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purplefluffycatHere is the final chapter of ‘Jeeves and the Artistic Verisimilitude,’ in which Bertie and Jeeves finally get to spend some time together, after all they have been through! I hope you think the climax, as it were, is worth the wait…!
Title: Jeeves and the Artistic Verisimilitude
Chapter: Seven - 'Consolidation and Consummation'
Author: PurpleFluffyCat
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Warnings: Slash - explicit, first-time.
Characters: Bertie/Jeeves, with several of Bertie's crowd making an appearance along the way, and a couple of new faces.
Words: This chapter: ~10,000 , about 52,000 overall.
Genre: Chiefly Romance, with some Drama, Angst, Humour and Fluff.
Summary:
"Surely, one would think, nothing could be more relaxing for a young Wooster than a week spent by the seaside? - Golf and sand-castle building without an aunt in sight!
One may think so, indeed, but the combination of several 'friends' with their own agendas, a theatrical production and the mysterious designs of my very own valet conspired to make that week spent in Spindleythorpe-on-sea one of the most memorable and life-changing of the lot..."
There will be fortune tellers! And Gilbert and Sullivan! And (the chaps are rather glad to hear), plenty of romantic fluffy goodness!
Chapter One - 'Escape and Entrapment'
Chapter Two - 'Drama and Divination'
Chapter Three - 'Predictions and Predilections'
Chapter Four - 'Sentimentality and Subtext'
Chapter Five - 'Review and Rumpus'
Chapter Six - 'Passion and Performance' (Part 1) (Part 2)
Chapter Seven - Consolidation and Consummation
I got back to the metrop just after dawn. It was dashed odd to see those watery strains of light peeking over the horizon when I was stone-cold sober, actually. Such things should only be viewed by a chap when he is thoroughly begoggled by a few too many, and preferably in possession of a policeman's helmet. It just isn't natural, otherwise.
I put myself to bed, but only slept a little. I was too full of nervous energy – like a young boy waiting for Father Christmas – so didn't manage to catch more than about fifteen of the prescribed forty winks before getting up again and pacing around in a bit of a state. When I rose from my tossing and turning I noticed that a telegram had appeared on the doormat. To my delight it was from Jeeves, informing me that he expected to be back at the ranch by late afternoon. I wondered what time that was, exactly. Four? Five maybe? It had to be before six, because six was cocktail hour, and Jeeves would never muddle the proper times for extracts of leaf and berry.
At any rate, I had several hours to rattle around, utterly impatient about Jeeves' return. I felt a bizarre mixture of excitement and trepidation, and it was dashed difficult to make sense of it all. I was both full of fanciful thoughts about what said reunion might involve and also generally fretful about what he would make of the whole postcards affair - and indeed, the new circs. between the two of us. Said c's had cropped up so suddenly, and then been trampled on by other things with equivalent speed, I didn't quite know what to make of them myself.
On the one hand, I knew that I was still utterly in love with Jeeves, and kissing him the day before had to be the most topping thing I had ever, ever experienced. On the other hand, I was pretty uncertain about what he thought - post-postcards, as it were. The chap was pretty inscrutable at the best of times, and in a jamb like this I had not the smallest corner of a map to guide me while being all at sea upon the question of what should happen next. I could have been setting a course for the Bermuda Triangle, for all I knew. It was dashed awkward that I didn't know much about these affaires de coeur.
With all this going on in the Wooster brain at once, I thought I might go off my trolley if I just rattled about the flat, so I ankled into town for a while. I did some window-shopping but was careful not to buy anything to wear – the last thing I needed just then was to upset Jeeves with an ill-advised hat. After a while I nipped into the club for a bite to eat and a swift lunchtime snifter. The place was very quiet as most of the Drones were still in Spindleythorpe, dash it, but that did at least give me some time to ponder my posish and try to put the bean to work on a possible next step.
What did I want to happen next, exactly? Where should the whole story go after that kissing-in-the-dressing-room anemone? No, I don't mean anemone, do I... that's a kind of frilly sea-creature, whereas I mean one of those out-of-the-ordinary happenstances.
Well, I gazed into my brandy glass, and the answer suddenly seemed to come to me. The preferred Wooster path was clearly marked. It presented quite a change from the past set-up, admittedly, and I'd probably have to break the thing to Jeeves with a bit of force behind it, if there were to be any chance he would agree. Nevertheless, I figured that one anemone deserves a whole carpet of sea-urchins, as it were, and with that metaphor in mind I went back into town to call in briefly at the valet agency's office, and make a small purchase that I hoped would act to clarify my point later that day.
Anomaly! That's the one. Not my purchase, you understand; that word I was looking for a moment ago about happen-thingies. I'm glad to have that cleared up, but I'm not entirely sure where the sea-urchins fit in now. Oh, well...
Anyway, I took myself back to the flat and was chagrined to realise that it was still sans-valet. I sat stiffly on the sofa in the lounge with a decent mystery novel, and made a valiant attempt to pass the time without looking at the front door every other paragraph. On some pages, I even succeeded.
After what seemed like an utter eternity, I heard a key in the lock and was immediately all a-flutter, the book falling forgotten to the floor. Jeeves floated in - even though he was laden with luggage - and dispensed a polite good-afternoon-sir before heading straight off to unpack and undertake whatever other myriad duties he imagined must have been neglected in his absence.
Now, I wouldn't usually interrupt the worthy chap when he was getting on with things. I was certain that he would be back to ask me whether there was anything I wanted as quickly as a well-oiled Bugatti, but I was boiling-over with the urgency of saying all that was persecuting the Wooster brain. Therefore I sprang to my toes and called, “Jeeves, could you come here a moment?” in a voice that sounded stretched and unpleasantly squeaky even to my own ears.
This is it I told myself – my one and only chance to put things on track. I don't have a great record in the pivotal moment department, truth be told – something always seems to go awry - so I was understandably feeling pretty nervous. Unfortunately, as a result of said apprehensy-thingummy I was probably giving off a rather rummy air, which might have been open to misinterpretation. When Jeeves appeared in the lounge of the flat, I was pacing up and down like billy-oh, and barely dared to look him in the eye.
“You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Jeeves said, gliding into the room.
“Yes. I have been thinking, Jeeves, and as a result of yesterday's, err... occurrences... I'm afraid to say some things are going to have to change around here.”
Jeeves suddenly went very stiff, and there was a flicker of something across his face that could almost have thought to have been fear. “Sir?”
“Well, yes,” I continued, steeling myself. “I'm afraid, Jeeves, that you shan't call me 'sir' any more.” I was quite firm then. I didn't want a scene. “And I'd really rather you went to your room and packed up all your things.”
There then followed a very long and heavy silence. I had stopped moving by then, and could hear my own blood thumping through my veins. I saw Jeeves swallow hard, and take a deep, steadying breath. Anything else he might have thought or felt was expertly veiled behind that dashed professional mask of his, but his face was cold and white, and as still as I have ever seen it.
Finally, Jeeves began to speak. His tone was light and brittle, but completely impassive. “I fully understand you decision, sir, and I apologise for my part in the regrettable circumstances for which you deem it appropriate for me to leave your service. I should not have been so presumptuous as to think that a gentleman such as yourself would have considered such a liaison well-advised following a short period of reflection.” He paused, and swallowed hard once again. “I will depart immediately, and shall never again inconvenience you with my presence.” Another uncomfortable silence, in which Jeeves seemed to be preparing himself for some practicality or other. “Would it be impertinent of me to ask, sir, if you would be willing to write a reference for me, adequate to obtain future employment?”
I was utterly speechless, and doubtless looked rather like a stunned goldfish. “Reference? Of course not! I have no intention of writing you a reference, Jeeves!”
A grim expression played across those handsome features for a fraction of a second. “Of course. Very good, sir. Excuse me, sir.” Without further prelude, he turned sharply on his heel in the direction of his lair, and I was struck with the overwhelming feeling that every chance of happiness I might have in my life was about to walk out of the room and never return.
Worse still, I had absolutely no idea why.
Without thinking, I launched myself toward the door to stop him. I was partially successful in so doing, in that I blocked Jeeves' exit. However, I also managed to miss him entirely, and impacted the Wooster noddle rather harshly upon the wooden door-frame. The room began to lurch to and fro like a Viking battleship in severe weather, and I was aware of slithering downwards to the carpet; a concussed, sprawling puddle of Bertram looking entreatingly up at Jeeves for some explanation and succour.
Jeeves seemed somewhat taken aback, but uncharacteristically he did not spring into any course of action, merely looking down on me with a slightly creased brow. It was at that moment, from my worm-perspective viewpoint, that I felt sure I had lost him forever.
There was nothing left to B. Wooster then, but disorientation and despair. I sank my swimming head into my hands and wanted the ground to swallow me whole. More to myself - or to cruel fate - than to him, I cried, “Don't leave me, Jeeves. Please don't leave me. I don't want to live without you.” I must have looked a most sorry sight indeed.
There was once again an enormous, agonizing silence. Finally, in a voice that seemed to crack under it's own pressure, Jeeves offered one tiny, sympathetic syllable. “Sir?”
“Dash it, Jeeves,” I murmured, “I said, 'please don't leave me'. I need you here. I... I... love you, Jeeves.”
That was it, I thought. All over. I had said the fatal words that might have seemed like a good idea the previous day - perhaps even the previous hour - before everything had silently and horrifically changed. My one true love was about to disappear forever, and I would never know the cause.
I watched from the corner of my eye, not breathing, merely waiting for him to biff off that final, fateful time. Seconds passed – it might have been minutes for all I know – but I gradually became aware that Jeeves hadn't actually left.
Instead, I saw that he was moving closer to me; crouching down to the level of my dishevelled heap on the floor. Mustering the final shred of my courage, I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had never seen a more beautiful sight than the expression that was painted upon Jeeves' noble features at that moment. His customary reserve was gone, and there was a perfect picture of emotion; of tenderness. It was clearly there, for all the world to read, but there was no-one present save I, Bertram.
Something also seemed a bit out of place. It took me a moment to put my finger on it, but I then realised that Jeeves seemed to leaking slightly. Leaking at the eyes. This struck me as so unusual that it took a moment for me to realise that the honourable fellow was shedding a tear.
“Forgive me, sir. I thought that you wanted me to leave,” he said, simply.
I could not speak, but shook my head far more vigorously than was sensible given it's concussed state. I moved toward Jeeves and he embraced me; I embraced him. I buried my face under his chin and merely held on for dear life as slowly, very slowly, the blood started to flow once more around my frame.
As I anchored myself safely there with the chap I love, my brain once again started to function. I began to understand what the problem had been – how I had such a marvellous talent for saying everything in the wrong way. I was suddenly all of a fluster and couldn't possibly explain myself quickly enough, so all of my thoughts tumbled out on top of each other in a big messy heap. “Leave? I'd never, ever, want you to... I mean to say, only if you wanted... but then it would be terrible, and I want for us to be... but I didn't want to rush you, so I was nervous, and it all came out wrong...”
“Shhhhh,” said Jeeves, holding me carefully in his arms. “Please be calm now, sir. Everything is all right.”
“Is it?” I just had to check.
“Yes, sir, it is. Now let me help you up, and I can tend to your injury.”
“So, you're not leaving me, Jeeves?”
“No sir, I do not wish to leave you.”
The relief I felt at that moment was almost enough to make me faint altogether; I'm sure I had only been kept conscious before by all the adreny-thingummy that was coursing through the Wooster bloodstream. Luckily, Jeeves is a very strong and powerful chap, for he managed to all but hoist me into an upright position, across the room and lay me on the sofa. He then went into the kitchen to fetch some ice from the ice-box and wrapped it in towels to make a cold-compress, which he applied to my impacted forehead with all the care and attention of Florence Nighting-birdy herself.
Quite a shiner appeared on the Wooster brow over the next few minutes, but as Jeeves reported appearance of honourable bruising, my thoughts seemed to straighten themselves out – almost as if all the confusion had to work its way to the outside and turn purple before my brain could get a clear run at things.
When I thought I was ready, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Jeeves, I think I've got it sorted out now, and I'll try not to cock it up this time.”
He smiled at me benevolently. “Very good, sir.”
“Right. Well the thing is, what I was trying to say, I mean, is that I really do love you, you know. An awful lot. I'm ever so glad about what happened yesterday, and I'd like a repeat performance on the hour, every hour, if I had my way. But that's not all. I was trying to tell you that I'd like for us to be together properly; officially; or at least as officially as two chaps can be. I don't want for us to ever be parted. Do you, err, see what I mean?”
“Yes sir, I do,” Jeeves replied, and he gazed affirmatively down from where he was seated next to me on the sofa.
