I had hardy been in my room an hour before I heard her. She came in and dumped her cases in the middle of the floor.
"Excuse me," she said to me, "Is this one vacant?"
The owner of the Voice was a tall slender blond, hair tied up, pearl earrings and necklace and a skirt that almost reached her shapely knees. She was beautifully good looking in an exquisite porcelain doll fashion.
I nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, unwilling to give more than the minimum acknowledgement to that Voice. That cut glass, grating English accent that announced to the world that its owner was one of the Lords of Creation in the natural order of things.
Sharing a room with her was not going to be easy.
After the introductions and a bit of chatter, I excused myself and went for a coffee with Sally, an old friend from high school.
We sipped the drinks and suddenly Sally asked me, "Why are you talking like that, Alison?"
I realised I had been subconsciously imitating Diana Morton, my new roommate - the hon. Lady Diana Morton, as I later found out! It was a nasty shock but it shows that her voice had irritated me almost to the point of obsession.
And that was after less than an hour with her on our first day!
I found it difficult to be polite to Diana, although she always seemed to be perfectly at ease with me. I was frequently sarcastic and sometimes downright rude to her but it never seemed to ruffle her feathers.
She always dressed nicely, if rather conservatively. Her skirts nearly reached her knees, but seemed to hug her hips and ass as if they were glued on. Her underwear was all satin and lace and very expensive. I remember watching her undress and seeing her in a white satin and lace full length slip that must have cost as much as my whole outfit! She rarely wore tights, preferring stockings which she claimed were airier and made her feel free and cool.
We didn't socialise together and had no mutual friends. Her idea of a good time seemed to be an evening spent with a crowd of snobs from
The New England upper crust. And if there was an accent as bad as hers, it was Boston.
About Diana's sex life, I knew nothing. I didn't ask and she certainly wasn't telling. I presumed she must have screwed some of the toffee-nosed snobs she seemed to like so much, but we didn't exchange any sort of confidences like that at all.
Diana and I came to a sort of stand-off where we could co-exist and get on with our studies without any outward sign of animosity from me. To give her her due, she was polite and civil to me right from the word go. So much so that I occasionally felt guilty about my feelings for her.
To be honest, I would have liked nothing better than to shove a big custard pie into that beautiful doll-like face!
Towards the end of our second year, Sally gave me an idea. It was outrageous and probably would go all pear-shaped but the notion tickled me. Sally and I laughed at the idea and it gradually took hold of my imagination.
Sally had been dating a member of the college football team. He was a big muscular fellow, very athletic and very black. Sally loved being fucked by him. She squirmed around on her seat just talking about her lover and thinking about his cock.
What she had originally suggested was that she should arrange a date with a black guy for Diana. The very thought of Diana getting shafted by a burly footballer gave me the giggles. But there was no way we could see of pulling off such a stunt with her.
"What if I get a couple of guys, then both of you can get some black cock?" she volunteered.
She had tried to get me hooked on black cock before and I had resisted, although I admitted I had tried it once. To be honest, I liked it a lot, not just the fucking but the music, dancing and the atmosphere. But I shied away when I thought of the uproar at home if ever my parents or any other relatives back in our little town found out.
Sally just didn't seem to care. But then she was an only child of a single mother and didn't carry around the sort of baggage I had. But if getting a big black cock into the owner of the Voice was the prize, then I was willing to take a chance.
So I started being nice to Diana. I had cups of coffee with her, went to the library with her and generally made myself steadily more agreeable. And she responded better than I could have hoped. She even bought me little presents when she came back from weekends in New England.
There were times when I even felt a bit guilty about what I had planned for her. But they were usually dissipated by the sound of her Voice.
On the appointed day, Sally met Diana and me in the café and sat chatting for a while. Then Sally's boy friend, Jake came over with two friends, James and Hank. James was a clean-shaven, square cut athlete: Hank was equally athletic but sported a set of untidy dreadlocks. The six of us sat around exchanging banter for nearly an hour before Jake suggested we all go out to a disco.
