The Spanky Bottom Consultation.
By Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Chapter 8 – Oligarchs, bodyguards and things that go bump in the night.
Tetley Jenkins, antique dealer cum auctioneer, better described, as a chancer, fencer of stolen goods and lecherous dirty old man for a certain type of woman – the type that had a pulse.
He had been brought up, as he would often say, singularly by his dear old mam. Not because his father had absconded and left his mother to bring up her child alone – but because she wasn't sure which one of the many she had graced her ever willing favors with, actually was, Tetley's father.
Trixie Jenkins, lived all her life on a large council housing estate on the rough side of Cardiff. Her Welsh ancestry had endowed her with a big busted hour glass figure, and her humble circumstances a pragmatic attitude towards sex and getting paid for it. She saw no reason why she shouldn't use her voluptuous attributes to get her the good and expensive things in life that her impecunious start had up until then, denied her. It was this down to earth attitude to making money, 'with what the good lord has given you' that she had passed on to her only child, Ivor Llewellyn Jenkins.
“Why is he called Tetley, this friend of yours we are going to see?” Jasper asked Giles as they drove the battered Land Rover into the car park of Tetley's Auction House, slash, Antique show rooms.
“He's not a friend. We simply do business from time to time.” Giles replied evasively.
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“Well if you must know, he has a certain reputation. He's not entirely honest when it comes to stolen property. He's what you might call a bit of a, tea leaf, i.e. Cockney slang, read tea leaf - for thief. If anyone can find a discreet buyer for the stuff up in Rodders's attic, Tetley can.”
Jasper's blank expression forced Giles to simplify, “Tetley, famous brand of tea, got it?”
As dawning of comprehension shone out of Jasper's eyes, he nodded and said, “Ah yes, I see.”
“Thank god for that, now shut up and let me do the talking.”
“As I see, it boyo, you want me to sneak into Rawlings Hall, check over the stuff in the attic and leave again without Rodney St Thingy, knowing I've been inside his home, and you want me to take the most valuable items with me and then flog them for as much as I can get, and pass you the proceeds minus my usual commission? Am I right boyo?”
“Fair enough. Only you'll have to bring, whatever I decide is worth selling, to my auction house. Don't want the rozzers thinking I've pinched the stuff, now do we? When do you want me to come?”
“Tonight at 11 pm, I'll let you in whilst the house guests are, erm, otherwise engaged.”
At exactly 11 pm, quietly and unobserved, Giles, let Tetley, into the house through the servants back door and up the back staircase.
Thank god for the snobbery of the English upper classes, thought Giles, as he led the way. If the upper classes had allowed their servants the dignity of equal status he couldn't be robbing one now. He chuckled happily to himself, at the idea of such ironic retribution.
Tetley's eyes didn't pop when he laid them on the assortment of silverware, porcelain, paintings and general bric a brac, piled high around Jasper and Giles's attic hideaway. They sprung from his sockets and stuck straight out with delirious greed.
“And you say, Rodders knows nothing about any of this?” He quivered hoping he wouldn't wet his pants with pleasure.
“No a clue.” Giles reassured him.
“There must be at least a million quids worth of stuff here.” Tetley felt a damp patch of urine encroaching on the middle of his trousers. Excitement at the thought of such large amounts of untaxed money coming his way, was sending an uncontrollable signal to his bladder to expunge it's contents.
“Which bits are valuable?” Jasper asked.
“Well all of it. Where's the toilet?”
Having peed until he was empty, Tetley returned to the attic and began a quick calculation. As Giles and Jasper waited with baited breath, no one noticed the sound of a Balalaika being badly played drifting through the house.
“About a million quid plus, give or take a hundred thousand.” Tetley announced shortly before Giles fainted.
“All of it?” Giles croaked coming to.
“Give or take a couple of things...yes.”
“Oh my.” Giles drifted off again, then sat up with a start, “How are we going to get it all downstairs without being seen?” Panic set in.
“That boyo is up to you. Get it to my place and I'll find you buyers. I don't want anything to do with how it leaves this place. As far as I'm concerned it's all to be sold legit. Okay boyo?”
Jasper and Giles nodded, wondering how they were going to carry centuries of assorted valuable clutter out of Rawlings Hall, without getting caught.
The right Honorable Lady Cynthia Ambrose-Gorely, widow of the late Sir Charles Ambrose-Gorely, provided them with the solution. She died whilst having the best orgasm, of her life.
“Heart attack.” Dr Shipman diagnosed of the newly demised Lady Ambrose-Gorely.
“Of course I could write on the death certificate pleasured to death.” Audrey's narrowing eyes led him to say, “Heart attack then.”
As the doctor left he said in passing to Rodney, “I'd check with her lawyers if I were you, you lucky old dog you.” He then nudged Rodney in the ribs, winked and left him wondering what on earth the doctor was talking about.