“So, I guess the next thing, now I've laid the state-of-the-Wooster on the line, as it were, is to wonder whether you, perhaps, one day – no pressure about now, you understand – might be persuadable to feel the same way about this silly old bean?” I chewed my bottom lip nervously, but it was difficult to feel properly fractious when laying there leaning against Jeeves, him stroking small circles on the unharmed side on my forehead.
“The answer to your question, sir, is yes. I love you very much.” It was a simple, almost bald statement, but was the finest music imaginable to the Wooster ears. I turned around where I lay and hugged Jeeves with all my might, delighting in the solid warmth of his embrace and nestling my head just under his chin. Jeeves wrapped his arms around me and let out a tremendous breath that I wager he didn't realise he had been holding.
We stayed like that for some time, even as Jeeves began to speak again, and I could feel the vibrations of his rich, velvety voice through his chest. “In fact, sir, I have loved you ardently for a very long time. You might not have realised this, sir, but the unrequited sentiments I felt toward you recently reached such a pique, that I somewhat recklessly took matters into my own hands. It seems only fair that I explain my part in the recent extraordinary events. I hope you will not be too angry with me.”
What-ho, I didn't expect that. On the other hand, Jeeves was probably pretty safe from the wrath of Bertram, all things considered, and I sat up a little to hear whatever news he was going to tell me. “I don't think I could muster the gumption to be angry with you right now, Jeeves old thing. So I suppose you should probably just steam ahead and tell me.”
“Very good, sir.” He seemed slightly amused at that, come to think of it. “To begin, I must confess to not being entirely honest with you regarding my faith in a common commercial fortune-telling outfit to dispense accurate predictions regarding one's romantic future. It is fair to say that I do not, in fact, hold the pronouncements of these seafront pedlars in such esteem as I led you to believe to be the case.”
“Mmmm, well, fair enough if you were exaggerating at the time, Jeeves, but surely you've got to admit now that Madam Osiris was right on the button when it comes to our new-found rather jammy posish.” I gestured at the particularly small space between us and Jeeves inclined his head in assent. “I was told that the love of my life was going to be someone tall, dark-haired and very capable, whom I have known for some time, and by Jove, I rather think I have found him!” I laid my hand on Jeeves' chest, just to make the point.
“This is all certainly true, sir,” replied Jeeves, “Although the veracity of what you say holds more by design than by coincidence. I was inspired by your splendid suggestion to perturb Mr. Little regarding the potential of his acquaintance with Miss Houghton-Wright.”
“You mean Bingo and Josephine? How I said that we could wipe the smirk from his dial by bribing the fortune teller?”
“Precisely, sir.” Jeeves looked rather smug, and not at all apologetic, come to think of it; not that I particularly minded.
“So when I saw Madam Osiris, she was under orders from you to dispense a few tantalising clues about... us?”
“You have the gist of the situation, sir, but not the particulars. I did not trust another to discharge such a delicate duty and thought it would be prudent for me to retain full control over what was said. Did not the good lady look in some way familiar to you, sir?”
Jeeves watched me patiently, waiting for the gears and cogs of the Wooster brain to turn until the extrapolation was complete. Madam Osiris had been tall and imposing, with dark, clever eyes, an elegant nose, wide masculine shoulders and capable, firm hands...
“I say! I say, Jeeves,” I said, “You mean to tell me that she was... you?”
“Precisely, sir,” my delightful valet replied. “The good lady was willing to lend me her pavilion and costume for half-an-hour following a most kind introduction by Mr. Little Senior's manservant, a certain nautical gentleman who works on occasion at the fortune-teller's ticket booth, by the name of Mr. Collingsby. All that remained then was for me to suggest the idea of an interview with the eternal spirits to Mr. Little and Miss Bassett on Monday lunchtime. As you had predicted, sir, they took to the idea most enthusiastically, and also of course encouraged your good self to attend the reading. A little devious on my part, but I am sure you understand that any direct method of ascertaining whether my regard for you might be returned was out of the question, sir. I hope you will agree that the end justifies the means.” Jeeves quirked an eyebrow upwards in question as he finished his explanation.
“By Jove, Jeeves. Very clever, very clever indeed! A bit rummy to lead a chap up the garden path like that, I will say, but under the circs. I can't say I'm cross.” I beamed at him and then cast my mind over some of the other unusual events of the past few days. “But what about everything else that has happened of late – the whole theatrical business and then yours truly having a pretty close-run thing with not one, but two different engagements? Surely you couldn't have planned all that too, Jeeves? - Or is your method of wooing so complex that even the subject cannot truly appreciate the full-blown mechanism of the thing?”
Jeeves preened a little at that, and I was happy to let him do so before he answered. “As I said to you at the beginning of this week, sir, my feelings about 'The Mikado,' were that you would perform the role of Nanki-Poo admirably. Indeed, I would venture to say that I was proven correct in this assertion, and I am not alone in having enjoyed your rendition of the character very much. However, in addition to such straightforward encouragement, sir, it had also occurred to me that the likelihood of any extraordinary revelations taking place on your part would be enhanced by an unusual regimen and set of circumstances. As I am sure you can attest, sir, participation in a theatrical production certainly does alter one's routine and circadian conventions in a way that might well be conducive to original thought.”
I certainly couldn't argue with him on that point, so I nodded in agreement as Jeeves drew breath to continue. “To address your second line of enquiry, sir, the various ways in which Miss Bassett misinterpreted the fortune I read for you were most definitely not part of my plan. However, having instigated such difficulties myself, I felt duty-bound – and not a little personally interested, I might add - to set them straight. I was aware that Miss Bassett would most probably relinquish her matrimonial claims toward you if Mr. Fink-Nottle were to indeed perform with her in the operetta, and I therefore suggested to him the scheme whereby he could perform Ko-Ko's spoken lines on stage, and I would sing for him from the wings. The idea seemed to work satisfactorily, and I am pleased to confirm that Miss Bassett and Mr. Fink-Nottle remained happily engaged at the point at which I left Spindleythorpe this afternoon.”
“Jolly good, Jeeves,” I said, rather in awe, “And I'm once more out of the Bassett clutches.” I shuddered slightly at the thought of having to spend an eternity with someone who thought that grass was made green to match the colour of bunnies' eyes, but then realised that the story was only half-told. “And what about Honoria, then?”
“I was somewhat perturbed to discover that Miss Glossop had been supposed to fit Madam Osiris' rather carefully – and dare I say, subtly – laid description of your intended, sir, and therefore it was necessary to dissuade the good lady from following through with her intentions. The rather disturbing printed material that came into Mr. Little's possession,” - Jeeves paused as a delicate cringe passed across his dignified dial - “provided an ideal way to convince Miss Glossop that you were not in fact the gentleman she would find most suitable for a lifelong relationship, upon her discovery of it in your bedside cabinet when searching for the newspaper review. Of course it was necessary for me to have already removed Miss Glossop’s own copy of the Spindleythorpe Sentinel from the theatre such that she would seek to peruse yours.”
“Well, I'll be blowed, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, realising that far from being upset about the young Master apparently being in possession of those dratted postcards, Jeeves had planted them there himself! Dashed clever. A little damaging to the Wooster reputation among the fillies I'd admit, but all the chaps knew about the things anyway, so there was no real harm done. However, as I mused on this turn of events, another question pressed itself into my whirling brain. “This is all very well – and I don't for a moment castigate you for saving me in the way that you did, Jeeves – but how on earth did you know about those postcards of Bingo's anyway? I thought they'd been kept all hush-hush.”
“From your own lips, sir,” my valet replied. “You arrived back at the hotel on Tuesday evening in a most talkative state - until you fell suddenly asleep of course. You informed me of the existence and nature of the postcards with most affecting particulars, if I may say so, sir...”
“Ooh, I'm sorry about that, Jeeves. Far more than right-thinking chaps like us would want to be bombarded with at that time of night,”
“Quite so, sir.” We both shuddered at that point. “As I was saying, sir, I learned all about the postcards on Tuesday evening, and from there it was a simple matter to procure them with the aid of Mr. Collingsby, and secrete them in your room for discovery by Miss Glossop. As an additional motive - in light of the somewhat unusual occurrence between yourself and myself yesterday afternoon, sir - I took the liberty to surmise that it might be prudent to underline your apparent regard for the female of the species in public at this stage. ”
“My goodness, Jeeves,” I said, “Quite a scheme. And always thinking ahead like that - Jolly clever! It caused me some distress, I'm not afraid to admit, but as the saying goes, you need to break eggs to make, err... fried eggs, now, don't you?”
“Exactly so, sir, although an omelette usually features in that particular epithet.”
“Yes, one of those too,” I agreed rather sagely. I reflected for a moment upon the brilliance of Jeeves' brain, but then another unpleasant thought about the whole postcard affair resurfaced in my mind. “Oh no, I've just remembered something else rummy about Honoria and those ghastly postcards, Jeeves.”
“Sir?”
“I'm sure that the dratted beazel will by now have held true to her promise to tell my Aunt Agatha all about the pictorial depravity of her nephew. I'm due to be hunted down by the Scourge of the Woosters at any moment!” Panic was clearly making itself known across my brow, and I glanced shiftily at the door of the flat as if the dreaded relation might appear there at any second.
“One might have thought so, sir, but luckily for us, that will not be the case.” Jeeves took a relaxed breath in his story then, I imagine to enjoy keeping me on tenterhooks. “It seems that when she confiscated Mr. Little's photographic material, Miss Glossop was sufficiently curious to peruse the pictures herself before disposing of them. Last evening, these images had a peculiar and profound effect upon Miss Glossop, who realised that far from being repulsed – as you, most thankfully found yourself to be, sir – she was rather attracted, in a distinctly Sapphic sense. Miss Glossop called at the hotel room this morning to inform me that she will not be taking any action against you with regard to Mrs. Gregson, on the condition that she may borrow your bow-tie, tailcoat and top hat. I believe that Miss Glossop and Miss Houghton-Wright are due to enjoy a sojourn in Lesbos this very evening, with the aid of said articles.”
I boggled at that, all right. “By golly, Jeeves. You mean to say that Honoria is... well, she's like us, now, but with girls, not chaps?”
“That would certainly seem to be the case, sir.”
“By Jove! Well, you know what, Jeeves?” I said, my mood much lightened by this news, “I think I like old Honoria a whole lot more already. Perhaps we should invite her and Josephine around for dinner at the flat, sometime?”
“That certainly might prove to be a diverting evening, sir,” my valet replied, his tone an encyclopaedia of suggestion.
I suddenly felt lightened of every burden in the world – rather the exact opposite of that tall Greek chappie who was named after a book of maps – and impulsively dived towards Jeeves for another hug, my headache quite forgotten. “You really are a marvel; you know that, Jeeves?”
“Why thank you sir,” he said, “I am pleased that the outcome of recent events meets with your approval.”
Having that all cleared up reminded me that there were one or two things that I still wanted to give a good airing, following on from the simply lovely things that had happened the day before in the dressing room of the theatre. I took my legs down from the furniture, and turned around so that I was facing Jeeves properly as he sat there on the far end of the sofa, still perfectly upright despite repeated hugging.
Trying to ignore the nervousness as it resurfaced, I took a deep breath and launched in. “As we were talking about what we might do around the flat, that rather brings me back to what I was trying to say earlier – when I got ahead of myself and nearly made such a dreadful hash of things. What I had in mind Jeeves - given that I'm so utterly head-over-heels in love with you – was that I'd rather like to take you on as a spouse properly – you know, on equal terms. So what I was trying to say was, you don't have to fetch and carry for me all the time any more, and we can sort of biff around together... if you'd like to, of course, I mean.”
I steeled myself at that point - as I was half-way through - and resolved to plough on. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. “I was also thinking that it might be really spiffing if you'd like to move into the master bedroom with me – it can get pretty lonely in there, after all – and you can bring along all your bits and bobs and books and suchlike and arrange them however you like in the flat instead of being cooped up in just the one room.”
It wasn’t a conventional kind of proposal, I suppose – severely lacking in the diamond ring and bended knee department, for example. Jeeves had been deathly quiet and still again during my little speech, highlighting the way my heart was thumping as if it saw fit to break free of my ribcage. I looked up into Jeeves' dark eyes, which had been regarding me quizzically throughout, and wondered exactly what he was thinking. “Does that sound, err, at all... appealing, old thing?” I asked.
A lengthy pause preceded his reply, but then he said, “I am very touched by your suggestion, sir, and as regards the spirit of the arrangement, I would like to wholeheartedly accept.” Jeeves swallowed hard then and looked down at his hands, which I noticed were uncharacteristically wringing together in his lap. “Excuse me, sir, I feel a little overcome,” he uttered.
