Rowena smothered a laugh, her mouth full of Hobnob. ‘I’ve got a tutorial first thing tomorrow on Molire, and I can’t skip it because I went sick on the last one, so that means essay crisis tonight.., and I gotta pick something out here to show the big boys when I’m job-hunting, and I’ll just
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screw it up because I’m pissed-off.’
‘You’re always pissed-off, Topaz,’ said Rowena.
‘I brought you a present,’ Topaz said, throwing her the
latest issue of Vanity Fair. ‘It’s got a massive piece on David Geffen in it.’
‘Oh, great!’ said Rowena, grabbing it. ‘David Geffen-‘
‘ - is God, I know, I know,’ said Topaz.
Rowena worshipped David Geffen, the legendary American music mogul who had started two record companies from scratch and made a huge success out of both of them. He was a self-made billionaire who had started out without a cent to his name. She kept a New York Times profile on him tacked above her bed.
‘So?’ said Rowena defensively. ‘You’d walk a mile over broken glass for five minutes with Tina Brown.’
‘I’d walk ten miles,’ sighed Topaz, imagining it. Tina Brown was young, beautiful, happily married and the greatest mhgazine powerhouse the world had ever seen, or at least that’s what Topaz Rossi thought. She had left Oxford, gone into editing and seemed to double the circulation of any magazine in whose direction she glanced. Now she ran Vanity Fair, and had produced a cocktail of glitz and gravitas that made it the hottest title on the shelves,
hotter even than Cosmopolitan, if that were possible. ‘I want what she’s got, damn it!’ Topaz said. ‘You’ve got Cherwell.’
‘It’s hardly Vanity Fair, now is it?’ asked Topaz sarcastically.
‘It’s a start,’ Rowena insisted. ‘It got you The Times.’
‘That’s true,’ admitted Topaz,’ her bad mood evaporating. ‘How’s the debate coming along?’
Tve got no problems,’ said Rowena, supremely confident. ‘Gilbert Docker? I’ll slaughter him.’
‘What did Peter say?’ Topaz asked, with an uncharacteristic blush. Somehow, talking about Peter in front of Rowena always made her feel a bit dirty. Rowena was still a virgin, amazingly enough.
‘He said he’d think about it,’ Rowena told her. ‘Are you
i8
seeing him tonight?’
‘Yeah,’ Topaz said. She was glad Rowena had dealt with it herself. She’d hate to have to discuss slate politics with Peter.
There was a slight pause.
‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ Rowena said, picking up a feature on the Magdalen May Ball.
Topaz arched her back from the pleasure of it, feeling the night dew of the meadow wet beneath her. Over her head she could see the spires of the ancient city, black against the night. They were a few feet away from the riverbank and somewhere under the urgent heat of her pleasure she could hear the gentle murmuring of the water. God, it was so beautiful. In New York the neon lights of the city obliterated all the s-tars; here, under Peter’s exquisite touch, she could see them scattered across the whole sky, like sherbet.
Peter’s tongue was flicking up and down her spine, his fingertips lightly tracing her ribcage, half tickling, half caressing. Her whole body felt sensitized, alive. Topaz parted her legs, ready for him, enjoying the weight of him, the feeling of his large, thick erection pushing into her. She liked his strength. Sometimes she might even have liked it a little rougher, but that wasn’t Peter’s style; sex was an art for him.
She felt his fingers slide around and underneath her, reaching for her belly, for the delicate little skin patches just under her hips, wanting to stroke them, to feel them flutter under his touch. It sent a new spasm of wetness through her, and she moaned. He had taken his time discovering her body. He knew where he could tfirn her on. Topaz pressed against him, squirming into his hands. He liked that. His cock leapt against her.
Topaz moved with him, getting hotter. She was dose, she could feel it. She wriggled about, so she could push up against his cock with the cheeks of her ass. Peter gasped when she did that, surprised by a new surge of desire, lie pulled back, positioned himself to enter her. Topaz opened
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herself wider, waves of heat spreading through her.
‘Now, baby,’ she urged, and Peter began to thrust, in and
out, pulling so far back he was almost withdrawn, and then plunging back inside her, slick with her juice. He was getting harder inside her, he was nearly there. He put his hands on her shoulders, gripping her hard, pushing into her faster, pleasuring her. Topaz sobbed. Maybe someone would walk across the meadows. Maybe someone would see them. She moaned, she was going to come. The block of pressure in her stomach dissolved and shattered, rippling through her, a long shiver of orgasm. Peter went rigid with pleasure, came, and relaxed on top of her.
