Chapter 19: “We women, of course, can be both, as it suits us!”

A London and South-Western Railway train at Waterloo Station, London

After journalist Edmund Molloy agrees that his sweetheart Daisy can pose in her underthings for a photographer, without her permission, she and Edith, the wife of dinosaur expedition leader professor Challenor, tie him to a hotel bed, as punishment.  After being teased by a prostitute disguised as a maid, paid for by the two women,  he embarrasses himself by losing control of his bladder.

After my final degradation, Edith and Daisy became all solicitous and even apologetic.  Daisy ventured that they had, perhaps,‘gone too far’ but when they encountered Bobbie the prostitute in the corridor the idea came into Edith’s head to humiliate me more than the original plan of just tying me to the bed while they had a bath.  Edith, was rather less apologetic and said that she hoped I had learned a valuable lesson, which I quickly agreed I had.  Edith went to her bedroom, down the corridor, to get another bathrobe.  Daisy washed me with some soap and water and even got me erect again as she lathered my manhood.  Edith took our things to her room and, dressed in the robe, Daisy led me to the bathroom, ran a bath and even joined me in it to wash me properly.  She kept apologising and I kept apologising and soon we were kissing and caressing, as if nothing had happened.

It was, however, now rather late and so, apart from the intimate stroking, Daisy and I went no further.  We went to Edith’s room to find her, naked, and brushing her hair at the dressing table.  Edith told me that she would say that there had been an accident with the chamber pot and that the expedition would offer to pay for the cleaning, although Daisy ventured that they would need to buy a new mattress as I had pissed ‘a bucket load’ into it.  Edith brushed Daisy’s hair and we all, eventually climbed into bed naked, as a fire had been lit in the room earlier.  There was no further intimate contact from the women so I decided it best I didn’t initiate any, although I hoped that this situation would not persist.

“So, tomorrow,” said Edith as we lay next to each other, with myself in the middle, Daisy to my right and Edith on my left, “what do we do if approached by another for sexual contact?”

“Don’t we just decide at the time, depending on who it is?  If it is a nice girl, then I will just fling my legs open and push her head down there!” said Daisy, who was, I thought, gently caressing her sex.

“What if it is a man?” I asked. “Not the same, surely?”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to go with another man?” said Daisy. “Are you going to resist any enticing women?”

“Lady Caroline’s daughters, for example!” said Edith.  She had told Daisy about my drawing adventure.  I thought it was somewhat unnecessary to mention  Lady Caroline's daughters, at that point, to Daisy. 

“One of them is under sixteen!” I said, trying to sound suitably horrified but an image of Sarah's spread thighs and pink parts coming into my head.

“But one is not!” said Edith.

“Well Daisy and I are a famous couple, now,” I said, avoiding the question.

“What if it was Lord Hoxton or William?” asked Daisy.  “Would that make you more uncomfortable or less?”

“I don’t know!” I said, having thought about nothing else since I received the invitation.

“We do not know the exact nature of the weekend.  We may be assuming a higher level of debauchery than is, in fact, the case,” said Edith.

“True,” I said,“but Lord Hoxton said that there would be fifty people all writhing around naked!”

“They could all well be naked.  They could all well be fucking.  That does not mean, however, that they are partner swapping.  You might be pegging Daisy next to me being taken by William, with no risk of an ‘excuse me’!”

“Oh!  Do you intend to be taken by William?” I asked, fearing she did.

“Absolutely!” said Edith.  “With you off in the jungle for however many months and even George’s once a month efforts absent, I fear my cunt will seal itself up through lack of use!”

“Is that possible?” I asked.  “Does that happen?”

“It was a joke, Edmund!” she replied.

“Oh!” I said.  Despite my recent activities I was well aware that my sexual knowledge was not what it might be.

“I for one would be entertained by watching you taking another woman, Edmund, but I don’t know how Daisy would feel about that situation,” said Edith.

“I don’t want another woman stealing Edmund away but someone, perhaps, in a similar situation as you, Mrs C...” mused Daisy.

