Jooster Fic: Jeeves and the Thorny Problem (Part 2)

[triedunture]

Mr Wrexton's visits continued, with the Berkeley flat acting as a safe haven for his trysts with Mr Wooster, as no other household boasted such an 'understanding personal attendant,' to use the same gentleman's phrase. The couple even exchanged keys so that Mr Wrexton could drop in at his leisure, and he did so at every opportunity. Events took a strange and disturbing turn when, one evening at quite a late hour, I heard a key scraping along the front door. The portal opened to admit Mr Wooster and Mr Wrexton, both flushed, laughing, and smelling strongly of drink.

Mr Wrexton's unfocused gaze alighted on me, standing at attention in the hallway, and he hailed me with a glad shout: 'Jeeves! You will see that our revelry does not end at this early hour. Why, it's not even three in the morning yet, and I wish to dance with Bertie. I was not allowed to do so at the club.'

I raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch in Mr Wooster's direction. 'Am I to understand, sir, that you passed a diverting evening at the Drones in the company of your friends and acquaintances?'

Mr Wooster grinned like a scolded puppy might, if it only had a human face. 'I wanted to bring Thorny round to meet Ginger and Bingo and everybody, and I suppose we all overdid it just a bit.' He patted me once on the shoulder. 'Don't worry; I didn't let Thorny spill the beans. The Drones are as in the dark over this as they are about how to score a darts game without there being a tie.'

Mr Wrexton broke free from Mr Wooster's supporting embrace and swirled his way into the sitting room as if he were dancing with an invisible partner. 'Bertie, I wish there were a way I could dance with you and have you play a pretty song on the piano at the same time. Jeeves, do you think you might play us something?'

'I fear I am not as musically gifted as Mr Wooster, Mr Wrexton,' I said, following at a more sedate pace and ready to lend my master a hand if he should stumble. But as intoxicated as he was, Mr Wooster made his way safely to the chesterfield, where he collapsed in a pleased heap and beckoned his lover to join him.

Mr Wrexton did so, wrapping his arm round Mr Wooster's shoulders and coaxing his head to lie on his chest. 'You should have seen him, Jeeves,' he said to me though he did not look up from his contemplation of Mr Wooster's fair curls. 'The men of that club were all oafs and ogres compared to him. My Bertie brings nothing but sweetness and light with him where ever he goes.'

'Oi,' Mr Wooster said without heat, 'those are my dearest friends you speak of, Thorny. I went to school with them, and though Tuppy perhaps is a bit oafish and maybe Oofy and ogres are not so distant cousins, there's no need to say so.'

'Oofy Prosser,' Mr Wrexton said meditatively. 'Now he is quite an attractive man.'

'Is he?' Mr Wooster curled his hand into Mr Wrexton's starched shirtfront and played there idly. 'I never noticed.'

'And Ginger Winship. You two seemed to be on the most intimate of terms.'

Until this moment, I had busied myself with mixing a measure of brandy and soda with heavy soda, as I felt both gentlemen had imbibed enough for the night. However, at the creeping note of anger in Mr Wrexton's voice, my gaze snapped up to watch him warily. Mr Wooster, still prostrate against him, seemed heedless of this change in his companion's demeanour.

'Well, Ginger and I have been pals since we were both so high. At Eton we were like Damon and what's-the-chap. Pythagoras? Pythias!' He nodded to me, pleased he'd completed the thought without my usual assistance, and so did not see Mr Wrexton's face darken at the allusion.

'And which one, pray tell, was Pythias?' he asked icily.

'What do you mean, Thorny?' Mr Wooster responded without guile. 'What does it matter who was who? All I mean to say is, Ginger has always been my pal.'

At the murderous look that overcame Mr Wrexton's normally handsome features, I cleared my throat and stepped forward. 'Sir, perhaps you are unaware of some of the more codified undertones ascribed to those particular Greek figures. A close study of the original text will reveal that the men in question were actually lovers. No doubt Mr Wrexton misconstrues your meaning.'

