Sunday, 16 July 2017

Chapter 15: “So what about this Daisy I have read about, eh?”



The River restaurant at the Savoy Hotel, London


Journalist Edmund Molloy, who is having an affair with the wife of dinosaur expedition leader Professor Challenor, is shocked when both Edith Challenor and their expedition clerk, Daisy, express their interest in attending expedition member Lord Hoxton's notoriously orgiastic birthday party in Hampshire.  Daisy, meanwhile, has proposed acting as a romantic decoy for Edmund, so that the press do not become aware of Edmund and Edith's adulterous affair.



Over the next few days we were all busier than ever with arrangements for the expedition. On an increasingly rare visit to the Courier’s offices I arrived to find a letter addressed to myself in a beautiful, cursive hand.

“Didn’t open it, Mr Molloy,” said Dan, the post boy. “Looks like it might be from a lady!” 

“Can’t think any ladies would be interested in Molloy!” said Smith (known as ‘Whiff’ because he seemed not to know about the existence of soap). “Fishwives, maybe. Scullery maids if he was lucky.” I glared at him and ducked into McAndless’ empty office, to his annoyance. Everyone was now well aware that I was becoming the favourite and most were pleased for me.  Most.

I opened the letter, hoping it was from Daisy but it was from Hoshimi, written on splendid Babylon Exploration Society notepaper. ‘Explore the wonders of the world’, it said under the Society’s coat of arms which features two naked ladies, one obviously a negress and one oriental, supporting the shield which includes depictions of two balls, a Greek column and a suggestive looking sea shell. I suspect that the College of Arms had not been involved in the design. 

I read Hoshimi’s letter. ‘My dear Mr Edmund. How lovely to receive such a splendid bouquet from you this morning. All the other girls are very jealous. I did enjoy my brief time with you the other night.  You may be interested to know that I slept with Anna and Bettina that night, in the same bed and we discussed your magnificent physical attributes and became most excited! Your thoughtfulness in asking if you had hurt me in any way was much appreciated but I enjoyed the act immensely. It is rare that I am so capably filled and the experience was one of pleasure not pain. I have learned that you will be attending Lord Hoxton’s birthday party this weekend, as am I and hope we can enjoy some more intimate time together. Your affectionate servant, Hoshimi’ 

She had also signed her name in the curious Japanese script. I wthought she must have had help with writing the letter as it was so well expressed in English. If so I wondered who had helped her.  Madame Nathalie?  But she was French.  Perhaps one of the Babylon Exploration Society's lady members.   I sat on the corner of McCandless’ desk and recalled watching my manhood slide in and out of Hoshimi’s pink parts and the delicate lines disappearing into the centre of her anus, which I had tickled with my fingertip.   I began to get erect. 

“McCandless out?”  I jumped off the desk as Lord Ventnor barged into the room. 

“At the Old Bailey, Lord Ventnor!” 

“Bugger. Never mind. Made the news yourself today, Molloy. Kissing your sweetheart!  Like to invite you and her to dinner at the Ritz with the memsahib, shortly. Buy her a nice dress, your girl.” He gave me five pounds and a copy of one of our rival papers and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. 

“Thank you,”  I said to his disappearing back. I read the brief paragraph Lord Ventnor had indicated and they had somehow found out about Daisy and my kiss in the restaurant of the Euston Hotel and had printed a story about it. ‘Only a few kisses left for Courier man’s sweetheart before he heads to certain death in dinosaur infested jungle!’ it read. 

“What a horrid thing to say!” said Daisy as I showed her the article later that day. “Poor Edmund!” She stood up from her desk in our ‘office’ at the Euston Hotel and gave me a kiss. 

“Good to see you working on your decoy role so assiduously, Daisy!” said a smiling Edith, as she checked some oil lamps in a crate. 

“Sorry Mrs C. Didn’t meant to take liberties!” said Daisy. 

“Kiss away, Daisy. I am not jealous. I am sure we can share Edmund. In every way!” She winked at Daisy who grinned. 

“Mrs C! You are a caution!” 




That afternoon I had taken Daisy to Hammersmith to be photographed by one of the Courier’s photographers, the rodent-like Smaile, to accompany the interview with her I had written.   It was primarily about her role in ordering and sorting our equipment but I added something along the lines of how sad I would be to sail away from my new ‘special friend’. The Courier over-egged it by writing the headline: ‘Intrepid reporter leaves love for lizards!'  Edith later told me how annoyed the Professor had been at dinosaurs being called lizards, which they were not. 

