– The HOUSE –

* AUTHORS NOTE – this photo story contains adult themed material – so anyone who had a sheltered upbringing or has a delicate disposition is advised to stop now and come back when I have exhausted this storyline ( which may be a while yet as it’s too much fun)

~*~

Neville had many jobs during his travelling years: washer upper, chef, barman, labourer, taxi driver, you name it, he’s probably done it (maybe not well, but he’s had a go!)

Standing in the spotless kitchen of the secluded mansion House in the woods with the beautiful yet abrupt German lady, Neville mustered up his manly practical skills to obey her instructions, she pointed to the sink half full of cold congealed washing up water.

“There, fix eet.”

“Oh yeah, this is blocked right up, have you got a bucket…er …Miss?” Neville still didn’t know her name.

“Ja, there.” she replied sternly, pointing to the next cupboard, “Get it done, NOW.”

Neville was a little bit scared and a little bit thrilled by her abruptness.

Delving under the sink to remedy the cause of this problem, he had to clear out a space to work first, ‘A torch, that’s handy’ he thought as he didn’t have any tools with him.

Taking off his Jacket, Nev tried the usual things first, boiling water, pumping the plughole to create a vacuum, nothing seemed to budge whatever the blockage was.

“You haven’t poured cooking fat down there recently…er….Miss?”

“Nein, nein, you can address me as Mistress ….Mistress Petra.”

“I’m Neville.” He replied, glad to know her name at last.

As he got on with the stinky job of cleaning out the U bend, she marched off, click clack went her heels on the hard floor.

“Do eet and clean up after.” She called as she left Nev alone in the echoey large kitchen.

He was sure he heard distant stifled screams, ‘Must be the wind’ he thought.

The pipe was stiff and took a bit of effort to unscrew, the putrid smell was gross, as expected as the dirty water gushed into the bucket.

It’s not even windy outside, Nev’s mind was roaming as more faint shouts could be heard, it was all most peculiar.

At last the sink pipe was cleaned out, Nev found some weird stuff that he could have sworn was candle wax as well as hair balls and an earring; quite pleased with himself he imagined her thanking him and smiled.

Like all good workmen, Nev cleaned up and put everything back where he’d found them, washing out the stinky bucket he gazed around the kitchen when his eyes fell on some unusual things. He wondered who else lived in this big house, must be a man he guessed, by the detritus.

His curiosity had been roused, a men’s magazine, keys and what looked like Gauloise in the ashtray ( he’d travelled in France too) Nev scanned the letter but it was written in German and he wasn’t very good at reading although he recognised a few words, not enough to understand the content.

Getting bolder he opened the top draw and got the shock of his life…a GUN!

Money, travellers cheques and plane tickets – this was NOT what he’d expected to find.

‘SHIT!’ his brain went into panic mode, shutting the drawer swiftly on hearing noises in the corridor outside.

With heart thumping he tried to work out what it could be – a shuffling and squeaking with breathless grunts as well as the heavy thud thump of slowly moving footsteps.

As the noise maker passed, he couldn’t help himself, opening the kitchen door quietly he peeked down the hall.

SHIT!

Gobsmacked….with utter shock and tingling with….oh dear….Neville’s brain was numbed.

What on earth had he just seen?

Unbelieving, he had another look to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating as the strange scenario slowly disappeared up the long darkened hallway to a distant entrance followed by the slamming of a door.

He stood alone in the hall for a long time it seemed, trying to make sense of the whole situation.

Questions, queries, and conundrums whirled around in his head, his thought was interrupted by the opposite door opening and lovely Petra appearing.

“Ah, you have finished ja?” Nev sheepishly nodded.

“Err yes….Miss….Mistress Petra, it’s all sorted now, as right as rain.”

“Gut gemacht.”

“I am pleased viv you.” She handed him a note, a pound note, which Nev was happy to accept ( it was a long week till payday and he was skint as always)

“No problem, Miss….Mistress Petra, I’m happy to help such a lovely lady as yourself…” He was beginning to get his priorities in order and really wanted to see more of this special lady now the job was finished. Just when he was mustering up to ask if he could see her again the door opened.

The same lady he’d seen in the hallway not ten minutes beforehand. Tall, statuesque and with a haughty expression of almost distaste, she stood inspecting his whole figure with her dark eyes, appraising him from head to boots, making a throaty humph sound.

“Is zis the one?” she asked Petra, rudely ignoring Neville as if he was an item of furniture.

“Ja.”

“Er ist akzeptabel.”

Neville looked quizzically from one to the other.

“My sister Felina agrees, you vill work for us, zis house iz old and need repair…how you say… heimwerker…handyman?

Neville was taken aback by the offer (or command, he wasn’t sure which) as he gazed from one beautiful face to the other, he could tell they were definitely related and the idea of sisters gave him a bit of a thrill too.

“Yes, great, when shall I start?” He was tad over eager and the excitement of that evenings goings on had roused his blood.

“Come again next Monday night.”

Then it hit him, this wasn’t a full time job, he’d have to wait a whole week to see her again.

“Ok but what do you want me to do then?”

“The gutter, it eez blocked, mend it.”

With that he was unceremoniously ushered out of the house with barely time to grab his jacket.

It was a long dark bike ride back to town, especially with no lights, all the time his mind was excitedly thinking about his next visit to the House. Neville was only just in time to catch last orders at the ‘Jolly Sailor’ pub but decided not to mention his evenings whereabouts to his brother Barry.