I worried then that I might have said something wrong again without knowing it. There was another pause, in which Jeeves took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself, then he continued. “In all but my very youngest years, I had not imagined that I would ever find love, sir. I do not have an... outgoing... personality naturally, and that fact coupled with my natural persuasion made me decide that a few closeted trysts and a grim marriage of convenience might be the very best I could hope for. The idea that I might now have found love is almost inconceivable to me, no matter how many times I have lain awake at night dreaming of this very thing between us. I would have gladly accepted an understanding with you on any terms whatsoever, but to learn that you are willing to be so kind and generous with me; to overlook the differences between us even though our love can never be officially recognised? That is beyond my wildest dreams.”
Jeeves seemed to have finished, but then I noticed that he was probably considering something of a practical nature - I recognised the expression on his face then as the one he uses for writing a laundry list or measuring out the ingredients of a cocktail. “There are one or two modifications that I would like to suggest regarding your most kind offer, sir, if I may?”
“Suggest away, Jeeves,” I said.
“It would be delightful to unpack my books more thoroughly, if that would be acceptable, sir, but I think it would be unwise to leave the valet's quarters completely bereft. We would not benefit from arousing suspicion regarding our new arrangement; you know as well as I that relations between the two of us must remain a complete secret. To loose you to the hands of the law would be... unthinkable.”
“Quite right, Jeeves. A good point, well made.” I did not want to dwell upon the unpleasantness that could befall us if we were to be discovered by an antagonistic party, but we both knew it, all the same.
“And in a similar vein, sir, with your permission, I would like to carry on keeping this flat and our general existence in good order. For us both – if I may be so bold. The alternative would either be for things to become most disorganised and messy, which we would not find at all conducive,” Jeeves suppressed a delicate shudder at that point, “Or to employ another valet, who would certainly impede our privacy.”
I considered that for a second; he did rather have another good point. “Very well then, Jeeves,” I said, “The place is yours to do with as you wish. As am I, you understand.”
He gave me that delightful half-smile. “Thank you, sir. In more ways than one.”
A lovely warm feeling spread over me at that point, which I'm pretty sure had nothing to do with the concussion. My recovering brain cells then remembered something. “Ooh! And while I think of it, I bought you a little something this morning to make the point. There's a package on the dining table for you, if you'd care to investigate.”
“Sir?” said Jeeves in surprise, but he did just as I suggested, retrieving the small parcel and returning to sit next to me on the sofa.
“Go on, open it!” I urged. Jeeves eyed the little bundle cautiously, but proceeded to untie the string in that meticulous way that he does everything – just when most other people would have ripped right through the paper.
When he reached the centre, an expression of polite bemusement crossed those noble features. Jeeves picked up the gift between finger and thumb and turned it in the air to get a proper view from all angles. “A rubber duck, sir?”
I grinned then, being rather taken with the idea even though I do say so myself. “Yes, I had him specially customised for you in the shop. See here - his little beak points upwards and he's wearing a dinky little collar and tie. I thought he could sit in the bathroom and keep my ducky company when we're not at home. Kind of hand-in-hand…or wing-in-wing, as it were.”
Jeeves nodded sagely, taking all of this in. Finally he seemed to decide that he was rather taken by the idea too, and honoured me with a rare unguarded smile. “Thank you, sir. He is... delightful.”
“Good, I'm glad you like him - it would be awful to have an orphan Jeeves-ducky on my hands! I'm pleased that everything else is settled too,” I added, gesturing vaguely around to encompass our living space.
It then occurred to me that there was something else that I wanted to try out on Jeeves while we were at the chin-wagging stage of things. I hoped I wouldn't be pushing my luck by introducing all of my ideas in one go, but I'm not the sort of chap who is good at storing things up and waiting ages for the perfect moment – I'd rather give it all a good airing as it comes. “There's just one more item on the old mental check-list, if you wouldn't mind hearing about it, Jeeves?” He nodded agreement. “In the spirit of all the aforementioned togetherness and cosiness and all that, I think it would be jolly nice if you didn't call me 'sir' any more. I should be 'Bertie' to you now, or whatever other moniker you'd like to affix to a chap, I suppose.”
Jeeves looked considering once more. Was I asking too much of him to drop the old feudal spirit, even in these circs? There was a bit of a weighty pause again, but he answered, “I would be delighted to, si-.” I caught the edge of a sardonic smile then, followed by a deep breath as he tried again. “I would be delighted to, Bertram.”
I beamed so widely at that moment, my dial might have split across its equator. Jeeves seemed pretty cheerful too, and carried on to say, “If I could crave a boon, however, my dear Bertram? I'd really rather you carried on calling me 'Jeeves'. The name has many pleasant associations when said in your voice, and I honestly couldn't get used to being called 'Reggie,' as I'm sure you would want to contract my birth-name if you were to employ it.”
I chuckled at that, but conceded, “Very well then, 'Jeeves' it is! Although now you've given me the idea, I may well call you 'Reggie' at times you know – it does sound rather 'cute,' as the Americans would put it.”
I thought I might have done something wrong again at that point, because Jeeves gave me a very stern look and raised both eyebrows in my direction. However, he then dived for the recumbent Wooster midriff and began tickling mercilessly.
I gulped in surprise at first, but quickly began squirming and thrashing around pretty uncontrollably. It is a classified secret that B. Wooster is in fact, extremely ticklish – I didn't know how Jeeves had got hold of this fact, but it was decidedly un-cricket if you ask me, to make use of it so effectively...
“Aaiiieee! Oooh, Aaaahhh!” I cried, gasping for breath and wondering how Jeeves had suddenly grown five extra hands. Finally, he had mercy and slowed the onslaught of fingers, although he did not remove his hands altogether, letting then rest gently on my now-exposed torso in a more steady manner.
“Okay, I understand, Jeeves,” I gasped, “I shall only call you 'Reggie' at extreme peril to self.” A curt and satisfied nod on his part answered that statement - belying the fact that his fingers casually stroked the part of my stomach on which they lay, sending pleasant tingles from that point outwards all over my body.
“I am pleased to hear that, Bertram,” Jeeves said somewhat smugly. His face then formed into an expression of sartorial concern, “I am however somewhat distressed to see what has become of your clothes. It would not do for them to remain in such a rumpled state, so perhaps we should adjourn to your chamber such that they can be properly removed and folded.”
Industrious as this may have seemed on the part of my valet, I had a rather strong suspicion that garment care was only second on the list of Jeeves' priorities. A glance at his' expression then – which I can only describe in honesty as salacious - certainly confirmed those thoughts. “Sally forth, then Jeeves!” I agreed, “And let's make sure we're not interrupted this time, eh?”
“I have already seen to it,” he answered, and we both rose and hastily crossed into the master bedroom, closing the door behind us.
A few seconds passed then, as Jeeves and I stood an arm's length apart, merely regarding each other – him pristine as always, me thoroughly tousled – the attraction and longing barely veiled in our eyes. By some silent consensus, we moved forward at the same time and met in a fiercely burning kiss; lips and tongues and wandering hands affirming all the things that we had just said - he in his eloquence and me in my waffle, but none the less sincere because of it.
I felt Jeeves' tall, strong frame pressing against my own; his broad chest and enveloping embrace, and delighted in the scent of him – of sparkling soap and shampoo, and beneath that something dark and musky. I was then seized by an overwhelming desire to see Jeeves as Mother Nature intended, so broke away in short order and begun to tear at his perfectly starched clothes – pretty ineffectually, I must admit, as there were so many dratted clasps and buttons, but my intent couldn't have been clearer.
Jeeves must have been amused at my sudden urgency, as he let out a low chuckle – a lovely rich and earthy sound that I decided I wanted to hear a lot more of in the future. He then took pity on my fumbling fingers and assisted the process, divesting us both of our upper garments in no time at all.
I was just about to admire the view of my half-naked valet, but Jeeves as always was quicker off the mark, scooting around to stand right behind me. I was just about to protest when any words that might have formed died in my throat, giving way to an incredible moan as Jeeves applied his talented lips to the side of my neck, kissing and sucking all the way from earlobe to collarbone.
“Ahhhh... Jeeves!” I gasped raggedly, both leaning my head to afford him better access, and wondering how it was possible for such a thing to feel quite so amazingly spiffing. My question was multiplied, not answered however, as Jeeves then reached around to the Wooster front and ghosted those marvellous, capable hands up and down my chest and belly.
His touch was tantalisingly light, making me break out in goosepimples all over that had absolutely nothing to do with being cold. I shuddered as he caressed me, that talented mouth conspiring with those skilled hands to a wring a whole symphony of gasps and moans from yours truly. Jeeves possibly noticed that the aforementioned g.s and m.s reached their utmost when he contacted my nipples – I was thoroughly surprised by the way that ripples of pleasure were sent all though my body when he touched me there, and dearly wanted him to do more of the same.
Without having to ask (or bid via a fairy godmother) my wish was granted. Jeeves turned me around in his arms, and then applied those truly amazing lips of his to the areas in question, kissing one while he tweaked the other between finger and thumb. This last move made the business of standing up pretty difficult, to tell the truth. I was feeling decidedly weak at the knees, and held on tightly to Jeeves' shoulders in a desperate bid for verticality as waves of pleasure coursed through the Wooster frame.
My handsome valet must have guessed what was going on in the lower-limb department, as without ceasing his delightful ministrations he guided us both toward the bed, then laid me out upon the soft eiderdown, somehow removing my trousers and undergarments in the process. Had my mind been fully present, I might have felt rather shy then - so clearly having erected the flag-pole for the banner of my desires, as it were, when Jeeves was still half dressed and was regarding me spread upon the soft surface.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, and it took me a while to register that as there was nothing else of note in the vicinity, he must have been referring to me. Gosh, that was a turn up for the books! I was more accustomed to the adjectives 'lanky' and 'scrawny,' truth be told, or perhaps 'gamine,' in the case that my tailor was trying to sell me a particularly close-fitting new fashion... But 'beautiful'? I was quite taken aback that Jeeves could really consider me thus, but the expression upon his elegant brow showed no hint of irony.
From my position upon the bed, I was sad to have lost Jeeves' touch, but I also realised that I was about to have the visual treat that I had been waiting for.
Jeeves stood tall above me, his broad chest and strong shoulders giving an outline that was both strong and elegant, all clad in the softest of pale skin. His body looked delectably firm but not too hard, and I daresay that I found the sight even more appetising than one of Anatole's finest creations. A little line of fine hairs lead down his stomach into his trousers, almost like a treasure trail that I desperately wanted to follow, and I voiced my anxiousness for him to undress at once. Jeeves complied with my suggestion, carefully laying his trousers across a chair to reveal a very fine pair of long legs, and finally – as he discarded his underwear – the gold at the end of the rainbow, as it were, which numbered very many carats indeed!
I tried to sum all of this up in a way that would show my approval of the feast that was Jeeves unclad, but words were proving difficult. “Jeeves, you're... I mean to say you look... Well, just perfect really. Simply perfect.” Not eloquent perhaps, but he seemed to catch my drift and cast his eyes down, almost in shyness at the compliment.
Such mutual appreciation having been voiced, and perhaps any latent insecurities on either of our parts having been properly stymied, Jeeves came to join me on the bed and swooped for another kiss which I returned with gusto. Slowly, we became closer and closer together, a caress here, a grasp there, the kissing becoming ever more fevered as time went on. Jeeves then pulled me right to him; our bodies pressed together all over as I felt the first delicious thrill of skin-on-skin radiating through me from top to toe. “Oh, Jeeves,” I moaned, twining my legs with his to make the contact even more complete, just basking in the intensity of it all. As I shifted then, some very intimate parts of our bodies brushed together and without warning it was all too much. I found myself suddenly shuddering, crying out and leaving us both rather sticky.
“Oh dash it, Jeeves! I'm sorry,” I gasped, feeling pretty abashed. Hopefully he'd understand that I was, after all, a novice at these things.
“Not at all, my dear Bertram,” he replied, “I feel immensely complimented.”
“Ah, well, it was definitely meant that way, if you catch my drift...” I said.
“I do, indeed,” he replied, then pressed a little kiss on my forehead while holding me close.
The look on Jeeves' face then was so warm, so loving, my embarrassment quickly faded, and my attention was drawn once more to the not-inconsiderable part of Jeeves that was making itself felt against my leg. A moment later, the refractory period for these things seemed almost ludicrously short, and certain ideas of interest popped once more into my mind. “Though a round-two wouldn't be out of the question for the young Wooster, I think...” I ventured. Jeeves undulated his hips against me in answer to that, and that combined with a distinctly predatory glint in Jeeves' eye made my blood begin to stir once more, “Yes, um... quite possibly in the near future, in fact...”