'Oh, I say!' Mr Wooster sat bolt upright and placed a placating hand on Mr Wrexton's arm. 'Thorny, you couldn't possibly think I meant— Why, Ginger's a married man! Brought to the altar by my own doing, in fact. Well,' he smiled at me, 'Jeeves's doing, actually. But Ginger has never been to me what you are.'

At these words, Mr Wrexton grabbed the hair at the back of Mr Wooster's head and pulled him into a harsh kiss. I averted my eyes and returned my attention to the drinks on the sideboard. Though I did not see the embrace end, I heard Mr Wooster's breathless gasp and Mr Wrexton's answering growl: 'He better not be.'

'Of course,' Mr Wooster murmured in stunned reply. 'I don't have any such plans. What in the world makes you think I do?'

I turned back to see Mr Wrexton still threading his fingers through Mr Wooster's hair, and I feared he would use it as a handhold again, but he only said, 'I'm not blind, Bertie. It was perfectly clear to me that you are the most incorrigible flirt.'

'Oh, really—' Mr Wooster protested.

I took a step closer in case I was needed to forcibly restrain Mr Wrexton, who, I now theorised, was a man of mercurial tendencies and might, when drunk, turn to violence. However, upon catching sight of my movements from the corner of his eye, Mr Wrexton turned to me and said, 'No doubt Mr Wooster misconstrues my meaning, eh, Jeeves? I only mean to express my shock that every member of the Drones isn't falling over himself trying to win the attention of the sweetest Bertram. You understand me, of course? Those old beans don't know what they're missing.'

And just like that, the monster of only moments before had fled, leaving only the charming Wrexton fawning over Mr Wooster. I held my tongue and served the drinks, watching for any other unusual behaviour from our guest. But when they had both drank their sodas and agreed that the bed was their next and final destination, nothing out of the ordinary appeared, and I tracked their fumbling progress to the master suite with hawk-like eyes.

That incident should have been enough to arouse my suspicion, but I could think of no action to take thereafter. Jealousy was not an emotion that one could expect completely excised from Mr Wooster's lover, and surely when a gentleman is in his cups he might say all manner of disturbing things.

It was some days later that another strange conversation occurred, this time between myself and Mr Wooster. I was occupied with the task of filling out our monthly dairy order at the kitchen table when Mr Wooster came in and asked, in his roundabout way, if he might question me on a 'rather touchy subject.'

I paused in my calculations of how many pounds of cheese we might require to regard him with all my attention. 'Certainly, sir,' I told him.

'The fact is, Jeeves,' he seated himself at the table and lit a cigarette, 'I know Thorny is a dashed bit more educated than I am—'

'Sir, I have no doubt that your intelligence is greater than many perceive, and is not in the least negligible—' I began, for I had been waiting for the chance to apologise for my perceived slight since he had first mentioned it days and days before.

But Mr Wooster only gestured impatiently. 'No, Jeeves, I don't mean educated-educated. I couldn't give a fig about that at the mo'. I mean to say, Thorny is more educated than I in the matters of the, erm, bedroom.' He glanced at me quickly. 'You get my meaning?'

'Yes, sir,' I said, rather stiffly.

Mr Wooster sighed. 'Dash it, I wish I had someone else to dump all these problems of mine onto, but you're the only one who knows my secret, Jeeves. If you'd rather not listen, well, that's all right. Maybe you could just blink and nod and say "Indeed, sir" every few paragraphs.'

His desperation for a willing ear twisted my heart, and of course I was obliged to answer, 'I will give the matter my full attention, sir, if you will explain it.'

My young master took a deep breath and told me all, beginning with the first furtive meetings he and Mr Wrexton had undertaken in secret, always hurried and sometimes primal because of it; and then, with the safety of knowing the Berkeley flat was always at their disposal, a steady increase in amorous activities; and finally, the introduction of new concepts into said activities. I gathered from Mr Wooster's vague outline that not all of these changes pleased him.

An icy fear spread through my chest. 'Sir,' I asked in a strangled voice, 'none of these new practices is designed to bring you any harm or discomfort, correct?'

