Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2005 08:13:47 -0800 (PST) From: dante umbero Subject: My Chauffeur Part III This is a story of Gay erotic fiction. If you are underage: or you or your jurisdiction aren't prepared for reading about two adult men in sexual situations than go away, otherwise read on and enjoy. Any similarity between persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Thanks for all the comments and words of encouragement. Sorry this installment has taken so long, I've been extremely busy with my work and Art. You know, times have changed since the 1920's, don't make love without a glove. Dante- My Chauffeur -Part III- Kingsley sat in the regal splendor of the Mercedes Grosser, all maroon leather and shinny brass and silver. The motor idled quietly and he hunched up his shoulders to better cover his neck and chin with the lamb's fur collar. It was cold this December evening in the open driver's seat. He was waiting for Lord Beaufort to come out of the hospital where he was making hurried evening rounds with the ward resident. He would then drive his lordship to Bruxton Street where he was scheduled to take dinner with the Duke and Duchess of York and Lord and Lady Strathmore. His lordship's Aunt had been busy in the intervening weeks finding suitable girls to become the next Lady Beaufort, and arranging meetings. All of them to date had been failures. Apparently there was a Strathmore relation that might prove attractive, and a tenuous Royal connection and money made the child imminently suitable. Rumor in the servant's hall was that the girl's parents were divorced and were both living on the continent; the grandparents had taken over the supervision of the child and were prepared to invest in a dowry to make her Countess of Castleford. Bill was of two minds about the situation, he knew that Cecil had to marry, it was expected, but he also knew that he didn't want their relationship to change. Just the night before, laying in bed with Cecil after sex, his head on Cecil's shoulder, he had let his fingers glide down across Cecil's abdomen and tangle in the pale gold pubic hair, he said quietly with all the emotion he could muster, "I don't want to ever loose you, my lord." He had looked up to find the intense grey eyes locked with his own, and then the hand gently cupped his chin and the whispered, "You shan't." Their lips had once again met. He caught sight of Lord Beaufort in boiled shirt and white tie exiting the hospital in time to jump out and open the back door for him. He climbed back in the car and they were soon pulling up in front of the London home of the Strathmore's. Nothing had been said during the drive; Kingsley could see the tense line of Cecil's mouth and chin and knew he was doing a manful battle with his sense of honor and his call to duty. Cecil handed his hat and gloves to the waiting footman and was shown into the drawing room. He was greeted by a short, stout, porcelain doll of a woman that was Lady Strathmore. She had been a friend of his father's before she married Lord Strathmore and there were old tales of a brief romance before they each married elsewhere. "Lord Beaufort, how good to see you again." She said and smiled making her cerulean blue eyes sparkle. A young woman drifted forward, she was as tall as Cecil and had ivory skin and dark hair that were a remarkable contrast to her blue eyes. She was lithe and dressed in a fashionable garnet shot silk dress that set off her swan neck framed by a swag of pearls. "I don't believe you've met my cousin's daughter Beatrice. Beatrice this is Cecil, Lord Beaufort." Cecil bowed slightly and took her proffered hand and kissed the back of his thumb. The child, for on close inspection she was not much older, was quite fetching Cecil could see. She carried herself well and while an air of shyness and naiveté hung about her she soon proved herself intelligent and the dinner went well. Over the next few weeks Cecil saw Beatrice several times and realized that while there were no romantic feelings in his relationship to her, she was quite suitable for his wife and he decided to talk to both their grandfathers. She was gentle and very naïve but also well born and impeccably trained. He talked with his Grandfather and the old gentleman was very pleased. He likewise talked with the Earl of Strathmore and likewise found no difficulties. The grandfathers, in turn, talked to one another and the dowry was arranged. Beatrice would bring a modest fortune to the marriage, and in turn Cecil arranged for about half of the sum to be set aside for her own personal use and the remainder to be set in trust so that if something happened to him or the marriage she would receive the remainder of the dowry unencumbered. As unusual as it might seem today the last person he talked to was Beatrice. They were at the Opera and at intermission he casually asked her if she would marry him. She blushed prettily and accepted. He placed a large diamond solitaire on her finger