Giles and Jasper, having heard the commotion going on in the bedroom below their attic room, came down to see what all the noise was about.
“Where the hell have you been?” Demanded an angry and much put out Audrey as she caught sight of Jasper.
She, didn't give a damn about what inconvenience death had caused Lady Ambrose-Gorely, only it's inconvenience to her and that the 'goings on' at the Rawlings Hall brothel, would now be out in the clear open.
It had been a busy night for death in Upper Rawlings. The only funeral home in the town was full up, and as the doctor had certified cause of death, by natural causes, the local hospital morgue refused to take the body. With a commercial eye on customer satisfaction and getting the business of burying such a well to do personage, the director of D'eath and Sons, dispatched the son part of the family business with one of their best coffins to Rawlings Hall. He'd given strict instructions to assure Miss Augustus St John, that the body of Lady Ambrose-Gorely, would be collected as soon as space had been made in the Chapel of Peace. The following afternoon, as a burial was scheduled for midday.
In her usual take charge manner Audrey, instructed Giles and Jasper, to wait for the funeral director's son.
If music is the food of love – then what is a brilliant idea? If not very close to a banquet for hopeful lovers?
Giles and Jasper, both had said brilliant idea, as together, they watched the tall muscular son of D'eath and Sons, unload from his hearse a large coffin and carry it upstairs to let the mortal remains of Lady Ambrose-Gorely, rest in cherry wood and white satin peace.
No words needed to be spoken. Giving an incorrect impression of reverence for the dead, Giles and Jasper, waited silently, for Son to put her Ladyship into the object of their desires.
They kept this discreet silence as they showed the young man to his hearse and then maintained the same dignified silence as they returned, heads solemnly bowed, to the large and helpfully deep coffin of the deceased.
Neither of them heard the unmelodious strains of a Balalaika being played somewhere close by. Their only thoughts, how many antique valuables minus cadaver, could a generously sized coffin, hold.
The onlooking paying clients decided as the fun was now officially over, better fun was to be had by Viagra enhanced stiffies. Turning their semi-naked bodies away, they went back to poking, probing and generally having a damn good penetrating time, by the well-endowed male consorts they had at great expense paid for.
Head in hands, Olek Dmitri Pullemov, sat hunched at the edge of the bed, where he had so short a time ago, enjoyed the oriental favors of the Chang twins on. He sat in abject misery at the horrible realization that the scales of justice had fallen squarely on his shoulders. Why fate had conspired so badly against him? It simply wasn't fair, he moaned to himself.
Olga, his wife until death did they part, had decided to depart a little earlier than he had planned. It wasn't the thought of losing Olga that had Olek so deeply depressed. It was the thought of all the wealth and power going along with her.
He'd have got rid of her himself, if he could have kept everything, but the old bastard, her father the general had seen to it that he couldn't do any such thing. He'd been far too clever to simply give his daughter away without any strings very firmly attached to the deal.
Their wedding night lived in the horror memory section of Olek's mind. His new bride had the unfortunate misfortune to be the spitting image of her father. Try as he might, Olek couldn't unleash the power of his virile cock into his wife without seeing her father looking back up at him. If only he could have put something over her face. He'd straddled her naked body with his own, and thought about covering the offending article with a pillow but the temptation to keep on pushing down was too much for him. Olek had no choice he closed his eyes, thought of mother Russia, and all the general's money.
It was this image of her father's face that prevented his marriage to Olga, being consummated on a regular basis. Olek lamented that thanks to the general's strong genes, and his own inability to shag the old bastard's daughter, he was about to lose those things he held so dear that came as a package with his wife.
Well it wasn't going to happen. Olek Dmitri Pullemov was going to fight back for the woman he married and the money he loved. No English, bourgeois fucker was going to take what he had so rightly earned. A plan formulated itself in Olek's cunning brain, Vodka and therapy was what he needed. Olek dialed his cell, called his bodyguards to a meeting, and began to put in place, Operation Retrieval.
At the same time as Giles was sneaking Tetley through the back door, a serious looking individual with sensible brown shoes, red bow tie, and dark green suit was being shown in through the front door.
Professor Wilhelmina Von Strudel had been woken, in what she considered to be the middle of the night, by a loud banging on her front door.
Having carried out their master's bidding, Olek's two bodyguards, Serge and Ivan, drove at high speed to the home of the world famous hypnotist Professor Von Strudel, demanding she come with them, immediately.
When she refused, Serge showed her his powerful weapon and Ivan thrust a large amount of money into her hand. As both had been difficult to refuse, Wilhelmina did the intelligent thing and followed the two heavies out to Olek's awaiting Bentley.
“How much of that vile beverage have you had to drink? I can't hypnotize you if you are drunk.” Wilhelmina Von Strudel demanded pointing at the bottles of Vodka crowding the bedroom.