Smaile had taken our pictures at the Natural History Museum and was the newspaper’s top photographer for portraits and the regular shots of pretty young actresses we ran on Saturdays.  The session was one both she and Smaile had thoroughly enjoyed. Daisy seemed to relish posing and Smaile kept telling her she was a natural. He suggested she remove her jacket which, of course, revealed her impressive bosom, under her close fitting blouse. 

“Crikey, Miss!” he observed. Daisy smiled at him and pushed her chest out. 

“Mum always said they’d either lead to my ruin or my fortune!” said Daisy. 

“Fortune. Definitely!” said Smaile, putting another plate into the camera. “How about you stand sideways to the camera, Miss? You’ve got such a lovely profile!” 

“Smaile!” I warned. 

“If you ever want to get some nicer shots of her, Ed,” said Smaile, scratching his groin, after the session had finished and Daisy had rushed back to Edith at the hotel. “You know. More informal. Personal, like. Intimate shots. Let me know. Artistic they are, the ones I do but everything is very clear!” I wanted to smack his head but then wondered about getting Edith photographed naked. 

“Look here, Smaile, we were thinking of taking some cameras to Brazil. Could you sort me out something light and show me how to use them? The expedition would pay you, of course!” 

“Ooh, I don’t know, Ed,” said Smaile. “I’m a busy fellow and you don’t have much time left in this country. Might be expensive. Might be nigh on impossible at such short notice! Now if you could see to persuade your lovely young lady to pose for some more informal pictures then it might be possible. In her underthings perhaps?  A nice memento for you to take with you on the ship. You could put it by your bedside and look at it when you are feeling...” 

“Smaile! How could you suggest such a thing! Anyway, I thought you didn’t have the time!” I said. 

“Time, is a very flexible proposition in my line of work. Different amounts of time have a different cost. Like finding the time to locate some cameras suitable for the tropics!  You can't just pick up a Brownie you know!” He smirked. I thought about it and then decided that I might just be able to persuade Daisy to pose for such pictures, as she had already posed for such drawings, in her previous job, she might not object to being photographed similarly. She would probably enjoy it, I thought, remembering her animated poses in a series of hats earlier. 

“I will see what I can do,” I said.

“Lovely! Come back next Thursday morning,” he said, consulting his diary “Should warn you though it’s amazing how when you get a pretty young girl in front of the lens they’re all happy to remove more and more of their togs! They love showing what they’ve got!” 

“I am sure that Daisy is a properly bought up young lady!” I said 

“Them is the worst!” he said. 

“Just get the cameras. And film. Lots of film!” 




The next day Daisy and I had an entertaining lunch with Edna Somersby who was delighted to meet my “young lady!” Edna drank too much Chablis and told a very rude story about a chimney sweep which had Daisy in fits of giggles. The ‘Daisy decoy’ was working a treat, following the interview I wrote up for the Courier. They had printed a lovely picture of Daisy in a splendid hat and she looked quite as beautiful as one of our Saturday actresses. McCandless was delighted with her comments about a dinosaur expedition scrapbook. On Saturday. the newspaper printed some artists impressions of dinosaurs by the famous American artist Charles Knight with the suggestion that readers might want to start such a scrapbook themselves.  

We had to work on the Saturday as we only had some ten days before we left on the liner but that evening Daisy and I went to the pictures together at the Scala Theatre on Charlotte Street.  We went to see the famous full colour film With Our King and Queen Through India but before that there was a newsreel. Daisy disappeared, briefly, after we had sat down. Half way through the newsreel a caption came up: “Challenor expedition staff entering their expedition HQ” There, on screen, were Daisy and I coincidentally meeting up outside the Euston Hotel as we had done earlier in the week. You could see us speaking to each other and then Daisy kissing me. There were a few cheers in the audience. ‘Intrepid Courier reporter Edmund Molloy’ said the caption. Then there was a view of Daisy alone. ‘His sweetheart Miss Daisy Thompson.’ There was piercing squeal from the aisle behind me. I turned and saw Daisy standing with her hand over her mouth, 

“It’s me! It’s actually me. On the silver screen!” she cried. This caused pandemonium, as the audience caught on to who we were. 

 “Look it’s them!” 

“They’re here!” 

"The brave reporter!” 

“That lovely girl!”

It took the rest of the newsreel for things to calm down. The picture house staff had to persuade people to get back into their seats.  As we left the cinema I had to shake many hands and even sign some of Mr Knight’s pictures of dinosaurs from that day's edition. Daisy lapped up the attention and glowed with pleasure. She looked completely lovely, I thought. We walked down Tottenham Court Road and Charing Cross road, towards Charing Cross station for the District Line, as we were enjoying being together. Daisy would take it to Victoria and I would go on to Earl’s Court. We were arm in arm and I felt very comfortable with her. She was still very excited about seeing herself on the cinema screen. 