Topaz kissed his shoulder. ‘You were amazing,’ she said.
The? Oh, baby,’ he said. ‘You’re fantastic.’
He rolled offher, and they lay on the riverbank together,
‘ exhausted.
‘This is so romantic,’ Topaz said. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ She was incredibly happy. Peter was so gentle, so imaginative, so tender with her. The fumbling boys back in Brooklyn had never been like this. And her father had wanted one of them for her husband! If Gino could see this sunning, rich English gentleman, he’d throw a fit. Topaz had a brief, vengeful fantasy about taking Peter back for dinner and watching her poppa fall over himself to kiss his ass. Not that she’d ever darken that asshole’s door again.
Tm glad you think so,’ Peter said. He grabbed his jacket,
took out a packet of cigarettes and lit up. The smoke curled up in the darkness, white and fragrant. ‘Your friend Rowena came to see me today,’ he added. ‘About the Union. She wants me to drop ou of supporting Gilbert.’
‘She mentioned it,’ Topaz said, warily. One thing she had learnt was that Union politics got deadly serious. She suppressed the memory of her friend’s mute appeal for help this afternoon; she didn’t want Peter to think she was interfering.
‘Trouble is, I’m committed to him,’ Peter said easily.
‘Are you cold, darling? No? I might get out of it, but it’d be tricky.’
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Topaz curled against the warmth of his side. She still
tingled from his caress. ‘You guys can sort it out,’ she said. Peter allowed his arm to drop round her, enjoying the feeling of her firm, full breasts. It was pleasant, being with Topaz Rossi. She was eager, enthusiastic and fun. He was slightly surprised that Rowena Gordon was her friend. They were so different.
Idly he pictured Rowena as she had come to deal with him that morning. The shimmering blonde hair. The graceful poise. The confident manner. If being with Topaz was exploring the exotic, talking to slim, elegant Rowena Gordon was like looking in a mirror. And that was something else Peter Kennedy enjoyed.
‘Leave it to us, sweetheart,’ he said. We’ll find some solution. Tell your friend to come and see me again.’
‘Topaz, please,’ Rowena said, twisting her fingers around under her cuffs.
The two girls were walking down the wide gravel path that bisected Christ Church meadows, strolling down to the river. It was the middle of Eights’Week, the traditional summer rowing contest. Every college fielded male and female teams - except St Hilda’s, which didn’t admit men and the students took it very seriously indeed. Topaz had two whole teams of Cherwell reporters asigned to it, and every hack in the Union took up position outside their college boathouse first thing in the morning. Ambition aside, where else could you be? The sun was beating down, the water was glittering and the alcohol was flowing. Thousands of kids were packing the riverbank, this year like every year. Rowena and Topaz were threading through a crowd on their way down there, and it was only ten in the morning. The crack of dawn. Normally they wouldn’t even be awake.
‘No. Jesus, how many times? I said no, and I meant it,’ Topaz answered, with something of an edge to her tone. ‘I’m not gonna discuss it with Peter for you: I don’t want to get involved. Capisci?’
‘I get that, but I need your help,’ Rowena said, hammering away. ‘I have to get Peter, if not to go with me, at least to hold back from supporting Gilbert.’
‘What part of “no” don’t you understand?’ Topaz asked, sarcastically. ‘The guy’s my boyfriend. This stuff is as important to him as it is to you. If I start interfering, lae’s gonna be turned offlike a light switch. I’m devotin, g every
damn issue of the paper to what an asshole Gilbert Docker is. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Yeah, and you know I’m really grateful, but-‘
‘No. No buts,’ Topaz interrupted her impatiently, pushing a handful of scarlet curls away from her forehead, and yet again Rowena was struck by how terrific, how brazen, her friend looked. Today she was wearing cut-off denim shorts that fitted snugly round her taut, curvy ass, the tiny threads on the fringes just kissing the tops of firm,tanned thighs, and a yellow-checked shirt tied above her flat midriff, the fabric pulled hard against those overripe breasts. She felt another quick burst of frustrated envy, immediately followed by a stab of guilt.
‘You’ll have to talk him into it yourself, Rowena. That’s your specialty, anyway.’
‘I’m seeing more of him than you are, these days,’ Rowena said softly.
