The Spanky Bottom Consultation.
By Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Chapter 9 – The Final Chapter.
Not with a whimper – but a bang!
Giles and Jasper had a simple plan. Carry Lady Ambrose-Gorely's coffin upstairs to their attic room, fill it as full as possible with antiques and then in the dead of night, which was rapidly approaching, slide it down the stairs and out to their awaiting Land Rover. Unload the loot and put Lady G, back in her resting place. Job done, money in the bank. Gay bar on the horizon.
What could be more simple than that? They told themselves.
It is one thing to imagine emptying a coffin of it's corpse, it is quite another thing to actually do it.
Giles and Jasper stood in horrified inertia, looking down at Lady Ambrose-Gorely. Neither of them was willing to touch her dead body.
“You do it.” Giles whispered to Jasper. Why he was whispering he had no idea, it just seemed appropriate.
Jasper had no such qualms about raising his voice, “Not bloody likely.” Came his loud stubborn reply.
The coffin had been placed on a special folding gurney, ready for the undertaker to collect the next day. All it required to bring them closer to their dream of owning The Bottoms Up, was to remove her Ladyship from the coffin and place her on the bed.
They had assumed she would be soft and compliant, not cold hard and stiff as a board.
“It's disgusting. I'm not touching that.” Jasper would not budge.
“So that's it then. My fucking dream up the spout. And a nicely located back passage in Upper Rawlings, won't be the location for my Bottoms Up.” Giles lamented as he and Jasper stared down at the thing ending their plans to own the best gay bar in Upper Rawlings.
“You don't want dead lady's coffin. You want dumb waiter.”
The two conspirators froze in guilt. Turning slowly around they saw Dolores standing by the door with an even more inscrutable expression on her oriental face than usual.
“Beg pardon?” Giles queried.
“No point putting old things in there. You need these.” She held up several large pillow cases, “Then you put filled bags on that.”
Their eyes trailed to where she was pointing.
“We don't want to put the bloody things in a cupboard. We want to get them out of the fucking house.”
Unmoved by Jasper's petulance, she continued, “That not cupboard. That dumb waiter. Is little elevator going down to kitchen. You open. You see.”
Giles opened what he had mistakenly taken for a cupboard and looked down into a small square shaft.
“Well I'll be buggered.” He muttered as a light at the end of the tunnel dawned on him.
“You fill pillow cases bring down here and put in dumb waiter. I wait in kitchen fill laundry basket and we push out to Land Rover.”
As plans went, Giles could not see a a flaw.
Jasper's darkly suspicious eyes narrowed. His brain more akin to the commercial world he said, “10%.”
“25%” Dolores shot back.
“No can do, we have to pay commission to our seller. 15% take it or leave it.”
“20% and I don't tell Missa Wodnee.”
With Dolores's help, all the antiques were safely stashed in the back of Giles's ancient Land Rover, and Giles and Jasper were on their way, with a mistrustful Dolores sitting on the back seat to Tetley's auction house. Their dream of owning the best gay bar in Upper Rawlings, getting closer with each mile. Bottoms Up would be on the lips of every gay for miles around Jasper chirped as Giles drove.
Olek had his bear sized paws clamped firmly to Olga's cow udder boobs. And he was loving every minute of it. The had grunted their way through 15 orgasms, 10 his, 5 hers.
Why, he wondered had he not wanted the pleasure of his wife's full voluptuous body before, he just could not understand. What a waste, he condemned himself, going for number 11.
“Olek. Wait for me.” Olga panted.
“I will on number twelve.” He grunted.
Whatever was in those vitamins pills Carlos had given him, was unbelievable he'd never had so much stamina before.
“These will keep you going all night.” The male consort had said with a wink, and he was dead right. Olek made a mental note to employ the man as his full time sexual consultant and vitamin supplier.
True, he did enjoy oriental pussy. And he had fond, if betrayed, memories of the Chang twins. But they were nothing compared to his Russian beaver. His desire for his wife just couldn't be satiated. The more times he sneaked off into the bathroom for another vitamin pill, the more he wanted her.
He constantly engorged cock was beginning to get rather sore. Olga however, didn't seem to be suffering in the same way. As long as she was up for it, so was he.
Orgasm number 13 thrilled him all the way down to his socks. 14 was just as good, as was 15. By 16 he was beginning to flag a bit. 17, 18 and 19 came in a blur.
20 had him reaching for his cigarettes.
“Oh Olek. You're a beast. My very own caveman.” Olga giggled. For once she didn't care if he smoked in her presence. He could puff away like a Siberian log fire for all she cared. Between her legs was a feeling she'd never had before – a throbbing vulva of satisfaction.
Olek blew smoke rings savoring his own contentment as his woman snored softly beside him.