He looked at me with wide eyes through the haze of cigarette smoke. 'Oh, golly no!' he cried. 'Well, no more than usual. Physically, that is.'

'And mentally, sir?' I prompted quietly, my eyes locked on the pencil still held in my fingers.

Mr Wooster ran a hand through his burnished gold hair before taking his gasper from his lips. 'Sometimes Thorny says things, Jeeves. While we're in bed. I suppose it might just be the heat of the moment and all that overcoming a fellow, I mean. But there are times, Jeeves, when he says the most bally peculiar things.'

'What does Mr Wrexton say, sir?'

'Well, it's not so much what he says as how he says it, what? He says,' Mr Wooster leaned in to whisper, as if spies might be listening to us, 'that no one will ever take me away from him.' He leaned back with a shrug. 'I'm constantly assuring him that I only have eyes for one cove and his name is Thorny Wrexton, and he swears he believes me, but when we slip into bed, Jeeves, it's the one thread he always picks up again. He'll say it, you know, right in the middle of business, and I can't shake the feeling that it's not as romantic as one might think.' He crushed his cigarette out in the ash tray in the centre of the table that held the ends of my own gaspers. 'What do you make of it, Jeeves?'

The feeling of division came over me once more. One half of me wished nothing more than to inform Mr Wooster that these statements were the ravings of a lunatic and he should distance himself from Wrexton posthaste. However, the other part of me knew I had no proof of such a thing, and it was only my own selfish desires that wanted Mr Wooster to break those relations which I found so distasteful. I responded the only way I could under the circumstances.

'I could not say, sir.'

Mr Wooster did not confide any further intimacies to me. However, the question of these strange love-whispers of Wrexton's came to a head soon enough.

I chanced to be exiting the flat on my evening off when Mr Wrexton availed himself of his key and let himself into the flat. He greeted me just as I reached for my bowler.

'Jeeves, just the man I wanted to see. Not going anywhere, I hope? I wished to speak to you on a matter of some importance.' He removed his own coat and hat and hung them with the ease and familiarity of a frequent visitor.

'I have an engagement at my club tonight, Mr Wrexton, but I will endeavour to aid you however I can,' I said.

Mr Wrexton pursed his lips and then spoke in a low voice. 'Has Bertie mentioned our lovemaking to you at all?' he asked.

I did not make any immediate answer, and Mr Wrexton waved an airy hand at my silence. 'It's quite all right. I'm aware of how alone Bertie is when it comes to discussing our relations. It's not as if he has a gaggle of friends and relatives who are able to dispense advice. Whom could he turn to except,' he swept an imaginary piece of lint from my lapel, 'the inimitable Jeeves?'

'I'm sure I do not know, Mr Wrexton,' I replied with every ounce of coolness I had collected in my spiritual cellar, as Mr Wooster might phrase it.

'Ah, you are too much of a gentleman to betray a confidence. I like that about you, Jeeves.' Mr Wrexton then straightened my already-straight necktie with his nimble fingers. 'No matter. I assume he did speak to you. Perhaps he mentioned a certain level of unease on his part lately?' He patted my 'corrected' necktie with a pleased palm. 'I only wish to make things right between Bertie and myself, Jeeves. Surely you cannot object to that.' His face held the vestiges of sincerity, but I detected a slight hint of malice or mischief in his eyes, so I held firm.

'I will endeavour to aid you however I can,' I repeated with precision.

'Good to hear it,' Mr Wrexton said with a smile. 'Bertie tells me you're something of a student of psychology, so perhaps you will be able to give your opinion on my idea.'

'I suppose it would depend upon the idea, Mr Wrexton.'

'Well, here it is.' He shot his cuffs and began. 'As Bertie has undoubtedly told you, before he met me he was something of a novice when it came to love. I hoped to teach him the more tender arts and, in this, I believe I was successful.'

(I do not deny that at this juncture I ached to strike this impudent boy with a blow that would cause him to think twice before referring to Mr Wooster's virginity in such an offhand manner again.)

