Richard's Story
by:
Will B
(©
2008 by the Author)
Advisor: E Walk
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are
allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Aided, abetted, encouraged and edited by EW and GY,
Who are two of the nicest guys, editors, mentors, I have met
ever since I started posting in April 2007.
Chumley came into the dining hall, and went to Ponti Venables and whispered something. Ponti blanched, and said, “Excuse me, Richard, and ladies and gentlemen. While the waiters pour some more wine, might I ask you and Mr. Hunter to come with me?" There is something we must see. Jimmy, you come, too.”
Chumley led the four men down a side corridor to yet another little used room.
“One of the maids heard noises coming from this room, and she came to get me,” Chumley said. “When I opened the door and saw what was inside, I thought I should get you immediately, Sir.”
“Quite right, Chumley. Let’s see what’s in here,” Ponti said.
He opened the door and the men went into the room, where they saw . . .
He opened the door and the men went into the room where they saw a young man bound and gagged lying on the floor. He was five-foot-eleven, and had curly red hair. His upper body and legs were covered with fine reddish-gold hair. He was fit and trim, with broad shoulders and a flat abdomen.
What caught the five men’s attention first was not his curly red hair, nor his attractive build, but the fact that he was completely naked. He had a respectable cock, lying flaccid, sprouting out of his red bush.
As the five men came into the room, he began to squirm and make noises, “Mmmfff, mmmffff! Mmmmfff!”
Jimmy whipped off his waiter’s jacket and put it over the man’s mid section and then he took his pocketknife and began to cut the young man’s bonds, starting with the arms and then the legs.
Lastly, Jimmy carefully removed the gag from the young man’s mouth.
“Thanks, my friend. I’ve been lying here for quite a while. I was beginning to wonder if anyone would ever find me!”
“I’m Jimmy Venables, and this is my father, Pontius Venables. Chumley …" he nodded in the latter’s direction, "… is our butler, and these two men are guests at the Manor … Mr. Richard Vidmark, and Mr. Troy Hunter.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Philip Morris . . .”
“We’ve been looking for you; you’ve had several phone calls,” Jimmy said. “They were from some lady named Fatima, calling from the States.”
Ponti interrupted. “Would you like some water? Why don’t you sit on this sofa? Chumley, please bring Mr. Morris some water, and perhaps something to eat.”
Jimmy helped young Mr. Morris get up and go to the sofa and sit down.
Richard and Troy brought a small table over in front of Philip so he could take some refreshment in comfort. Chumley returned, carrying a plate of turkey and dressing, and also carrying a glass of wine. “I thought it better not to have any of the other staff know about our guest, Sir,” he explained to Ponti.
“Good thinking, Chumley. Thank you.”
When Philip had eaten his meal, he said, “Let me tell you about myself and why I’m here. I am Philip Morris, and until recently I worked for the RJR Syndicate, which operated a chain of hotels and gambling casinos.. I was in charge of the kitchen staff at one of their hotels. I am a graduate of the International College of Cuisine. Anyhow, one day I overheard some of the big bosses talking about how they were going to send a ‘mole’ to this place to cause trouble so you would be willing to sell to the syndicate.”
“I suspected something like this was going on,” said Ponti.
“Yes, through my sources in Baltimore, I learned of this syndicate, and how they have been eliminating competition in the States,” added Richard.
“I decided to give up my job and come to England and try to stop this nefarious scheme. My Grandmother was born in England, and I’ve always wanted to visit,” Jimmy went on.
“I came to England a few days ago, and I saw a newspaper dated two weeks earlier that contained your advertisement for an assistant chef. I thought I would apply for the job so I could be on hand to thwart any shenanigans,” Jimmy said.
“Oh, but we’ve already hired . . ., “ Jimmy started to say, and then he stopped.
“Do you know who the ‘mole’ might be?” Ponti asked.
“Yes,” said Philip. “He’s a man a year or two older than me. His name is Nick, Nick da Contino, sometimes known as Nick O’Tine.”
“Noooooooo!” yelled Jimmy. “It can’t be Nick. He and I . . .” Again Jimmy stopped.
“I have an idea how we can bring this hoodlum into the open,” said Richard. “Ponti, first of all, we have to get some clothes for Mr. Morris, and then, would you have a wheelchair anywhere in this house?”
“Richard, I would be shocked if we didn’t have a wheelchair or some such contraption.”
Jimmy was sitting quietly, trying to hold back the tears. ‘That bastard,’ he thought to himself. ‘I thought he loved me.’
“Jimmy, I think you and Mr. Morris are about the same size. Could you go to your room, and bring back a shirt, pants, underwear, and shoes and socks for our guest. If you are seen going to his room, ‘our unwelcome visitor’ might become suspicious.And Jimmy, I can tell you’re very upset about something. You have got to be very calm and not say anything to anybody, do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Fine. Now, Chumley, Mr. Richard requires a wheelchair. Could you bring one here, please?” Ponti was as calm as Wellington must have been before Waterloo.