“Someone with no permanent intentions,” said Edith.

“Exactly!” said Daisy. “Another married woman, for example.  I’d love to watch her face as she sees his big  cock for the first time!”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!”  said Edith.  Daisy giggled.

“Just like that!  One of Lady Caroline’s daughters, however.  Unless I joined in, of course, as part of a trio.  Or a quartet.  Or a quintet!”

“I really don’t know.” I said.  “Also, there will be, er, high class ladies of the night in attendance!”  I said.

“Toffers!” said Daisy in delight.  “I could get some tips!  You can have them with no worries Edmund.  They won’t want to marry you, they will be after much richer men.”  I felt a brief wave of affection for Hoshimi but realised that Daisy was quite right.  I then realised that perhaps Daisy wanted to marry me.  Was I becoming ensnared after just a few days?

“Well, the presence of such ladies, if one can call them that, will certainly be intriguing.  I wonder if they might lie with other women?” said Edith. I was about to confirm that fact but, fortunately, I realised that I would condemn myself.  I had been about to say something but stopped.  Edith noticed and gave me a quizzical look but said nothing, thank goodness.

“Well, they will just be doing a job, they won’t steal Edmund away.  Just toffers!” said Daisy. “I must stop caressing my parts!  It is a ridiculous thing to do with two nice wet tongues present!  Someone take me on, please!”

“We can both take you on at the same time again!  Up you get, Edmund!   Let’s get between Daisy’s legs!”  Daisy was already spreading her thighs even as we knelt together between them, under the covers.  I felt Edith take hold of my chin before giving me a kiss and then we both lowered our faces between Daisy’s soft thighs, her musky scent almost overpowering.  Was I now forgiven?

Although we were in a double bed, it was really not that comfortable overnight and there was a lot of wriggling about and jutting elbows and knees.  Edith slept in the middle and had to get up in the middle of the night to relieve herself, which woke Daisy.  I woke at this point, also, but felt that if I didn’t move I might drop back to sleep quickly.  I could sense the two women doing things to each other but I did, indeed, quickly fall asleep again.  I had a nightmare that I was at Lord Hoxton’s house, which looked like Agnes’s fathers house, desperate to find a water closet.  I ran all over the house but every time I opened a likely looking door there were copulating people inside.  Lord Ventnor and Mrs Challenor, Hoxton and Daisy. Mr McCandless and Mrs Somersby, of all people.  I tried one last door and inside I found Agnes, sitting on the lavatory, penetrating herself with a cucumber while Smaile took photographs and kept urging her to ‘take another inch, darling!’” 

I awoke to find Daisy sitting naked at the dressing table while an equally naked Edith brushed her long hair.

“Good morning sleepy head!” said Daisy.  “Aren’t you supposed to be at Mr Smaile's at eight thirty?”  I looked at my watch on the bedside table.  It was ten to eight!

“Oh my Lord!  I am late!” I jumped out of bed and crossed the room to the washstand.  I opened the pot but it wasn’t there. “I need to pee!” I said.  “Have you hidden the pot?”  I thought that their cruel games had finished.

“It is the other side of the bed.  Be careful, it is quite full!  Daisy pees like a mule!” said Edith.  “Another two dozen this side,  Daisy, then I think that we are done!”  Edith’s hair was already up.   I knelt in front of the pot and let go, blissfully.

“Nothing much would wake you this morning!  Edith and I were kissing and fingering each other and there wasn’t a peep from you!” said Daisy.

“I was having nightmares about what we will find at Lord Hoxton’s” I said, shaking myself.

“Utter depravity, hopefully!” said Daisy, grinning at me. “Now you really better get moving!  I want to see those photographs of me!”  The two women decided to have another bath together and suggested we meet for a late breakfast.  I grabbed a taxicab, gave the driver five shillings to get me to Hammersmith as quickly as possible and thanks to some truly terrifying driving and, mercifully light traffic, I arrived at Smaile’s studio only ten minutes late.

