The Educational Tour part 3
Jul. 22nd, 2009 11:02 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jmparrot.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupTitle: Educational Tour Mk 3
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves, of course
disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Rating: PG for implied actions
Note the first: I played around a bit with canon timeline, if only because it made a lot more sense before I hacked the thing to bits in a rewrite. Takes place in both 1925 and somehow, after the events of Stiff Upper Lip, but before Thank You, Jeeves, just cause, well, it made sense originally.
I failed at posting. Hopefully, the fail is gone, along with the 20000 typos.
A/N this is what happens when you hack a 40 page rough draft down to 3000 words...I really really hope it makes sense without the other 30 or so pages that were in the rough. There will be a directors cut sometime in the future, but in the interest of time, I took the most entertaining of the many strands of a wodehousian plot (I was going for something really wodehousian, not realizing what a slow-going bugger a wodehousian plot, with many subplots running through it was to write)and hacked out the rest...hopefully it works.
"I say Jeeves, what is it about women that as soon as they become aunts, they become female torque-whosits." I relaxed back against the rather luxurious pillow attempting to rub the knots that had formed out of my calves.
"I believe you mean Torquemada, sir." I gave a small sigh of pleasure as Jeeves took a seat on the edge of the bed and put his skillful fingers to work on the tense muscles.
"That's the one. Tortuous-they all gain a torturous streak to them. Rather like whoever designed this bally city. Who builds on the side of a mountain?" After spending much of the day hiking up and down hills so steep they were nearly vertical, Pauline Stoker had reached a level on par with any diabolical madman, as it felt as though I'd bally well been tortured.
"The Appalachian mountaing range covers much of the state, the archetectual feats to create stable house are rather remarkable, sir."
"Yes, well, remarkable as the archetecture may be, I feel quite badly for those poor girls up on that hill. Anf the fraternities behind them."
"I believe the students grow used to the walk rather quickly, sir." I gave a small shudder at the idea of growing used to climbing mountains just barely shy of needing ropes and pistons-if pistons are what they use.
Although, wait a mo, you're probably wondering why it is that I'd been exploring unknown peaks and valleys for Pauline Stoker of all people. It started with a trip round the world, although you've probably gathered that. On our way west, after seeing all the east coast had to offer, I ran into none other than my old school chum Gussie Fink-Nottle.
"Bertie! Thank god you came!" I gaped, as it is the only reaction one can have when being accosted in a foreign country by someone you believed to be an ocean away.
"Gussie? What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? Didn't you get my telegrams?" I must have resembled something of the piscinie, as I was still getting over the shock of seeing Gussie at a train station in West Virginia.
"What telegrams?"
"I heard you were in the states, I must have sent about a hundred to New York. I need your help, Bertie! It's a matter of life and death!" Now when one of one's schhol friends comes to you in such dire straits, it's rather hard to say no to them.
"What do you need, Gussie?"
"The university here-well not here, but in Morgantown-they gave me money to research newts. And I took it, because Em's father is here, and with the baby, Em wants to be near her family, only I made a big mistake. And if it doesn't get fixed I'm done for."
"Well, how can I help?" While I long ago learned that volunteering to help my pals often leads to me being bunged headfirst into the soup, it's not very preux to let one's friends be done for when there are steps that could be taken to stop it.
"I need you to go to Morgantown for me bertie, and pinch a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yes, you see, I'd had my research notes and a-well, a love letter to Em, and I put the wrong adress on each. And if Dr. Mason opens it up, I'm done for-I'll never get a job again."
"Surely it can't be that bad?" After having spent the better part of a day on a train, I had no intention of getting back on one. I had every intention, however, of enjoying the natural sorings at the hotel in town and their natural restorative qualities.
"It was a rather-erm-private letter." From the way Gussie was currently redder than the natty new tie I was wearing, rather much to Jeeves' ire, I could only surmise that the contents of the letter weren't exactly fit for print.
"Well Isay." I said, not believing that Gussie had it in him to write a scandalous letter, even to his wife.
"Bertie, please." Well, what could I say to that? I couldn't go letting an old school chum ruin his career with scandalous love letters, and so back on the train I went.
Well, that's all well and ghood you might say, but where does Pauline Stoker fit into all of this? As you may recall, Emerald Fink-Nottle, nee Stoker, is Pauline's younger sister. Naturally, as a show of sisterly love, she was waiting for me when the train arrived.