“I am delighted so to hear,” rumbled Jeeves' voice, perilously close to my ear, and with that we set upon one another afresh, the blistering contact of skin-on-skin renewed until after a few minutes I wasn't quite sure which limb belonged to whom, or whether it was actually possible for Jeeves to kiss me in three different places at once.
"Jeeves... oh my God, Jeeves..." I cried, while he was doing seriously devilish things to my neck. I was so lost to the moment, but I also knew that I was becoming perilously close for the second time and didn't want for it to be over so soon, all over again. With every remaining speck of willpower I had, I called for him to stop.
An expression of concern played across my valet's delectable features. "Is something the matter?" he asked earnestly while gently stroking my chest.
"No, Jeeves. Goodness no! It's just that... this is so utterly wonderful, and... well, you know that I don't really know much about this sort of thing. But... I heard – it was from the boys at college, actually - that there's a way for two chaps to be, well you know, together, in the physical sense I mean, and I thought it might be special if... Only if you want to of course..."
Jeeves stared at me for a moment, with an open, wondrous expression which had it been on my dial not his, would have looked distinctly piscine. "There is nothing that I would like more, my dearest,” he said, and then kissed me gently on the lips to seal his statement.
"Oh, splendid!" I said, wriggling a little because Jeeves seemed to have stopped caressing me in his moment of reflection, and well, I am a bit greedy like that. He quickly got the hint and dived in for another sensational kiss, covering me again with his firm body and once again setting my skin on fire with his touch. After a few moments, Jeeves moved away. I thought he was just readjusting his position, but I was somewhat shocked to realise that he was actually getting up and leaving me.
"Jeeves?" I squeaked, "Don't go..."
He arched an eyebrow in my direction and said, "I shall return presently. I am going to fetch something from my quarters that will assist with your excellent idea." He then strode out of the bedroom, and I couldn't help but admire those amazingly pert buttocks as he left. I made a mental note to admire them more often, now I had full access.
As promised, Jeeves returned very swiftly, holding a very small jar that he placed on the bedside cabinet. I wasn't quite sure what that was in aid of, but in this, as with everything else, I trusted Jeeves' judgement.
Jeeves then pounced on the recumbent Wooster form with renewed enthusiasm, and I hoped he would pay special attentions to my nether regions, which quite frankly were fully screaming to be touched again. However, he settled himself between my parted legs and embarked upon the most painfully exquisite and exquisitely painful trail of kisses that has ever been suffered by man or beast (I'd rather not think about the 'beast' part of that, but I'm sure it holds all the same). Those soft, artful lips began at the little hollow around my hip bone and kissed their way downwards, around to the inside of my thigh. He nuzzled gently, but just at the moment I could have practically begged him to move a little to the left, he stopped, and began again with the same maddening trail on the other side.
“Oh, Jeeves, please. I need..” I was whimpering now, but there was little I could do. I was utterly in his thrall.
“All in good time,” Jeeves whispered masterfully. He then descended once more, and I fully cried out at the sensation of his clever tongue licking me in that private place where a gentleman stores his marbles as it were, and then more, lower...
- “Oh my goodness!” I had never felt anything so divine, but my sudden cry caused Jeeves to still.
“Is this unpleasant for you, Bertram?”
“Unpleasant? Ha ha ha!” I was practically delirious by then. “No, no, please don't stop, please....” I lifted my legs to offer better access – they say that actions speak louder than words, and I most definitely did not want to risk being misunderstood at that point.
I almost felt Jeeves' satisfied smile against my most delicate parts of skin and then he resumed in earnest, darting something warm and wet around and seemingly inside me. I was writhing on the bedsheets, gasping for air, but I was also vaguely aware that Jeeves had picked up the little jar from the bedside table and was touching its contents. He sat up again at that point and looked at me in a way that required my attention to be engaged through the dizzying cloud of lust.
“This may feel somewhat... unusual, as it will be your first time. Please tell me at any point if you would like me to stop. I want you to feel in control, Bertram.” Jeeves' voice was so tender, so loving, I could have practically wept at the sound. However, my heart was beating at five times its usual rate both from profound love and profound arousal, and it was the second clause that was particularly making itself felt just then.
“I understand, Jeeves. Thank you so very much, but please carry on,” I whimpered.
I understood Jeeves' quirk of the lips as an assent, and then watched as he placed one hand on my hip - steadying, comforting - and slipped the other between my legs. The tip of one elegant finger pressed inside and he stilled as I gasped, while gently stroking my stomach with the other hand. When I had relaxed a little he began moving, very slowly, but enough to establish a gentle rhythm.
I confess it felt somewhat peculiar at first – not really painful, as Jeeves was being so frightfully careful with me – but definitely unusual. I was pretty heavily focussed on what was going on in Southern regions, as I'm sure you can imagine, but at no point did the wonder and loveliness of the whole situation escape me. How could it, when Jeeves was gazing down upon me with love painted so clearly in his usually-guarded eyes? He watched me carefully for any sign of discomfort, as a museum curator might watch a Ming vase that was being moved to a new display case.
When Jeeves seemed to feel that I was ready, he withdrew and re-entered with an extra digit. It was a surprise at first, but my body accommodated quickly, and Jeeves' fingers within me soon felt welcome, satisfying... Almost as if there should be more.
Without realising, I had begun to make low moaning sounds by this point, and was starting to push my hips backwards towards my lover, seeking a deeper connection. Jeeves smiled in satisfaction, and then he then did something absolutely extraordinary with those clever fingertips.
“Ahhhhhhh!!! Jeeves! What... what was that... inside? What did you do?” Tingles were surging through my entire body, and I was silently willing for him to do whatever he just did again, and preferably to not stop doing it until at least next Tuesday.
“There is a place within the male body that can provide particular pleasure when stimulated,” said Jeeves, rather smugly, “I might be able to caress it more effectively using something other than my fingers, if you would be willing?”
“Oh, yes please, Jeeves!” Frankly, I would have agreed to pretty much anything at that point, if it would give a repeat performance of that sensation.
Jeeves' fingers slid out of me and I felt strangely bereft. However, I was quickly distracted by the sight of Jeeves' glorious length as he smoothed the contents of the small jar upon it, and my breath caught in my throat at the sheer wonder of what was going to happen next.
Jeeves shuddered slightly as he finished his preparations, then lodged a pillow beneath my hips to improve the angle of things. He moved forward to cover my body with his and I could feel him nudging against me.
Well, tantalization like that very nearly sent yours truly into the yawning abyss all by itself, and Bertram Junior was certainly feeling the pressure, shall we say. Consideration was one thing, but I was beginning to think that my beloved chap was something of a dashed tease. “Now, Jeeves, I need you now!” I cried, somewhat impressed at my ability to form words at all, under the circs.
“I would be delighted to oblige,” he said, somewhat raggedly, and pushed forwards into me in one long, delightfully smooth movement until we were joined together so deeply it finally felt like a proper representation of the love I felt for him.
Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Jeeves bent to kiss me then, and whispered, “I do love you, Bertram. I love you with all my heart.”
I smiled and nodded and held him so close, reaching up from where I lay to hold his back, to stroke his beautiful face. Jeeves savoured the moment, and then arched backwards again.
“Shall we?” he asked mischievously. I didn't need to answer.
Jeeves moved out from my body and then back in, establishing a delicious rhythm. I could hear his breathing becoming faster, more urgent, and I drank in the sight of him above me, a flush climbing his alabaster cheeks, and his eyes fluttering shut in passion and concentration. I savoured every moment, feeling a heat and a need grow inside me, and I lifted my legs ever higher to afford him better access. Then he urged me to move slightly on the pillow, until-
- Sparks flew behind my eyes and I groaned so loudly I might have screamed. Jeeves was touching that place again, only now in such a wonderfully intimate way, and with mind-boggling, breath-stealing, hallucination-inducing frequency. Every. Single. Delicious. Stroke.
B. Wooster was pretty much lost to the universe at that point, soaring high above the world upon a giant eagle, or perhaps a winged dragon. I imagine that I must have looked properly wanton then, and truth be told, I'm pretty proud of the fact.
Just when I would have thought it was impossible to feel anything more intense, Jeeves wrapped his hand around me between our bodies. A few deft strokes and I was teetering, just there. Jeeves thrust into me a few more times, the perspiration gathering across his noble brow, and biting his lower lip in the throes of ardour. Then, with one more twist, one last thrust, we both reached that glistening edge and fell together, down, down, into the bottomless pool of release.
I gasped for breath as I felt his warmth flood inside me and the last few shivers of my climax coarse through my body. Nothing in all my life had ever felt so perfect.
When it was over, Jeeves shakily withdrew and moved to lay beside me. We gazed at one another in awed silence for a minute or two, chests heaving and eyes blinking at the beauty of it all.
Finally, for want of something better, I said, “I say, Jeeves. I say!”
“My sentiments entirely,” my lover replied.
“That was.. you were... you made me feel...”
“Quite so,” he agreed, a smile playing at his lips.
“I don't believe I had lived through all my life thus far without knowing quite how marvellous...”
“Assure me, my love, it was decidedly difficult to resist from introducing you to this activity much, much earlier,” said Jeeves, his tone a little bittersweet.
I moved to kiss him once more then, tenderly, meaning forever.
“Well, rest assured we can make up for lost time now, my love, for we have all the time in the world.”
~Fin~
Title: Jeeves and the Artistic Verisimilitude
Chapter: Seven - 'Consolidation and Consummation'
Author: PurpleFluffyCat
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Warnings: Slash - explicit, first-time.
Characters: Bertie/Jeeves, with several of Bertie's crowd making an appearance along the way, and a couple of new faces.
Words: This chapter: ~10,000 , about 52,000 overall.
Genre: Chiefly Romance, with some Drama, Angst, Humour and Fluff.
Summary:
"Surely, one would think, nothing could be more relaxing for a young Wooster than a week spent by the seaside? - Golf and sand-castle building without an aunt in sight!
One may think so, indeed, but the combination of several 'friends' with their own agendas, a theatrical production and the mysterious designs of my very own valet conspired to make that week spent in Spindleythorpe-on-sea one of the most memorable and life-changing of the lot..."
There will be fortune tellers! And Gilbert and Sullivan! And (the chaps are rather glad to hear), plenty of romantic fluffy goodness!
Chapter One - 'Escape and Entrapment'
Chapter Two - 'Drama and Divination'
Chapter Three - 'Predictions and Predilections'
Chapter Four - 'Sentimentality and Subtext'
Chapter Five - 'Review and Rumpus'
Chapter Six - 'Passion and Performance' (Part 1) (Part 2)
Chapter Seven - Consolidation and Consummation
I got back to the metrop just after dawn. It was dashed odd to see those watery strains of light peeking over the horizon when I was stone-cold sober, actually. Such things should only be viewed by a chap when he is thoroughly begoggled by a few too many, and preferably in possession of a policeman's helmet. It just isn't natural, otherwise.
I put myself to bed, but only slept a little. I was too full of nervous energy – like a young boy waiting for Father Christmas – so didn't manage to catch more than about fifteen of the prescribed forty winks before getting up again and pacing around in a bit of a state. When I rose from my tossing and turning I noticed that a telegram had appeared on the doormat. To my delight it was from Jeeves, informing me that he expected to be back at the ranch by late afternoon. I wondered what time that was, exactly. Four? Five maybe? It had to be before six, because six was cocktail hour, and Jeeves would never muddle the proper times for extracts of leaf and berry.
At any rate, I had several hours to rattle around, utterly impatient about Jeeves' return. I felt a bizarre mixture of excitement and trepidation, and it was dashed difficult to make sense of it all. I was both full of fanciful thoughts about what said reunion might involve and also generally fretful about what he would make of the whole postcards affair - and indeed, the new circs. between the two of us. Said c's had cropped up so suddenly, and then been trampled on by other things with equivalent speed, I didn't quite know what to make of them myself.
On the one hand, I knew that I was still utterly in love with Jeeves, and kissing him the day before had to be the most topping thing I had ever, ever experienced. On the other hand, I was pretty uncertain about what he thought - post-postcards, as it were. The chap was pretty inscrutable at the best of times, and in a jamb like this I had not the smallest corner of a map to guide me while being all at sea upon the question of what should happen next. I could have been setting a course for the Bermuda Triangle, for all I knew. It was dashed awkward that I didn't know much about these affaires de coeur.
With all this going on in the Wooster brain at once, I thought I might go off my trolley if I just rattled about the flat, so I ankled into town for a while. I did some window-shopping but was careful not to buy anything to wear – the last thing I needed just then was to upset Jeeves with an ill-advised hat. After a while I nipped into the club for a bite to eat and a swift lunchtime snifter. The place was very quiet as most of the Drones were still in Spindleythorpe, dash it, but that did at least give me some time to ponder my posish and try to put the bean to work on a possible next step.