“There you are Ed,” he said, looking at his pocket watch, pointedly.  “Need to catch a train within the hour, you know. You look awful! Been up all night, eh?  I would!  Be right up it, yes indeedy!”

“Don’t be revolting, Smaile! Now where are the prints and where is the camera?”  He told me that he was taking the plate camera down to Hoxton’s with his other equipment where he could give me some lessons on it.

“No point denying it now, eh, Ed? As I shall be seeing you there later today!  With your lovely Daisy!  Now here they are.  Done a set for me and a set for you and one or two extra ones for Daisy.  Pretty girls love looking at themselves naked!”

“These do look wonderful!” I said, grudgingly, after looking at a few of them.  “The naked ones are particularly special!” I said. It was an extraordinary feeling to be looking at naked photographs of someone I knew intimately.

“Smithers is a great print maker. I photograph a lot of pretty, naked girls, Ed, but none as pretty as your Daisy, I do declare!  You need to make sure you hang onto that one.  Every red blooded male in England will be after, now!”

“Why now?” I said.

“Because her photograph is in the Courier, this morning!”  I had forgotten.

“I haven’t seen it!” I admitted.

“Smithers!” he bellowed. “Bring the Courier!”

“I miss me mum!” said Smithers, emerging from the shadows and shambling across the studio floor, holding the newspaper.  I opened it and there was Daisy, in an enormous reproduction of the photograph.  She looked gorgeous.

“Mr Smithers, top work on these prints!” I said.

“Lovely arse.  Lovely bubbies!” he said.

“Rather crudely put but I cannot disagree!” I said.

“Have you spoken to McCandless today?” asked Smaile, as Smithers gazed on the prints again.  I hoped he wouldn’t drool upon them.

“No.  Why?”

“Because he telephoned me and wants more pictures before you go!  Telephone at the Courier hasn’t stopped ringing this morning!” said Smaile.  

“You have a telephone?  Here?” I asked, amazed. 

“Busy businessman as well as an artist I am, Molloy.  Need to keep in contact!  Lots of interest in the expedition now!  Getting close!  First the angry sea, then the pestilent jungle and, finally, the ravenous dinosaurs"”

"I don't know why you raise the sea voyage as a peril.  I am a good sailor.  I do not get seasick.  Crossing the Atlantic in a large liner in April is perfectly safe!"

"Probably, but there won’t be much time for pictures next week.  Just Monday and Tuesday.  McAndless wants photographs at Crystal Place.  With the dinosaurs!” said Smaile.

“What shall I wear?  I asked. “My expedition clothes are now in Liverpool!”

“He doesn’t want pictures of you, Ed.  Just Daisy. In a bathing suit. With bare legs. Bare arms.  Bare as much as we can get away with!  I hope we have a bright day!” said Smaile.

“I will ask her if she will agree to pose,” I said.  I had learned my lesson but was becoming  unsure as to what we had started.

“I think McCandless really wants that!  Oh, and the Empire, Leicester Square wants her to make a personal appearance on stage Monday night.  In her underthings.  She won’t have to sing or anything.  Just walk about and do a few spins!” 

“Show her posterior, you mean!” I said.

“Understandable, really!” said Smaile.

“I will see you later!” I said.

“Monday morning for Crystal Palace Park.  Ten o’clock.  Swimsuit!  See you in Hampshire.  I must get the train now.  Smithers is driving the van down with the equipment!”

“Smithers can drive? I asked, surprised.

“After a fashion!” said Smaile.  “Looking forward to seeing a lot more of your Daisy this weekend!”

“There can’t be any of her you haven’t already seen!” I said.

“Ooh, I can think of one or two parts!” he said, smirking.

“Smaile, you are disgusting!” I said and left with the prints of Daisy under my arm.  As the taxicab took me back to the Euston, I thought how unlikely it was that, at the sort of gathering Lord Hoxton was arranging for his birthday, he would want a photographer present.  I wondered if I could persuade Edith to pose for Smaile.  Perhaps not.  I still seemed to be in some disgrace with her.