 “I must tell Alice! We must go and see it together!” Her best friend Alice lived in the same mansion block in Pimlico. She chattered on. “Edmund you are not saying much!” 

“I think you are saying quite enough for both of us!” I laughed. She looked crestfallen and then thumped me on the shoulder. I pretended to wince. 

“Oh, sorry! Let me kiss it better!” she said, standing on tiptoe, putting her hand behind my neck and pulling me down into a kiss. 

“My shoulder is here!” I said, indicating it. 

“Yes but what fun is there in kissing a mackintosh!” she answered, reasonably. 

“It still hurts!” I lied, hopefully. 

“I was hoping it would!” She kissed me again, this time more passionately and I kissed her back. A woman passing by ‘tutted’ at us and we broke apart, embarrassed. 

“Well, Edmund Molloy, that was very fine kiss for your sweetheart! What would Edith say?” 

“Edith is not my sweetheart. We have an arrangement, that is all. It is not a permanent arrangement, either.   It will end when I leave for Brazil!” I realised that I was trying to distance myself from Edith if front of Daisy.  I already knew that Edith could only be a diversion whereas Daisy...

“No, I am your sweetheart! It says so in all the papers and the newsreels!” she pinched my side, playfully. 

“In that case we should probably have another kiss, in case there are any reporters skulking in the shadows!” I said and we did, just as we arrived at the Underground station.  I wanted to get off at Victoria to see her back to her flat as I must confess that a part of me hoped she would invite me inside. I thought about Edith and had a brief pang of guilt but Edith, I thought, would probably be entertained by this sudden romantic turn. Conscious of the people who seemed to be looking at us us in the carriage, as we rattled along, I gave Daisy a quick squeeze and she gave me a peck on the lips before leaving the carriage. She waited on the platform until the train left the station and gave me a wave.  I smiled to myself, like a fool. 

“Excuse me, Mr Molloy...” said a lady, brandishing a copy of the Courier at me. I reached for my pencil. 



I spent all Sunday writing my next piece but kept breaking off to look at the address on the card Daisy had given me in the lobby of the Great Northern Hotel.  I kept it next to me and kept glancing at it.  I knew I shouldn’t but in the afternoon I took the underground to Victoria and walked to her block.  I stood outside for some time but then left and went home again.  A couple of kisses didn’t mean she really liked me and I had Edith to consider.  On Monday, at the Courier’s office, old McCandless was in an ebullient mood. “Sales are up, laddie and so are demands for advertisements. Parents are buying the Courier just for our dinosaur pictures, so their children can put them in their scrapbooks! All thanks to your wee lassie’s comment!” said a beaming McCandless. “Lord Ventnor is delighted! He wants to invite you and Miss Thompson to dinner tonight!” He handed me an invitation which Ventnor had obviously left in the office. 

“I think I had better telephone Daisy!” I said. "She will need a dress!” Eventually I got to speak to Daisy and she went into something of a panic. 

Tonight! I cannot possibly manage tonight! I do not have a dress!” she wailed. I spoke to Edith who agreed to take her out that afternoon and use some of the Courier’s money which I would then repay from the five pounds Lord Ventnor had given me. 

“Do not spend more than five pounds!” I said. 

“Good Lord, Edmund that is a fortune!” said Edith. “We shall go to Selfridges and see if they can fit something today!” 




Later that day I had lunch in the River Restaurant at the Savoy with Lord Hoxton, just before he took the train down to Hampshire from Waterloo. I have to say that the noisettes d''agneau were far superior to the lamb I had had in the Euston Hotel but the restaurant itself was far more splendid as well.  I apologised, again, for misleading him about Edith Challenor but he said he quite understood, given the circumstances. 

“Decided I am a touch jealous, in fact.  Splendid woman, Mrs Challenor. Bet she goes like a Circassian dancing girl. Nothing like being the plaything of an experienced older woman. Finest feeling on earth! Other than taking down two dozen ducks in one shot with a punt gun on the Norfolk Broads!” 

“She is very...active,” I said. "I had imagined that women would be somewhat immobile when...you know."

“Excellent!  Must introduce you to some of the Brazilian bints!  Very active too, some of ‘em.  Got a couple of part-tamed ones out there meself!”  He expressed delight that both I and Britten were coming to his birthday party that weekend, which was why he was leaving London mid-week, to see to the preparations. I said that I would be bringing Edith down to his party, although she would appear to be with Britten. “Well done! Can’t wait to see if she cuts loose!” 