For a second Topaz glanced across at her. ‘You can’t hate his company as much as you’re making out,’ she said. ‘Peter’s not so bad. Hey, you’re gonna have to get to like him. You’ll have to dance with him at our wedding. That’s in the chief bridesmaid’s job description, says so in all the books.’ She grinned.
‘Wedding! Don’t you think you might be rushing this just a little bit?’ Rowena exploded.
‘Maybe. Let’s not talk about it any more,’ Topaz begged. ‘I don’t want to have a row with you. But I’m not getting involved. OK?’
‘OK,’ Rowena said, looking away. She swallowed her fury. Tll see you later, Tope, all right? I want to see how we’re getting on.’
‘Sure,’ her friend said, giving her a cheerful wink as she headed towards a hot-dog stand.
Rowena fought her anger all the way down the riverfront as she strolled towards the Christ Church boathouse. Not that anyone watching her would have known it; she walked slowly, waving at anyone who looked even vaguely
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blonde hair look almost platinum, and the long cotton dress she’d picked out that morning flowed closely round her slim body. She’d picked out just a kiss of make-up - clover lips, beige eyeshadow - and in her own way she looked just as sexy as Topaz Rossi.
But it was Topaz Rossi who was dating Peter Kennedy,
not her.
Yes, and he’d really dump her for bringing up politics, Rowena thought, blowing a playful kiss to Emily Chan, a friend of hers from Lady Margaret Hall. Why can’t she just do this for me? Why do I have to be closeted with her fucking boyfriend? If I was dating some guy at a national paper I’d talk to him about her…
The path exploded with cheers as Merton’s women’s crew tore past, oars slicing up the water with powerful strokes, and Oriel only seconds behind.
‘Go on, Merton!’ she shouted, jumping up and down. Ancient college rivalry between Christ Church and Oriel.
, Anybody was preferable to those guys winning …
‘Yeah, move it!’ a voice agreed behind her. The sun was blacked out by a Christ Church scarf being looped around her head from behind, knotted and pulled tightly together. ‘Guess who?’ the voice whispered in her ear. A low male voice, laughing at her.
‘Cut it out, Kennedy,’ Rowena snapped.
He loosened the scarf, letting her see again. ‘You’re too easy, Rowena. Don’t look where you’re going. You could get into all kinds of trouble that way.’
She reached up to her neck and ripped it off. ‘What are you doing here?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Same thing you are. Supporting Sam and the guys.’ He nodded towards the Christ Church boat, moored just ahead of them, where Sam Wilson, Captain of Boats, and the main men’s crew were waiting to race. ‘That is what you’re doing, right?’
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Of course,’ Rowena replied icily.
Damn, why did he have to look at her like that? Look her up and down like that? What was she supposed to do about it? Say, ‘Hey, you belong to Topaz’?
‘Sure you’re not here to hack?’ he teased her. ‘All these votes, within such easy reach … ‘
‘Sure you’re not here to relive past glories?’ she countered.
Last year Peter Kennedy had been Captain of Boats and had led Christ Church to a record victory. There had been talk of Olympic trials, hut Kennedy had chosen to give up sport to concentrate on his finals. Now Sam Wilson looked as though he might be leading them to Head of the River again, and the Olympic coaches were sniffing round new stars, like Johnny Searle.
‘You know how to hit where it hurts,’ Peter said, not taking his eyes off her. He made it sound vaguely obscene. ‘Rowing me’ant a lot to me. Still does.’
‘I can see that,’ Rowena answered, struck by the closeness of his body, the broad, tanned chest in a white T-shirt inches from her face. Peter Kennedy would have graced any beach in California.
‘Are you flirting with me?’ Peter asked, catching her green eyes on his body.
Ridiculously, Rowena felt her breath catch in her throat.
Where the fuck’s Topaz? she thought.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ she said coldly.
‘Maybe you should flirt With me. Kiss up to me a little,’ Peter suggested, smiling at her with a lazy grin. ‘You do
want my help, right?’
‘Not that badly.’
‘Don’t be so uptight. I’m just kidding,’ he said, putting one hand on her waist and steering her towards their boathouse. ‘Topaz wouldn’t want us to quarrel.’
Despite herself, Rowena stiffened beneath his touch. Peter Kennedy smiled.
‘Rowena! Peter! Hurry up!’ said James Gunn, a friend of theirs, pulling the two of them into the Christ Church
‘
crowd. ‘You nearly missed it, we’re about to start.’