“Where have you been, I thought you’d done a bunk?”

“Er…went to the cinema.” Nev lied. He had been staying at Barry’s pad since he returned but perhaps it was time to find his own place, away from awkward questions and prying eyes.

“Hey, Nev I told Sindy about that chick today.” he taunted.

“Yes, who is she? Are you seeing her again? Barry said she looked foreign? I’m so glad you are making other friends.” Sindy was getting a bit fed up with him being the gooseberry around Barry’s place, especially as he creeped all her friends out.

“Not sure.” Was all he answered ambiguously.

What happens when he returns to the House?

What other strange goings on will he witness?

Wait and find out in the next exciting story….

©Juliette Dodd 2020

SHIP WRECK

Barry’s big brother Neville had been staying over for a few nights but he was beginning to feel restless and confined, preferring open spaces and seeing the stars than four walls and a ceiling

His constant pacing around like a caged animal was beginning to get on Barry’s nerves, even when he was quiet, he wasn’t – forever sniffing, coughing and mumbling to himself.

“Come on Nev, lets go down the pub?”

“Ok, thats a good plan Baz…but I’m a bit short at the moment.” As he emptied his pockets, 15p and half a pack of dusty Woodbines tumbled out.

“My shout, you can owe me one.” Barry said knowing that may not happen for a long while.

“I’ll try and get you on the bins with me, we’re a lad down since Arthurs accident.”

“Cheers.” Although Neville was hoping for a musical related job rather than hard graft.

In the back bar of ‘The Jolly Sailor’ sat Burt quietly mulling over the remnants of his last pint, he perked up when the boys burst in.

“Two pints of Best, Cheryl….and a pint for my mate Burt” Barry was feeling generous, it was the day after payday and he still had a wad in his pocket.

Burt, Barry and Neville toasted each other, awkwardly the conversations started then stumbled as Neville was only giving one word answers, eventually Barry asked Burt a leading question to rev up his storytelling yarns.

“Have you ever been shipwrecked Burt?”

“Have I ever….it was late summer when a freak storm hit our boat….”

*FLASHBACK CAMERA WOBBLES*

As the salty sea waves crashed over the crude raft, a recumbent figure was drenched for the umpteenth time. Not a flicker of life was to be seen as the sea birds circled above hoping for a tasty titbit.

Dawn had broken revealing a calm horizon after the furious tempest that raged all last night.

Burt was lying unconscious, as the raft was gently carried on the prevailing tides, he had no idea how long he’d drifted; only aware of his gnawing hunger and overwhelming fatigue as each day gradually became night.

As if in the far distance, the familiar sea sounds drastically changed as he fell in and out of consciousness, the waves became louder as they rhythmically pummelled the soft yielding sand and withdrew fulfilled swirling spume and shingle until the next one rushed in.

Over the beach the girls playfully chased and dodged each other while they enjoyed the first day of their weekend break.

Giggling and splashing along the shoreline in the soft sand and shallow warm waters, they stopped in their tracks at the strange sight; half scared and half inquisitive the girls approached the raft, desperately hoping not to see a gruesome sight.

“Is he dead?”

“How should I know, poke him.”

“No you poke him”

The recumbent figure didn’t look dead, just very wet and a bit sunburnt, as the girls argued about what to do now, whether to call the police or coastguard?

His head felt heavy and was throbbing incessantly, the high pitched sounds pierced his eardrums as Burt gradually came to with a grunt.

The noise continued as the girls squealed their surprise at his sudden movement.

“Oh my gosh, he’s alive!”

“Are you alright?”

“No,” grunted Burt hoarsely, he suddenly became aware of how thirsty he was, his mouth was drier than a crisp packet.

All Burt could see was a lithe pair of firm tanned female thighs.

‘Am I in Heaven?’ He blinked tightly and tried to focus again.

“Oh you poor thing.”

“Let us help you.”

Burt was so weak and his legs were wobbly, between both the strong strapping girls they managed to support his manly form and slowly he limped back to their beach encampment.

Stacey was quietly reading her book when she spied her friends returning.

“What the devil! You girls are fast worker.” She chuckled, thinking at first Burt was drunk.

“We saved him!”

“Yes, he would have died if we hadn’t have rescued him.”They seemed very pleased with themselves, although Burt was close to collapsing again.

” Wat – er… water.” He whispered weakly.

“Oh dear, we’ve only got beer and some bottles of Lambrini.”

Then Burt knew he really had died and this was his heaven. Glugging down a small bottle of beer, then another and another to quench his incessant thirst was the last thing he remembered.

“Aw, he’s gone to sleep and we don’t even know his name.”

“He must have an exciting tale to tell, wonder where he comes from?”

“Do you think he’s a natural blonde, lets check?”

“Barbie! Leave him alone.”

Burt suddenly sat bolt upright and alert,

“Where am I? How did I get here?”

“We were going to ask you that.”

“…and where is my shirt?” Barbie just tittered while she rubbed sun lotion into his arms and back, “Oh what firm muscles you have.”

” …and that’s how I first met Stacey.”

“What happed then?” Barry was curious, Neville was silent.

“Er, well that’s the tricky part.” Burt explained, “I was reported as missing presumed dead…and I still am where the official records are concerned.”

“Oh!”

“Bit like me, under the radar.” Muttered Neville, more to himself than a general statement.

©Juliette Dodd 2019