“She has indicated that that is precisely her intention!” I said. “She did wonder if there would be any dancing.” 

“Oh yes! A masked ball. In fact masks are all you are allowed to wear!” he said. I was not sure what Edith would think about that. “Take ‘em when you can. Molloy. There is no finer pursuit for a gentleman than the acquisition of hot, wet quim!  I write all mine up you know.  Always have.  Marks out of ten and what not!  Particular talents and observations.  Like Lady Caroline, for example. Likes it up the arse. Swallows me jism. Tends to piss herself when she comes! Nine out of ten. That sort of thing.  Noted every one since I had me nanny at the age of thirteen!  Not her of course! She was twenty.  I was thirteen.  Did have a thirteen year old once but it was an accident and it was in Paris, so perfectly legal.  Toyed with a couple of gels who might have been a tad younger in Constantinople. Budding breasts, just a hint of fluff but that was just harmless fun, what?  Very clever mouths. Cousins I think.  Won 'em in a game of bridge.  Well trained for their age. Like ‘em a bit older meself. Fifteen to nineteen is perfect for your wide-eyed innocents and first timers. Then a big gap and I go for the late thirties type. Bags of tricks those, as you have obviously discovered, what?  Note ‘em all down in me books.” Trying to interrupt Lord Hoxton when he was in full flow was nigh on impossible so I just sat there swilling my cognac and nodding at appropriate points.  Fortunately, we were the last people in the restaurant and the waiters were keeping a respectful distance 

 “So how many ladies, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have in your notebooks?” I asked. 

“Oh! Buggered if I know, exactly!  With some of 'em I was in a bit of a haze, what?  Let’s see. I’m on me thirtieth volume...” 

“Good Lord!” I said, sounding like Britten. 

“Must be about three thousand I suppose! Lots of them are native girls of one sort or another. Polynesia. Christ, that was a trip!  South Africa. Big girls there.  Lots of meat on 'em!  Brazil.  Some exotic beauties there, for certain!” 

“It would make an entertaining book!” I said. “I have started writing down my own intimate experiences in a journal, for future enjoyment.” 

“What a splendid idea!” said Hoxton.  “Don’t have your gift for words though, Molloy!  I say!  Had a corker of an idea!  Why don’t you write up a memoir for me?  We can look at the notebooks and I can see if I can recall the circumstances, the girls and what have you and you can turn it into your polished prose.  Pay you of course.  We’ll have a session in me library at the weekend.  See what you think!  Better still, old Johnny Dupont will be there this weekend.  He owns a publishing house in Paris.  Publishes erotic novels in limited editions. Many of the Babylon members subscribe to the Society’s special editions which he publishes for us.  Lots of excellent titles. ‘The Despoiling of a Maid’, ‘Ravished by Arab slavers’, ‘Plaything of the harem girls: a white woman’s confession’, ‘Bound and beaten in the Congo’, ‘Sisters in Sin’, ‘Buggered by the Cardinal’, ‘My mother, my lover’; particularly resonates with old Johnny that one, what?  Terrific stuff.  Lady Caroline reads ‘em to me sometimes. Always entertaining!  I’ll get you a couple.  Have a shelf full of ‘em in me library in Hampshire.  Sure you could write that sort of thing, what?" 

“I am sure I could!” I said, smiling. I probably already had enough material to write racy love scenes. “Britten has already told me about the publisher.” 

“Now, what about this Daisy I have read about, eh? Looks like a very pretty gel indeed!” said Hoxton. “Seen her picture in the papers!” I told him about Daisy and how she wished to come to his birthday weekend as well, given she claimed to be a 'game girl'. “Young Daisy will be very welcome indeed!  Hope she is a modern gel, though. Not easily shocked, eh?” 

“She has shocked me a few times!” I said. 

"Splendid!  Be nice for Lady Caroline’s daughters to have a gel their own age there too!” said Hoxton.  He looked at his watch.  “Three thirty! Right, best be off to Waterloo!  I suggest you catch the nine fifty nine from Waterloo to Gosport via Alton on Friday.  Get off at West Meon, just after the viaduct.  It‘ll be just before twelve thirty. I’ll have me driver pick you up!  We can blast away at some pots a bit in the afternoon!   Look at me racy books in the library!  Bring your popsy too, don’t forget. Not Mrs Challenor. She ain’t a popsy by anyone’s measure. All woman, she is!  Poking old Challenor’s wife, eh!  What a card!  Not to say damn courageous!   I like you more and more, Molloy!   So you are doing the lovely Daisy as well, eh?” 

“No. She started in the nature of a decoy.” I explained the idea and also that I was finding her increasingly appealing and I was growing more and more fond of her.

