Dirty With Desire – A Chaply Challenge (Part The First)

Part The First - Initial Stirrings


This particular chapter in La Vie De La Chatalain began, as such episodes often do, with your humble narrator ensconced in a club conducive to the imbibing of alcoholic libations. It should also be noted that, on this particular occasion, I was enjoying the welcome sight of a bevy of buxom beauties bolting beverages at the bar. There's no finer way to idle away an afternoon than feasting the eyes on fine female flesh.

My lecherous reverie was soon interrupted by the noisome arrival of an old friend. Fulsome of moustache, dashing of cut and with an eye (or two) for the fairer sex, Lord Harcourt Beeson never failed to create an impression wheresoever he roamed. He lounged his way in my general direction and sidled his way into a seat.

"How fares it, Kirk The Elder?" drawled he.

"Ship shape and Bristol fashion, The Beest," replied I.

At this point, we commenced our traditional battle of wills; a tussle which I have come to dub, "What Shores?". It is a simple game in which both players delicately tiptoe around, ensuring never to mention the possibility of offering a drink to the other. The game is won by the losing player offering the opportunity for the winner to deliver the line:- "Mine's a large brandy, most kind of you, sir." As we were both eager to whet our respective whistles, a smallish bout ensured lastly barely half an hour before the Beest made a schoolboy error and paved the way for my demanding of fine cognac.

Glasses in hand, we were about to set about catching up the affairs of the day when I noticed that old Harry's attention had been incontrovertibly diverted. I followed his apparently stupefied gaze only to be stunned into a slack-jawed gawp myself. Standing near the bar was a vision so divine, I felt that my eyes were beginning to sully her by merely resting their gaze upon her.

Her hair shimmered like fire (by which, obviously, I don't mean that it crackled and gave off smoke), her eyes sparkled like the finest diamonds and she had a figure that could reduce a grown man to tears. I knew on that very instant that I was smitten and she had to be mine. A sidelong glance to The Beest, however, confirmed that a similar thought process was being undertaken in his own debauched brainpan. He noted my noticing and raised a sly eyebrow.

And with that gesture, the game was afoot...



To Be Elongated