Also there is a large sticky patch on the floor where you and Rosie have been. In fact, now I look at it, there are a number of sticky patches on the floor. I think it needs a good scrub down. As do you, Rosie. There's none of you half-way presentable in even the most casual drawing room.' There was a great bustle as pussies, titties and pricks were hidden away, buttons done up, dresses adjusted and the work of restoring the kitchen to some semblance of order was started. At this point, however, Colonel Moore took a hand in matters. He had been standing, leaning on his stick, watching with considerable appreciation the scene that had met their eyes on coming down into the kitchen.
'May I suggest that we could all do with a restorative drink before the hard work gets under way,' he said. 'With your permission, Ma'am, I can remember where the pantry is. I know that there are a couple of bottles of claret and some madeira already decanted.'
'I seem to recall that I left most of you at the dinner table intent on port and conversation some time ago,' said Mrs. P-. 'But I suppose that as you appear to have decided to move below stairs en masse, you had better do your drinking down here as well.'
'Andrew,' she went on, 'You might like to help the Colonel. There are glasses in the pantry also.' 'I'll pour. You carry,' said the Colonel, seizing hold of a bottle and slopping the wine into the largest glasses he could find. 'One for Hannah. One for Becky. A large measure for our Hostess. Better give the maids something as well,' he said to me with a glint in his eye. 'And that young man. I should think he needs a bit of a pick-me-up after all he's been through.'
I caught Mrs. P-'s eye. Her lips twitched and she nodded her assent. I took the drinks round on a large salver that I had retrieved from the floor. The two maids took theirs with decorous little curtseys. Tom the Tool still looked rather shame-faced. 'Drink up, man,' said the Colonel firmly. 'Restores the vigour.' He was now leaning back on the self-same table that had so recently supported Tom and Mary in their conversation-stopping activities. 'Ever tried it underwater?' he asked. 'Underwater?' queried Becky. 'One would have to be pretty quick about it if one wished to avoid death by drowning.' 'Well, not totally submerged,' he admitted, 'but in the water at least.' 'I have fucked in the bath,' volunteered Hannah. 'Great fun but very splashy. In fact most of the water ended up on the floor. Also I slipped on the soap when trying to get out of the bath afterwards.' 'Really, Hannah!' said her mother. 'You two girls get worse and worse.' I recalled that on my first night in the house, I had discovered Becky in the bath being attended to in a most intimate way by Emily, but since I had been unobserved by them, I decided to say nothing on the subject. 'I was thinking more of the sea,' the Colonel continued. 'At Brighton to be precise. It was some years ago now but I was enjoying a week's holiday with a close friend. I must not name names,' he said, 'particularly since she subsequently married a curate attached to a living in Dorking. We had not intended any such adventure but the tide swept us together and my friend lost her footing. She clutched at me for support and as luck would have it, the first thing she grabbed was my member which was handily sticking out beneath my bathing costume. Striped, it was. The bathing costume that is, not my member.' I settled back, pouring myself a second glass. I had of course experienced the Colonel's tale-telling abilities while on the train with him on our Bristol expedition. I knew that he had a large fund of stories which, even if one suspected a certain amount of dramatic licence, were always worth listening to. Rosie and the family had also been exposed to his reminiscences in the past but all this was quite new to the two maids and to Tom the Tool. The latter in particular was all ears, listening to his every word and quite forgetting his unease at finding himself in such company. 'I could hardly disengage myself,' the Colonel went on, now well embarked on his story, 'And leave her at the mercy of the current. A certain look came into her eye and she led me into deeper waters, under the pier. We floated for a time while I began to investigate her rather luscious body through the stuff of her costume.