What did I want to happen next, exactly? Where should the whole story go after that kissing-in-the-dressing-room anemone? No, I don't mean anemone, do I... that's a kind of frilly sea-creature, whereas I mean one of those out-of-the-ordinary happenstances.
Well, I gazed into my brandy glass, and the answer suddenly seemed to come to me. The preferred Wooster path was clearly marked. It presented quite a change from the past set-up, admittedly, and I'd probably have to break the thing to Jeeves with a bit of force behind it, if there were to be any chance he would agree. Nevertheless, I figured that one anemone deserves a whole carpet of sea-urchins, as it were, and with that metaphor in mind I went back into town to call in briefly at the valet agency's office, and make a small purchase that I hoped would act to clarify my point later that day.
Anomaly! That's the one. Not my purchase, you understand; that word I was looking for a moment ago about happen-thingies. I'm glad to have that cleared up, but I'm not entirely sure where the sea-urchins fit in now. Oh, well...
Anyway, I took myself back to the flat and was chagrined to realise that it was still sans-valet. I sat stiffly on the sofa in the lounge with a decent mystery novel, and made a valiant attempt to pass the time without looking at the front door every other paragraph. On some pages, I even succeeded.
After what seemed like an utter eternity, I heard a key in the lock and was immediately all a-flutter, the book falling forgotten to the floor. Jeeves floated in - even though he was laden with luggage - and dispensed a polite good-afternoon-sir before heading straight off to unpack and undertake whatever other myriad duties he imagined must have been neglected in his absence.
Now, I wouldn't usually interrupt the worthy chap when he was getting on with things. I was certain that he would be back to ask me whether there was anything I wanted as quickly as a well-oiled Bugatti, but I was boiling-over with the urgency of saying all that was persecuting the Wooster brain. Therefore I sprang to my toes and called, “Jeeves, could you come here a moment?” in a voice that sounded stretched and unpleasantly squeaky even to my own ears.
This is it I told myself – my one and only chance to put things on track. I don't have a great record in the pivotal moment department, truth be told – something always seems to go awry - so I was understandably feeling pretty nervous. Unfortunately, as a result of said apprehensy-thingummy I was probably giving off a rather rummy air, which might have been open to misinterpretation. When Jeeves appeared in the lounge of the flat, I was pacing up and down like billy-oh, and barely dared to look him in the eye.
“You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Jeeves said, gliding into the room.
“Yes. I have been thinking, Jeeves, and as a result of yesterday's, err... occurrences... I'm afraid to say some things are going to have to change around here.”
Jeeves suddenly went very stiff, and there was a flicker of something across his face that could almost have thought to have been fear. “Sir?”
“Well, yes,” I continued, steeling myself. “I'm afraid, Jeeves, that you shan't call me 'sir' any more.” I was quite firm then. I didn't want a scene. “And I'd really rather you went to your room and packed up all your things.”
There then followed a very long and heavy silence. I had stopped moving by then, and could hear my own blood thumping through my veins. I saw Jeeves swallow hard, and take a deep, steadying breath. Anything else he might have thought or felt was expertly veiled behind that dashed professional mask of his, but his face was cold and white, and as still as I have ever seen it.
Finally, Jeeves began to speak. His tone was light and brittle, but completely impassive. “I fully understand you decision, sir, and I apologise for my part in the regrettable circumstances for which you deem it appropriate for me to leave your service. I should not have been so presumptuous as to think that a gentleman such as yourself would have considered such a liaison well-advised following a short period of reflection.” He paused, and swallowed hard once again. “I will depart immediately, and shall never again inconvenience you with my presence.” Another uncomfortable silence, in which Jeeves seemed to be preparing himself for some practicality or other. “Would it be impertinent of me to ask, sir, if you would be willing to write a reference for me, adequate to obtain future employment?”
I was utterly speechless, and doubtless looked rather like a stunned goldfish. “Reference? Of course not! I have no intention of writing you a reference, Jeeves!”
A grim expression played across those handsome features for a fraction of a second. “Of course. Very good, sir. Excuse me, sir.” Without further prelude, he turned sharply on his heel in the direction of his lair, and I was struck with the overwhelming feeling that every chance of happiness I might have in my life was about to walk out of the room and never return.
Worse still, I had absolutely no idea why.
Without thinking, I launched myself toward the door to stop him. I was partially successful in so doing, in that I blocked Jeeves' exit. However, I also managed to miss him entirely, and impacted the Wooster noddle rather harshly upon the wooden door-frame. The room began to lurch to and fro like a Viking battleship in severe weather, and I was aware of slithering downwards to the carpet; a concussed, sprawling puddle of Bertram looking entreatingly up at Jeeves for some explanation and succour.
Jeeves seemed somewhat taken aback, but uncharacteristically he did not spring into any course of action, merely looking down on me with a slightly creased brow. It was at that moment, from my worm-perspective viewpoint, that I felt sure I had lost him forever.
There was nothing left to B. Wooster then, but disorientation and despair. I sank my swimming head into my hands and wanted the ground to swallow me whole. More to myself - or to cruel fate - than to him, I cried, “Don't leave me, Jeeves. Please don't leave me. I don't want to live without you.” I must have looked a most sorry sight indeed.
There was once again an enormous, agonizing silence. Finally, in a voice that seemed to crack under it's own pressure, Jeeves offered one tiny, sympathetic syllable. “Sir?”
“Dash it, Jeeves,” I murmured, “I said, 'please don't leave me'. I need you here. I... I... love you, Jeeves.”
That was it, I thought. All over. I had said the fatal words that might have seemed like a good idea the previous day - perhaps even the previous hour - before everything had silently and horrifically changed. My one true love was about to disappear forever, and I would never know the cause.
I watched from the corner of my eye, not breathing, merely waiting for him to biff off that final, fateful time. Seconds passed – it might have been minutes for all I know – but I gradually became aware that Jeeves hadn't actually left.
Instead, I saw that he was moving closer to me; crouching down to the level of my dishevelled heap on the floor. Mustering the final shred of my courage, I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had never seen a more beautiful sight than the expression that was painted upon Jeeves' noble features at that moment. His customary reserve was gone, and there was a perfect picture of emotion; of tenderness. It was clearly there, for all the world to read, but there was no-one present save I, Bertram.
Something also seemed a bit out of place. It took me a moment to put my finger on it, but I then realised that Jeeves seemed to leaking slightly. Leaking at the eyes. This struck me as so unusual that it took a moment for me to realise that the honourable fellow was shedding a tear.
“Forgive me, sir. I thought that you wanted me to leave,” he said, simply.
I could not speak, but shook my head far more vigorously than was sensible given it's concussed state. I moved toward Jeeves and he embraced me; I embraced him. I buried my face under his chin and merely held on for dear life as slowly, very slowly, the blood started to flow once more around my frame.
As I anchored myself safely there with the chap I love, my brain once again started to function. I began to understand what the problem had been – how I had such a marvellous talent for saying everything in the wrong way. I was suddenly all of a fluster and couldn't possibly explain myself quickly enough, so all of my thoughts tumbled out on top of each other in a big messy heap. “Leave? I'd never, ever, want you to... I mean to say, only if you wanted... but then it would be terrible, and I want for us to be... but I didn't want to rush you, so I was nervous, and it all came out wrong...”
“Shhhhh,” said Jeeves, holding me carefully in his arms. “Please be calm now, sir. Everything is all right.”
“Is it?” I just had to check.
“Yes, sir, it is. Now let me help you up, and I can tend to your injury.”
“So, you're not leaving me, Jeeves?”
“No sir, I do not wish to leave you.”
The relief I felt at that moment was almost enough to make me faint altogether; I'm sure I had only been kept conscious before by all the adreny-thingummy that was coursing through the Wooster bloodstream. Luckily, Jeeves is a very strong and powerful chap, for he managed to all but hoist me into an upright position, across the room and lay me on the sofa. He then went into the kitchen to fetch some ice from the ice-box and wrapped it in towels to make a cold-compress, which he applied to my impacted forehead with all the care and attention of Florence Nighting-birdy herself.
Quite a shiner appeared on the Wooster brow over the next few minutes, but as Jeeves reported appearance of honourable bruising, my thoughts seemed to straighten themselves out – almost as if all the confusion had to work its way to the outside and turn purple before my brain could get a clear run at things.
When I thought I was ready, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Jeeves, I think I've got it sorted out now, and I'll try not to cock it up this time.”
He smiled at me benevolently. “Very good, sir.”
“Right. Well the thing is, what I was trying to say, I mean, is that I really do love you, you know. An awful lot. I'm ever so glad about what happened yesterday, and I'd like a repeat performance on the hour, every hour, if I had my way. But that's not all. I was trying to tell you that I'd like for us to be together properly; officially; or at least as officially as two chaps can be. I don't want for us to ever be parted. Do you, err, see what I mean?”
“Yes sir, I do,” Jeeves replied, and he gazed affirmatively down from where he was seated next to me on the sofa.
“So, I guess the next thing, now I've laid the state-of-the-Wooster on the line, as it were, is to wonder whether you, perhaps, one day – no pressure about now, you understand – might be persuadable to feel the same way about this silly old bean?” I chewed my bottom lip nervously, but it was difficult to feel properly fractious when laying there leaning against Jeeves, him stroking small circles on the unharmed side on my forehead.
“The answer to your question, sir, is yes. I love you very much.” It was a simple, almost bald statement, but was the finest music imaginable to the Wooster ears. I turned around where I lay and hugged Jeeves with all my might, delighting in the solid warmth of his embrace and nestling my head just under his chin. Jeeves wrapped his arms around me and let out a tremendous breath that I wager he didn't realise he had been holding.
We stayed like that for some time, even as Jeeves began to speak again, and I could feel the vibrations of his rich, velvety voice through his chest. “In fact, sir, I have loved you ardently for a very long time. You might not have realised this, sir, but the unrequited sentiments I felt toward you recently reached such a pique, that I somewhat recklessly took matters into my own hands. It seems only fair that I explain my part in the recent extraordinary events. I hope you will not be too angry with me.”
What-ho, I didn't expect that. On the other hand, Jeeves was probably pretty safe from the wrath of Bertram, all things considered, and I sat up a little to hear whatever news he was going to tell me. “I don't think I could muster the gumption to be angry with you right now, Jeeves old thing. So I suppose you should probably just steam ahead and tell me.”
“Very good, sir.” He seemed slightly amused at that, come to think of it. “To begin, I must confess to not being entirely honest with you regarding my faith in a common commercial fortune-telling outfit to dispense accurate predictions regarding one's romantic future. It is fair to say that I do not, in fact, hold the pronouncements of these seafront pedlars in such esteem as I led you to believe to be the case.”
“Mmmm, well, fair enough if you were exaggerating at the time, Jeeves, but surely you've got to admit now that Madam Osiris was right on the button when it comes to our new-found rather jammy posish.” I gestured at the particularly small space between us and Jeeves inclined his head in assent. “I was told that the love of my life was going to be someone tall, dark-haired and very capable, whom I have known for some time, and by Jove, I rather think I have found him!” I laid my hand on Jeeves' chest, just to make the point.
“This is all certainly true, sir,” replied Jeeves, “Although the veracity of what you say holds more by design than by coincidence. I was inspired by your splendid suggestion to perturb Mr. Little regarding the potential of his acquaintance with Miss Houghton-Wright.”
“You mean Bingo and Josephine? How I said that we could wipe the smirk from his dial by bribing the fortune teller?”
“Precisely, sir.” Jeeves looked rather smug, and not at all apologetic, come to think of it; not that I particularly minded.
“So when I saw Madam Osiris, she was under orders from you to dispense a few tantalising clues about... us?”
“You have the gist of the situation, sir, but not the particulars. I did not trust another to discharge such a delicate duty and thought it would be prudent for me to retain full control over what was said. Did not the good lady look in some way familiar to you, sir?”
Jeeves watched me patiently, waiting for the gears and cogs of the Wooster brain to turn until the extrapolation was complete. Madam Osiris had been tall and imposing, with dark, clever eyes, an elegant nose, wide masculine shoulders and capable, firm hands...
“I say! I say, Jeeves,” I said, “You mean to tell me that she was... you?”