"You need to poke her before we have to go to Brazil.  Wouldn't want to waste such a lovely opportunity!," said Hoxton.  "Hopefully you can get up her this weekend!"  I started to worry about her attending, again.

“Daisy and I will get the train but Mrs Challenor will be driving down with Britten in the afternoon with Sir Gerald Crozier, his chairman!” 

“Yes of course! One of me very best friends! Good old Crozier! One of the Babylon Exploration Society’s founder members. Usually brings a big stock of rubber prophylactics, appropriately! Can’t have the top people in the country all impregnating each other’s wives, eh? Ha, Ha! His wife’s a corker! Skinny but permanently in heat!  Drips like a leaky tap, what?” And with another bone crushing squeeze of my hand he was gone, leaving me in an empty dining room.  I suddenly realised that he hadn’t paid the bill and wondered what on earth it would cost.  Several pounds I suspected, with all the wine and cognac we had had.  I would need to clear my head before dinner with Lord Ventnor.   I waved at the waiter.  Oh well, more of McCandless’ money.   I reasoned that any meal with an expedition member could be charged to the Courier.  The waiter, however said the bill had gone on to Lord Hoxton’s account. 

“You wouldn’t mind signing a picture for my son, would you, sir?” he asked. 

“Of course,” I said. He returned with one of the dinosaur pictures which he had cut from the Courier.

“Do you know, I have something better than that!” I reached into my pocket.  McCandless had had a set of postcards of dinosaur pictures printed to be sold as souvenirs and given to major advertisers. I had pocketed a few sets in the office. “Here! What’s your son’s name?” 

“Joshua, Mr Molloy, sir!” I carefully opened the thick brown paper envelope and took out the first of the six cards. This one, of a pterodactyl, had large white areas on it. I signed, ‘For Joshua from Edmund Molloy. Challenor Expedition. April 1912”. I popped it back inside the envelope and handed it to the waiter. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. You’ll make his day!” I left the restaurant with his effusive thanks still ringing in my ears. “God bless, sir! Hope you don’t get eaten by dinosaurs!”




I was early for our dinner with Lord Ventnor and his wife at the Ritz, somewhere I was starting to feel quite at home in. Daisy was already there, pacing up and down. I almost didn’t recognise her as she was wearing a splendid dress in navy blue which displayed an impressive expanse of the top of her bosom given her low, square cut neckline. She had short, loose sleeves and wore a fetching lace bandeau on her hair decorated with a few navy blue feathers and some glittering gems of some sort. She looked utterly edible. 

“Do you like my dress? Edith was such a dear and Selfridges fitted it in an hour. Mr Selfridge himself came down to see me. Can you imagine? He had seen my picture in the Courier and has asked me to model some clothes for them.  It is so exciting! We had our picture taken! He wants to put it in a newspaper but I said that only the Courier could cover the expedition. I said I could arrange it if he bought a nice big advertisement!”  I looked at her, smiling, as she chattered on. She was already attracting admiring looks from other men in the hotel. 

“Are you, Daisy, at any point, going to actually draw breath?" I asked. She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. 

“Oh dear! Sorry. I am really rather nervous!  Lord Ventnor!  He sounds terribly grand!” She explained that she came from a rather more humble background than I had imagined but she had learned manners from someone. “An older gentleman” was all she would say. 

“A military gentleman?” I asked. “Perhaps!” she smiled. “It is all in the past Edmund. You are my present!

“And future?” I asked, as I saw Lord Ventnor and his wife coming through the entrance. 

“I dare to hope!” she said and gave me a quick kiss. 

Daisy acquitted herself splendidly with the Ventnors; flirting slightly with Lord Ventnor and appearing girlishly conspiratorial with Lady Ventnor.  Ventnor had arranged that Smaile be there to take our photograph before dinner and he had to rush off to get it ready for the newspaper.

"Got my cameras.yet Smaile?" I asked, as he put his tripod over his shoulder the camera in a wooden case in his other hand.  The Ritz had arranged a private room for the photograph although we had had to stand absolutely still because he said there was hardly ant light.

"Got that agreement to model, Ed?" he asked, smirking.  I had yet to ask Daisy.

“Splendid gel!” said Lord Ventnor as we washed our hands in the cloakroom after dinner. “Give her one from me!” he winked. “A kiss, of course!” 

“Perhaps you should give her one yourself!” I suggested. 

“The memsahib would cut my ballocks off quicker than a Pathan tribeswoman!” he said. He slapped me on the shoulders. I wished people would stop doing that.  “Doing a splendid job on this dinosaur caper, Molloy.  Decided to double your pay while you are away. Money for perilous service and what have you. Will Miss Thompson be your next of kin if you get eaten by a dinosaur?” 

