Good British Steel (Part One)

Part One of Three: The first time I was stirred by a sword, I’d just turned fifteen.  Our family had been invited for tea with the Lindens who lived in a Georgian mansion where everything was crafted from oak.  My brother, Henry, who was two years older than me, went to school with their son, Rupe “ a fencing team hottie who could drink anyone under the table.  While Rupe took my brother to his downstairs lair, Mrs. Linden served me and my parents tea from a porcelain pot.  The tea tasted weak, and there was something flowery about it.  It took half-an-hour of politeness before I managed to slip from the room.

I found my way downstairs to the cellar, where, through one of the open doors, I could hear the clashing of steel on steel.  The Cure’s “Lovecats was also playing loudly, and I could hear a voice occasionally singing along.  Following the noise, I moved towards an open door, glancing into the room.  Inside, dozens of swords were displayed against the brickwork, along with photos of fencers in action.  And there, in the centre, on a purple crash-mat, were two men in white fencing gear “ my brother and Rupe, I assumed “ with gauzy masks that covered their faces.

Rupe, who I remembered as the taller of the two, seemed to be an expert with that blade, which he swished so fast it left the dimness gleaming.  He was giving my brother chances before pointing the tip at his gullet and laughing, as my brother swore and dropped his sword, holding his head.  But as they began another round, it was Rupe I was watching.  Aglow with desire, I gazed at the suit clinging round his thighs and way he held his weapon, slashing the air.  He moved his body with an effortless grace, dodging Henry’s clumsy moves.  Every so often he sang along with the lead singer, and when he got to the line, “I’ll kiss you in spring, it’s a curious thing¦ he stopped my brother’s blade with his and turned his face towards me.

I caught my breath.

Even though I couldn’t make out his eyes, I could feel his stare sliding down my body, lingering on my tank top and the girlish skin beneath.  “Julie, he said, lifting off his mask.  Running a hand through his mess of blond hair, he raised an eyebrow.  “You’d make good prey.

“Quit it, Rupe.  My brother was now maskless.

“Want to play? Rupe asked me.

Henry’s voice grew cool.  “I said get the fuck away from her.

Rupe didn’t move a muscle.

I told him, “I’d be useless with a sword.

As Rupe walked towards me, calm behind his tan, he extended his sword and let the tip hover below my jaw. “You need a man to teach you some good, British steel.  I was so afraid and aroused, and afraid of being aroused, that I could hear my every heartbeat and feel my every breath.  Although I longed for that sword tip to trace every part of me, I still knew the threat of it.

Henry pressed a hand onto Rupe’s shoulder.  “Drop the sword or I swear, you’ll regret it.

Though I knew my brother was protecting me, I willed Rupe not to weaken.

Rupe gave a sly smile, lowering the metal between my teenage breasts, letting it dwell, for a perfect second between my teenage breasts.  Again, willing him to slice through the silk of my camisole and press that blade to my naked skin.  In my fantasies, I believed I’d always wanted to be fucked, but now I saw it wasn’t so.  The danger that quivered at the end of Rupe’s blade made me ache for a lancing “ trusting him, not trusting him, and wanting to trust him, was all part of becoming a woman, and this moment made my past imaginings seem foolish.

But Rupe backed down and Henry marched me towards the living room where Mr. Linden was talking to our parents about the state of the government.

“Julie saw us thrusting and parrying, said my brother.  “It’s no game for a girl.

“I was just looking, I protested, but my father still lectured me.  I was forced to sit on an upright chair, saying Please and Thank you, while my arousal simmered inside me.  I told myself it wouldn’t be long until I saw Rupe again, but I didn’t realise I’d caused a rift that night “ one that had been growing for months.  Rupe thought he was all-powerful, and Henry wouldn’t take it, and it seemed I was the final straw.  After this strange and stunning evening, the boys would stop speaking, and I’d have to suffer three hungry years before meeting Rupe again.

To be continued¦

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