Chapter 11
Jim pottered around Mr Crowfoot's study. The old man had gone out, leaving Jim to his own devices. He had the choice of returning to his flat or staying and looking at some of the many items or books in the room. Jim chose the latter. He opened a cabinet and examined the collection of dildos. It was extensive with so many displayed. He smiled as he saw the winged dildo, remembering flying it around the room; the double ender that had been in both Sophie and Jenny; he went so far as to pick up the pre-historic one made of antler and wonder who had used it all those millennia ago.
What had the dildoes been used for and who by? What pleasures had they brought forth? The room itself raised a similar question. What had gone on there in the past? Mr Crowfoot had told him something of his own 'exploits' and had hinted at what his father might have done before him, though it had sounded like Mr Crowfoot did not really know.
Another cabinet, one containing many books stood adjacent to the cabinet of dildoes. Some of the books, from their titles, were clearly of a salacious nature. Jim looked at the cabinet. Well-made and solid, in a highly polished Honduras Mahogany, the shine betraying Annette's hard work. Jim smiled, Annette did more than polish the furniture, she polished Mr Crowfoot's knob as well until it shone! It would be good to get her polishing his knob but, alas, it was not her day to be cleaning the house.
Jim was a little puzzled by the thickness of one shelf; it was the bottom shelf, yet the thickness seemed structurally unnecessary. He had heard of secret compartments in furniture, recalled his mother had one in her old bureau. Could there be one here? A feeling about, a careful examination and then a click. The mechanism so cunningly hidden but there it was; the wooden front of the shelf had slid forward revealing a shallow drawer and a book resting within. A blue, leather bound book. Jim took it gingerly. What was this about? Why had it been hidden?
Opening the book revealed it was a diary, a diary handwritten in a fine flowing hand. Not a diary with dates and appointments but one in the Samuel Pepys mould. An account of day to day happenings of note, thoughts on all sorts of matter and a record of a man's life. There was no name at the front but as Jim read it became clear it was the diary of Mr Crowfoot's father; the dates somewhat revealed that fact, as did the occasional mention of 'young Archibald.' Naturally Jim was hopeful of some more explanation of the room and, as he settled himself upon the Chesterfield to read, he had hopes of reading about titillating sexual exploits. He was much more rewarded in the latter than the former. At somewhat random he began to read what looked a promising passage, Tuesday 5
th
May 1908:
'Today my dear wife and I entertained Mr and Mrs Gregory Soap and their daughters.
Mr Soap has long confided in me his appreciation of his two sweet daughters.
I am not one to condone incest, but he is excused as they came to him from a previous marriage.
From all accounts Lieutenant Tranter had been a lusty young officer and his then wife, the present Mrs Soap, had no complaints in the bedroom.
Her anguish on losing him on the battlefield in India -- at least not from disease - must have been great, leaving her with two twin daughters not three years old.
The Widow Tranter had fallen to Mr Soap's advances not a twelvemonth later.
He too had had no complaints with his new bride in the bedroom but there had been no further issue.
Boarding school and his own business had meant he had not seen much of the girls growing up but now they were very much grown and blossomed -- very much to his delight and interest.
It was, most certainly, not a desire he could reveal to Mrs Soap: but it was a desire he revealed to me.
Sensible fellow!
How pleasing it was to be able to offer assistance to an old friend; the more so as I could see mutual advantage in the arrangement; I expected no recompense other than the opportunity to enjoy his daughters with him.
I even expressed a long-held desire to examine Mrs Soap without the encumbrances of clothing.
We had a very good conversation on the subject.
Very enlightening.
Mr Soap was somewhat disbelieving when I revealed the magic of my chamber of delights.
My excitement was considerable.
I had not met the two daughters before.
Such a charming pair of young ladies, so demure and polite, so sweetly innocent -- I could tell.
All of eighteen years.
Dear Annabelle...'
Jim looked up from his reading. Presumably Annabelle was Mr Crowfoot Senior's wife and Mr Crowfoot's mother. He had wondered before what exactly happened to her in what Mr Crowfoot Senior, rather accurately, described as the 'Chamber of Delights;' a rather pleasing phrase. How 'in' on it all was she?
'...gave me the sweetest of smiles when they arrived.
She well knew what was in my mind.
I had not expected to find one girl dark and the other so fair.
Immediately I wished to know whether their nether hair matched their charming heads; was immediately thinking of parting that lower hair, holding their legs apart and spreading their hairy lips to see the virginal delights within.
My gaming staff swelled at the thought and I well wondered whether their dear 'papa' was similarly aroused now his lustful thoughts might come to a reality.
Ha!
The pearly shower!
Could it be he as well as I, were both standing, with sizeable and solid cocks, taking tea with thoughts of spending across the sweet girls' fur?
The prospect of standing with Soap, our twin staves pointing at the two girls as we prepared to reveal their charms so very congenial.
The very thought has the same effect as I write.
I must expose and stroke!
As I had requested, my dear wife took Mrs Soap from us; an entertainment had been arranged, the hansom cab ordered leaving the two girls unchaperoned.
But what did that matter with their dear papa there to look after them?
Indeed!
"Come," I said to the two daughters, did they not look so sweet sitting together, "I have some picture books in my study that I think will entertain you whilst your papa and I talk of the affairs of men."
The look my friend gave me was most gratifying.
It was clear he understood me.
The picture book was such an exquisite shock to them.
So, on their faces.
It was my 'woodland book.'
The pictures starting so innocently with a few prettily dressed girls and finely dressed boys in a wood having a picnic; there is dancing and then, shockingly the boys kissing the girls.'
Jim looked up. It was, it surely was, the very book Mr Crowfoot had shown him before he had gone in naked to discover Miss Rachel Redmond. That had been an unbelievable, quite remarkable experience. Walking in on his ex-teacher stark naked and sporting an erection. He had not seen all the pictures in the book but could imagine how shocking even the ones he had seen would be to such apparently innocent girls as the, as yet, unnamed daughters. And it had all happened in this very room. Upon the Chesterfield where he was sitting. To have travelled back in time and joined Messrs Crowfoot and Soap... what would they do? He read on:
'The young girls kept looking up towards us as they examined the book, but I pretended not to notice.
Soon their gasps of shock turned to giggles as they turned the pages.
My intention not to suggest to them that we might play the games with them so delightfully illustrated, but to encourage a natural moistening of their virgin cunnies ready for Soap and myself.
"If you find that book tedious," I said -- so pleasing to see their startled looks as I addressed them, they perhaps thought I had given them the wrong book, "do feel free to nap.
The Chesterfield is comfortable.
Yes, do slumber, I shall tell you when to awake."
The chamber -- the wonderful chamber -- had its effect, no sooner had I said the words that both young ladies were fast asleep.
I looked at Soap.
He was open mouthed at the suddenness of the slumber.