'However,' Mr Wrexton continued, heedless of my ire, 'as willing as Bertie has been with me, I also sense that he is not altogether comfortable in letting himself go completely. Do you understand what I mean, Jeeves? It is almost as if he doesn't trust me.' A hurt frown passed over his face. 'I try to communicate to him that he is safe when he is with me, that I'd never allow any harm to come to him.' Mr Wrexton raised his eyes to meet mine. 'I tell him no one could ever take him from me. And I mean it: not the police, not my family, nothing could tear us asunder, I am sure of it.'

'Indeed, Mr Wrexton?' I confess my mind was in a whirl. Here was a wholly innocent explanation for the foreboding words of my master's lover, and yet I could not shake the suspicion that all was not as it should be. 'What solution do you propose to this dilemma?'

He clapped me on the shoulder. 'That's where you come in. You see,' he said, 'I believe that Bertie would benefit from a reminder of his control, his singular power, in such a situation. For a man like Bertie, who has always been self-reliant, such a vulnerable position must be difficult to acclimate to in whole. It is with himself that he must learn trust; do you agree?'

'I see your line of reasoning, Mr Wrexton, but I do not see how I might—'

'Well, I was thinking: what does Bertie have complete control over? With what does he feel no qualms about asserting his naturally superior class? Why, you, dear fellow.' Mr Wrexton poked a finger firmly against my breastbone. 'You would do anything he asked. You would look the other way when it comes to criminal behaviour. You have proven that much already.' His eyes glinted in the dim hallway light. 'With you in the room, our lovemaking could become quite unbridled indeed.'

I felt the blood drain from my face. 'Mr Wrexton—'

'I should also tell you that I have an inkling of Bertie's penchant for displaying himself in front of a rapt audience. He possesses the personality of a performer.' Mr Wrexton reached into his suit coat and retrieved his cigarette case. 'It is my opinion that your presence would serve as a calming signifier of his individual power as well as excitement for his baser tendencies.'

'And suppose you are incorrect on the subject of Mr Wooster's psychology?' I bit out. 'Surely my presence in the bedchamber would be most unsuitable.'

'How could it be?' Mr Wrexton placed a gasper between his lips and ignited his silver lighter. He took a moment to puff in thought, then said, mockingly, 'Good old Jeeves would never do anything unsuitable.'

I could only grit my teeth with the strain of retaining my facade. 'I must refuse this request, Mr Wrexton. It is not within my power to help you in this venture.'

'No? Even if Bertie begged you to reconsider?'

'Mr Wooster would never consent to such a scheme. I'm afraid you're mistaken about his individual psychology, if I may say so.'

At that moment, my master, who had been partaking in an evening bath, entered the hallway in his dressing gown, toweling at his damp hair.

'What-ho, Thorny,' he said. Then, upon noticing myself in the tableau, added, with eyes averted, 'Ah. Have you spoken to Jeeves about the thingummy, then?'

My heart dropped to my stomach. 'Sir?'

Mr Wrexton sighed and scratched carefully at his temple, keeping his cigarette between two fingers while the other two completed the manoeuvre. 'I explained all to him, Bertie, but Jeeves thinks I'm playing a trick on him. Could you tell him I'm being quite serious, darling?'

My employer's cheeks turned a deep red, but he kept his voice steady. 'I know it sounds strange, Jeeves, but Thorny is pretty sure this will help, you know. Of course there's no obligation on your part, what? I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position.'

I fought the urge to laugh bitterly, for what position could be conceived that was more awkward than this?

'Sir, to be clear,' I said, approaching him so that my shoulders might blot out the distracting sight of Mr Wrexton standing by the door, 'do you wish me to be present during—that is, while you and Mr Wrexton engage in an intimate moment?'

I longed for him to look into my eyes so that I might ascertain whether he was being coerced or speaking of his own free will, but Mr Wooster was occupied in flicking a small string from his dressing gown sleeve as he answered. 'If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Jeeves.'

The telephone rang suddenly, and Mr Wooster gave a click of his tongue. 'Probably Ginger wondering about tomorrow's lunch. I should go answer.' And he padded into the sitting room, leaving me once more with Mr Wrexton.