“Precisely, sir,” my delightful valet replied. “The good lady was willing to lend me her pavilion and costume for half-an-hour following a most kind introduction by Mr. Little Senior's manservant, a certain nautical gentleman who works on occasion at the fortune-teller's ticket booth, by the name of Mr. Collingsby. All that remained then was for me to suggest the idea of an interview with the eternal spirits to Mr. Little and Miss Bassett on Monday lunchtime. As you had predicted, sir, they took to the idea most enthusiastically, and also of course encouraged your good self to attend the reading. A little devious on my part, but I am sure you understand that any direct method of ascertaining whether my regard for you might be returned was out of the question, sir. I hope you will agree that the end justifies the means.” Jeeves quirked an eyebrow upwards in question as he finished his explanation.
“By Jove, Jeeves. Very clever, very clever indeed! A bit rummy to lead a chap up the garden path like that, I will say, but under the circs. I can't say I'm cross.” I beamed at him and then cast my mind over some of the other unusual events of the past few days. “But what about everything else that has happened of late – the whole theatrical business and then yours truly having a pretty close-run thing with not one, but two different engagements? Surely you couldn't have planned all that too, Jeeves? - Or is your method of wooing so complex that even the subject cannot truly appreciate the full-blown mechanism of the thing?”
Jeeves preened a little at that, and I was happy to let him do so before he answered. “As I said to you at the beginning of this week, sir, my feelings about 'The Mikado,' were that you would perform the role of Nanki-Poo admirably. Indeed, I would venture to say that I was proven correct in this assertion, and I am not alone in having enjoyed your rendition of the character very much. However, in addition to such straightforward encouragement, sir, it had also occurred to me that the likelihood of any extraordinary revelations taking place on your part would be enhanced by an unusual regimen and set of circumstances. As I am sure you can attest, sir, participation in a theatrical production certainly does alter one's routine and circadian conventions in a way that might well be conducive to original thought.”
I certainly couldn't argue with him on that point, so I nodded in agreement as Jeeves drew breath to continue. “To address your second line of enquiry, sir, the various ways in which Miss Bassett misinterpreted the fortune I read for you were most definitely not part of my plan. However, having instigated such difficulties myself, I felt duty-bound – and not a little personally interested, I might add - to set them straight. I was aware that Miss Bassett would most probably relinquish her matrimonial claims toward you if Mr. Fink-Nottle were to indeed perform with her in the operetta, and I therefore suggested to him the scheme whereby he could perform Ko-Ko's spoken lines on stage, and I would sing for him from the wings. The idea seemed to work satisfactorily, and I am pleased to confirm that Miss Bassett and Mr. Fink-Nottle remained happily engaged at the point at which I left Spindleythorpe this afternoon.”
“Jolly good, Jeeves,” I said, rather in awe, “And I'm once more out of the Bassett clutches.” I shuddered slightly at the thought of having to spend an eternity with someone who thought that grass was made green to match the colour of bunnies' eyes, but then realised that the story was only half-told. “And what about Honoria, then?”
“I was somewhat perturbed to discover that Miss Glossop had been supposed to fit Madam Osiris' rather carefully – and dare I say, subtly – laid description of your intended, sir, and therefore it was necessary to dissuade the good lady from following through with her intentions. The rather disturbing printed material that came into Mr. Little's possession,” - Jeeves paused as a delicate cringe passed across his dignified dial - “provided an ideal way to convince Miss Glossop that you were not in fact the gentleman she would find most suitable for a lifelong relationship, upon her discovery of it in your bedside cabinet when searching for the newspaper review. Of course it was necessary for me to have already removed Miss Glossop’s own copy of the Spindleythorpe Sentinel from the theatre such that she would seek to peruse yours.”
“Well, I'll be blowed, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, realising that far from being upset about the young Master apparently being in possession of those dratted postcards, Jeeves had planted them there himself! Dashed clever. A little damaging to the Wooster reputation among the fillies I'd admit, but all the chaps knew about the things anyway, so there was no real harm done. However, as I mused on this turn of events, another question pressed itself into my whirling brain. “This is all very well – and I don't for a moment castigate you for saving me in the way that you did, Jeeves – but how on earth did you know about those postcards of Bingo's anyway? I thought they'd been kept all hush-hush.”
“From your own lips, sir,” my valet replied. “You arrived back at the hotel on Tuesday evening in a most talkative state - until you fell suddenly asleep of course. You informed me of the existence and nature of the postcards with most affecting particulars, if I may say so, sir...”
“Ooh, I'm sorry about that, Jeeves. Far more than right-thinking chaps like us would want to be bombarded with at that time of night,”
“Quite so, sir.” We both shuddered at that point. “As I was saying, sir, I learned all about the postcards on Tuesday evening, and from there it was a simple matter to procure them with the aid of Mr. Collingsby, and secrete them in your room for discovery by Miss Glossop. As an additional motive - in light of the somewhat unusual occurrence between yourself and myself yesterday afternoon, sir - I took the liberty to surmise that it might be prudent to underline your apparent regard for the female of the species in public at this stage. ”
“My goodness, Jeeves,” I said, “Quite a scheme. And always thinking ahead like that - Jolly clever! It caused me some distress, I'm not afraid to admit, but as the saying goes, you need to break eggs to make, err... fried eggs, now, don't you?”
“Exactly so, sir, although an omelette usually features in that particular epithet.”
“Yes, one of those too,” I agreed rather sagely. I reflected for a moment upon the brilliance of Jeeves' brain, but then another unpleasant thought about the whole postcard affair resurfaced in my mind. “Oh no, I've just remembered something else rummy about Honoria and those ghastly postcards, Jeeves.”
“Sir?”
“I'm sure that the dratted beazel will by now have held true to her promise to tell my Aunt Agatha all about the pictorial depravity of her nephew. I'm due to be hunted down by the Scourge of the Woosters at any moment!” Panic was clearly making itself known across my brow, and I glanced shiftily at the door of the flat as if the dreaded relation might appear there at any second.
“One might have thought so, sir, but luckily for us, that will not be the case.” Jeeves took a relaxed breath in his story then, I imagine to enjoy keeping me on tenterhooks. “It seems that when she confiscated Mr. Little's photographic material, Miss Glossop was sufficiently curious to peruse the pictures herself before disposing of them. Last evening, these images had a peculiar and profound effect upon Miss Glossop, who realised that far from being repulsed – as you, most thankfully found yourself to be, sir – she was rather attracted, in a distinctly Sapphic sense. Miss Glossop called at the hotel room this morning to inform me that she will not be taking any action against you with regard to Mrs. Gregson, on the condition that she may borrow your bow-tie, tailcoat and top hat. I believe that Miss Glossop and Miss Houghton-Wright are due to enjoy a sojourn in Lesbos this very evening, with the aid of said articles.”
I boggled at that, all right. “By golly, Jeeves. You mean to say that Honoria is... well, she's like us, now, but with girls, not chaps?”
“That would certainly seem to be the case, sir.”
“By Jove! Well, you know what, Jeeves?” I said, my mood much lightened by this news, “I think I like old Honoria a whole lot more already. Perhaps we should invite her and Josephine around for dinner at the flat, sometime?”
“That certainly might prove to be a diverting evening, sir,” my valet replied, his tone an encyclopaedia of suggestion.
I suddenly felt lightened of every burden in the world – rather the exact opposite of that tall Greek chappie who was named after a book of maps – and impulsively dived towards Jeeves for another hug, my headache quite forgotten. “You really are a marvel; you know that, Jeeves?”
“Why thank you sir,” he said, “I am pleased that the outcome of recent events meets with your approval.”
Having that all cleared up reminded me that there were one or two things that I still wanted to give a good airing, following on from the simply lovely things that had happened the day before in the dressing room of the theatre. I took my legs down from the furniture, and turned around so that I was facing Jeeves properly as he sat there on the far end of the sofa, still perfectly upright despite repeated hugging.
Trying to ignore the nervousness as it resurfaced, I took a deep breath and launched in. “As we were talking about what we might do around the flat, that rather brings me back to what I was trying to say earlier – when I got ahead of myself and nearly made such a dreadful hash of things. What I had in mind Jeeves - given that I'm so utterly head-over-heels in love with you – was that I'd rather like to take you on as a spouse properly – you know, on equal terms. So what I was trying to say was, you don't have to fetch and carry for me all the time any more, and we can sort of biff around together... if you'd like to, of course, I mean.”
I steeled myself at that point - as I was half-way through - and resolved to plough on. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. “I was also thinking that it might be really spiffing if you'd like to move into the master bedroom with me – it can get pretty lonely in there, after all – and you can bring along all your bits and bobs and books and suchlike and arrange them however you like in the flat instead of being cooped up in just the one room.”
It wasn’t a conventional kind of proposal, I suppose – severely lacking in the diamond ring and bended knee department, for example. Jeeves had been deathly quiet and still again during my little speech, highlighting the way my heart was thumping as if it saw fit to break free of my ribcage. I looked up into Jeeves' dark eyes, which had been regarding me quizzically throughout, and wondered exactly what he was thinking. “Does that sound, err, at all... appealing, old thing?” I asked.
A lengthy pause preceded his reply, but then he said, “I am very touched by your suggestion, sir, and as regards the spirit of the arrangement, I would like to wholeheartedly accept.” Jeeves swallowed hard then and looked down at his hands, which I noticed were uncharacteristically wringing together in his lap. “Excuse me, sir, I feel a little overcome,” he uttered.
I worried then that I might have said something wrong again without knowing it. There was another pause, in which Jeeves took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself, then he continued. “In all but my very youngest years, I had not imagined that I would ever find love, sir. I do not have an... outgoing... personality naturally, and that fact coupled with my natural persuasion made me decide that a few closeted trysts and a grim marriage of convenience might be the very best I could hope for. The idea that I might now have found love is almost inconceivable to me, no matter how many times I have lain awake at night dreaming of this very thing between us. I would have gladly accepted an understanding with you on any terms whatsoever, but to learn that you are willing to be so kind and generous with me; to overlook the differences between us even though our love can never be officially recognised? That is beyond my wildest dreams.”
Jeeves seemed to have finished, but then I noticed that he was probably considering something of a practical nature - I recognised the expression on his face then as the one he uses for writing a laundry list or measuring out the ingredients of a cocktail. “There are one or two modifications that I would like to suggest regarding your most kind offer, sir, if I may?”
“Suggest away, Jeeves,” I said.
“It would be delightful to unpack my books more thoroughly, if that would be acceptable, sir, but I think it would be unwise to leave the valet's quarters completely bereft. We would not benefit from arousing suspicion regarding our new arrangement; you know as well as I that relations between the two of us must remain a complete secret. To loose you to the hands of the law would be... unthinkable.”
“Quite right, Jeeves. A good point, well made.” I did not want to dwell upon the unpleasantness that could befall us if we were to be discovered by an antagonistic party, but we both knew it, all the same.
“And in a similar vein, sir, with your permission, I would like to carry on keeping this flat and our general existence in good order. For us both – if I may be so bold. The alternative would either be for things to become most disorganised and messy, which we would not find at all conducive,” Jeeves suppressed a delicate shudder at that point, “Or to employ another valet, who would certainly impede our privacy.”
I considered that for a second; he did rather have another good point. “Very well then, Jeeves,” I said, “The place is yours to do with as you wish. As am I, you understand.”
He gave me that delightful half-smile. “Thank you, sir. In more ways than one.”
A lovely warm feeling spread over me at that point, which I'm pretty sure had nothing to do with the concussion. My recovering brain cells then remembered something. “Ooh! And while I think of it, I bought you a little something this morning to make the point. There's a package on the dining table for you, if you'd care to investigate.”
“Sir?” said Jeeves in surprise, but he did just as I suggested, retrieving the small parcel and returning to sit next to me on the sofa.
“Go on, open it!” I urged. Jeeves eyed the little bundle cautiously, but proceeded to untie the string in that meticulous way that he does everything – just when most other people would have ripped right through the paper.
When he reached the centre, an expression of polite bemusement crossed those noble features. Jeeves picked up the gift between finger and thumb and turned it in the air to get a proper view from all angles. “A rubber duck, sir?”
I grinned then, being rather taken with the idea even though I do say so myself. “Yes, I had him specially customised for you in the shop. See here - his little beak points upwards and he's wearing a dinky little collar and tie. I thought he could sit in the bathroom and keep my ducky company when we're not at home. Kind of hand-in-hand…or wing-in-wing, as it were.”
Jeeves nodded sagely, taking all of this in. Finally he seemed to decide that he was rather taken by the idea too, and honoured me with a rare unguarded smile. “Thank you, sir. He is... delightful.”
“Good, I'm glad you like him - it would be awful to have an orphan Jeeves-ducky on my hands! I'm pleased that everything else is settled too,” I added, gesturing vaguely around to encompass our living space.