We both soon came to realise that it was quite impossible to get the wretched thing off. I was getting thoroughly excited by the possibilities that were opening up when all of a sudden I felt a smart stinging sensation in my bottom.' 'Oh dear! What had happened?' said Becky with a solemn face. 'I had been snagged by an angler's hook and line from the pier above,' said the Colonel. 'So that is what they catch,' said Becky. 'I have often watched the fishermen dangling their tackle into the water but I have never actually seen any one of them land anything.' 'Cod is the more usual catch, I understand,' said the Colonel. 'Or mackerel possibly. I suspect that that is the only recorded instance of an officer in the Punjab Rifles being caught in the English Channel.' 'A painful experience,' I suggested. 'A little so,' he conceded. 'But by then I was so intrigued by the possibilities of a waterborne entanglement that I hardly noticed. I pulled the hook out of my bum, gave it a quick couple of tugs and we paddled out of sight under the pier. We both quickly realised that there was little more we could achieve, particularly as my companion was beginning to complain about the amount of seaweed that was interfering with her enjoyment. We waded ashore. While she waited, crouched in the waves, I slipped the attendant a few pence to look the other way and I smuggled her into my bathing machine. 'We had an absolutely splendid fuck. So much so that the damn thing began to rock rather alarmingly on its wheels at one point and edge down the shingle, deeper into the water.' 'The beach at Brighton does slope rather steeply,' I said. 'When we had finished,' the Colonel continued, 'I realised that I could hardly let her out into what was now quite a rough sea, so I lowered myself into the water and swam round to the other machine we had hired.'
'I begin to see a problem,' said Becky. 'You were now in her bathing machine, and she in yours.' 'Precisely,' said the Colonel. 'What ever did you do?' asked Emily, forgetting her embarrassment in the excitement of the story. 'Nothing else to do,' said the Colonel. 'I had to put on her clothes and she had to put on mine.' 'AH of them?' asked Emily. 'Only the outer garments,' said the Colonel. 'Bundled up all the underwear and popped it into the picnic hamper we had with us.' 'Did no-one notice anything?' she said. 'We did attract the odd couple of stares but I didn't have a moustache in those days. She had a large sailor's hat with a bow that tied under the chin while I had been sporting a new panama. The only problem was the shoes. There was no way I could cram my feet into her button- up bootees and mine were far too large for her. Had to leave them behind and make it barefoot back to our hotel.
Luckily it was close to the beach. Anyway, we managed to get back to our rooms.' 'Did you enjoy wearing women's clothing?' I asked.
'Not the first time,' he said. 'Had to escape once from Baluchi tribesmen on camel back, disguised as a native woman. Didn't want to lose my private parts. They cut them off if they capture you, y'know.'
'Oh! How awful,' said Emily, breathlessly. 'Made it back to the cantonment, safe and sound. Just outside Quetta. Reported to the Colonel and had the devil of a row with the Adjutant.' 'Why?' asked Emily. 'Women not allowed in the mess except on Ladies Nights. He'd only recently been posted to the regiment. Didn't recognise me. Had to pull up my dress to convince the fellah that I was a man. Felt a complete fool, standing there in a sort of sari thing, waving my virile member in the Adjutant's face. “What's all this,” he said. “What the hell do you think it is?” I said. “A prick.
A British officer's prick. Attached to a British officer. I have urgent despatches for the Colonel.” At that moment a sepoy came rushing in to say that there was a camel loose on the parade ground and that it had left a large steaming pile of droppings right in front of the CO's verandah.' At this point in the story I couldn't help but notice that Becky and Hannah were choking back laughter and that Mrs. P-had an odd look in her eye. 'I didn't realise that the Punjab Rifles had ever been stationed in Baluchistan,' she said.
'Although of course my late husband and I spent most of our time in Bengal and the Deccan so I am no expert on the North West.'
Colonel Moore gave her a quizzical look, but she said nothing more. I also had begun to have some suspicions about the absolute veracity of some parts of the Colonel's account but it had long ago been firmly dinned into me by Dr White at Nottsgrove that it is the height of bad manners to question the accuracy of another person's story, especially if it is entertaining. Looking round the kitchen I could see that he had the full attention of his audience.
'Meanwhile, you were in a Brighton hotel bedroom, wearing your lady friend's clothes,' prompted Becky. 'Did you continue in this mode or did you change back?' 'Couldn't wait to get the wretched things off,' said Colonel Moore. 'Nor could she. Trouble was, she was quicker about it than I was. I was worried about splitting a seam or pulling a button off. She just unbuttoned herself and dropped my trousers. I was so excited at what was revealed that my member shot to attention and rather than fiddle about with the fastenings, I tried to pull her dress off over my head. Of course, I got completely caught up in the folds of the thing. Trapped helplessly. Couldn't see a thing.
She offered to help but instead of helping me out, she seized hold of my prick, began to rub it all over her titties. Very big they were. I could tell, though I'd not had the privilege of seeing them before.