He had come to Rawlings Hall with the expectations of his week-end being spent pandering to a wife he couldn't stand the sight of, with a bunch of aristocratic, no chin wonders that he assumed he'd loath at first sight. What he found, was the opposite. He'd fulfilled a long wanted desire of rampant sex with a set of oriental twins and discovered that Olga was the love of his life.
Olek Dmitri Pullemov, always repaid his debts. To Audrey he owed a debt of thanks. It was she who had brought him to Rawlings, and it was her brother who had shown him that he had a wife worth wanting. Audrey would get her contract signed, and Rodney, would not be killed.
The Chang twins, he owed them too. Their love of film making, gave him an idea. He would make them the stars of his next film production. He was sure they would enjoy heading the cast of 'Big Dicks in China Town', a Pullemov Productions porn movie.
All in all, Rodney, reflected as he sat in a hot bath of bubbles and steam with Dolores's legs wrapped around his waist, scrubbing his back with a loofah that had just been used for a very different purpose. All in all, it had been a very successful weekend at Rawlings Hall.
Even the death of Lady Ambrose-Gorely, a frequent client, had a plus side to it. She died in blissful happiness leaving him her entire fortune. He could now close down the Rawlings Hall brothel and have his family home to himself once again.
His sister Audrey, had got her lucrative contract with the Russians. Although he missed the delights of Olga's solid borscht fed body, it did not escape him that losing her, may well have avoided his death by poisoning during Sunday lunch. A method apparently employed by the Pullemov's on occasions when they were no longer pleased with members of their family. Under those circumstances he decided, Olek was welcome to her.
Dolores, wet and sudsy slid seductively out of the bath. As he watched her wiggle her nakedness towards the door, Rodney had his third erection since she ran the bath. She was on a mission to get a very cold bottle of vintage champagne and two long stemmed cut crystal glasses. He sat in rapt appreciation as her nude buttocks disappeared through the bathroom doorway. Since the first day she had come to work for him, Rodney had had to curtail his craving to lay his hands on any or all of her lusciously provocative body.
Sighing from their recent sexual fulfillment, he leaned back in the bath and daydreamed. He imagined licking Dolores's wrinkle free smooth skin. Rodney had a preference for the mature woman, and Dolores wore her 43 years like a couture gown. Mother nature had used the best quality materials on her and had put together a delicious caramel toffee colored seductress.
Not only was she beautiful, she was honest. Having helped Giles and Jasper get the antiques to Tetley, on her return to Rawlings, Dolores went straight to Rodney.
“Your friend Giles and his boyfriend have just removed the stolen antiques hidden in the attic. They've cut me in for 10%. I'll split it 50/50 with you. Which I think is fair, don't you?” She smiled at him with a set of perfect white teeth from a mouth that spoke in an equally perfect English upper-class accent.
“I say. Your English has improved dramatically since this morning.” Rodney raised an eyebrow in query.
“I was born in London, and I've a degree in antiques from Cambridge university. I put on that stupid accent to fool you into thinking I was just a servant. I came here intending to steal some of your valuables.”
“Why haven't you? And why tell me about Giles?” He was confused.
“Because you fool – I've gone and done something I never believed I was capable of. I've fallen in love with you.” It was true, Dolores or as she was really known, Janice Montgomery, professional art thief, had committed the unprofessional sin of falling for her intended victim.
Unknown to Giles and Jasper, they had done him the most enormous favor.
An attic stuffed full of stolen antiques, thanks to genetically inherited kleptomania, had caused a succession of Augustus St John's a certain amount of unnecessary embarrassment.
Great Uncle Jerome had a penchant for Chinese porcelain, which he stole from every grand house he was a week-end guest at. Rodney's grandfather couldn't keep his hands off of silverware, and then again there was great aunt Honoria and cousin Amelia, both of whom found the finer points of modern expressionism and classic landscape paintings, in that order, most appealing. The Augusts St John's collective kleptomania spanned several generations and represented a sizable pile of ill gotten gains.
Giles's need for ready cash had unwittingly relieved Rawlings Hall of this large accumulation of unwanted, after all these years, not so much hot property as tepid but all the same – stolen antiques.
Rodney opened his eyes at the sound of champagne being poured.
Handing him a glass, Janice stepped into the tub re-wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled herself close to him, and felt intense pleasure as he slid himself soapily inside her.
Rodney lifted his glass and said, “Here's to you and me my dear. May we always have champagne and roses.”
“Champagne and roses.” The said together.
The characters in this short novella are not based on any real person and are purely fictional from the author's furtive imagination.
I hope you have enjoyed this short novella.
My best wishes to you all.
Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Half Blood – Turning the Pages Magazine, 2013 Adventure Book of the Year & 2013 Paranormal Book of the year.
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