"Bertie!" She said, with all the false adoration the female of the species applies before she strikes. Rather like a snake constricting its prey before being nice enough to finally sink its teeth in and finishing the job properly. "How nice to see you again! Em said you were being nice enough to help poor Gussie out. HE's a nice boy, but completely hopeless if the topic isn't newts."
"Rather." I was putting more thought into trying to figure out how to get done with things as quickly as possible. As soon as Jeeves had described the healing power of natural springs, I found that the idea was rather firmly planted in my mind, and Irather wanted to expirence them.
"I know you're already being a sport by helping Gussie, but I was wondering if you'd do me one to?"
"And what would that be?"
"Be my fiance." I gaped. There wasn't anything else one could do in the circumstances. No words in any tongue, much less English could be found. Even the simple syllable "no" had turned around and ran off like a rabbit faced with a pack of starving wild dogs. "Just through lunch. You can stay at daddy's place tonight-he's only in town for lunch and then is heading back to New York."
"Why?" It was the only word that managed to find its way through the Wooster lips.
"Because Daddy doesn't want me to marry Nick because he works for a living, and if I say I'm going to marry you, he'd let me marry anyone else."
"Well I say." I said. After all, although I was a gentleman, I was not one who suffered insults lightly. "And if I say no?"
"I have a friend, and you're just her type. She'd want to marry you the moment she laid eyes on you. And Bethanne's just the kind of girl your Aunt Agnes would approve of. I'm sure Gussie could find a way to put the two of them in touch." Her mistake of auntly identities aside, I blanched. It was blackmail, is what it was, pure and simple.
"Gussie wouldn't betray an old schoolchum like that."
"Gussie would do anything if it keeps daddy and me happy. After all, we're family." It was evil, is what it was. Pauline Stoker had, upon becoming an aunt, become some sort of ruthless monster, willing to destroy all in her path. She'd turned into a rather American version of Stiffy Byng.
So I had no choice but to agree to lunch with Pop Stoker later that afternoon. With two hours before luncheon, however, I sent Jeeves off with the bags to the Stoker manse, and headed off to find the elusive Dr. Mason and reclaim Gussie's letter.
After walking what seemed like forever and a day, entirely uphill, I finally came across a collection of sameish looking brick buildings that all looked slightly different from the rest of the brick buildings in the town. I looked around, and surmising from the amount of youth I saw-well, not youth, as I myself was only barely removed from them, I had found the university. Now all that remained would be to find this elusive Dr. Mason. Using a bit of de-whatsits reasoning, I figured that the stone building that stood out like a sore thumb likely was also something to do with the university, and upon entering and seeing the familiar look of stacks, knew I had found what was the campus library. After a bit of asking around, and being shuffled around buildings, I was finally told that this Dr. Mason was in fact, in the building up on top of the hill.
I was ready to give in there and then. I could see the hill that was being referred to from where I stood, and thought that it looked rather daunting. There were stairs carved into the hillside, leading up to the building, but it was still a steep haul straight upwards. But, I figured, I had already hiked all the way up there, I could handle one more measly hill.
The hill was not as measly as expected, and by the time I made it up to the stairs to the front door, I was ready to soak the Wooster legs. Only the thought of natural hot springs awaiting me once I finished this bally errand kept me soldiering on. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Dr. Mason?" I asked the woman behind the desk, who pointed me down the hall. It was a rather hard to miss office nestled into what was obviously a dormitory, and I thought the best course of action to lay out the sitch as it was laid out to me. Well, slightly toned down.
"And how do I know that you are who you say you are? I had two different papers stolen and published by other people in the past year, I'm not going to lose one of my researcher's."
"I can assure you-"
"Assure all you want, Mr. Wooster, if that's even who you say you are." Now, when pushed to rather extreme circumstances, it is entirely possible for everyone, yours truly, to snap and do things that, perhaps, are not exactly rational. Grabbing for the letter, for instance, was not a rational act. But I could see it plain as day, completely unopened on her desk, and saw no other option. "I'll call the police, I will." She threatened.
