[Bob]

Hi there folks,

I'm a long term lurker of this forum and I've been meening to actually contribute something for ages. I've had an idea floating around my mind for months now, and I finally started it a few days ago. So here we go, the first few chapters. No FMG at the moment, but it's coming…

By the way, you might find some of the language a little strange as it's set in the quiet English countryside, but bear with me.

An Interesting Summer

Chapter 1: Who Needs the Jobcentre?

It was supposed to be a summer job; doing general maintenance at Brookefield Manor. Dave heard about the vacancy via a friend who thought it would be perfect to ease his pal back into normal life again after twenty-four months of traveling. Always one to grab opportunities by the scruff of the neck, he decided to bypass the local job-centre and phone the manor-house direct. This took a little more doing than he expected. After discovering that the number wasn't in either the phone book or directory enquiries, Dave resorted to some pointed searching on the web. It took an hour an a half and quite a few groans of frustration before he tracked down anything remotely promising,
"At last, Random Technologies, owned by BrookeTech. That might have something to it." he sighed at his laptop. "Based in Ramsip, Somerset? That's about ten miles from the Manor. Well, no prize for the timid."

He rang the number on the site with a plan forming for getting the number he wanted.
"Good morning, Random Technologies. Christine speaking, how may I be of service to you?" a plumy voice announced with far more cheer than Dave thought possible at ten o'clock on a very rainy Monday.
"Oh, um, hello. I thought this was the number for Brookefield Manor." Dave exclaimed, not needing to try to sound surprised after listening to Christine's greeting.
"Oh no, dearie. Lord Brookefield just owns us. His house isn't far from here, so I can see where you may have got muddled. Perhaps I could assist?" she chirped merrily.
"I see," replied Dave, "it looks like I was given the wrong number. You see, I was phoning about the Handyman job at the manor. You wouldn't be able to give me the right one would you?"
"Oh, I don't think…"
"It's just that the lady who gave me this numbed was terrible and I don't think I can face trying to convince her that she gave me a wrong number."
"Well, I can't do that, but since you tell your fibs so sweetly and you do know about the job, I suppose I could transfer you over. Would that do?"
"Yes, thank you. Um, ta" Dave replied sheepishly, wondering how she guessed. The phone was ringing.
"Hello? Yes? What is it?" answered a very loud and incredibly deep voice after exactly two rings.
Dave took a guess, "Good morning your Lordship. l…"
"What?" the voice bellowed, "Nobody I know calls me that. Who are you and how did you get this number?"
"My name's David Miller," he replied, cringing from the noise still echoing inside his cranium, "I was phoning about the handyman job."
"Really?" the voice was surprised but, sadly, louder than ever. "Well I suppose you must be fairly resourceful to have managed to get this far. You'll have your own tools?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, bring them and be here in two hours. The guards will be expecting you."
The other end crashed down, leaving Dave staring aghast at his mobile phone. Two hours to get his tools back off his pal Colin, get ready, and drive to Somerset?
"Christ! It’s a miracle worker he wants, not a handyman" he muttered as he rushed off to find his tools and beg for a loan of Colin's car.

[Bob]