“Not a drop. This lot's for later. If you don't work.” Olek replied lying in a relaxed position on the bed, as per her instructions.
“But it better bloody work.” He muttered, feeling resentful at being made to do something he considered to be little more than a fairground side show act.
The vodka had been his idea, the hypnotism, Serge’s. Having had it pointed out to him that therapy could take years, and hypnotism, in one session of mind over matter could give him the same desired effect. Speed being of the essence, Olek sent his bodyguards to fetch Wilhelmina.
The things I do to stay rich and powerful. Olek said to himself.
His thoughts drifted, as he listened to the Professor's soft compelling voice, training his subconscious mind on a new pathway to matrimonial bliss.
“Is that it?” He was sure it had only been a couple of minutes since the blasted woman started.
“Well? How is this ridiculous nonsense going to change my attitude to my fat ugly and looking just like her ruddy father, wife?” Olek questioned forcefully.
“For a start, you've been under my hypnotism for over an hour.” Professor Wilhelmina Von Strudel informed him in her assertive German accent that said, she'd heard the accusation before, ”And secondly tell me what do you think of when you look at this woman?”, The professor thrust a picture of Olga under her husband's disgruntled nose.
“What do you think I think of her? She's my wife. Bloody fine looking woman too. Just look at those thighs, the size of them, they could crush a bear. Isn't she marvelous?”
“My work here is done.” Said Professor Wilhelmina Von Strudel in complete satisfaction.
She had pulled from the depths of a deviously wicked subconscious mind, the faint traces of generosity and kindness that lay within it's folds, and created a paragon of benevolent humanity.
Olek Dmitri Pullemov had become a man possessed. Possessed with getting his wife away from the English lord who was threatening his financial security.
Of course he didn't blame Olga. No...a good looking woman like that was bound to attract a man like Lord Rodney. And of course, he couldn't blame Lord Rodney for wanting a woman like Olga. Why he couldn't blame him, Olek had no idea. The urge to have him tied up, tortured and then shot by Serge kept surfacing in his mind, only to be pushed away again by thoughts of well-being and forgiveness towards his wife's lover.
Strange, these feelings of benevolence to his fellow man, he'd never had them before the professor's visit. As soon as he had got back his beloved Olga, he would set up a charitable foundation for the poor and underprivileged in honor of her late father.
Olek longed with all his heart to have back his gorgeous wife, and take her in his arms once again. Unusually he was also filled with desire to ravished her naked body, squeeze her naked buttocks and rub his giant prick between her equally giant boobs.
With a newly acquired Balalaika, thanks to Ivan, clutched firmly between his talentless sausages for fingers he made for where he knew Olga to be.
Call me a sentimental old fool. He told himself. Not that many would.
“What's that appalling noise?” Rodney exclaimed disturbed mid pump as he straddled across Olga's plump naked flesh, wobbling excitedly below him.
“It's a Balalaika.” Olga replied her eyes misting over.
The delicate tune of a beautiful Russian love song, played with a murderous lack of musical skill, wailed directly outside Rodney's bedroom door, “It's bally-lika annoying.”
He resumed his frantic pounding, unaware that for Olga, the moment of heated passion had passed. She was far removed from her English lover jiggling away on top of her.
Olek had about as much artistic musical flair as a Siberian yak with hearing problems. The closest he ever got to producing music was when he farted in the bath - but for Olga, she had been taken to a different place. In a different time. She was a young girl at her father's dacha, in love with his handsome lieutenant, dreaming of a white wedding.
The door burst open, naked, except for the sash holding up his Balalaika, Olek, sang to his Olga. As the words of his song choked the air around her, Olga's resolve to have nothing ever to do with her husband again, melted as quickly as snow beneath a gushing torrent of yak's pee.
Olga and Olek, collided in a mass of unrestrained bulk, crushing between them Olek's balalaika, and Rodney Gervais Augustus St John's, dreams of closing the brothel and playing the part of Lord Rodney.
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 enjoyed this 8th chapter in my naughty novella -
Chapter 9 – The Final Chapter.
Not with a whimper – but a bang!
Josephine Sanchez Vanner
Half Blood – Turning the Pages Magazine, 2013 Adventure Book of the Year & 2013 Paranormal Book of the year.
Award winning novel about alien vampires from a distant galaxy, who are the good guys.
The Warlock's Woman. A beautiful psychic, an evil warlock and a sexy ghost. A love triangle with an unexpected twist at the end.
Get Slim Stay Slim – Permanently - shows you in an easy to follow way, the secret to reducing unwanted weight permanently and ending the misery of yo-yo dieting.
My other blog, connected to my weight reduction book with helpful ideas on how to maintain continuous weight reduction.
photos courtesy of freedidgitalphotos.net