I was back in the dining room of the Euston before ten. This time, when I entered the dining room for breakfast, everyone did, in fact, look at me and then over to where Daisy and Edith were sitting together.  Daisy waved. There were some scowls from some of the older ladies but many of the men nodded and smiled at me. 

“Have you seen me in the Courier?” said Daisy, before I even sat down.  “It’s a huge photograph!”

“Daisy got some very admiring looks this morning as we came into breakfast and even applause from some ladies!” added Edith.

“Look! ‘Challenor expedition girl puts troubles behind her’,” said Daisy, reading the caption above the photograph of her rear view.  “That’s amusing!” The image of Daisy dressed in her tropical underthings and looking over one shoulder took up over half the length of the page.  “Oh they have written a little introduction to my piece.  ‘Miss Daisy Thompson, hardworking clerk to the Courier sponsored dinosaur expedition here points out, in her own words, the double standard applied to women and men in the matter of romance.  Miss Thompson is shown in our splendid photograph modelling the sort of lightweight cotton underthings that ladies should wear when embarking on tropical adventures.  These are available from Whiteleys of Bayswater, as indicated in their accompanying advertisement.’  See!  Look!”  She was positively bubbling with excitement.  I took a risk and leaned across the table to kiss her.  She kissed me back and there was a patter of applause from around the restaurant.

“That will make McCandless happy!” I said, pointing at the advertisement.

“Indeed it will!” said Daisy, continuing to read. “‘We can exclusively reveal that the Courier has paid for a cabin on the Booth liner SS Hildbrand so that Miss Thompson may accompany the expedition to Brazil and add her own reports, from a feminine viewpoint, to those of our star reporter Edmund Molloy.  The Challenor expedition leaves from Liverpool next Wednesday where they will be seen off by the Lord Mayor of that city, accompanied by the pipes and drums of the band of the 10^th battalion of the King’s Regiment, the Liverpool Scottish.’  A band, how exciting!” said Daisy.  “The rest is the piece I wrote.” She handed it to Edith.

“It makes some excellent points about the unequal treatment of the sexes!” declared Edith. “You have simultaneously become a suffragette and an object of lust for men all over Britain.  We women, of course, can be both, as it suits us! And you Edmund are now a ‘star reporter’ not an author of obituaries for people who are not yet dead!”

Indeed, within ten minutes a middle aged gentleman approached our table and asked Daisy to sign his copy of the newspaper.

“Where exactly?” she asked, innocently.

“Well the largest white space on the photograph, perhaps!” he said, avoiding my eye.

“Ah across my posterior!” said Daisy, as I gave her the same pencil I had used to sign my name on the Courier, when we first met.  How things had changed since then!  She signed with a flourish. “There you are, sir!”

“Might there be any more pictures appearing of you, Miss Thompson?” asked the man.

“You will have to keep buying the Courier to find out!” I said.

“I will, Mr Molloy.  Good luck!  I hope you don’t get eaten by a...”

“Dinosaur, I know,” I said, wearily.

“I was going to say a jaguar,” said the man, “which is far more likely!”

“Not a great believer in Professor Challenor’s dinosaur theories, then,” asked Edith.

“I would like to believe but it does seem far-fetched!” he answered as he gave Daisy a little bow and left the dining room whistling happily.

“See, Edmund, now I am as famous as you!  Or at least my arse is!  I wonder how many copies of my bottom I will have to sign?” asked Daisy. 

“Quite a few I think!” said Edith and we looked around to see a little knot of eager looking gentlemen waiting at the restaurant door.

Daisy and Edith left the hotel in a taxicab to gather up some personal items for the weekend.  Daisy said that she would buy our two train tickets and meet me at Waterloo Station.  I gave her some money from McCandless’ fund, reasoning that, as four of the team would be at Hoxton’s, it would count as a legitimate expense. 