I backed towards the door, only to be interrupted by someone else knocking on it. I did the only thing that seemed logical, and that was open the door, to find Jeeves decked out in what could only be described as stereotypical professor togs. Tweed jacket and all. If I hadn't recognized him, I'd have mistaken him for one of the coves whose classes were often spent more in a state of unconciousness than wakefulness.
After counting my good graces to be saved by Jeeves and one of his wheezes, I made for the exit, I had just enough time to return downtown before I was due for lunch with Pauline. I took a moment outside the office door to compose myself, and stayed just long enough to hear what could only be described as a seductive tone of voice. I knew, rationally, that Jeeves was only up to one of his schemes, nd that it was in aid of the young master, but I couldn't help the sudden spark of jealousy that blossomed up. That was a tone that was supposed to be reserved for self. Then again, Jeeves wasn't being Jeeves, he was being some role, acting a part.
But the girlish giggle it got in response made the idea of bursting in with a "well I say" seem like a good one. Logical thought, for once, prevailed, as I doubted bursting in there would go over particularly well with either party. Instead, I headed down the hill, glad for once to be heading down instead of up. I tried my best to banish the rummy thoughts that had crept up. I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Jeeves even pretending to be, well, dashing. Not that I'd mind if he did the dashing and seductive thing in the privacy of the Wooster household, but with other people-
It wasn't that I didn't trust him, it was the furthest thing from the Wooster mind. Well, really, to be perfectly honest, i often found myself wondering why it was that Jeeves had decided to stick by the young master. He'd had opportunities to leave in the past, but had always stayed by self, for reasons I could not fathom. Well, now there was the deeper understanding between us, whatever it really was. It was decidedly chummy at any rate-there were kisses, deep and passionate with promises of more, and some fumbling caresses, and I felt rather like I'd been transported back to my years at Eton, not quite knowing what to do, or the proper ways for these things to go.
These rum thoughts of what exactly we had come to mean to one another, and if Jeeves saw things in the same sort of way that I did, as there hadn't been any formal drawing of the lines, followed me through lunch. I had the feeling that it would be one of those conversations that would never happen as such-this wasn't some filly I was getting attached to rather against my well, this was Jeeves, whom I loved, rather more so than any of the others. This wasn't the sort of love that a fine profile can inspire. This was a love born of spending time with someone, seeing them for their faults and their positives, and knowing that, realizing that one's life is incomplete without that person in it.
As such I only nodded along to Pop Stoker's constant praising of the American mining industry, and how it would be prudent for self to invest. It was only as the after-lunch coffees were being served that he rounded on me. Rather than give up the act, I suffered through it, my mind on more important things than if Pop Stoker thought me to be a weasel-faced lout or not. All in all I thought it went quite well, until Pauline cornered me outside of the resteraunt. "Bertie, you great ass!"
"What did I do?" I protested, not able to see what I had done to provoke such anger.
"You were supposed to be, well, you, and make daddy angry."
"Oh, quite sorry." I apologized, not really meaning it. She merely sighed, and dragged me to her car.
"I should rescind my offer of housing, but Daddy's dogs are at the house, and now someone can let them out, if you're staying there for the night. I won't have to come back from Fairmont." At my confused silence, she explained, taking the car down a rather unsafe looking bridge. The sort of thing that twenty years into the future would be collapsing in on itself, and up to a rather stately house, easily five bedrooms if it was any, with a decent sized yard. The very thing that one would imagine a self-made millionaire to inhabit. "I'm going to Fairmont to have dinner with Nick, let the dogs out before you go to bed, will you Bertie?" And then, without even so much as a toodle-pip, she was off, speeding back in the direction she had come from.
"I take it lunch was pleasant, sir?" I nearly jumped at Jeeves' voice, and turned to find him once again clad in his usual attire.
"It was, Jeeves, although apparently I didn't raise Pop Stoker's ire enough." Which led to where we were at the beginning of this narrative, what with me splayed out on a luxurious bed in one of the many bedrooms, and Jeeves working his magic touch on the sore Wooster muscles. "I say, that feels bally marvelous." I loosed my tie, and sank back further in rather contented bliss. "Did you manage to rescue Gussie's letter?" He nodded towards the nightstand where the letter sat, still unopened.
"I can't say I'm not curious to know what it was that got Gussie so red in the face to mention it. Knowing Gussie, the raunchiest it likely gets is talking about how beautiful her ankles are. I couldn't possibly see him going on at length about other parts."