It then occurred to me that there was something else that I wanted to try out on Jeeves while we were at the chin-wagging stage of things. I hoped I wouldn't be pushing my luck by introducing all of my ideas in one go, but I'm not the sort of chap who is good at storing things up and waiting ages for the perfect moment – I'd rather give it all a good airing as it comes. “There's just one more item on the old mental check-list, if you wouldn't mind hearing about it, Jeeves?” He nodded agreement. “In the spirit of all the aforementioned togetherness and cosiness and all that, I think it would be jolly nice if you didn't call me 'sir' any more. I should be 'Bertie' to you now, or whatever other moniker you'd like to affix to a chap, I suppose.”
Jeeves looked considering once more. Was I asking too much of him to drop the old feudal spirit, even in these circs? There was a bit of a weighty pause again, but he answered, “I would be delighted to, si-.” I caught the edge of a sardonic smile then, followed by a deep breath as he tried again. “I would be delighted to, Bertram.”
I beamed so widely at that moment, my dial might have split across its equator. Jeeves seemed pretty cheerful too, and carried on to say, “If I could crave a boon, however, my dear Bertram? I'd really rather you carried on calling me 'Jeeves'. The name has many pleasant associations when said in your voice, and I honestly couldn't get used to being called 'Reggie,' as I'm sure you would want to contract my birth-name if you were to employ it.”
I chuckled at that, but conceded, “Very well then, 'Jeeves' it is! Although now you've given me the idea, I may well call you 'Reggie' at times you know – it does sound rather 'cute,' as the Americans would put it.”
I thought I might have done something wrong again at that point, because Jeeves gave me a very stern look and raised both eyebrows in my direction. However, he then dived for the recumbent Wooster midriff and began tickling mercilessly.
I gulped in surprise at first, but quickly began squirming and thrashing around pretty uncontrollably. It is a classified secret that B. Wooster is in fact, extremely ticklish – I didn't know how Jeeves had got hold of this fact, but it was decidedly un-cricket if you ask me, to make use of it so effectively...
“Aaiiieee! Oooh, Aaaahhh!” I cried, gasping for breath and wondering how Jeeves had suddenly grown five extra hands. Finally, he had mercy and slowed the onslaught of fingers, although he did not remove his hands altogether, letting then rest gently on my now-exposed torso in a more steady manner.
“Okay, I understand, Jeeves,” I gasped, “I shall only call you 'Reggie' at extreme peril to self.” A curt and satisfied nod on his part answered that statement - belying the fact that his fingers casually stroked the part of my stomach on which they lay, sending pleasant tingles from that point outwards all over my body.
“I am pleased to hear that, Bertram,” Jeeves said somewhat smugly. His face then formed into an expression of sartorial concern, “I am however somewhat distressed to see what has become of your clothes. It would not do for them to remain in such a rumpled state, so perhaps we should adjourn to your chamber such that they can be properly removed and folded.”
Industrious as this may have seemed on the part of my valet, I had a rather strong suspicion that garment care was only second on the list of Jeeves' priorities. A glance at his' expression then – which I can only describe in honesty as salacious - certainly confirmed those thoughts. “Sally forth, then Jeeves!” I agreed, “And let's make sure we're not interrupted this time, eh?”
“I have already seen to it,” he answered, and we both rose and hastily crossed into the master bedroom, closing the door behind us.
A few seconds passed then, as Jeeves and I stood an arm's length apart, merely regarding each other – him pristine as always, me thoroughly tousled – the attraction and longing barely veiled in our eyes. By some silent consensus, we moved forward at the same time and met in a fiercely burning kiss; lips and tongues and wandering hands affirming all the things that we had just said - he in his eloquence and me in my waffle, but none the less sincere because of it.
I felt Jeeves' tall, strong frame pressing against my own; his broad chest and enveloping embrace, and delighted in the scent of him – of sparkling soap and shampoo, and beneath that something dark and musky. I was then seized by an overwhelming desire to see Jeeves as Mother Nature intended, so broke away in short order and begun to tear at his perfectly starched clothes – pretty ineffectually, I must admit, as there were so many dratted clasps and buttons, but my intent couldn't have been clearer.
Jeeves must have been amused at my sudden urgency, as he let out a low chuckle – a lovely rich and earthy sound that I decided I wanted to hear a lot more of in the future. He then took pity on my fumbling fingers and assisted the process, divesting us both of our upper garments in no time at all.
I was just about to admire the view of my half-naked valet, but Jeeves as always was quicker off the mark, scooting around to stand right behind me. I was just about to protest when any words that might have formed died in my throat, giving way to an incredible moan as Jeeves applied his talented lips to the side of my neck, kissing and sucking all the way from earlobe to collarbone.
“Ahhhh... Jeeves!” I gasped raggedly, both leaning my head to afford him better access, and wondering how it was possible for such a thing to feel quite so amazingly spiffing. My question was multiplied, not answered however, as Jeeves then reached around to the Wooster front and ghosted those marvellous, capable hands up and down my chest and belly.
His touch was tantalisingly light, making me break out in goosepimples all over that had absolutely nothing to do with being cold. I shuddered as he caressed me, that talented mouth conspiring with those skilled hands to a wring a whole symphony of gasps and moans from yours truly. Jeeves possibly noticed that the aforementioned g.s and m.s reached their utmost when he contacted my nipples – I was thoroughly surprised by the way that ripples of pleasure were sent all though my body when he touched me there, and dearly wanted him to do more of the same.
Without having to ask (or bid via a fairy godmother) my wish was granted. Jeeves turned me around in his arms, and then applied those truly amazing lips of his to the areas in question, kissing one while he tweaked the other between finger and thumb. This last move made the business of standing up pretty difficult, to tell the truth. I was feeling decidedly weak at the knees, and held on tightly to Jeeves' shoulders in a desperate bid for verticality as waves of pleasure coursed through the Wooster frame.
My handsome valet must have guessed what was going on in the lower-limb department, as without ceasing his delightful ministrations he guided us both toward the bed, then laid me out upon the soft eiderdown, somehow removing my trousers and undergarments in the process. Had my mind been fully present, I might have felt rather shy then - so clearly having erected the flag-pole for the banner of my desires, as it were, when Jeeves was still half dressed and was regarding me spread upon the soft surface.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, and it took me a while to register that as there was nothing else of note in the vicinity, he must have been referring to me. Gosh, that was a turn up for the books! I was more accustomed to the adjectives 'lanky' and 'scrawny,' truth be told, or perhaps 'gamine,' in the case that my tailor was trying to sell me a particularly close-fitting new fashion... But 'beautiful'? I was quite taken aback that Jeeves could really consider me thus, but the expression upon his elegant brow showed no hint of irony.
From my position upon the bed, I was sad to have lost Jeeves' touch, but I also realised that I was about to have the visual treat that I had been waiting for.
Jeeves stood tall above me, his broad chest and strong shoulders giving an outline that was both strong and elegant, all clad in the softest of pale skin. His body looked delectably firm but not too hard, and I daresay that I found the sight even more appetising than one of Anatole's finest creations. A little line of fine hairs lead down his stomach into his trousers, almost like a treasure trail that I desperately wanted to follow, and I voiced my anxiousness for him to undress at once. Jeeves complied with my suggestion, carefully laying his trousers across a chair to reveal a very fine pair of long legs, and finally – as he discarded his underwear – the gold at the end of the rainbow, as it were, which numbered very many carats indeed!
I tried to sum all of this up in a way that would show my approval of the feast that was Jeeves unclad, but words were proving difficult. “Jeeves, you're... I mean to say you look... Well, just perfect really. Simply perfect.” Not eloquent perhaps, but he seemed to catch my drift and cast his eyes down, almost in shyness at the compliment.
Such mutual appreciation having been voiced, and perhaps any latent insecurities on either of our parts having been properly stymied, Jeeves came to join me on the bed and swooped for another kiss which I returned with gusto. Slowly, we became closer and closer together, a caress here, a grasp there, the kissing becoming ever more fevered as time went on. Jeeves then pulled me right to him; our bodies pressed together all over as I felt the first delicious thrill of skin-on-skin radiating through me from top to toe. “Oh, Jeeves,” I moaned, twining my legs with his to make the contact even more complete, just basking in the intensity of it all. As I shifted then, some very intimate parts of our bodies brushed together and without warning it was all too much. I found myself suddenly shuddering, crying out and leaving us both rather sticky.
“Oh dash it, Jeeves! I'm sorry,” I gasped, feeling pretty abashed. Hopefully he'd understand that I was, after all, a novice at these things.
“Not at all, my dear Bertram,” he replied, “I feel immensely complimented.”
“Ah, well, it was definitely meant that way, if you catch my drift...” I said.
“I do, indeed,” he replied, then pressed a little kiss on my forehead while holding me close.
The look on Jeeves' face then was so warm, so loving, my embarrassment quickly faded, and my attention was drawn once more to the not-inconsiderable part of Jeeves that was making itself felt against my leg. A moment later, the refractory period for these things seemed almost ludicrously short, and certain ideas of interest popped once more into my mind. “Though a round-two wouldn't be out of the question for the young Wooster, I think...” I ventured. Jeeves undulated his hips against me in answer to that, and that combined with a distinctly predatory glint in Jeeves' eye made my blood begin to stir once more, “Yes, um... quite possibly in the near future, in fact...”
“I am delighted so to hear,” rumbled Jeeves' voice, perilously close to my ear, and with that we set upon one another afresh, the blistering contact of skin-on-skin renewed until after a few minutes I wasn't quite sure which limb belonged to whom, or whether it was actually possible for Jeeves to kiss me in three different places at once.
"Jeeves... oh my God, Jeeves..." I cried, while he was doing seriously devilish things to my neck. I was so lost to the moment, but I also knew that I was becoming perilously close for the second time and didn't want for it to be over so soon, all over again. With every remaining speck of willpower I had, I called for him to stop.
An expression of concern played across my valet's delectable features. "Is something the matter?" he asked earnestly while gently stroking my chest.
"No, Jeeves. Goodness no! It's just that... this is so utterly wonderful, and... well, you know that I don't really know much about this sort of thing. But... I heard – it was from the boys at college, actually - that there's a way for two chaps to be, well you know, together, in the physical sense I mean, and I thought it might be special if... Only if you want to of course..."
Jeeves stared at me for a moment, with an open, wondrous expression which had it been on my dial not his, would have looked distinctly piscine. "There is nothing that I would like more, my dearest,” he said, and then kissed me gently on the lips to seal his statement.
"Oh, splendid!" I said, wriggling a little because Jeeves seemed to have stopped caressing me in his moment of reflection, and well, I am a bit greedy like that. He quickly got the hint and dived in for another sensational kiss, covering me again with his firm body and once again setting my skin on fire with his touch. After a few moments, Jeeves moved away. I thought he was just readjusting his position, but I was somewhat shocked to realise that he was actually getting up and leaving me.
"Jeeves?" I squeaked, "Don't go..."
He arched an eyebrow in my direction and said, "I shall return presently. I am going to fetch something from my quarters that will assist with your excellent idea." He then strode out of the bedroom, and I couldn't help but admire those amazingly pert buttocks as he left. I made a mental note to admire them more often, now I had full access.
As promised, Jeeves returned very swiftly, holding a very small jar that he placed on the bedside cabinet. I wasn't quite sure what that was in aid of, but in this, as with everything else, I trusted Jeeves' judgement.
Jeeves then pounced on the recumbent Wooster form with renewed enthusiasm, and I hoped he would pay special attentions to my nether regions, which quite frankly were fully screaming to be touched again. However, he settled himself between my parted legs and embarked upon the most painfully exquisite and exquisitely painful trail of kisses that has ever been suffered by man or beast (I'd rather not think about the 'beast' part of that, but I'm sure it holds all the same). Those soft, artful lips began at the little hollow around my hip bone and kissed their way downwards, around to the inside of my thigh. He nuzzled gently, but just at the moment I could have practically begged him to move a little to the left, he stopped, and began again with the same maddening trail on the other side.
“Oh, Jeeves, please. I need..” I was whimpering now, but there was little I could do. I was utterly in his thrall.
“All in good time,” Jeeves whispered masterfully. He then descended once more, and I fully cried out at the sensation of his clever tongue licking me in that private place where a gentleman stores his marbles as it were, and then more, lower...
- “Oh my goodness!” I had never felt anything so divine, but my sudden cry caused Jeeves to still.
“Is this unpleasant for you, Bertram?”
“Unpleasant? Ha ha ha!” I was practically delirious by then. “No, no, please don't stop, please....” I lifted my legs to offer better access – they say that actions speak louder than words, and I most definitely did not want to risk being misunderstood at that point.
I almost felt Jeeves' satisfied smile against my most delicate parts of skin and then he resumed in earnest, darting something warm and wet around and seemingly inside me. I was writhing on the bedsheets, gasping for air, but I was also vaguely aware that Jeeves had picked up the little jar from the bedside table and was touching its contents. He sat up again at that point and looked at me in a way that required my attention to be engaged through the dizzying cloud of lust.
