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...

“I think the only thing we might want to do is repaint the bedrooms,” Nigel remarked. “The floors are sound, there’s no sign of damp; all-in-all we could almost move in tomorrow.”

“Could I have the next largest bedroom?” Alfie asked. “Could I, Mr. Nig… I mean Dad?”

“Of course you can, son,” Nigel replied. ‘Dad! He called me Dad!’ he thought to himself.

‘I hope he’ll soon feel comfortable calling me Mum,’ Molly mused.

Probably nobody in the house was aware of a flutter of wings as a large brown owl took flight and flew off to the tower of an important school (for handlers of owls) and fluttered into the room of two young men who were studying (to be owl trainers).

Chapter 18 

Dear Readers, return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear….

Oops! Wrong introduction! I was thinking of those two men who traveled the Wild West righting wrongs, and setting matters straight (absolutely no pun intended; I mean it!). You were probably thinking that one of them was always masked, but the truth of the matter is that when the action got hot, he was always sheathed! And what’s more, gentle readers, when he had solved the town’s problems, he always left a condom wrapped in silver tinfoil. The people who wrote the radio and television scripts had to change a few things to get past the censors. But now you know the real story of the sheathed riser and his faithful companion, Cumo-Swabby.

Anyhow, let us return to the Souchard Hotel in sunny, sunny California!

It was one of those days that started out beautiful and fair, but as night closed down, the clouds gathered, lightning clashed and thunder boomed. And it poured! Oh, how it poured. Willy and Erhon were entertaining Sam, Pete, Andy and Wall-eye in their guest-house.

The six men sat around, chatting comfortably, drinking tequila, and enjoying being in a snug shelter while the rain lashed the windows.

As you might expect, the talk turned to that most fascinating of subjects….yes, would the returning champion on Jeopardy ® win another evening’s contest? After the show was over the conversation moved on to…. yep! Sex!

“Let me tell you about a job I had in my younger years,” said Andy. “I had just graduated with very good grades from a Vocational High School, I wanted to be a mechanic or a general maintenance man, but I just couldn’t find a job. I had to eat so I did get a job as towel man in a gay bath-house in the City.”

“You never told me about that, Andy,” said Wall-Eye. Wall-Eye had come to the Souchard to do some plumbing work, and he had stayed on as resident plumber, and as Andy’s boy friend, then as his lover, and now as his committed partner.  The two men shared a small house on the grounds of the Souchard.

“No, I guess I didn’t,” said Andy with a shamefaced look. “It just didn’t seem important once I met you.”

“No, Andy, I guess it really isn’t important,” conceded Wall-Eye.

“Anyhow,” continued Andy, with a smile and a squeeze of his hand to Wall-Eye, “sometimes they’d have a program called ‘Heads or tails’. The guys who were participating would line up two by two, and then they would separate. The men on the left would go to a table where they would be given a disc with the word ‘TOP’ and a number on it.

The men on the right would go to a table and be given a disc with the word ‘BOTTOM’ and a number on it.  The first couple did not necessarily both get discs with the same number.

When everyone had a disc, the emcee would call out a number, say “Three,” and the guys with that number had to do it in front of the audience, with someone they may have never known before that night. It made for some interesting activities.”

Everyone chuckled at the thought of the feelings that a ‘top’ must have had when he found out he was to be the ‘bottom,’ or a bottom had when he found out he was to be ‘top man’!

“Hmm, I wonder how I’d feel,” exclaimed Willy.

“Don’t you see,” Andy replied, “none of these couples had known each other before that night. Each man was having it off with a stranger.”

“I don’t know about you guys,” said Sam, “but I’d rather stick with the guy I came in with.” He turned to Pete and smiled, and Pete whispered, “Just you wait until we’re back in our apartment!”

“Were there any other special programs?” Willy wanted to know.

“Oh, yes,” said Andy. “Every so often we would have a ‘taffy pull.’ The studs would try to get off with as many partners as possible just by using their hands. Each guy wanted to have as many others cover his body with their man-cream as possible.”

Andy went on to describe the ‘taffy-pull.’

“These taffy pulls were something else,” he said. “Strobe lights would be flashing, and guys were beating their own meat or pulling their partner’s pole.”

“Sometimes,” he continued, “one guy would lie on the ground and his buddies would stand around, aiming their pleasure poles at his naked, writhing body.”

“Oh my! OH MY!” said Sam.

Andy was getting into his stride now, and he went on to describe the ‘Three’s Company’ nights, and the nights when a stud was going to have his cherry plucked by a special friend—or friends.