"Nor could I, sir." I couldn't help the grin that spread, both from feeling the pain slowly seep out of my legs, and having Jeeves nearby. A faint moan of pleasure uttered forth, unchecked. It was met with a questioning look, and I said nothing as he leaned in for a kiss. Which turned into another kiss, which turned into a nibbling exploration of each other's necks. I don't know if you've tried to kiss someone who's currently kissing your neck, but it's rather difficult. Dashed odd, the angles you have to work heads and necks and whatnot to get it to work.
Any and all of the earlier rummy thoughts I'd had about having to draw lines faded as I felt nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my shirt. It didn't matter whether we hashed things out, we were what we were-and what we were was something that couldn't be described anyway. It was something wholly of it's own, and the idea of it made me grin more than if you'd told me that Madeline Basset, Florence Craye, Honoria Glossop, my Aunt Agatha and Roderick Spode all went on an expedition with one Major Plank, and got lost somewhere in the desert, and were now living amongst the natives. I had Jeeves, Jeeves had me, what more could be needed? Or had, for that matter?
Afterwards, lying in the soppy after-whatsits, I curled against him, rather content to never move from that spot. "Well, there's those springs you were talking about on the morrow, after a soak in them, I daresay my life will be complete."
"Alas, sir, I'm afraid that we are rather pressed if we're to stay on an iteinerary, and do not have time to return to the Greenbrier." I balked. Well, really, what else is there that one can do when told that? I'd come up and climbed a bally mountain all in favor of a friend, and I didn't even get to partake it what got me to come to the state in the first place.
"I say, I rather hope Gussie remembers this the next time he asks me for a favor."
"I have a feeling, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle will bear the lessons of this for a quite a while." I had no clue what sort of evil scheme Jeeves had thought up to get Gussie back, but I was rather happy that I was not at the center of it. Whatever it was, I almost felt sorry for poor old Gussie. Almost.
Look for a directors cut sometime much much later featuring bootleggers! Dangerous mountain roads! Burning couches! Much more of the state! Unrated hot springs man and manservant action! Cute cuddling moments on coal trains! All the bits and pieces that got hacked out of this in the interest of time.
Now, as soon as the roomie goes to work, I'm writing porn to make up for it.
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves, of course
disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Rating: PG for implied actions
Note the first: I played around a bit with canon timeline, if only because it made a lot more sense before I hacked the thing to bits in a rewrite. Takes place in both 1925 and somehow, after the events of Stiff Upper Lip, but before Thank You, Jeeves, just cause, well, it made sense originally.
I failed at posting. Hopefully, the fail is gone, along with the 20000 typos.
A/N this is what happens when you hack a 40 page rough draft down to 3000 words...I really really hope it makes sense without the other 30 or so pages that were in the rough. There will be a directors cut sometime in the future, but in the interest of time, I took the most entertaining of the many strands of a wodehousian plot (I was going for something really wodehousian, not realizing what a slow-going bugger a wodehousian plot, with many subplots running through it was to write)and hacked out the rest...hopefully it works.
"I say Jeeves, what is it about women that as soon as they become aunts, they become female torque-whosits." I relaxed back against the rather luxurious pillow attempting to rub the knots that had formed out of my calves.
"I believe you mean Torquemada, sir." I gave a small sigh of pleasure as Jeeves took a seat on the edge of the bed and put his skillful fingers to work on the tense muscles.
"That's the one. Tortuous-they all gain a torturous streak to them. Rather like whoever designed this bally city. Who builds on the side of a mountain?" After spending much of the day hiking up and down hills so steep they were nearly vertical, Pauline Stoker had reached a level on par with any diabolical madman, as it felt as though I'd bally well been tortured.
"The Appalachian mountaing range covers much of the state, the archetectual feats to create stable house are rather remarkable, sir."
"Yes, well, remarkable as the archetecture may be, I feel quite badly for those poor girls up on that hill. Anf the fraternities behind them."
"I believe the students grow used to the walk rather quickly, sir." I gave a small shudder at the idea of growing used to climbing mountains just barely shy of needing ropes and pistons-if pistons are what they use.
Although, wait a mo, you're probably wondering why it is that I'd been exploring unknown peaks and valleys for Pauline Stoker of all people. It started with a trip round the world, although you've probably gathered that. On our way west, after seeing all the east coast had to offer, I ran into none other than my old school chum Gussie Fink-Nottle.
