’d be back you slut. Be quiet!”
“But I’ve hardly been asleep – what time is it?” she protested.
“Never mind the time – the boys and I just couldn’t settle down knowing that your juicy cunt was just lying here waiting for us. So, just lie back and think of England.”
Nigel tentatively started to feel her big breasts, massaging them and pulling on her organ-stop nipples as he became more confident. Though not protesting too much she still wasn’t behaving just as amenably as earlier.
Robin bent down again and growled, “You’d better settle down and behave yourself you wanton cunt, or some of these photos we’ve just taken might end up circulating in the wrong circles at home.”
She whispered, “Oh, my god!”
But the warning seemed to work and her body became plastic in the hands of my friends.
Nigel could wait no longer. Naked, he knelt on the bed between her open legs, slid his hands up under her knees tilting her cunt higher, opened her cunt lips and lunged into her. Nigel was quite a big fellow, the size of a mature man and the body of an athlete. As he fucked into her he ended up virtually supporting her body with his thrusting, leaving only her shoulders and head on the bed. She was noticing the difference.
“Jim! Who is this! What’s going on?” She was nearly crying.
“You told us earlier that you were aching for a tight young body – didn’t you, you shameless tart? Well, I’m just filling you order, so shut fucking up and ride him like the whore you are!” Robin growled.
It was like flicking a switch, she went into overdrive.
“Ok, Ok, free my arms! Please! I’ll do what you want!”
Robin looked at me, and I nodded.
“Ok,” he said, “but you keep the blindfold on or you’ll pay for it!”
“I will, I will, I promise!” she gasped, as Nigel continued hammering into her while Robin untied her wrists and I continued photographing.
Arms free, she embraced Nigel’s shoulders and began to give as good as she was getting.
Robin was naked now and standing on the bed behind her. Nigel rolled backwards until she was on top, still gripping him tight – as Robin knelt down behind her I knew what he was planning. I swung around to lift the sunscreen lotion from the dresser and nearly collapsed with shock. Charles was standing beside me, naked and erect – having recovered from his earlier ejaculation. He was smaller and slighter than the rest of us and he jumped unto the bed beside Nigel, grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head.
“Open your mouth!” he ordered, without any pretence at disguising his voice. She obeyed as he stuck his member in. “Now Mrs. Craig! Suck!”
By now Robin was lathering his cock in lotion, and applying it so generously to her asshole that it was dripping onto Nigel’s tight balls as he kept pumping her. Tentatively, he placed the tip of his cock at the cream filled orifice and pushed – It slid in with minimal resistance. What a fucking sight – and I was clicking away, recording as much of it as I could.
The next minute – and it was one of the best shots I got that night, Nigel was ejaculating into her cunt in ecstasy, Robin was gripping those big titties in both hands and croaking, “I’m coming! I’m coming!” as he fucked her ass, and Charles was holding her by the hair as he pulled out at the last moment and came all over the exposed half of her face. The icing on the cake was that she began orgasmic screaming in tandem once the cock left her mouth, even as Charles was shooting over her.
What a feeling of power – of control!
They all melted into a tangle of arms, legs and torsos, like a fast forwarded film of an ice-cream sculpture, onto the bed. Random hands still groped for her tits – and she, obviously not sated, groped in turn for a penis that still had some life in it.
At last, it was my turn. I pushed the others out of the way, grabbed the loose end of one of the scarves and wiped Charles’ cum from her mouth and face.
As I was doing this she found my erect cock and bent forward to suck it – but I wanted to come in her cunt, not her mouth – so I pushed her back flat onto the bed, parted her stockinged legs over my shoulders and slipped into her. She started to buck immediately, but she was too wet. I bent over and lifted the scarf I had discarded, pulled my cock out and gave her vagina a good drying, even sticking the scarf part-way into it. When I re-entered, My God, the difference was incredible!
Now, I wasn’t that experienced, I’d had two girlfriends that had gone all the way, but this was like comparing a Rolls to a Mini. Her cunt felt alive – it was actively doing something to me – sucking me – draining my balls!
Her legs over my shoulders, I ogled those fantastic tits below me as I milked them. Jesus, it was difficult not to orgasm, but she was urging me on, begging me to fuck her harder. Harder! Harder! But, I could hold on no longer, and as I emptied my balls into her I could feel her cunt clenching around my cock. I watched her face as it crumpled into choking orgasm with me.
I collapsed on top of her, wallowing in ecstasy until I felt my erection fade and my limp cock slip out onto the damp sheets. Without speaking, I stood up and pulled on my robe. The three others were standing with big smiles on their faces. Robin had my camera in his hand. I picked the duvet from the floor and threw it over her.
Nigel walked up to her head, bent over and said, in Watters’ gruff voice. “You were a very good slut there, Mrs Craig. Just say nothing about this to anyone – remember, ‘what happens in Austria stays in Austria’. Above all, don’t forget we’ve got the photographs. Now, go to sleep – and don’t even dream about trying to see where we go!”
Silently, we exited onto the veranda and back into our room.
We only saw her briefly the next morning as we left the chalet for the slopes – and that was the last time before we returned to school, as one of the younger girls had an accident on the nursery slopes and was taken to hospital by helicopter. Mrs Craig accompanied her, and later that day travelled back home by plane with her. No doubt, us boys in the end room weren’t the only ones who were disappointed.
But we had a camera full of memories, and I had ideas of how I could capitalise on them when I got home.
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