I stood there, my back to him, fighting to keep my perfect mask from slipping. What I was being asked to do was as distasteful as it was shocking, and every fibre of my being cried out to wreak vengeance on the man who had orchestrated it. But Mr Wrexton walked up behind me and whispered into my ear the words that would be my undoing:

'If it is not you, it will be someone else. Perhaps someone not so devoted to Bertie, who would not hesitate to engage in a bit of blackmail.'

'Why are you doing this, you odious creature?' I hissed without turning to face him.

'Bertie loves me and will do anything to please me,' he breathed in a vile manner along my neck, 'even allowing a thing like you to watch us in bed. This will be proof enough for me that I can keep him for myself, even when men who would steal him from me are only inches away.'

I inhaled sharply; he knew my secret. What clue had given me away? Had I allowed my eyes to linger on Mr Wooster's face a moment longer than was proper? Had I dressed him with too much care and affection? What chink in my armour had shown my heart to this fiend?

'Don't fret, my good man,' Mr Wrexton whispered in my ear. 'To the untrained eye, Bertie's, for example, you're just another marble-faced, stone-hearted valet. But I could smell lust on you the moment I shook your hand. It's a gift.'

'I do not lust,' I said with all my soul's conviction. 'I love purely and without design. I will not allow you to treat Mr Wooster in this fashion. The moment he returns—'

'You'll tell him...what? That I'm a monster who wishes to keep him safe from a sneaky and manipulative manservant? Who do you think will have his ear if it comes down to a fight between us, Jeeves?'

'I have served Mr Wooster for years. He has placed his trust in me.'

'Bertie is in love with me. I've heard you're a sporting man, Jeeves, but do you really think the odds are in your favour this time?'

I could find no speech to answer this.

Mr Wrexton smoked as he continued, 'You won't touch him, of course. You may stand, I suppose, about three or four feet from the bed. I want your eyes open at all times. If you cannot stand to watch the entire act, then I'm afraid I will be forced to be quite firm with Bertie. That will surely get your attention.' He stepped round and glared at me. 'Don't look so dour, Jeeves. This lesson is for your own good. And besides, it will be the closest you ever get to him; may as well enjoy it.'

'I swear on all that I hold sacred,' I said, 'I will end you.'

Wrexton grinned impishly at me. 'I'd sincerely love to see you try, Jeeves. The only thing you have on me is my inverted indiscretions, and if I'm arrested for that, your precious master will be too. But by all means, pit your famous cunning against mine. And my connections. And my fortune. We will see who is victorious.'

Mr Wooster chose that moment to make his reappearance, his damp towel slung round his shoulders and his face still a light shade of pink.

'Well, I believe I'm ready to retire for the evening. Jeeves?' It was this simple questioning use of my name along with his raised brow that encompassed all of his inquiry. What could I do but bow my head and murmur, 'After you, sir.'

What followed was nothing short of torture. I went with Mr Wooster and Wrexton into the bedroom, where I was directed by the latter to stand beside the writing desk in the corner. With nothing to occupy my hands, I was forced to fold them behind my back as if waiting table at some great banquet. Mr Wooster cast me a worried glance as he approached the bed, the knot of his dressing gown belt in his hands.

'Don't worry about him,' Wrexton said, lavishing the side of Mr Wooster's pale neck with his tongue. 'He'll be quiet as a church mouse. You won't even remember he's there in a few moments.' This last remark was said with a callous smirk in my direction.

I stood by helplessly and watched Wrexton divest Mr Wooster of his silk dressing gown and slippers, his pyjama shirt and trousers, his undershirt and undergarments. Each of these layers was peeled away quickly, greedily, as if Wrexton could not contain himself; he certainly had no cause to, at any rate. Mr Wooster, at first silent and unresponsive to his lover's touches, soon became more vocal if not intelligible. His breathy sighs and gasps filled the room, and Wrexton flung him on the bed with the haste of a man who must soon catch a train.