I took the taxi back to my flat in Shepherd’s Bush, packed some things I thought I might need for the weekend, including my rather old dress suit.  I also decided to take some drawing things, reasoning that if Hoxton had asked Smaile to take photographs he would not object to some sketches.  All in all I only just got to Waterloo Station with ten minutes to spare.  I found Daisy, standing beneath the clock, surrounded by a group of men and women.  I hurried over, a porter pushing my case on his barrow, as I thought she might be under siege but when I got closer I could see she was smiling happily and signing more newspapers.

“Here’s Mr Molloy! Are the two of you going away for a romantic weekend, despite comments in the newspapers?”  I stared at the man thinking he sounded like a reporter but I did not recognise him.

“We are travelling to the Isle of Wight!” I lied, as the train eventually went to Gosport from where you could catch a ferry. “To learn more about dinosaurs!”

“We must go!” said Daisy looking up at the clock.  “Lovely to meet you all!” My porter put her suitcase on his barrow. And we passed through the ticket barrier to relative safety, although there were quite a few people on the platform. leaving with cases, for the Easter weekend.

“Here!” I said to the porter.  “We are alighting at West Meon!”  He took our cases to the baggage carriage. 

“We are in first class!” she said as she pointed towards the bright caramel coloured carriage of the London and South-Western Railways train, behind its green engine.  I opened the door for her. “I’ve never travelled first class before,” she said climbing in and flashing her ankle boot as she did so. 

“Neither have I!” I said.

“I thought the Courier should pay for it!  Given the circulation boost I am giving them today!” said Daisy, laughing.

The guard blew his whistle and the engine pulled us out from under the glass canopy of the station.

“We have our own little compartment!” she said as we entered from the corridor.

“So we do,” I replied.  “How will we fill the time?” I grinned.

“We will indulge in polite conversation of course,” she said, removing her hat and gloves.  “You will sit opposite me, not next to me in an overly familiar way, as if I was some trollop!  But close the corridor blinds.” 

“Oh!” I said, moving across the compartment after pulling the blinds down.  Perhaps I was still in trouble after all.

“And how was your morning, Mr Molloy?” she said.

“Rather frantic!” I said, looking at her quizzically.  “I packed up the prints I collected from Smaile.”

“How do they look?” she asked, undoing a boot.

“Do you mean how do you look?” I asked wondering what she was doing.

“Ha!  Yes, of course!” she said.

“They are in my suitcase.  I will show you when we get to Lord Hoxton’s “Shall I help you with those?”

“Yes, please!”  She put one booted foot on my knee and I undid her laces.

“You looked completely lovely!  Especially naked!” I said pulling off the first boot.   “McCandless wants you to pose on Monday in a bathing suit with the dinosaur statues at Crystal Palace!  Only if you want to, of course!”

“Well, of course, but I hope it warms up by then!” she said, looking out the window at the grey sky. “At least Smaile’s studio was warm!"

"And the Empire Leicester Square wants you to make a personal appearance on Monday evening.  In your underthings, I am afraid!"

"Oh!  That is exciting!  And a little bit frightening!  What will I do?  You must come along and support me, Edmund!"

"Of course!  You are my sweetheart!" I said, hoping that she would confirm it.

"Perhaps not for this weekend, though!"  she said, laughing.  I did not join her. Considering it was Good Friday it was quite busy but it soon became apparent that no-one was going to join us in our compartment. "How long until the first stop?”

“Alton, in an hour and ten minutes!”  I said.

“Excellent” She put her now stockinged feet upon the seat and pulled her skirt up over her knees.  She was not wearing drawers.  “You will observe and not touch!” she said and started to caress the inside of her thighs.

“Daisy!” I said. “Someone might come in!”

