The Spanky Bottom Consultation.
By Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Chapter 3 – Equality and a gay attitude to life.
Giles had reluctantly agreed to participate in Rodders's hair-brained scheme, to turn his family home, into a brothel. He'd helped with revamping the décor of country house styled bedrooms, into sexy boudoirs. He'd even agreed to give the occasional old bag a poke – but he drew the line at eating pussy. In all the years he and Rodney had been friends, he had made it quite clear that when it came to oral sex, he sucked in preference to licked.
He was fully aware Rodders thought the only reason he sucked his dick, was in return for rent money. It wasn't true. Giles liked sucking dick. Hell he loved sucking dick, if he could bend over far enough he would suck his own cock. It had always been a disappointment to Giles that he could not reach that far down his body.
It was obvious to Giles, why Rodders resolutely refused to believe that he was not in the market for pussy eating. He was short of a male consort, as he insisted his male prostitutes were called.
It was not his fault their enterprise had become so successful that Rodders had to give up donking the ladies and become - consort administrator.
Huh. Consort administrator, Giles scoffed derisively at the stupid title. Stick a wig on his head, pump his lips full of collagen and smear bright red lipstick on them and he'd be called a madam.
Who did he think he was kidding? Giles pouted at the thought of Rodders's heterosexual expectations of him. Why the man should be so fixated on women was beyond him.
Giles had known Rodney long enough to know that once he had an idea in his head, no matter how ludicrous, it stayed there, until by some miracle the idea was implemented, usually by him.
The thought of him, doffing the clientèle would keep arising, unlike his penis, at every opportunity. Guile and distraction would be his only salvation. All he needed to do was give, Rodders a better idea to become obsessed with, and Giles had just the idea in mind.
The grounds of Rawlings Hall matched the rest of the sprawling mess of a house. Each grove of trees, every flower-bed, fountain and fish pond had been arranged in the garden with no particular symmetry of design intended, if a spot in the garden could be found, then bung in the azaleas. This haphazard horticultural disaster had one redeeming feature. It was the ideal place from which to make a series of covert phone calls. Giles headed for the loosely named rose garden. 3 rose trees and a dozen overgrown pampas grass bushes gave him the necessary clandestine cover.
Phone calls made. Interest captured. Giles climbed into the driver's seat of his beaten up old Land Rover, 2 miles on from the hall, he bypassed the village of Lower Rawlings, and drove 5 miles to the small but lively market town of Upper Rawlings, and his favorite spa of relaxation. Benjie's Greek Taverna. The second best gay bar in town. His bar, once he had the money to set one up, would be first.
“Why do you call this place a Greek taverna? You're not Greek.” Giles had asked Benjie when they first met.
“Because tooshi, I like it Greek style.” He'd replied turning around and sticking his, flabby unattractive butts cheeks up at Giles's face. Since then Giles was careful never to use the word, Greek, in Benjie's company again.
Giles pushed open the door into Benjie's haven of bling and homage to tastelessness. He was greeted by one of the bar owner's white teethed smiles that whilst looking sincere, managed to convey to the recipient that he really didn't give a damn. It was an art form Benjie practiced on a daily basis.
“Hello lover. What can I give you?” Benjie giggled at this piece of overdone humor.
“About 5 or 6 really hunky bum lovers who are in need of money.” Giles replied.
Benjie dropped his carefully contrived facial expression, “What do you want them for.” This sudden seriousness wasn't done in concern for the hunks but what he could make out of the proposition, Giles was about to make him.
Giles, had no intention of making him any proposition as his money supply was as tight as a miser's arse. He needed the info for free. Unfortunately, he reminded himself there were very few things in life that were free.
“Can I put this poster up?” Giles asked dodging Benjie's question.
He unfurled a roll of paper – it read -
Wanted well hung guys with liberal attitude to sex.
Good rates of pay. Phone Giles XXXX
“No.” Benjie re-positioned his smile and went back to pretending to wash glasses.
“Because I'm not a fucking recruitment agency.”
“I'll give you a blow job.”
“All right – but I'll only put the poster up for a week.”
Some hours later, Giles bumped his Land Rover through the gates of Rawlings Hall. Having gratified Benjie's sexual desire to have his cock-head sucked and not too gently bitten, until he screamed he couldn't take any more, finally letting him spurt his cream around his neck, Giles had on his cell the names and phone numbers of 8 gay male consorts for the Rawlings Hall brothel's new addition to the house services.
All he had to do now, was convince Rodders that what's good for the hetros is even more profitable for the gays.
Coming soon -
Chapter 4 – Sex. Sin. And a sisterly misunderstanding.
The characters in this short novella are not based on any real person and are purely fictional from the author's furtive imagination.
Thanks for reading this post.
Josephine Sanchez Vanner
photo courtesy of freedidgitalphotos.net