and ordered Champagne. Cecil's life went into syncope for the few months between his engagement and the wedding. It was quietly given out that in light of the Earl's condition, the engagement would be brief. Cecil found himself extremely busy between his thriving practice, duties at Royal Surgeon's and now planning a wedding, and what a wedding. Between his Grandfather and the Strathmore's the wedding was shaping up to be one of the social events of the season. The Archbishop of Canterbury himself would preside and the wedding would take place in St James nearby his home in Mayfair. There had been talk of the wedding taking place at Castleford in the family chapel but the Strathmore's had insisted on a London wedding. The couple would go to the Earl's hunting lodge in the Highlands for their wedding trip. Kingsley worried as the weeks went by; Cecil never alluded to his wedding on their usual nights but was as passionate as ever. He worried that Cecil would be ill from the stress he could see etched in his face, but couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. As winter turned to Spring Cecil's life was at near fever pitch, and somewhere in the farthest reaches of his consciousness he realized he was driving himself at this pace so he wouldn't have to think about the inevitable. While his lifestyle could accommodate his marriage, he was busy and society didn't demand that couples of their station be "in love," it was a fact he would have to bed Beatrice and he was at a loss as to how that would happen. He trusted that on the occasion he would manage. He remembered in school reading about Monsieur le Duc d'Orleans the brother of Louis XIV, a notorious pederast, who married and managed to father 13 children, he was frightened. The social activities surrounding his marriage went into a hectic pace the week before the ceremony. Both Beatrice and Cecil were feted around London. During their constant companionship Cecil realized that he had indeed made a wise choice in Beatrice, she was kind and gentle and altogether a genial companion. Unfortunately he didn't love her and felt absolutely no passion for her. Cecil stumbled as he walked into his bedchamber on the night before his wedding. He'd been taken out to dinner by a few of his colleagues and some of the resident staff and they'd made sure he had his share of drinks. Luckily for him his stag party was free of prostitutes, as some of his contemporaries had been surprised with. He managed to collapse into the velvet chair that sat before the cold gas ring in the fireplace. The room didn't need a fire which was unusual this early in May. He realized he was drunk, something he hadn't been since the Armistice was signed, and he giggled, he also realized that he had been more than happy to drink too much. The stress of the coming night had finally become too much and he was afraid that if he didn't do something he would go mad, he realized that at least drunk he'd not have trouble sleeping. He sighed and dropped his head into his hands, the sense of being cornered and about to be caught out was finally overwhelming. He wouldn't be able to bed Beatrice and she would ask for an annulment and his world would be shattered, he heard a quiet knock at the door. He sat up straightened his tie, cleared his throat and said "come". Kingsley, entered the room and asked, "Sir, I just thought I'd see if you required anything before I retire." Kingsley could see Cecil's reddened eyes and as he approached could smell the whiskey. He'd guessed correctly, the lads had taken his lordship out and got him pissed. "Why, Kingsley, glad you're here old man. Help me get out of these things will you, I'm afraid I over enjoyed something called a Manhattan." Cecil slurred, "Mostly whiskey I think." Kingsley helped Cecil up and over to the bed, where he helped him out of his coat and began to undress him. Cecil clung to a bed post with one hand while he felt the firm hands move over his body. Cecil sighed aloud and Kingsley said, "Are you alright, Sir?" "I'm fine, Bill, just drunk and the feel of your hands makes me dread tomorrow night." Cecil said. "Sir?" Kingsley asked confused. "Ah Bill what's the use, tomorrow I'll marry Beatrice and tomorrow night she'll find out that I can't get it up for her." Cecil said quietly. "Well my lord, I wouldn't advise too much drink tomorrow, that's for certain. My guess is it will work itself out, you mark my words things usually do." Kingsley said as he pulled the duvet up under Cecil's chin. Cecil murmured something unintelligible; Kingsley realized he was already asleep. He smiled down at the golden hair and handsome face of the man he loved and decided on a plan to help. The wedding ceremony was indeed one of the social events of the year, attended by 200 people. Beatrice was dressed in a Paris creation and had 12 attendants likewise dressed from Paris. Cecil and his groomsmen were all immaculately tailored and the church was decorated in white orchids from South Africa especially