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.
“Why
not?”
“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
Very cool Blog~ Book Marking Now!
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