In a few minutes, Jimmy returned with the clothes, and also some shaving things. “I thought Mr. Morris might want to freshen up a bit,” he said. “There’s a bathroom just through that door.”
Philip took the clothes and the shaving things, and said, “Thank you very much. I appreciate this very much.” He shook Jimmy’s hand, and if anyone had been watching closely, they might have thought he held Jimmy’s hand perhaps a little longer than was strictly necessary. He went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Jimmy stood in front of his father and said, “Father, there’s something I think I must tell you.”
Richard and Troy moved to the other side of the room. They had an idea what Jimmy was about to say, but they had no idea what Ponti’s reaction might be.
“Father, I have to tell you that Nick and I were . . . we were . . . . intimate. I have been attracted to men since I was thirteen years old but Nick was the first . . . and . . . now, I guess, you are going to . . . to hate me,” Jimmy nearly broke down, but he stood tall, facing his father, ready to take whatever his father had to say.
Ponti looked solemnly at his son, and cleared his throat, and said, “Jimmy, I . . . “
He stopped and started again. “Jimmy, I want you to know that NO SON OF MINE . .
“NO SON OF MINE will ever be in danger of losing my love. You are what you are, and I love you, not only because you’re my son, but also because you're a fine young man. OK, so you made a mistake. I know what you learned has been a big shock to you, but Jimmy, we all make mistakes. Come here, my boy.”
Ponti took Jimmy in his arms, and gave him a long and tender loving hug.
Richard and Troy could not help overhearing, and they were both wiping their eyes. They heard someone blowing his nose, and they saw that Chumley had returned with a wheelchair, just in time to see the reconciliation.
Richard asked everyone to listen to his plan and see if there were any flaws in it. “Ponti, I think you and Chumley and Jimmy should go back to the dining hall and see that dinner is served. After dinner, be sure that all the guests and all of the staff are there. When they are, I am going to bring Philip in the wheel chair. We’ll have his head bandaged so that nobody will recognize him.”
“I will begin to explain how this Syndicate has engineered all these acts of vandalism, but we are not sure who the perpetrator is.”
“Excellent!” said Ponti.
Richard continued, “Then Philip will stand and with his head still bandaged, will explain how he came to England hoping to get a job at the Manor as an assistant chef, but he was attacked and tied up and gagged, but he has no idea who did it to him.”
“I think that will work,” said Philip.
“Then, I will have some more things to say. I will review some of the events that have happened, and will say that we are beginning to have an idea who the person responsible might be. Philip will take his bandages off—Jimmy, maybe you could help him—and he will point to the person who he thinks is the guilty party. That should get a reaction—I hope!”
“Oh, smashing!" said Jimmy.
“One more thing,” Richard concluded, "While I was making those phone calls, I called the police station in Weathercock village, and Chief Lestrade assures me he will have a black and white outside Weathercock Manor no later than 8:10. They have several all-weather vehicles that will get through the snow.
Everyone agreed that the plan just might work. Ponti turned to Richard and Troy and said, “Gentlemen, from this time forward, you will never be paying guests at Weathercock Manor. You are here as friends, very welcomed friends, of the family.”
“Thank you, Ponti. This place does have special memories for us,” Troy said and Richard agreed.
Ponti went to Philip and shook his hand and said, “Philip Morris, the job of Assistant Chef is yours, if you still want it. And, since M. André, our Chief Cook told me the other day that he wants to retire, there is a chance for advancement coming your way very soon.”
Jimmy interjected, “Gee, Philip, I hope you will take the job. It would be so neat if . . . I mean . . .” Jimmy stopped, in some embarrassment.
Philip looked at Jimmy, and said, “I think it would be . . . neat,” and he winked at Jimmy.
Ponti, Chumley and Jimmy moved to the dining hall, where a number of guests were watching a Christmas Classic. The three could hear snatches of dialogue as they approached:
“Can you forgive an old fool, my dear?”
“Oh, Uncle Ebenezer, you have made Fred so very happy.”
“As a bachelor, I am afraid I have no opinion on the subject, do I, dear, dear,
cruel, Miss Cora?”
“And so Cratchit, you leave me no choice but to … but to raise your salary.”
Ponti remarked to Chumley, “I love this movie.”
“So do I, Sir, but I think I prefer the earlier version with Reginald Owen.”
Ponti would have said something, but they had arrived at the door of the dining hall. All the guests were there, and the staff was sitting at the side and back of the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, guests and my staff, I thank you for coming to the dining hall this evening. Thanks to the hard work of two of our guests, Richard Vidmark and Troy Hunter, we hope to be able to clear up the mystery behind the . . . er . . . unfortunate events of the last two days,” Ponti said, in his moist dignified manner.