Wrexton did not unclothe himself completely. He seemed too preoccupied with running his hands along my employer's skin in a possessive fashion. His necktie, a bold blood orange colour, was discarded by his over-eager hands, as was his waistcoat, but he only allowed Mr Wooster to unfasten the buttons of his shirtfront and flies before he growled in impatience and stopped his ministering hands.

I did not wish to witness what happened next any more than a bystander wishes to see a fellow human struck by oncoming traffic; the spectacle filled me with horror, and the merciless gaze of Wrexton, settling on me every so often as if to ensure my attention was kept firmly on the two lovers, set my blood afire. He wet his fingers in his mouth and, holding my eyes, used the digits to invade my master's body.

Mr Wooster cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

I dug my fingernails into my own palms and felt the blood well up there in eight half-moon shapes.

I tried to fasten my mind onto small details during the course of the ordeal, one of which was the question of why Wrexton had not disrobed entirely. He was a vain man who enjoyed showcasing his form in loud, fashionable clothes; what was his objection to nudity? Was it merely another measure of control he felt compelled to exercise over the evening? I recalled a similar sartorial situation that first time I walked in on the two of them in the kitchen.

He was forcing his member into Mr Wooster. I allowed my mind to become blissfully empty of all thoughts of the present. I instead focused on pleasant memories: Mr Wooster playing the piano for me, a well-loved copy of the works of Descartes, the way my boyhood home smelled during the dinner hour.

Mr Wooster screamed. His arms wound round Wrexton's shoulders and tightened there.

I began mentally repeating passages from Plato's Ethics. I ignored the pain in my hands, though I was faintly aware of drops of my blood falling to the carpet below, where they spattered like rain.

Wrexton must have been displeased with my calm, for he wrenched Mr Wooster into a sitting position astride his hips so that Mr Wooster was facing away from me. The sudden change of angle must have surprised my master, and he gave a shout and a fevered plea to his companion to slow down. Wrexton merely looked at me over Mr Wooster's shoulder and continued the awful pounding of his hips.

And then the worst: he addressed me.

'You must admit he's enjoying himself, Jeeves. Quite the little minx once you get him going.'

Mr Wooster, distracted by the turn of events, twisted his head round to perhaps question Wrexton on his provocation of me, but Wrexton silenced him with a finger held to Mr Wooster's lips. 'I'm speaking to Jeeves right now, darling. Kindly don't interrupt. Please, continue what you're doing; it's quite lovely.'

My master hesitated in full then, frowning at Wrexton as if trying to find the jest in his words. In retaliation, Wrexton pulled himself from Mr Wooster's body and spun him roughly so that he faced me, then resumed his conquest of my employer.

Mr Wooster moaned at the violent intrusion on his person, and he lifted his glazed eyes to mine; then he looked away, visibly making an effort to conceal his wanton pleasure.

Wrexton collected both of Mr Wooster's delicate wrists in one of his hands, gripping firmly to keep him immobile. His other hand snaked over Mr Wooster's heaving chest, where it pinched cruelly at his pink nipples. All while capturing Mr Wooster in this manner, Wrexton stared me down, his eyes daring me to protest.

I said nothing. I did nothing. I tried in vain to recall the names in chronological order of every barnyard cat I had ever known; it was a better alternative to watching Mr Wooster's face contort in ecstasy.

The beast Wrexton continued his taunts: 'I daresay he would do anything when in such a state. What do you think, Jeeves? Perhaps he'd even take your prick in his mouth while I buggered him. Bertie might enjoy something to keep that mouth of his occupied.'

'Thorny!' Mr Wooster gasped. 'What on earth are you talking about?' His worried eyes darted over to me. 'I wish you'd leave Jeeves alone.'

Wrexton pulled at Mr Wooster's hair, forcing his neck back at an awkward angle so he could more easily whisper in his ear. 'There we are. That's what I mean; communication, trust, comfort. That's exactly what this is designed to elicit. You see, darling?'

But his actions belied his words. He held Mr Wooster tighter in his arms, and I was certain he would leave bruises. He redoubled the rhythmic pounding of his hips, forcing Mr Wooster from his knees to his stomach on the bed, where he was crushed under the weight of his lover, pinned to the mattress.

