The Spanky Bottom Consultation.
By Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Rodney Gervais Augustus St John's, at 57 had no idea how to make a living. His life had started with a nanny, prep-school, Eton and then Cambridge, where he resolutely refused to study the subject he went to university for.
Then, his parents did him the one thing he could thank them for. They died together when the cruise ship they were holidaying on, collided with an oil tanker and sank.
At the age of 19, a large trust fund, a substantial amount of off-shore money and several prime properties in and around London, not to mention the sprawling family home became his.
Climbing into his brand new sports car, Rodney, left Cambridge and academia with out so much as a backwards glance with the full intention of leading a debauched fun packed existence.
The only fly in this otherwise superb ointment, his younger sister Audrey. Rodney had no desire to waste good money on a sibling he neither wanted or particularly liked. A reasonably priced boarding school for girls followed by an equally reasonably priced Swiss finishing school, sorted out his unexpected parental duties.
In all his time spent flying around the world enjoying himself, skiing in Aspen, gambling in Las Vegas and indulging in his somewhat perverted sexual tastes in the sex-capitols of South Asia, it never occurred to him that the money would one day run out.
He could try, he supposed, touching his sister for a loan, though he had a pretty good idea of the outcome of such an enterprise.
Bitch. What was he supposed to do with a 9 year old kid? Hadn't he sent her to good schools? Never forgot the silly bitch's birthday. Always sent the simpering little idiot presents on her birthday and at Christmas, from wherever he was? Often cost him a vast amount of bucks in postage, ungrateful cow. Thanks to him coughing up for her education she'd managed to land a decently rich husband. And she was no great beauty. Her wealthy husband, Rodney decided, was down to him providing her with a good education.
He made the phone call to this ungrateful sister in complete confidence of his absolute right to some of her money.
Her voice-mail message, sounded brisk and business like. She wasn't in, leave your name and number and she'd get back to you.
That had been three weeks earlier. She hadn't got back to him.
In all he'd left, he wasn't quite sure, but somewhere in the region of maybe 20 or 30 pleas for help. The last 10 or so messages, were the pleas for help. The first 20somethings were more on the demanding with menaces level.
“Let's face it Rodders.” Rodney's life-long friend, drinking partner and the other person in his life who had helped him spend most of the money, Giles Patrick, mused, “I don't think your sister is going to cough up the readies.”
“Exactly how much do you have left?” Giles asked doing mental arithmetic. He hadn't paid his rent in 3 months and he was hoping Rodney, would as usual, help him out. He glumly considered the possibility of eviction.
“Well let me see.” Rodney trawled doing a rough mathematical calculation of his own.
“Sod all really. I have this house, but the damn thing eats money. Then there's the racehorse, another cash burner without much return. And of course, the Jag. None of which I can sell. The house because it's been in the family for generations, and there's a bloody covenant on it that stops me from selling. No one will buy the horse, it's never won a race and I'm fucked if I'll sell the Jag. So basically unless you have any money I'm screwed and as we both know you have spent most of your, I'll rephrase that, all, of your adult life sponging off me. You my friend are a no hoper when it comes to a cash bail out.”
“There must be something we can do?” The shrill edge to Giles's almost hysterical tone was not lost on Rodney. He laughed inwardly at himself for having been lumbered with such a useless companion. The only thing Giles was good for was a very sensual blow-job, and as he was too stressed to contemplate sex at that moment, Giles wasn't even good for that.
Giles on the other hand was thinking he didn't see why he should have to suck Rodney's cock if he wasn't going to pay his rent.
Neither spoke as they pondered their bad luck into a glass of malt whiskey, when the telephone rang.
A thrill of opportunism raced through Rodney, “This could be Audrey.” He chipped. Swigging the last of his whiskey he picked up the phone.
“Hello.” He used his cagey voice kept especially for debt collectors, “Who is this?”
“Oh Rodney darling, I'm so glad I've caught you. Something terrible has happened, Clive is in hospital.”
It took Rodney a moment or two before he realized Clive was his polo partner and the voice at the other end of the line was Clive's wife, Samantha.
“Sorry to hear that.” He replied not caring if Clive lived or died.
“The thing is darling I'm due at a very important dinner this evening and I can't go alone. I was wondering if you could accompany me. I'd of course, meet all your expenses. ”
There are moments in people's lives when a light shines down on them. It's a light that brings with it, bright ideas. Rodney was the recipient of one such light.
“I be delighted to help. What time shall I pick you up?” Care and concern for her plight falling insincerely off his lips.
“Don't worry I'll send the car for you.” Her reply was music to his impoverished ears.
The food that night had been uninspiring, the dinner boring - but the sex with Clive's wife afterwards and the five hundred pounds she had discreetly popped into the top pocket of his dinner jacket, just the tonic he need to add to his sparse gin.
“Oh sweetie.” Sam squealed when Rodney thrust his well-endowed and stiff up erection into Clive's wife's moist and ready vagina, as far as it would go, giving her a third orgasm, “Can you fuck me again next week, say Thursday at 3 pm?”
Rodney explained later, as Giles rubbed the soothing balm onto the angry red welds Samantha had so enthusiastically applied to Rodney's backside, he had an address book full of golf widows, ladies whose husband's were always away on business and wife's who'd never had a decent shag in their lives.
“We my friend.” Rodney announced, “Are going into the male escort business.”
Coming very soon -
Chapter 2 – It's not a brothel if it's a country house.
All the characters are not based on any real person and are purely fictional.
Thanks for reading this post.
Josephine Sanchez Vanner