 “I think that I will have it sent to me mam..er, my mother!” I said. “Not that I intend to get eaten! Lord Hoxton is going to give me some shooting lessons down in Hampshire this weekend when I visit for his birthday!” 

“Capital! Well, I will see you there!” 

“Oh! Really? You are going to Lord Hoxton's birthday party?"  I was dumbfounded.  Ventnor would be at Hoxton's Party!

"Course.  Go every year!  A splendid affair!  Turkish theme this year!"

"Will Lady Ventnor be accompanying you?” I was already considering not attending, given this latest development but how would that look with him and, indeed Hoxton.  Perhaps there would be somewhere I could hide. 

“Of course not. Can’t have much fun with the old bird watching me like a hawk can I?"

“It might be rather restrictive,” I said. 

“Restrictive! Yes! Spot on, old chap! Lovely girls from the Babylon and what have you too. Know the place?” 

“I was there with Lord Hoxton last week!” 

“Splendid. Moving in the right circles now, Molloy.   Deputy editor before long I shouldn’t wonder!” My heart leapt.  Deputy editor!  I hoped he remembered the comment after the effects of the port wore off.  “I suppose you will be leaving Daisy behind too, eh?” 

“Actually, she is keen to attend!” I said.

“Does she know what she is in for?” I nodded. “Game girl, eh? Just keep Hoxton away from her, what?  Especially her arse!” 

Just before we left, Lady Ventnor approached me while her husband chatted to Daisy near the door, a process which seemed to necessitate him putting his arm around her waist. She was certainly wearing a corset tonight. 

“Mr Molloy, Lady Crozier tells me that you are going down to Lord Hoxton’s debauched birthday party this weekend!” said Lady Ventnor. She was a matronly woman who might have been very attractive a few decades and some three stone in weight ago. 

“Debauched? Birthday?” I said, acting as innocent as I could. 

“Try to make sure he doesn’t make a complete fool of himself with some young girl.  I would advise you to keep Daisy away from him after he has had a bottle of Champagne!  Prostitutes are one thing but we don’t want some pregnant housemaid.  Again.” 

“I will be very attentive!” I promised. She smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek. 

 “Don’t lose that girl,” she said, indicating Daisy. “She is lovely in every way!” 

“She certainly is!” I said, meaning it. 





The social columns in the other newspapers picked up on the dinner we had had with the Ventnors and Daisy became firmly established as my sweetheart.  Edith had noted the change in Daisy and my demeanour towards each other.  Unfortunately, she decided to start discussing it as I was gamahuching her on the floor of the Euston Hotel suite, early one evening.

"I wonder what young Daisy tastes like?" Edith had observed as I flicked her piss hole with the tip of my tongue.  I felt a slight salty discharged and realised she had just offered me a few drops of her golden essence.  "Like strawberries and cream, I would imagine, to look at her.  Or, perhaps, more realistically, a plump Colchester oyster; all salty and moistly fishy. What a wonderfully fresh young thing she is!"

"Well.." I began, pulling my face out of her sweating, dripping loins to say something but I had my head firmly pushed back before I could continue.

"I am thinking out loud not initiating a conversation, Edmund.  Get back to work!"  I reapplied my tongue and started to probe her anus with my index finger.  "Ooh!" said Edith.  "I wonder what her feminine parts look like?   All pink and juicy I hope!".  She continued in this manner, pondering on the intimate treasures of Daisy's body, while I licked and penetrated her.  I slipped my thumb into her cunny and gently squeezed so that my finger tip and thumb pressed the thick barrier of soft flesh between her rectum and vagina.  I started to lick her bud and she stopped talking and began breathing hard.  I moved up and lay on top of her, thrusting my cock up her as she spread her legs and bent her knees.  "That's it Edmund!  That's it!  Fuck away!"  I started to thrust violently, as I sensed she was in that sort of mood.  I looked down at her perspiring face.  We were fully dressed again.  She smiled. "Do you wonder what Daisy would feel like?" she asked, trying to look innocent.  Immediately I began to spend and spend inside her, still thrusting away.  Her insides clasped me as if to pump every drop of spunk from me.  We stopped moving.  "Obviously you do!" she laughed.

"You are a bad influence, Edith!" I said. kissing her on the lips before getting up to piss.

"I do hope so!" she said, watching me empty my bladder into the chamber pot, as she sat  on the bare floor of the 'storage room', her skirts up around her waist her legs open, my spunk dribbling from her livid red entrance.  "Now be a dear and get me a tissue.  I feel like you've pumped a good quarter of a pint up me and I do not want it running down my new stockings!"






