Souchard

By: Will B
(© 2009-2010 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Inspector Nigel Eden made a phone call to Smith Manor.

“Hello, Molly. It’s Nigel…I’m fine, and you?.... Have the visitors from the Souchard Hotel arrived?... Good… Listen, may I speak with Jane for a minute? Thanks…Hello, Jane. It’s Nigel… Good, I’m doing well… Jane, do you have room for one more guest?... Good, I’m bringing him out to the Manor now, and, Jane… he only has the clothes he’s standing up in… Ten or eleven, about four-feet eight… Good. See you in about ninety minutes.”

 Chapter 16

Jane rejoined the others and explained that dinner would be a little late because Chief Inspector Eden was bringing a new guest to the Manor.

To stave off any pangs of hunger anyone might feel, Jane and Molly put together some snacks.

“I wonder who this new arrival will be,” Daoud asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Bahnadi, “but I know Miss Jane will make him feel right at home.”

Ishtar had gone up to his room to settle in, and while he was hanging up the dress pants he had worn that day to put on a more casual pair, he found a note in the back pocket of his pants. It read, ‘I saw you checking me while I was serving you. I’d like to get to know you better. Call me at 555-6969 to see if we can get together.’

Ishtar quickly dialed the number on his cell phone. A voice answered, “Percy Thomas here.”

“This is Ishtar. I found your note and I would very much like to get to know you better,” Ishtar replied.

“Smashing,” Percy said.” I get off at eight pm. Could we meet at my apartment, 6527 Kensington Square? It’s a basement flat.”

“I’m about an hour and a half away from your apartment. I’ll be there at eight-thirty.”

“Great!” Percy said. “Drive carefully.”

Ishtar closed the phone and finished dressing and put a few necessary items into a carry-all. He went downstairs and told Trace and Jerry he had received a message to come back to London. He might be away all night, but he’d be back by ten o’clock in the morning.

Ishtar then made his excuses to Jane, and almost ran out the door to the car, got in, and drove away.

Trace looked at Jerry and snickered. “Wonder if he’s going to meet that hot waiter we had at the restaurant?”

“Could be,” Jerry replied.

While waiting for dinner to be ready, Trace and Jerry talked to Daoud, Bahnadi, Gamal, and Abdul about the political situation.

“You know, a lot of Americans think all Moslems are terrorists, bent on killing anyone not of their faith,” Jerry said.

“Why would they think that?” Bahnadi asked.

“They say the Quran orders them to kill all non-believers,” Trace replied.

“Yes, there are terrorists who hate all Westerners, but are we to believe that all Christians kill witches, have more than one wife, and still own slaves?” countered Daoud.

“Where did you come up with that idea, Daoud?” Trace asked.

“Does not your own Bible say ‘thou shall not suffer a witch to live,’ and often refer to slaves being owned even by the leaders of the people? Many early leaders in the Bible had more than one wife.”

Trace and Jerry sat, stunned, until Trace said, “But that’s not true today.”

“Yes, well?” asked Daoud.

“Slavery is outlawed, witches are no longer being killed, and most American have only one wife---at a time. Guess we all have to learn not to listen to extremists who preach hated and intolerance,” Trace said.

Molly and Jane were getting ready to serve the crowd. Jane said, “Molly, I think you’d better fix a bedroom for Inspector Eden. It will be some time before he will be ready to leave and he may want to just stay for the night.”

“Yes, Jane, that’s a good idea. I’ll ask him if he will be staying, when he gets here,” Molly replied, and thought to herself, ‘I think I’ll put him in the room next to mine. Maybe …’ but she didn’t allow herself to finish the thought.

Just at the time he said he would arrive, Nigel drove up to the Manor, parked the car, and got out. He opened the door for Alfie and the boy got out, looked at Manor and said “Oo-er! Is that where I’ll be staying?”

“For a little while, at least,” Nigel replied.

The door opened and Jane and Mollie came out. “Welcome, Chief Inspector,” said Jane. “And who might this young man be?” she asked with a smile.

“Miss Jane, Miss Molly, this is Alfie. Alfie, this is Miss Jane Danvers who is the house-mother to all the young men who live here, and this is Mrs. Molly Fleming, who is the assistant house-mother,” Nigel said as he introduced them to one another.