Andy’s narratives went on and on, and his audience sat spellbound.  They hardly noticed that the wind had stopped howling, the rain was no longer falling and a large full moon was casting its rays over the Souchard.

* * * * *

At the Residence, the youngsters were in bed, and Bruce, Chad, Stan and Tom were sitting in Tom and Stan’s kitchen playing cards and drinking beer. Earlier they had evaluated each student’s progress and it looked like that, come September each youngster would be able to advance to the next grade level.

As they played another game of poker, Tom heard his printer start to print out something. Going into his office, he found an email. He took the letter back to the group.

“Hey, guys, here’s an e mail from Trace and Jerry. He and the boys are having a great time in England. They’ve been to the parish where Trace’s great-grandmother was born and with the help of the Vicar and the parish secretary, they’ve traced his great-grandmother back to her great-great-grandparents.”

“Oh, boy!” said Bruce. “I hope he’s not going to be one of those family tree fanatics who are always talking about their ancestors!”

“Yeah!” said Chad. “It’s not like he was into sports and always talking about hat team won this game and what the chances are of that team winning…like ‘some people I could mention!’” Chad nudged Bruce on the arm.

“If I could finish…,” said Tom, with a slightly aggrieved look on his face.

“Sure. Go ahead, Tom, what else did they say?” asked Stan.

They’re going to do some sight-seeing for two weeks, and then they are going to this Smith Manor, for a wedding!”

* * * * *

Smith Manor two weeks later.

The great day had arrived—the day that Nigel and Mollie were to be married. Nigel had submitted his resignation from the C.I.D., and had spent the last two weeks working to get the cottage ready where he and Mollie and Alfie would live. He, with the help of Daoud, Bahnadi, Abdul and Gamal, had painted, scrubbed and waxed and polished until the cottage shone like new.

Nigel and Mollie had gone to a furniture store in London and ordered some furniture for the living and dining room, and… the BED! It was a beautiful king-sized bed, and had the most comfortable springs and mattresses—just the kind of bed for Nigel and Mollie to enjoy on The Night!

Jane had been cooking, baking, freezing, preserving, until she had enough food to feed an army. Some of it she would be giving to Nigel and Mollie for their own pantry.

Now the cleaning, shopping, baking and cooking was done. The wedding was to be at 1:00 in the afternoon, but guests, especially those who had to come a distance, started arriving about 11:00 a.m.

Trace and Jerry, with Ricky and George were there, as was Ishtar, who was their driver while they were in the UK. Rev. Chet and Gerald, who were to officiate at the wedding, arrived safely. Many of Nigel’s colleagues on the force came.  The Rev. Timothy Venables, Vicar of Northolt, Alice Dodson, the head teacher at Northolt School, and Angela Murchison, the Church Secretary at Northolt was there. Rev. Venables was carrying a briefcase which he did not let out of his sight.

“Say, Venables, what’s in that briefcase?” joked Rev. Chet. “You are as watchful of that briefcase as if it contained the crown jewels!”

“No,” said Gerald. “I think he’s got the rings in there.”

“All in good time, my friends. All in good time,” replied Timothy Venables. “I’ll tell you this, however. It’s a very special wedding present.”

For once the sun was shining, and chairs had been set out on the lawn between the Manor House and the cottage. A marquee had been erected with a simple altar where the officiating clergy and the happy couple would stand. Some rose bushes, planted in the garden of the Manor, still carried some beautiful roses. There were also a few apple trees.

Nigel Watson and Doug Watson, his best man, were to walk from the cottage to the marquee where they would wait for the bride to emerge from the Manor. Mollie, with Jane as her attendant, would come down the path to the marquee. Young Alfie, as the ring bearer, would precede them.

A string quartet had been hired to provide music before the ceremony, and for the processional and the recessional.

The guests took their places. The aisle seats had been reserved for Nigel’s colleagues from the Force in London.

At 10:50, Rev. Chet and Gerald, wearing their ministerial robes, took their places under the marquee.

At 10:55 the string quartet began playing a familiar melody from Handel’s Judas Maccabeus.** The door of the cottage opened and Nigel and Doug walked to the marquee. Nigel and Doug wore dark business suits, but Nigel had his police medals attached to the coat’s left breast,

“Are you nervous, Nigel?” Doug asked.

“Only a little,” Nigel replied.