Come the Wednesday, I realised we had only a week before the SS Hildebrand sailed for Brazil.  I had had to go on something of a clothes buying spree as Edith and Daisy had derided my 'pathetically small' travelling wardrobe. Daisy had taken me to Selfridges and ensured I was fitted out for tropical climes.  Mr Selfridge came down to see us (or Daisy, in reality, I suspect) and had us pose for another picture. True to his word he had bought several large advertisements in the Courier so I was happy to pose for his photographer once more.  I was happy but Daisy loved it. Despite being the expedition member, I found myself largely ignored by the public and staff at the store, which I was happy about, although I was popular with small boys.

Lord Hoxton, who was now down at his country house in the Meon Valley, had left some of his luggage with us. He said that he would bring his guns and personal items by car direct to the port in Liverpool.  Marguerite had taken all her luggage up to Liverpool already and Professor Challenor was due to leave tomorrow. Only Professor Somersby would travel with me by train up to Liverpool on the following Wednesday.  Because of other preparations and work at the Courier I only got to the Euston Hotel at about five that evening, letting myself in with the key which we had all been given a copy of.  Edith was sitting at the desk in the room looking at a pile of scattered papers and cursing. Daisy was not there, disappointingly. 

“Bloody things don’t add up! Daisy said they were all fine! Bugger! Shit!” I came up behind her and kissed her exposed neck. She had tied her hair in a tight bun but enticing wisps of golden brown hair had escaped.  I blew at them and she giggled.

“Where is she?”

“Daisy? I sent her home early. She has been wonderful today but I wanted her out the way so we could fuck!”

“I hope the professor hasn’t noticed the continued deterioration in your language, Edith. You’d make a navvy blush!”

 “I want your cock up my cunt!” she said. “But first I have to balance these figures. Daisy has totalled them up but they don’t match the receipts! Go into the bedroom and take all your clothes off. I have laid out a couple of blankets which I stole from the laundry cupboard in the corridor!”

“Our arses are safe from splinters!” I said. I went into the bedroom and stripped off, stretching and enjoying my nakedness. I cupped my balls and tugged at my cock which was already starting to grow in anticipation. I walked back into the main room and looked at Edith frowning at the desk. I noticed a couple of scraps of paper on the far side of the desk. I walked over and picked them up. “Would these hold any clue to the problem in hand!”

“What?” she said, waving me away. "You are distracting me with your cock!   Oh! Where did you find those?”

“The other side of the desk!”

“That’s it! This is what I’ve been missing!" She scribbled something down. “Perfect! I should have known Daisy wouldn’t make a mistake!"  She pushed her chair back, which made a horrible scraping noise on the floor. “Mr Molloy, how can I ever thank you?” she said, unbuttoning her pale blue blouse.

“Oh I think you should decide that!” I said as I watched her pull her blouse and her chemise up over her head in one motion. I looked at her big breasts with her hardening nipples and completed my process of tumescence. She unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it and her petticoats down together. She left her black stockings on and, as usual these days, had dispensed with drawers.  She knelt down in front of me and I put my feet apart so she could get at me easily. She held my cock back against my belly and started to lick my balls, sucking each testicle into her soft mouth.

“Mmm!” she said, slipping a hand underneath my groin and probing at my anus. She pulled my cock down and started to lick and kiss my member. She looked up at me as she took my knob into her soft, warm mouth. “Mmm!” she said again as I stroked her lovely shoulders. She began to bob her head backwards and forwards. We were so involved in each other neither of us heard the key turning in the lock.

“Oh! So sorry!” said Daisy, crashing into the room and slamming the door behind her. “Don’t mind me. Forgot my keys! Took them out of my bag when I... Jesus Christ that’s a nice one!” she said. Edith had pulled off me to look at Daisy. “Oh there they are! I’ll be off now!” she said crossing to the desk. “Do you want me to shut the curtains or are you happy to continue providing a show to the guests in the Victoria Hotel across the square?”

“Daisy!  Stay here!” ordered Edith. “But shut the curtains first!” Daisy hurried over and pulled across the heavy drapes. She turned back to us and stopped.

“Sorry! I’m somewhat...captivated.  Didn’t mean to bother you. That really is a nice one!  Did I already say that!  Oh dear!  Goodnight!  Have a lovely evening! Not that you aren’t having one. Or you were.  Until I spoilt it!  Oh dear!   Am I dismissed?” she stammered.

“Would you like to touch it?” asked Edith.

“Touch it?” asked Daisy.

