The
Spanky Bottom Consultation.
By
Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Chapter
One
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
photo
freedidgitalphotos.net
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