At 11:00 sharp the door of the Manor opened as the musicians began to play Bach’s “Sheep May safely Graze.” First came Alfie, dressed in a new white suit, and carrying a cushion on which reposed the two rings. He carried them carefully, and I will tell you now, readers, that he did not drop or lose them at all.

Next came Jane, wearing a light green floor-length dress, and wearing an orchid corsage, Nigel’s gift to the matron of honor.

Everyone’s eyes were now on the door as the quartet began the traditional march from Wagner’s Lohengrin. Mollie came out of the door. She was wearing a blue dress, floor length, with a beautiful diamond necklace around her throat and a ‘tiara’ of roses in her hair. A small veil covered her brow and eyes.

Everyone stood, Jane began to walk. There was a whirring of wings and a veritable ‘Parliament of Owls’ appeared in the air, circling the rose bushes and the apple trees. Even though it was early September and the season for apples was over, the owls’ flapping wings seemed to draw some white apple blossoms into the air in a funnel. Other owls’ wings drew the petals of the roses into the air.

What in the world was happening?

The owls used their wings to move the ‘funnel’ of roses so that they drifted down onto the path where Mollie was to walk to the marquee.

Other owls moved the apple blossoms so that they gently fell onto Mollie’s hair and shoulders. So thick and fast did those apple blossoms fall that to the audience it appeared that she had a lacy veil and mantle adorning her as she walked to the marquee.

Chet and Gerald alternated giving the vows and Nigel and Mollie gave their responses in firm voices.  When it was time to exchange the rings, Alfie stepped forward and gave the rings to Chet who blessed them and then Nigel put the ring on Mollie’s finger and Mollie put the ring on Nigel’s finger.

Gerald pronounced them ‘Man and Wife.’ Nigel and Mollie kissed and then turned to begin the recessional to the strains of Mendelssohn and the applause of the guests.

Nigel’s colleagues stood and raised their police batons to form a semi-arch through which the couple would pass.

The party moved back into the Manor where a wedding luncheon was laid out.

Nigel and Mollie, with Doug and Jane stood in the receiving line and received the congratulations of their friends.

Then it was time to cut the cake, but before Nigel and Mollie could pick up a knife, Reverend Venables moved toward them carrying that briefcase.

“May I give you your wedding present?” he asked. “And if Alfie could come forward I would like him to be here also.”

“Of course,” said Nigel.

“Alfie, would you come here, please?” said Mollie.

Alfie came toward them, and Venables opened the briefcase, and took out a large white envelope tied in red tape.

“My dear friends,” he said, “this present is tied up in red tape for a reason. Alfie would you carefully cut the tape just here?”

Alfie cut the tape and then Venables asked Nigel and Mollie each to cut a portion of the tape. When they had done so, he opened the envelope and took out a very, very official looking document.

“Nigel, Mollie, and Alfie, now that you have cut the red tape,” he began, “this present is for all of you.” He began to read: ‘This document certifies that Alfred Taylor is and forever shall be, the adopted son of Nigel and Mollie Eden.’

Nigel and Mollie brought Alfie into a three-way hug. “Am I really your son?” Alfie asked.

“Yes, you are, son, forever and ever,” Nigel said with a voice that had suddenly become very husky.

“Thank you so much. This is the nicest wedding present you could have given us,” Mollie said, and she kissed the Reverend on the cheek.

Trace and Jerry suddenly found they had to reach for their handkerchiefs, and several others had suspiciously bright eyes.

And so they were married!

Epilogue:

Nigel and Mollie, and their son Alfie, lived in the cottage and helped Jane run the Manor. Nigel was an excellent housefather.

Trace and Jerry and their two sons returned to the Souchard, where they lived for many years. The boys in the Residence grew up healthy, happy and well educated. Many of them went on to college, but they all found meaningful careers.

Note:

** This air was used as the coronation march in two movies and one television version of “The Prisoner of Zenda.” The air is known as ‘Hail the Conquering Hero Comes!”

“And now the time has come,” as the walrus said, “to talk of other things” I am going to put a cap on my pen, close my typewriter and hit ‘send’ on the computer.  A number of circumstances have made me decide to take a rest from writing….for a while.

As always my thanks to my reader/editor/mentor/ friend who wishes only to be known as ‘Critter.’

My thanks to Chuck and Jamie and Mike who have posted my stories. My gratitude to E Walk, DD, and many other authors, for their editing, their patience in answering some of my questions,  and for their friendship. I am not saying goodbye to my authors. You keep writing and I’ll keep on reading.

Of course, my love and thanks to all my readers.

God Bless.

Posted: 10/08/10