“Edmund’s cock. Would you like to touch it?” Edith took hold of me. “It’s really nice. So soft. So...”

“Curved!” said Daisy. “No. Of course, I should leave.” She remained where she was, staring at me. Or at least, part of me. “Nicest one I’ve ever seen!”

“Come and stroke it!” said Edith, pumping me once.

“Oh my goodness! No!” she said, advancing towards me. “But then I am supposed to be his sweetheart. It’s in the papers so it must be true!” She laughed. Edith released me and reached out and took Daisy’s hand.

 “Here!” she pulled Daisy’s hand close to my erection. Anticipating her touch I involuntarily twitched it.

“Oh!” she shrieked. She laughed but then she slowly wrapped her fingers around me and sighed. “It’s been a long time!” she smiled.

“Pump him!” said Edith.

“Really?” said Daisy making no attempt to release me.

 “You are supposed to be his sweetheart and at Lord Hoxton’s party you will be expected to be physically intimate with him. Some training would be useful!” said Edith.

"Oh!  I suppose so.  What fun!"  Daisy did, indeed, start to pump me gently. She looked up at me and smiled. “Can I ? You know! Suck it? Mrs C?”

“Let’s attend to him together, Daisy! But why don’t you take all your clothes off too. You must feel a little overdressed!” Daisy was already unbuttoning her blouse and Edith moved in to help her. “I’ve never been undressed by another woman before Mrs C!”

“Have you ever lain with another woman, Daisy?” asked Edith, unbuttoning the girl’s skirt.

“Oh yes!  Several times!” she said, pushing the skirt down over her hips. “It was lovely!”

“Excellent! This will be a first time for me!” said Edith.

“Gosh! How naughty! Are we going to do it?” said Daisy and squeezed Edith’s bottom. “You are so soft!”

I really couldn’t believe what was going on.  Daisy seemed happy to accede to anything.  It made me worry even more about Hoxton's birthday party.  Daisy stood before me as Edith removed the last of her underthings for her, rolling her stockings sensuously down her legs. Daisy’s body was a wonderful collection of curved surfaces. Broad hips short, rather stocky but shapely legs, a gently rounded belly and breasts that were even larger than Edith’s but still high and hemispherical. “Do you like me!” she said, giving me a little spin and revealing a firm, round, and really quite exceptional, behind.

 “What do you think? Look at his cock!” laughed Edith.

“It looks like it might explode!” giggled Daisy. “Does it hurt?”

“No! It feels wonderful!” I said, grasping it.

“Oh that is so exciting!” said Daisy.“Watching you hold it! You are proud of your body and quite rightly!  Look at your muscles. You are like a Greek God!” said Daisy. “And I know you fuck like one!” she giggled.

“Don’t encourage him. When I first met him he was all shy. Now he struts around naked all the time, pushing his cock out!” said Edith.

“Lovely! Now what?” said Daisy, still grasping my manhood.

 “We are going to go next door where I have laid some blankets upon the floor. We will turn out the light in there but leave it on in here. We will fellate Edmund until his cock is nice and wet and then he will fuck me while you watch!” said Edith.

“I have never seen two people...fuck!”  said Daisy. “You do use rude words Mrs C! They make me feel all dirty and excited!”

“After Edmund has come inside me you will lie on the blanket and I will kiss and caress you and then lick your sex until you come!” continued Edith.

 “Can I then do it to you?” asked Daisy, distractingly fondling her breasts. “I love the taste of pussy!” 

“You can! By this time Edmund will have recovered and then, if you agree...” began Edith.

“He can fuck me!” said Daisy looking delighted. “I love my new job!”


Chapter notes on this episode can be found here.

3 comments:

  1. A minor point, but I was trying to look back at some earlier chapters and found that the side bar link to chapter 13 currently does not work. I had to use the link to the notes on chapter 13 and then the link in the notes to the actual chapter. On the same theme - because I just tried it - the link to the chapter notes at the end of this chapter is missing (i.e. "here" is not currently a link).

    And since I'm obviously in a pedantic mood, where you say "readers might want to star such a scrapbook themselves" I think "star" should be "start". I'll shut up now, other to say that I really enjoyed the chapter and am looking forward to reading exactly what is about to happen to Daisy - a delightful young lady - and to the coming birthday party.

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    1. Thanks for the corrections - all fixed now. Daisy's character is based on a secretary I had once (actually many times!) and her appearance is based on a Spanish friend (actually she would say Basque) of an Italian girlfriend.

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    2. Your chronicles are moving fairly slowly (in terms of time passed, not incidents reported) but this Daisy like secretary definitely gives us something to look forward to in later episodes.

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