“Miss Jane and Miss Molly, you have a beautiful house,” said Alfie, and he gave them a tremulous smile.

“Come in, come in. Dinner is about ready to dish up,” Jane said.

Molly didn’t say much but she looked at Alfie and thought, ‘he reminds me of my son at that age!’

Dinner was a huge success, with some 18 people gathered around the huge banqueting table. There was roast turkey, roast duck, and a baked ham, with all the vegetables, salads, and desserts that went with such a meal.

“Nigel, can you stay the night?” Molly asked.

“I’d like to, Molly, because tomorrow I’m driving Alfie up to the town he told me he came from. I want to visit with the Vicar and the head teacher, because Alfie told me he heard they wanted to put him into care after his parents died, and I’d like them to know that he is safe. So, if you could put me up for the night that would be very kind. I have a few days leave due me, so I don’t have to rush back to London.”

“What town is that, Alfie?” Molly asked.

“Northolt, Miss Molly,” he replied.

Trace’s ears picked up when he heard the name Northolt. “Is that where you’re headed, Inspector Eden?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re going to Northolt.”

“Well, the world just got smaller,” Trace said with a smile. “That’s where we’re headed too. I want to try to trace some of my family’s history, so I guess I’ll be looking for this Vicar also.”

“What is Northolt like, Alfie?” Jerry asked.

“It’s a town with an old church and a school and a pub and some stores. I don’t know a lot about it because I lived with my folks on a farm outside of Northolt,” the boy replied.

“I’ve got a guide book to Middlesex. I’ll get it out after dinner,” Jane said, and after the meal, Jane said, “I’ll get the book—oh! But first I have to shut the chickens up for the night.”

“Could I do that, Miss Jane? I used to help my Mom do it when … uh, before…”

“Of course you can, Alfie.”

Jane and Molly got a feed bag for Alfie, and watched as he went out to the chicken run. He opened the gate and went into the run. Taking some grain in his hand, he sprinkled a little on to the ground and said, “Shuk, shuk, shuk.”

The chickens gathered round and pecked at the grain. Slowly Alfie walked towards the chicken coop, sprinkling grain on the ground and softly called, “Shuk, shuk, shuk.”

The hens followed the trail of grain up the little ramp into the coop and Alfie shut and latched the door so they couldn’t get out—or any foxes get in.

“Thank you, Alfie. Well done!” said Jane. Molly didn’t say anything because she was touched by the lad’s gentle ways with the chickens.

‘I wish he were mine … but no, I guess that’s not possible,’ she thought.

Jane got out the Guide to Middlesex, looked up Northolt in the index, and showed the page to Jerry and Nigel.

They read that the ancient parish of Northolt lay to the northwest of Ealing, and had the shape of an irregular triangle about three and one-half miles in length. The Yeading Brook formed the western boundary and the other two sides were bounded by the parishes of Hayes and Southall to the south and Greenford in the east. There was a church, St. Mary’s, which dated from the thirteenth century and was at the centre of the village. Northolt had a village green nearby, and fields and open land to the South, although all around there were housing estates.

“Sounds like an attractive place,” said Jerry.

“I just hope this vicar or the head teacher don’t insist on putting Alfie into care,” Nigel said. “I … I almost wish I could…”

“You know, Nigel, miracles do happen,” Trace said.

Molly came up behind Nigel and put her hand on his arm. “I know how you feel, Nigel. I also wish…”

Neither Molly nor Nigel finished their sentences, but each knew what the other wanted to say.

Nigel sat, thinking a lot of things: years to retirement, being a father to the lad, finding a home for…

Molly was also thinking: not wanting to leave Jane, wanting a man to care for, hoping…

All too soon it was bedtime. Spit, spot!” said Jane. “You boys go up and get ready for bed—and that means you, too, Alfie. I’ve got some things you can wear tonight and some things you can put on tomorrow. Molly or I will be up to tuck you in and hear your prayers in twenty minutes. So, go! Now!”

Nigel chuckled and said, “I swear she’s a cross between Mary Poppins ® and Nanny McPhee/ ® She sounds so fierce but she’s got a good heart … and so do you, Molly, a very good heart.”