"Bertie! Thank god you came!" I gaped, as it is the only reaction one can have when being accosted in a foreign country by someone you believed to be an ocean away.
"Gussie? What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? Didn't you get my telegrams?" I must have resembled something of the piscinie, as I was still getting over the shock of seeing Gussie at a train station in West Virginia.
"What telegrams?"
"I heard you were in the states, I must have sent about a hundred to New York. I need your help, Bertie! It's a matter of life and death!" Now when one of one's schhol friends comes to you in such dire straits, it's rather hard to say no to them.
"What do you need, Gussie?"
"The university here-well not here, but in Morgantown-they gave me money to research newts. And I took it, because Em's father is here, and with the baby, Em wants to be near her family, only I made a big mistake. And if it doesn't get fixed I'm done for."
"Well, how can I help?" While I long ago learned that volunteering to help my pals often leads to me being bunged headfirst into the soup, it's not very preux to let one's friends be done for when there are steps that could be taken to stop it.
"I need you to go to Morgantown for me bertie, and pinch a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yes, you see, I'd had my research notes and a-well, a love letter to Em, and I put the wrong adress on each. And if Dr. Mason opens it up, I'm done for-I'll never get a job again."
"Surely it can't be that bad?" After having spent the better part of a day on a train, I had no intention of getting back on one. I had every intention, however, of enjoying the natural sorings at the hotel in town and their natural restorative qualities.
"It was a rather-erm-private letter." From the way Gussie was currently redder than the natty new tie I was wearing, rather much to Jeeves' ire, I could only surmise that the contents of the letter weren't exactly fit for print.
"Well Isay." I said, not believing that Gussie had it in him to write a scandalous letter, even to his wife.
"Bertie, please." Well, what could I say to that? I couldn't go letting an old school chum ruin his career with scandalous love letters, and so back on the train I went.
Well, that's all well and ghood you might say, but where does Pauline Stoker fit into all of this? As you may recall, Emerald Fink-Nottle, nee Stoker, is Pauline's younger sister. Naturally, as a show of sisterly love, she was waiting for me when the train arrived.
"Bertie!" She said, with all the false adoration the female of the species applies before she strikes. Rather like a snake constricting its prey before being nice enough to finally sink its teeth in and finishing the job properly. "How nice to see you again! Em said you were being nice enough to help poor Gussie out. HE's a nice boy, but completely hopeless if the topic isn't newts."
"Rather." I was putting more thought into trying to figure out how to get done with things as quickly as possible. As soon as Jeeves had described the healing power of natural springs, I found that the idea was rather firmly planted in my mind, and Irather wanted to expirence them.
"I know you're already being a sport by helping Gussie, but I was wondering if you'd do me one to?"
"And what would that be?"
"Be my fiance." I gaped. There wasn't anything else one could do in the circumstances. No words in any tongue, much less English could be found. Even the simple syllable "no" had turned around and ran off like a rabbit faced with a pack of starving wild dogs. "Just through lunch. You can stay at daddy's place tonight-he's only in town for lunch and then is heading back to New York."
"Why?" It was the only word that managed to find its way through the Wooster lips.
"Because Daddy doesn't want me to marry Nick because he works for a living, and if I say I'm going to marry you, he'd let me marry anyone else."
"Well I say." I said. After all, although I was a gentleman, I was not one who suffered insults lightly. "And if I say no?"
"I have a friend, and you're just her type. She'd want to marry you the moment she laid eyes on you. And Bethanne's just the kind of girl your Aunt Agnes would approve of. I'm sure Gussie could find a way to put the two of them in touch." Her mistake of auntly identities aside, I blanched. It was blackmail, is what it was, pure and simple.
"Gussie wouldn't betray an old schoolchum like that."
"Gussie would do anything if it keeps daddy and me happy. After all, we're family." It was evil, is what it was. Pauline Stoker had, upon becoming an aunt, become some sort of ruthless monster, willing to destroy all in her path. She'd turned into a rather American version of Stiffy Byng.
So I had no choice but to agree to lunch with Pop Stoker later that afternoon. With two hours before luncheon, however, I sent Jeeves off with the bags to the Stoker manse, and headed off to find the elusive Dr. Mason and reclaim Gussie's letter.