Chapter 2: The View

One perplexed friend, a very close shave with a herd of cows, and just under two hours later, Dave Miller pulled up to the gilded iron gates of Brookefield Manor. There was no sign of the guards Lord Brookfield had mentioned but the grand gates opened and, with a strange feeling of apprehension, Dave drove in. He could not see the stately home from the driveway for some time. A thick wood of oak, beech, and sycamore pressed in at the sides of the smooth tarmac and crowded out the light from above. The road was ramrod straight for about a mile before twisting off to the left and moving down a slight slope. Dave saw that the woodland around him began to open up and become lighter and quite pretty. The woods came to an abrupt end and, on the slope of a shallow green valley, Brookefield Manor sat. It was almost mid-day and the sun shone golden on the walls of the huge mansion. Dave decided to reevaluate how much he reckoned he would ask for in wages when he got over the beauty and grandeur of the sight.
"Lord Brookfield must be loaded!" he gasped as he parked in front of the columned entrance.
He half expected an Addams Family loud clang when he pulled the button for the bell, but there wasn’t a sound. Turning, he stared at the extraordinary view in front of the house, it was breathtaking; formal gardens and a small lake, beautifully situated at the bottom of the valley.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” he heard. "Where?" Spinning on the spot, his voice caught. Simply the most incredible looking woman he had ever seen had appeared beside him. "I'm" he tried to start again but found himself unable to continue. Her creamy skin was lightly freckled and her deep, hazel eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Mr. Miller, please follow me. Lord Terrance is waiting." she smiled and turned to the oak doors of the mansion that had opened so quietly. Dave remembered to shut his mouth and followed her in. Once inside he tried to look at the remarkable interior of one of the finest stately homes in England, but it was no use, he could barely tear his eye off the apparition in front of him. She was stunning; her rich auburn hair hung, bouncing gently with her silent tread, in gentle curls to just past her shoulders. She wore plain, but perfectly tailored, white blouse that clung, silky around her slim waist, and a knee length, classically cut, skirt of silvery grey. Even so, the plainness of her clothes did not hide the fact that she was in remarkable shape. Dave stared, rapt, as her calves bunched above her slim ankles with each step. This was definitely a woman who liked to run or cycle or something, he thought, for her legs were smooth and clearly defined. It was then that he realized that she was only wearing simple white pumps. "If only those were heels." he found himself muttering in awe.
"Sorry, did you say something, Mr. Miller?" she glanced back, her eyes, still twinkling, an almost physical force. Dave could only shake his head mutely. "A voice like a horny angel" suddenly sprang into his head; he wondered what song that was from. If her calves were good, her backside was stratospheric; full, rounded, and clearly very firm. Her buttocks seemed to be dancing before his eyes, it was hypnotic and swallowing was getting difficult. He realized she had stopped and was waiting for him to come to his senses as he was momentarily transfixed by her high, pert bosom as it filled out the fabric of the blouse. How had he missed those?

He remembered himself with a click and flushed deeply as he realized how obvious he had been. The beauty before him gave a wry grin and sparkled her eyes at him some more before saying, "Lord Brookefield's study".

[Bob]

Chapter 3: The interview

She opened the door for him and whispered, "Good luck", before dazzling him with a warm smile and she ushering him in.

The study was very large and bright, with fitted shelving filled with identically bound books covering all the walls. A tall, silver haired, and very distinguished looking gentleman stood in front of the biggest desk Dave had ever seen. He glanced up from a large file he had been studying.
"Ah, Mr. Miller. Do take a seat. Thank you Miriam that will be all" he said in a surprisingly quiet tone. The Lord gestured to a chair of obvious age and value. Miriam winked cheekily at Dave as she turned and left the room. David sat gingerly on the antique and tried to calm down. The walk through the house had left him breathless and sweating. What a woman! When in Germany he had dated a dancer and learned to love the look and feel of a lady with a toned, fit body, but Miriam, well she made Anke look lumpen by comparison.