“This may feel somewhat... unusual, as it will be your first time. Please tell me at any point if you would like me to stop. I want you to feel in control, Bertram.” Jeeves' voice was so tender, so loving, I could have practically wept at the sound. However, my heart was beating at five times its usual rate both from profound love and profound arousal, and it was the second clause that was particularly making itself felt just then.
“I understand, Jeeves. Thank you so very much, but please carry on,” I whimpered.
I understood Jeeves' quirk of the lips as an assent, and then watched as he placed one hand on my hip - steadying, comforting - and slipped the other between my legs. The tip of one elegant finger pressed inside and he stilled as I gasped, while gently stroking my stomach with the other hand. When I had relaxed a little he began moving, very slowly, but enough to establish a gentle rhythm.
I confess it felt somewhat peculiar at first – not really painful, as Jeeves was being so frightfully careful with me – but definitely unusual. I was pretty heavily focussed on what was going on in Southern regions, as I'm sure you can imagine, but at no point did the wonder and loveliness of the whole situation escape me. How could it, when Jeeves was gazing down upon me with love painted so clearly in his usually-guarded eyes? He watched me carefully for any sign of discomfort, as a museum curator might watch a Ming vase that was being moved to a new display case.
When Jeeves seemed to feel that I was ready, he withdrew and re-entered with an extra digit. It was a surprise at first, but my body accommodated quickly, and Jeeves' fingers within me soon felt welcome, satisfying... Almost as if there should be more.
Without realising, I had begun to make low moaning sounds by this point, and was starting to push my hips backwards towards my lover, seeking a deeper connection. Jeeves smiled in satisfaction, and then he then did something absolutely extraordinary with those clever fingertips.
“Ahhhhhhh!!! Jeeves! What... what was that... inside? What did you do?” Tingles were surging through my entire body, and I was silently willing for him to do whatever he just did again, and preferably to not stop doing it until at least next Tuesday.
“There is a place within the male body that can provide particular pleasure when stimulated,” said Jeeves, rather smugly, “I might be able to caress it more effectively using something other than my fingers, if you would be willing?”
“Oh, yes please, Jeeves!” Frankly, I would have agreed to pretty much anything at that point, if it would give a repeat performance of that sensation.
Jeeves' fingers slid out of me and I felt strangely bereft. However, I was quickly distracted by the sight of Jeeves' glorious length as he smoothed the contents of the small jar upon it, and my breath caught in my throat at the sheer wonder of what was going to happen next.
Jeeves shuddered slightly as he finished his preparations, then lodged a pillow beneath my hips to improve the angle of things. He moved forward to cover my body with his and I could feel him nudging against me.
Well, tantalization like that very nearly sent yours truly into the yawning abyss all by itself, and Bertram Junior was certainly feeling the pressure, shall we say. Consideration was one thing, but I was beginning to think that my beloved chap was something of a dashed tease. “Now, Jeeves, I need you now!” I cried, somewhat impressed at my ability to form words at all, under the circs.
“I would be delighted to oblige,” he said, somewhat raggedly, and pushed forwards into me in one long, delightfully smooth movement until we were joined together so deeply it finally felt like a proper representation of the love I felt for him.
Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Jeeves bent to kiss me then, and whispered, “I do love you, Bertram. I love you with all my heart.”
I smiled and nodded and held him so close, reaching up from where I lay to hold his back, to stroke his beautiful face. Jeeves savoured the moment, and then arched backwards again.
“Shall we?” he asked mischievously. I didn't need to answer.
Jeeves moved out from my body and then back in, establishing a delicious rhythm. I could hear his breathing becoming faster, more urgent, and I drank in the sight of him above me, a flush climbing his alabaster cheeks, and his eyes fluttering shut in passion and concentration. I savoured every moment, feeling a heat and a need grow inside me, and I lifted my legs ever higher to afford him better access. Then he urged me to move slightly on the pillow, until-
- Sparks flew behind my eyes and I groaned so loudly I might have screamed. Jeeves was touching that place again, only now in such a wonderfully intimate way, and with mind-boggling, breath-stealing, hallucination-inducing frequency. Every. Single. Delicious. Stroke.
B. Wooster was pretty much lost to the universe at that point, soaring high above the world upon a giant eagle, or perhaps a winged dragon. I imagine that I must have looked properly wanton then, and truth be told, I'm pretty proud of the fact.
Just when I would have thought it was impossible to feel anything more intense, Jeeves wrapped his hand around me between our bodies. A few deft strokes and I was teetering, just there. Jeeves thrust into me a few more times, the perspiration gathering across his noble brow, and biting his lower lip in the throes of ardour. Then, with one more twist, one last thrust, we both reached that glistening edge and fell together, down, down, into the bottomless pool of release.
I gasped for breath as I felt his warmth flood inside me and the last few shivers of my climax coarse through my body. Nothing in all my life had ever felt so perfect.
When it was over, Jeeves shakily withdrew and moved to lay beside me. We gazed at one another in awed silence for a minute or two, chests heaving and eyes blinking at the beauty of it all.
Finally, for want of something better, I said, “I say, Jeeves. I say!”
“My sentiments entirely,” my lover replied.
“That was.. you were... you made me feel...”
“Quite so,” he agreed, a smile playing at his lips.
“I don't believe I had lived through all my life thus far without knowing quite how marvellous...”
“Assure me, my love, it was decidedly difficult to resist from introducing you to this activity much, much earlier,” said Jeeves, his tone a little bittersweet.
I moved to kiss him once more then, tenderly, meaning forever.
“Well, rest assured we can make up for lost time now, my love, for we have all the time in the world.”
~Fin~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 01:59 pm (UTC)LOLz!!!!
the most painfully exquisite and exquisitely painful trail of kisses that has ever been suffered by man or beast (I'd rather not think about the 'beast' part of that, but I'm sure it holds all the same)
BWAHAHAHAHA!!
This was all so much fun! Except now I want to go around talking like Wooster, which is a bad idea. Definitely reccing this fic! (already have it bookmarked)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 11:24 pm (UTC)Talking like Wooster is definitely fun (but you might get stared at from time to time... ;-) ) It's nice to know that the world now has another Jeeves/Wooster fan.
I feel so honoured that you recced this fic, and am now blushing and bouncing up and down in equal measure. *Squeee!*
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-30 01:49 am (UTC)And I liked it so much that I had to go find more Jeeves/Wooster slash. I found one story on adultfanfiction.net -- a crossover with the Sherlock Holmes universe, which was wonderfully plotty and had excellent characterization, but wasn't nearly as funny as your fic (well, I guess it couldn't have been, due to the plottyness, but still....). Have you written any other J/W? Or can you rec me some? You've created a monster. :-P
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-30 11:31 am (UTC)Alas, I haven't finished any other Jeeves/Wooster stories (although am currently working on a tale written from Jeeves' POV), but I can point you in the direction of quite a lot of other stories. The LJ community for Jeeves and Wooster (which contains a fair amount of slash) is
http://frenchowlssayqui.org/indeedsir/index.php
From the archive, I'd particularly recommend the authors skybluereverie, veronamay and msliz4857, all of whom have LJs by the same names.
Happy reading! :-)
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-30 04:17 pm (UTC)Seriously, I did a few lj searches and came up with nothing but a few people who have them listed as interests. So yay, yay!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-06 12:30 am (UTC)I loved the gentle twists and turns in the plot - so reminiscent of the real Jeeves books, with the fun story centring around the Mikado play, the terrifying females engaging themselves to Bertie, the Drones each being uniquely in character and just as silly as they should be, Jeeves hatching an ingenius plan which he reveals to Bertie with so much smugness at the end when everything goes to plan. I just loved it, and it was so nice to see a very Wodehousean plot in such a long fic.
And finally, the gentle lovely progression of the romance between Jeeves and Bertie. It felt wholely natural, sweet and hesitant. I ached whilst Jeeves stood on, waiting patiently for Bertie to get a clue. I ached even more at Bertie's complete adoration for Jeeves with no idea how to deal with it. That final scene where Bertie fumbles everything and makes Jeeves think he wanted to break off their liason, I swear I was almost in tears! Even though I knew (or hoped I knew) that you wouldn't be so cruel to them after their struggles. :D
I really really enjoyed this fic, hon, and have rec'ed it most emphatically on my LJ. Thank you very much for such a delightful read. I do hope you will be working on some J/W fics in the future, if this is anything to go by!!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-10 12:13 am (UTC)I'm very glad that you liked the way I dealt with Bertie realising his sexuality, and exactly what that would mean in the context of his society. I agree that many J&W fics - highly enjoyable as they often are - can gloss over that aspect of things.
I also take it as a big compliment that you thought the plot was Wodehouseian. - And yes, poor Jeeves in that last chapter! (I'd never have the heart to give the boys an unhappy ending, though, so you were right there ;-) )
I do hope you will be working on some J/W fics in the future, if this is anything to go by!!
I do actually have another fairly long one in progress at the moment, actually. This time it's from Jeeves' POV, and has proved jolly good fun to write so far!
Thanks again for reading and reccing! :-)
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-06 11:48 am (UTC)Thank you so much for your hard work; it's certainly paid of for me. *throws roses*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-10 12:20 am (UTC)I'm really pleased that the characterization in this story worked for you, and it's nice that the society-linked issues mentioned here seemed to ring true, also.
This is a wonderful read and I'm immediately adding it to my favourites.
Gosh! *Bounces*
Also, thanks for the add! - *friends back*. Indeed - I have fond memories of you from Sectus - from one of the morning-after Snape discussion sessions, and the Snapely lunch in Potion bar :-) I look forward to seeing more of you 'around'!
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-10 08:17 am (UTC)Will you be at Sectus '09? I wouldn't miss it for the world!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-10 11:45 am (UTC)Te He! Don't worry - we all have 'senior moments' ;-) If you're wondering, I was the one dressed as McGonagall with her Quidditch deerstalker-hat at the release party, and with the tall white, snowy hat at the ball...
Will you be at Sectus '09?
I'm really hoping to be there, yes!
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-11 04:10 pm (UTC)That was amazing.
Do you have any more? Would you write more? Maybe taking place after this? What if bingo just happens to drop by one day? Or Aunt Dahlia find out about them?
Or what if barmy phipps invites them to come and stay with him at his fishing lodge?
*is greedy and wants more*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-12 01:06 am (UTC)Do you have any more? Would you write more?
I'm afraid I don't have a direct continuation of this fic - although your ideas here do all sound interesting. I have one more complete J/W story, which is here (http://purplefluffycat.livejournal.com/12155.html). I wrote it for last year's 'Yuletide' and it's composed of three (fairly smutty!) vignettes with a common theme - not an extended plot like 'Artistic Verisimilitude.' I also have another long, pretty complicated J/W story in progress, but it will be a while before that's ready to post, I fear.
On a different note, you might like to see the other Gildy-fic I've written, which is called 'Of Fame and the Adonians' (http://purplefluffycat.livejournal.com/6857.htm) and take's place in Gildy's last year as a Hogwarts student...
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 10:25 pm (UTC)this was sweet, funny and very much in character. jeeves and wooster strike me as being one of the most difficult fandoms to write in and you have mastered it perfectly.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-05 11:46 pm (UTC)I'm particularly pleased to hear that you thought Bertie and Jeeves were in-character here - Wodehouse is indeed a tough act to follow! ;-)
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2010-04-24 10:35 am (UTC)Wonderful, brilliant! :) This is one of my favourite fics I've ever read! Thank you very much for writing it. Would you mind terribly, if I translate it into Russian? Of course, I'll state everywhere that I am just a translator and you are the author of the fic. Also, all the additional information (like your email or website) can be published, if you wish.
Thank you once again for your wonderful work!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-07 01:26 pm (UTC)Yes, I would be happy for you to translate this into Russian, and including a link to my email address and website would be welcome. The only condition I can think of, is that you would agree to remove the translation from the web if any problems (copyright etc.) arose. I'm certainly not expecting anything of the sort, but thought it would only be sensible to mention that in advance, should the unexpected occur!
Oh, and it would be great to see the Russian version when it's done, if you could send me a link?
Thank you again,
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2011-08-15 08:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-21 07:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-21 11:26 pm (UTC)PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-11 10:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-28 09:53 pm (UTC)In fact, I'm currently turning my mind to another Jeeves/Wooster fic that's been brewing for some time. 12,000 words in, but not (at all) finished yet... I have a feeling it will be a longish one!
PurpleFluffyCat x
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-28 11:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2016-06-16 06:11 pm (UTC)