“You will not speak either!” she said, pushing her pelvis forward and revealing her anus as she ran a finger through her tight brown curls. “You will put your legs apart so I can see when you become erect!” I did so.  “Oh!” she said. “That was quick!”  I looked down at my groin. When I looked back at Daisy she had her prominent pink parts squeezed between two fingers: her little bud already protruding from its hood.  With her other hand, she undid a few buttons of her jacket and slid her hand inside her blouse to clasp a breast.  She parted her pink lips with her fingers and dipped a fingertip inside herself as she started to stroke her bud with her thumb.  I watched, rapt, as she explored herself with her fingers, wanting to unbutton myself and ravish her but equally entranced by her becoming lost in her own passion.  She was grinding her hips, now and milky juices were dribbling from her livid red entrance as she worked her thumb in a circular motion on her shaft with increasing speed.  I could tell from her breathing that she was getting close.

“Tickets, please!” called a voice from outside.

“Wait!  Just coming!” gasped Daisy, cupping her sex.  She was motionless for a few seconds and then sat up and pushed her skirt down.  She took a deep breath and stood up, finding the tickets in her handbag.  She opened the door and presented them to the guard, with her left hand, I was glad to see, for punching.

“Thank you, Miss!  Would you like another compartment?  There is a funny smell in this one!  Like smoked fish.”

“No, no.  We hadn’t noticed!  Thank you!” she said, closing the door.

“Just coming!” I said.  “You are a hoot, Daisy Thompson!”

“And you are in need of some relief I would imagine!” she said, pulling her skirt up again, turning around and wiggling her lovely bottom at me.  “Fancy saying my cunny smells like smoked fish!  What a bloody liberty! Undo yourself and I will sit on you!”  We both enjoyed the regular rhythm of the carriage as she bounced up and down on me as I squeezed her clothed breasts.  I pulled out just before the critical moment and came, messily, on the compartment floor.  After we had pulled ourselves back together again we looked at the wet mark on the floor.  “It does look just like something has been squirted with some force!” she laughed.  “Hopefully it will dry before we arrive!”

West Meon station, Hampshire

We had a nice kiss and a cuddle, sitting next to each other, despite Daisy’s initial joke, and she rested her head on my shoulder as we rattled into Hampshire.  Daisy began to apologise, again, for tying me up the previous night.  She said that she didn’t want to blame Edith but it was she who, having met Bobbie in the hotel, decided to use her disguise as a maid to cause me discomfort.  Daisy though that being tied up for an hour would be more than enough punishment for my not telling her about the session with Smaile but Edith had wanted to punish the ‘typical male beahviour’ rather more harshly

.

“I would rather the whole incident was forgotten and not referred to again!” I said, stroking her neck.  I would not forget such humiliation for some time and, whatever Daisy said about it all being largely down to Edith, she had participated enthusiastically in the charade.  I could not despise a girl who had just given me such an intimate experience as we had just enjoyed in the carriage but I did feel that she had, indeed, contributed to a very harsh punishment. I already planned, which I had not done until that point, to enjoy intimate congress with as many other ladies as might be interested in me at Lord Hoxton’s.  Daisy had said that I shouldn’t take her for granted but, in her world of equality between the sexes, she should not take me for granted either.  I explained this to her and rather than her being hurt, as I expected (and, perhaps, cruelly hoped for) she said that would be an excellent idea and we should both pursue as many ‘enticing encounters’ as we could so that we might compare notes afterwards.

“You could have fun with the professional ladies, as they are all, I assume, paid for!” she said.  I decided to tell her, at that point, about the Babylon Exploration Society, which meant going back to the sorry story of Agnes.  “It sounds like a terrific place!” said Daisy.  “And women can be members and seek pleasure with other women?  Perhaps I should try it!”

“It is very expensive.  William and Hoxton kindly paid for my experiences!” I said.

“I suppose it would be.  I need a sponsor, also.  Perhaps Lord Hoxton would pay for me, as a guest!” laughed Daisy.  I hadn’t thought about that.  “So will any of the girls you had be there this weekend?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said, knowing full well that Hoshimi, Anna and Bettina would be there.