Brookefield startled Dave out of his reverie by snapping the file shut. After looking shrewdly at the seated applicant, the Lord placed the file behind him and leaned back on the desk.
"Wonderful girl, Miriam." he started, "Don't know what I would do without her. My sister's daughter, great head on her shoulders, very dependable." He stared as Dave nodded and tried not to look stupid while he collected his wits.
"David Phillip Miller, age twenty-seven, born in Glasgow to a plumber and a housewife." He continued to Dave's abject amazement. "Left school with excellent qualifications but trained as a mechanic. Just returned to Britain after two and a half years of working and traveling around Europe. No criminal record, but," he paused, fixing Dave with a piercing look, "not afraid to break a few laws when you have to. You must have driven very fast indeed to have made it here in time." He smiled, "I like your style Miller. I will not ask how you got my direct line number; I suspect I would have to fire someone if I did. However, I would like to know why you think you would make me a good maintenance engineer."
Dave cleared his throat and tried to organize his thoughts. How had this guy found out everything about him in less than two hours? He looked at Brookefield, who wore the kind of smile that suggested that he knew exactly what was rushing though Dave's somewhat distracted mind.
"Well, Sir." Dave began. "You know my Dad was a plumber, I learned a lot of his trade as a boy. I'm a good mechanic and I spent a lot of time on building sites, labouring, to pay my way through college. I learned a lot from all the different tradesmen I met over those four years; electrics, joinery, decorating, and the like." he paused, his mouth dry.
"A glass of water, David?" Brookefield enquired, nodding at a silver tray on the table beside Dave's chair.
"Thanks" croaked Dave as he poured himself some iced water.
Refreshed, he continued. "When I was traveling I paid my way by doing maintenance in hotels, clubs, and restaurants, so I reckon I'm just the man you're looking for." Dave reckoned that it actually sounded quite good out loud.
"Good, good" replied the Peer, "Then perhaps you could fix something for me? Well, it’s for one of my chefs rather." He reached across the desk and pressed a button and bellowed, "Miriam, Chef's gadget, please." Dave's heart leapt at the thought of Miriam's wiggling bum and, seconds later, he turned to see her walk in carrying a large professional food mixer. It must be lighter than it looks, he thought, seeing how easily she placed it on a trolley at the side of the room. Dave was about to speak when a valet came in, towing Dave’s own toolbox, only, it didn’t look right as it had been cleaned thoroughly and was positively sparkling. Dave was so taken aback that he managed not to stare at Miriam at all before she left the room again.

The mixer was a standard heavy duty mechanical mixer you would find in any large commercial kitchen, so was made of stainless steel and quite heavy. Dave found his mind wandering back to Brookefield’s niece as he dismantled it, wondering just how good shape she must be in. As it happened, it was a simple but awkward electrical fault so, even in his addled state, Dave had the mixer running sweetly in a matter of minutes. Lord Brookefield was most impressed, “Yes, I think you will do.” He said. “I will pay you five hundred and eighty-five pounds per week with full board included, for the duration of the summer. When can you start?”
“Any time, sir” replied Dave, hardly believing his ears, “I’ll just need to pick up my clothes and the rest of my tools. I’ll also need to give the car back to my friend.”
“Excellent, I will arrange for your belongings to be collected and your friend’s car will be driven back,” said the Peer, “perhaps you would like to look at your room. Miriam will explain the staff regulations and bring you your contract. Might I suggest you read it thoroughly before signing?” He paused so shout at the intercom once again, and the next thing Dave knew he had had his hand briskly shaken and was outside following Miriam’s bottom along a staff corridor.

[Max]

It's interesting the story so far. You are doing a great job for being your first story.

I will be looking foward for the next part.

Max

[rick powers]

Great start, anon boy.

Very nice writing. Most of the stories (some of mine included, I would say) bore me through the first few pages until they finally get around to the muscle growth. But I like the way you narrative flows. Keep it up. I can't wait until the next installment.

-Rick

[Hunter S Creek]

Thank you for sharing your cool story, anon_boy2002!

Looking forward to more!

Tschuss!
Hunter

[JimmyDimples]

Well, well, well… I'm wondering how this is gonna turn out.  Very nice start. 🙂

[The_Pimp_NeonBlack]

Very nice beginning, dear Anon. You have developed a most wonderful sense of character, setting and curiousity about what is to come. I's do thank you for that.
And it is most amusing to read because Lord Brookefield does remind I very much of a gentlemen I's was indentured to some years fore. The paralelles and possible paralelles are most intriquing to say the least.
May the strength of your Quill never fail.
Peace
The Pimp NeonBlack

[Fonk]

Excellent, enticing beginning, Sir! Long may this story continue.

[Bob]

Hello there,

I've not forgotten you all. I have another chapter ready but I want to finish the next before posting. I'm really busy just now with work and am finding it difficult to find time (I've a scary new boss who's looking for miracles!).

Cheers

[Author]

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