'Please, so close,' Mr Wooster pleaded, writhing helplessly.

'Tell me you love me,' Wrexton demanded.

'Of course I love you,' he answered without hesitation.

'Louder, so Jeeves can hear it.'

'I love you!'

I shut my eyes briefly.

'Again,' the cur ordered.

'Love you!' Mr Wooster groaned and, with a shiver, seemed to reach his completion. I fought the rise of bile in my throat and dutifully witnessed Wrexton grind away at Mr Wooster's recumbent form until he, too, howled his way through his peak.

Then the awful nightmare was over. Wrexton untangled himself from Mr Wooster and left him sprawled, motionless and panting, on the rumpled bed sheets as he fastened his flies and shirt buttons once more. I continued standing in my corner, unsure if I would be allowed to move, though I desperately wished to fly to Mr Wooster's side and ensure he hadn't been harmed by Wrexton's violent parody of love.

Mr Wooster, in time, lifted his head and saw Wrexton fixing his necktie under his now-immaculate collar. 'Thorny, are you not staying?' he asked.

'Afraid not, pet. I forgot to mention, I have a dashed important meeting tomorrow morning. It wouldn't do to be late. Early to bed with this one, I fear.' He dropped a kiss on my employer's forehead on his way to the door. 'I'll telephone you in the afternoon. Good night, dearest.'

And as quickly as he'd come, he was gone. The sound of the front door closing announced his departure.

Mr Wooster blinked several times, his confusion at Wrexton's abruptness evident on his expressive face. I coughed softly and endeavoured to speak without a crack in my voice.

'Shall I run a bath, sir?'

'Yes, Jeeves.' Mr Wooster propped his willowy form upright on the bed, wincing as he did so. 'I'm awfully sore, what?'

I set about my task. He did not meet my eyes as I helped him to the bathtub and lowered him into the steaming water. He did, however, silently allow me to wash his hair, which I had only done once, when he was sick with fever and couldn't manage it himself.

I was occupied with changing the soiled bed sheets when Mr Wooster entered the bedroom, clothed in his green suit of pyjamas. 'Quite a rummy evening, Jeeves,' he said.

'Yes, sir,' I replied, and fixed the corners of the sheets into tight lines.

'I'm sure Thorny would count it a success, but I'm not so sure.' He worried his so-recently kiss-bitten lips and sighed. 'I hope you don't take offence, Jeeves, but I don't think I'd ever want to repeat the thing.'

'Thank you, sir,' I said in an even tone. 'I confess I agree with you on this point.'

'Good, good.' He nodded. 'I apologise for any shocking things Thorny might have let slip. The heat of the moment and all that, like I told you.'

I neglected to tell Mr Wooster that it was not his slip for which to apologise. I only murmured some sort of acknowledgement, guided him into the fresh bed, and made my way to my own quarters to pass a sleepless night staring at the ceiling.


Continue on to Part 3.

Comments

[muhsilisk.livejournal.com]

Whoah. *feels dizzy*

God I love the language in this.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Oh, poor Jeeves! How heart-breaking! I love the clever title.

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

...

*hugs Jeeves*

[prologi.livejournal.com]

Holy hell, this was painful to read. And the first part nearly killed me with second-hand embarrassment. Obviously I'm rather enjoying it. :D I was so wrapped up I completely forgot about the cup of tea I had and now it's stone cold. Sigh.

[lessofmyhead.livejournal.com]

LOL that was hawt. A+++++++++++ And amazing of course. TWO SEX SCENES!!! LOLOLOOLOLLOLL YYYYYYYAAAAYYY!!!

[ironicbees.livejournal.com]

Excellent writing, but damn, that hurt. How monstrously cruel to make Jeeves watch! >:( And for Bertie to go along with it? I can scarcely begin to imagine why he agreed.

*weeps for Jeeves*
*wishes Thorny a violent death*

[mithrel.livejournal.com]

I knew he was evil. Evilevilevil! I hope Jeeves does find a way to "end" him.

[seularen.livejournal.com]

DESTROY HIM, JEEVES.

Sorry, what?