“What fun!  I could watch you have them again and join in as we do with Edith!   Or you could find some new girls to dally with!  I am so looking forward to all this carnal debauchery.  I am feeling quite moist!  You could penetrate me with your fingers!” she suggested.

“Unfortunately, this seems to be the viaduct which Hoxton told me to look out for!” I said, looking out the window. Almost immediately the train slowed as we approached West Meon station. We left the compartment and I did notice the rather tell-tale stain was still there on the floor, as we got up. We left the train at the small station.  The guard was already removing our luggage for us and placing it on the platform.  

“I am afraid that the road access is the other side of the track, sir!”  I carried my case and suit bag over the rather delicate looking white wooden footbridge, while Daisy went ahead in search of Hoxton’s driver.  Placing them on the other platform I went back for Daisy’s rather larger case.  When I deposited it next to mine I could see Daisy speaking to a uniformed chauffeur next to an imposing caramel coloured Lanchester.  

“Could you give me a hand with the bags old chap!” I called out to him, as I took Daisy’s case towards the car.

“Certainly, sir!” said the driver in a surprisingly high pitched voice.

“Edmund, this is Susan.  Lord Hoxton’s driver!” said Daisy.

“Oh!  I see!  Well I will deal with the bags myself of course!” I said, surprised.

“No need to, sir. I am quite strong!” she replied.  Indeed, she soon had the cases placed up inside the luggage rack on the roof of the car and my suit bag inside.  We set off down a narrow country lane.

“How long have you been Lord Hoxton’s driver, Susan?” asked Daisy after sliding the glass panel across between our closed compartment and her open driver’s area.

“More than three years now!  It is a lovely job.  I do all the mechanicals as well!” she said.

“Do you now?” said Daisy.  “I might well write a piece about you for the Courier!”

“Does Lord Hoxton not drive the car himself, at all?” I asked.  “If I owned a motor car I would want to drive it all the time!”

“Oh, he has a two-seater Bugatti he likes to roar around the lanes in; frightening the horses and exciting his lady friends!” she said. “But he rarely drives the Lanchester.  He is usually in the back with a companion!”

“It is very roomy!” said Daisy.

“Oh yes.  I can say, as you are here for his birthday party, that you can imagine the antics he gets up to in the back!” said Susan, taking a right hand turn on to the main road. “Sometimes it is all I can do to concentrate on the road ahead with all the huffing and puffing going on in the back!”

“Do you ever get invited to join in with his...antics?” asked Daisy.

“Oh no!  He never touches the staff, more’s the pity.  He does enjoy watching us, though, about our activities.  In the summer he likes me to wash the car, naked!”

“That would be entertaining!” I said.

“It’s a shame it isn’t a bit warmer today or I could have given you a demonstration!” she said, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me.  “Beg pardon for being cheeky, miss!”

“I would have enjoyed that myself too!” said Daisy.

“Yes, his Lordship does like his ladies who like ladies!” she said. "As you will discover this weekend!"

“I have to be photographed in a swimsuit outside at Crystal Palace on Monday.  I cannot say I am looking forward to the process!” said Daisy.

“It will be right nippy, miss.  Especially if they want you to get wet as well!”

“Wet?  I hadn’t thought of that!” said Daisy.

“There are ponds there Daisy!” I warned.

“Oh dear!” said Daisy.

“I enjoyed your piece in the Courier, miss.  Lovely picture of you!  Just picked up that photographer this morning!”

“Mr Smaile?”  I asked.

“Don’t know his name.  A ratty looking man with garish yellow and black check trousers,” said Susan.  “Sorry, is he a friend of yours?”

“That sounds exactly like Smaile!” I said. “And no he is not!”

“He will be doing naked portraits of some of his Lordship’s guests over the weekend, again!  He is setting up a studio in the orangery.  Good light in there, it seems.” said Susan, turning the car off the main road between two imposing pillars topped with rampant lions.  

“Welcome to Hoxton Hall!”

“Good Lord!” said Daisy.  “It’s huge!”

“They all say that, miss!” giggled Susan.