After walking what seemed like forever and a day, entirely uphill, I finally came across a collection of sameish looking brick buildings that all looked slightly different from the rest of the brick buildings in the town. I looked around, and surmising from the amount of youth I saw-well, not youth, as I myself was only barely removed from them, I had found the university. Now all that remained would be to find this elusive Dr. Mason. Using a bit of de-whatsits reasoning, I figured that the stone building that stood out like a sore thumb likely was also something to do with the university, and upon entering and seeing the familiar look of stacks, knew I had found what was the campus library. After a bit of asking around, and being shuffled around buildings, I was finally told that this Dr. Mason was in fact, in the building up on top of the hill.
I was ready to give in there and then. I could see the hill that was being referred to from where I stood, and thought that it looked rather daunting. There were stairs carved into the hillside, leading up to the building, but it was still a steep haul straight upwards. But, I figured, I had already hiked all the way up there, I could handle one more measly hill.
The hill was not as measly as expected, and by the time I made it up to the stairs to the front door, I was ready to soak the Wooster legs. Only the thought of natural hot springs awaiting me once I finished this bally errand kept me soldiering on. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Dr. Mason?" I asked the woman behind the desk, who pointed me down the hall. It was a rather hard to miss office nestled into what was obviously a dormitory, and I thought the best course of action to lay out the sitch as it was laid out to me. Well, slightly toned down.
"And how do I know that you are who you say you are? I had two different papers stolen and published by other people in the past year, I'm not going to lose one of my researcher's."
"I can assure you-"
"Assure all you want, Mr. Wooster, if that's even who you say you are." Now, when pushed to rather extreme circumstances, it is entirely possible for everyone, yours truly, to snap and do things that, perhaps, are not exactly rational. Grabbing for the letter, for instance, was not a rational act. But I could see it plain as day, completely unopened on her desk, and saw no other option. "I'll call the police, I will." She threatened.
I backed towards the door, only to be interrupted by someone else knocking on it. I did the only thing that seemed logical, and that was open the door, to find Jeeves decked out in what could only be described as stereotypical professor togs. Tweed jacket and all. If I hadn't recognized him, I'd have mistaken him for one of the coves whose classes were often spent more in a state of unconciousness than wakefulness.
After counting my good graces to be saved by Jeeves and one of his wheezes, I made for the exit, I had just enough time to return downtown before I was due for lunch with Pauline. I took a moment outside the office door to compose myself, and stayed just long enough to hear what could only be described as a seductive tone of voice. I knew, rationally, that Jeeves was only up to one of his schemes, nd that it was in aid of the young master, but I couldn't help the sudden spark of jealousy that blossomed up. That was a tone that was supposed to be reserved for self. Then again, Jeeves wasn't being Jeeves, he was being some role, acting a part.
But the girlish giggle it got in response made the idea of bursting in with a "well I say" seem like a good one. Logical thought, for once, prevailed, as I doubted bursting in there would go over particularly well with either party. Instead, I headed down the hill, glad for once to be heading down instead of up. I tried my best to banish the rummy thoughts that had crept up. I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Jeeves even pretending to be, well, dashing. Not that I'd mind if he did the dashing and seductive thing in the privacy of the Wooster household, but with other people-
It wasn't that I didn't trust him, it was the furthest thing from the Wooster mind. Well, really, to be perfectly honest, i often found myself wondering why it was that Jeeves had decided to stick by the young master. He'd had opportunities to leave in the past, but had always stayed by self, for reasons I could not fathom. Well, now there was the deeper understanding between us, whatever it really was. It was decidedly chummy at any rate-there were kisses, deep and passionate with promises of more, and some fumbling caresses, and I felt rather like I'd been transported back to my years at Eton, not quite knowing what to do, or the proper ways for these things to go.
These rum thoughts of what exactly we had come to mean to one another, and if Jeeves saw things in the same sort of way that I did, as there hadn't been any formal drawing of the lines, followed me through lunch. I had the feeling that it would be one of those conversations that would never happen as such-this wasn't some filly I was getting attached to rather against my well, this was Jeeves, whom I loved, rather more so than any of the others. This wasn't the sort of love that a fine profile can inspire. This was a love born of spending time with someone, seeing them for their faults and their positives, and knowing that, realizing that one's life is incomplete without that person in it.