flown in by Imperial Airways. The Strathmore's hadn't neglected anything; later people would say it came just short of being overdone. The reception held after the ceremony at the Ritz was as glittering, the menu was superb and the table decorations were elegant. Kingsley packed Cecil's cases during the ceremony and reception, he would stand in line this evening to welcome the newlyweds into the house and be presented to the new Lady Beaufort. His own case was packed and sent off to the station with the rest, he would accompany the couple along with her ladyship's maid on the wedding trip to Scotland the next day. Earlier he had talked with cook and arranged for his own wedding gift to his lordship for latter that night. He had helped Cecil deal with his hangover and managed to get him bathed and dressed and off to the church on time, just. Kingsley was about midway of the line of servants when the couple came into the front hall. He noted that Cecil was pale but seemed in good spirits and that the new Lady Beaufort was beautifully radiant, in white satin and lace. As she came abreast of him he bowed and heard Cecil introduce him, her cologne reminded him of the flower stalls and cinnamon all in one. His heart ached suddenly and he looked down at the toes of his boots. He kept himself occupied with the preparations for the trip the next day but was ready when the bell sounded in his Lordships dressing room. He took the silver salver with him and sat it on the bureau when he went in to help Cecil change for bed. One look told him Cecil was again on edge and nervous, as he sat the salver down, Cecil said, "What's this Kingsley?" "Something to help your Lordship, I got them by way of a wedding gift for you." Kingsley said and removed the silver cover revealing a dozen oysters on the half shell sitting on a bed of shaved ice. Cook had done a wonderful job with little slivers of lemon to squeeze over them and in the center a small bowl of sauce with a silver spoon to help flavor them. "I always heard they were good for a man on his wedding night, if you take my meaning, Sir." Cecil sighed and then smiled in spite of himself and allowed Kingsley to help him into his silk pajamas and robe, he took two of the oysters and then told Kingsley he wanted him to join him so Bill took one of the shells and sucked down the slippery contents. Cecil poured them two glasses of Champagne and they drank. Cecil looked at Kingsley and said, "Thanks for that, but I'm afraid I've resigned myself to not being up for tonight." Kingsley smiled then knelt in front of Cecil and said as he reached for the front of his pajamas, "But I've not given you your other present, sir." and proceeded to extract Cecil's quickly hardening cock and lick it from base to tip. He then took the full length down his throat and let his hands slide round Cecil's tight firm bum. Cecil taking his cue started slowly stroking in and out of Kingsley's mouth he let his hands tangle in the red hair and felt the prickle of the moustache as it brushed the length of his shaft. Within minutes Cecil was lost in the heat but Kingsley wasn't through, just as Cecil was nearing the brink, he stopped and pulled off of his lover's splendid cock and then stood up every so slowly, he kissed Cecil lingeringly while he pushed Cecil's cock back into his flies. "Now, my lord, go and do your duty." He whispered as he kissed Cecil once again. The night was a success, thanks to Kingsley priming the pump, and Cecil never needed any help afterward. Apparently the 30 year old human reproductive system knows its duty as well as an English Aristocrat. Cecil still enjoyed Kingsley when he stayed at his club, but to the rest of the household, to Beatrice and to society, Cecil was happily married and before his grandfather died that summer they gave him the wonderful news that they were expecting. Edward the Sixteenth Earl of Castleford died on a stormy summer night with Cecil and Sir Alfred Morrison in attendance, Cecil had succeeded in making the old man's last year a happy one with his marriage and the news of the expected birth of his great grandchild. The Earl had chosen to spend his last months in the country at the family estate in Lincolnshire. Cecil and Beatrice had accompanied the Earl into the country and had been attentive all week. That very morning Cecil had sat in the Earl's room near his bedside talking about the estate, homely things that were always interesting to the Earl, who was close to the land even if he had spent most of his time in London. The Earl had said at one point, "Cecil, my boy, you've made me very happy. Beatrice is a lovely girl and while I know you don't love her in the way young people today dream about, you'll find as you grow older that your fondness for her will turn into something deeper and more stable than the hot headed emotions they talk about." Shortly afterward the Earl passed into a coma and his life stopped like a candle that gutters in its own wax and flickers out. To be Continued....