Alfie came over to Nigel and said, “Would you come and tuck me in, too, Mr. Nigel?”

“Certainly, lad. I’ll come up when Miss Molly or Miss Jane come up.”

Alfie went up to bed. Trace and Jerry looked at Ricky and George, and smiled, and Trace said, “I think it’s time you two went to bed, also.”

“Aw, Dad!” said Ricky.

“Do we have to?” George asked.

Trace just gave them the look that made them know there was to be no argument, so they went up to bed, also, more or less quietly!.

The adults sat and talked for twenty minutes and then Molly said, “I’m going up to tuck them in. Are you coming, Nigel?”

Nigel got up and he and Molly went upstairs to the large room where the boys slept. Daoud and Bahnadi had set up an extra cot for Alfie, and Nigel saw a room that was bright and cheerful, cozy and warm. Each boy had a bed, a table and chair, a small cupboard for personal belongings. There were several larger cupboards for clothes.

“Have you boys brushed your teeth?” Molly asked.

“Yes, Miss Molly,” six sleepyheads answered.

She and Nigel went to Alfie’s bed. “Are you all right, Alfie?” Molly asked.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Miss Molly,” he replied.

“Good night, lad, sleep tight,” Nigel said as he put out a hand to rumple Alfie’s hair, but Alfie sat up in bed and pulled Nigel into a hug.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Nigel,” Alfie said with a smile that tugged at Nigel’s heartstrings, and at Molly’s also.

Alfie lay back, closed his eyes, folded his hands, and said, “Dear God, thank you for everything that’s happened to me today. God bless Miss Jane and Miss Molly, and Mr. Nigel, and, please, God, help me to find a new Mum and Dad—and if they could be just like Mr. Nigel and Miss Molly, that would be great. Amen.”

Suddenly both Nigel and Molly found it hard to see, for the tears that were blurring their vision. They said good night to Alfie and walked out of the boys’ bedroom.  In the hall, Nigel said, “Molly, I…”

“Not now, Nigel, I need to think,” and Molly went downstairs.

About ten o’clock everyone went to their bedrooms. By ten-thirty the Manor was quiet.  Trace and Jerry were in bed, with Trace spooning Jerry, just like an old married couple.

Daoud and Bahnadi were sipping each other’s man-milk, while running their hands over each other’s bodies.

Gamal was giving Abdul his nightly injection of protein through that most private of entrances to his lover’s body.

Nigel had gone to his room, which like many of the rooms at the Manor had its own bathroom and shower. He had stripped off, gotten into the shower, and let the warm water play over his lithe, muscular body. He was forty-five years old, but there was not an ounce of fat on his body.

He dried off, and got into bed and pulled the sheet and duvet up. He turned out the bedside lamp and was preparing to try to go to sleep, when there was a knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“It’s me … Molly,” she said as she opened the door. “I only wanted to see if you had everything you needed.”

“I’m fine,” Nigel said. “I have everything I need, except for one thing.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“You!” Nigel said. Molly came in and shut the door, and saw to it that Nigel had everything he needed. Later they talked and came to some decisions.

* * * * *

Ishtar drove through the night and soon arrived at the address Percy had given him. 6527 Kensington Square was a four-story house in an old neighborhood. Many of the houses were now offices, and so were not occupied during the day. Trees lined the sidewalk, providing shade during the day.

Ishtar found a parking space right in front of No. 6527. Taking his overnight bag, he locked the car and walked down the area-way steps. He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he heard Percy say.

Opening the door, he saw Percy standing there clad only in a large towel wrapped around his waist.

“Like what you see, sailor?” said Percy.

With a flick of his wrist, Percy dropped the towel, and Ishtar saw---to his surprise and delight---that Percy was a smoothie. There was no hair below his ears, and his pole was thick and getting thicker as it rose to the occasion.

What followed was a night of wild and hot sex. Percy taught Ishtar some new things, but Ishtar, who had visited some of the finest male-brothels in Cairo and Alexandria and Istanbul, was able to show Percy some new activities also.

In the morning, as he was preparing to go back to the Manor, Ishtar made Percy an offer.

To be continued...

As always my thanks to my reader who wishes only to be known as A. Nony. Mouse.

Posted: 09/03/10