As such I only nodded along to Pop Stoker's constant praising of the American mining industry, and how it would be prudent for self to invest. It was only as the after-lunch coffees were being served that he rounded on me. Rather than give up the act, I suffered through it, my mind on more important things than if Pop Stoker thought me to be a weasel-faced lout or not. All in all I thought it went quite well, until Pauline cornered me outside of the resteraunt. "Bertie, you great ass!"
"What did I do?" I protested, not able to see what I had done to provoke such anger.
"You were supposed to be, well, you, and make daddy angry."
"Oh, quite sorry." I apologized, not really meaning it. She merely sighed, and dragged me to her car.
"I should rescind my offer of housing, but Daddy's dogs are at the house, and now someone can let them out, if you're staying there for the night. I won't have to come back from Fairmont." At my confused silence, she explained, taking the car down a rather unsafe looking bridge. The sort of thing that twenty years into the future would be collapsing in on itself, and up to a rather stately house, easily five bedrooms if it was any, with a decent sized yard. The very thing that one would imagine a self-made millionaire to inhabit. "I'm going to Fairmont to have dinner with Nick, let the dogs out before you go to bed, will you Bertie?" And then, without even so much as a toodle-pip, she was off, speeding back in the direction she had come from.
"I take it lunch was pleasant, sir?" I nearly jumped at Jeeves' voice, and turned to find him once again clad in his usual attire.
"It was, Jeeves, although apparently I didn't raise Pop Stoker's ire enough." Which led to where we were at the beginning of this narrative, what with me splayed out on a luxurious bed in one of the many bedrooms, and Jeeves working his magic touch on the sore Wooster muscles. "I say, that feels bally marvelous." I loosed my tie, and sank back further in rather contented bliss. "Did you manage to rescue Gussie's letter?" He nodded towards the nightstand where the letter sat, still unopened.
"I can't say I'm not curious to know what it was that got Gussie so red in the face to mention it. Knowing Gussie, the raunchiest it likely gets is talking about how beautiful her ankles are. I couldn't possibly see him going on at length about other parts."
"Nor could I, sir." I couldn't help the grin that spread, both from feeling the pain slowly seep out of my legs, and having Jeeves nearby. A faint moan of pleasure uttered forth, unchecked. It was met with a questioning look, and I said nothing as he leaned in for a kiss. Which turned into another kiss, which turned into a nibbling exploration of each other's necks. I don't know if you've tried to kiss someone who's currently kissing your neck, but it's rather difficult. Dashed odd, the angles you have to work heads and necks and whatnot to get it to work.
Any and all of the earlier rummy thoughts I'd had about having to draw lines faded as I felt nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my shirt. It didn't matter whether we hashed things out, we were what we were-and what we were was something that couldn't be described anyway. It was something wholly of it's own, and the idea of it made me grin more than if you'd told me that Madeline Basset, Florence Craye, Honoria Glossop, my Aunt Agatha and Roderick Spode all went on an expedition with one Major Plank, and got lost somewhere in the desert, and were now living amongst the natives. I had Jeeves, Jeeves had me, what more could be needed? Or had, for that matter?
Afterwards, lying in the soppy after-whatsits, I curled against him, rather content to never move from that spot. "Well, there's those springs you were talking about on the morrow, after a soak in them, I daresay my life will be complete."
"Alas, sir, I'm afraid that we are rather pressed if we're to stay on an iteinerary, and do not have time to return to the Greenbrier." I balked. Well, really, what else is there that one can do when told that? I'd come up and climbed a bally mountain all in favor of a friend, and I didn't even get to partake it what got me to come to the state in the first place.
"I say, I rather hope Gussie remembers this the next time he asks me for a favor."
"I have a feeling, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle will bear the lessons of this for a quite a while." I had no clue what sort of evil scheme Jeeves had thought up to get Gussie back, but I was rather happy that I was not at the center of it. Whatever it was, I almost felt sorry for poor old Gussie. Almost.
Look for a directors cut sometime much much later featuring bootleggers! Dangerous mountain roads! Burning couches! Much more of the state! Unrated hot springs man and manservant action! Cute cuddling moments on coal trains! All the bits and pieces that got hacked out of this in the interest of time.
Now, as soon as the roomie goes to work, I'm writing porn to make up for it.
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