There was a stir as Richard and Troy entered, pushing the heavily bandaged Philip Morris in a wheel chair.
Richard addressed the group, “Everyone here has heard of at least one of the incidents, but I have detected a theme running through all the events. Lady Muriel’s brown wrap was damaged, the portrait of Sir Winston Churchill was slashed. A chesterfield sofa was set on fire, and one of our guests, a Philip Morris, was savagely attacked, tied, and bound. All of these events had a common thread.”
At this point Philip stood up, and Jimmy helped him out of the bandages. Philip walked to where he could see everyone, and told them how he had been an employee of the RJR Syndicate and learned of the plot to have acts of vandalism committed to persuade Ponti Venables to sell Weathercock Manor to the RJR Syndicate.
“So, my friends, since arriving at the Manor, I have been attacked and beaten and tied up, but I have no idea who did this!”
Richard came to the front once more. “I have made some long distance telephone calls to Baltimore, in the United States, and I have learned that the man who was hired to commit these . . .”
Richard was interrupted by one of the staff members , “Shut up, you can’t prove a thing, you stupid prick! I'm getting out of here,” and Nick da Contino started moving toward the door.
“No you don’t, you bastard!” Jimmy was moving toward the door quickly to intercept the guilty man.
“Get out of my way you stupid fuck! Out of my. . . “
Nick never finished his sentence because Jimmy decked him with a punishing right, followed by a swift uppercut. Nick was down for the count.
As if on cue, the door opened and two stalwarts of the local police, Chief Lestrade and Captain Hastings, came in, brought da Contino around, read him his rights, and hauled him off to the village police station.
The assembled guests and staff burst into applause. Ponti held up his hands for silence, and said, “It’s Christmas and I think we all deserve a little night cap. Chumley, bring up the best champagne—enough for the staff, too.”
There was more applause, and while they were waiting, Lady Muriel came up to Ponti and said, “Oh, Mr. Venables, or Ponti, if I may call you that, you were so masterful. I do love a masterful man!” All Ponti could do was smile, take Lady Muriel’s hand—and raise it to his lips.
After the champagne, toasts were drunk, everyone began to disperse to their rooms. Jimmy said to Philip, “I wonder if you would like to bunk in with me this evening. I can tell you something of the history of the Manor, and we can talk about some ideas for breakfast tomorrow—it’s Boxing Day, you know, and most of the kitchen staff have the day off, but if you would be willing to work on breakfast, I would be happy to work with you.”
Philip smiled at Jimmy and said, “There’s nothing I’d like better. I think we’ll have a lot to talk about.”
As the two young men headed for the door, Ponti interrupted them and said “Philip, might I have a word?”
“Certainly, Sir.”
“It’s just this, Philip. I think there is a friendship growing between my son and you. Just . . . Please, just don’t hurt my son.”
“Sir, I wouldn’t hurt your son for anything. I promise you.
* * * * *
In Richard and Troy’s room, the two were preparing once more to share their love for each other.
“Richard, I love you. Thank you for letting me share your love and your life.”
“And Troy, I love you as deeply as any man could. I know we are going to have many happy years together.”
“Mmmmmmm! Mmmmmm!" The two lovers kissed.
“Uhh, Richard?”
“Yes, my love?”
“I have this large lollipop that I thought you might want to do something with!”
“Heh heh heh! Yes, I think I can do something with it!”
In Jimmy’s and Philip’s room, Jimmy was ready for bed and he said, “Philip, I am so looking forward to getting to know you, to work with you, but I would like . . . "
“Yes, Jimmy, what would you like?”
“Before we . . . we . . . become lovers, I want to get to know you better. I want us to be friends first, so . . . just for tonight, could we just hold each other and talk?”
“Jimmy, before we left the dining hall, your father asked me . . . told me . . . not to hurt you in any way. So, if you want to go a little slow at first, that’s fine with me. Cuddling and chatting will be just fine, because I hope to be part of your life for a long time to come.”
Of course, there was chatting and cuddling—and kissing, and touching, and even a couople of hand jobs, but most of all there was love!
* * * * *
In Ponti’s room. Chumley has just brought Ponti’s nighttime tonic.
“Thank you, Chumley. I think we are gong to have a happy holiday season after all.”
“Yes, Sir. Thanks to Mr. Richard and Mr. Troy, it will be. And may I say, Sir, that I think Mr. Philip will be a welcome addition to the family. And may I also say that Lady Muriel is quite a nice lady. Quite nice.”
“Yes, Chumley, you certainly may say so, on both counts. Oh, and, er . . . Chumley, I must say that Alistair Sim was quite the best Scrooge.”
“With respect, Sir, I think Reginald Owen.”
“Sim!”
“Owen, Sir!”
“Sim!”
“Owen!”
To be continued.
Feedback always welcome, because your
messages feed my imagination.
Posted: 07/18/08