Jump to content

ALL USER PASSWORDS WERE RESET. PLEASE USE THE LOST PASSWORD FEATURE AT LOGIN TO RESET YOUR PASSWORD. 

If you cannot reset your password please ask for support in Discord or the Contact Us form. 

CardiMuscleman

Moderator
  • Content Count

    1464
  • Donations

    3.37 USD 
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

1600 Excellent

About CardiMuscleman

  • Rank
    1000+ Posts
  • Birthday 08/31/1974

Profile

  • Location
    Wales
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Straight
  • What are your interests?
    Astronomy, Bodybuilding, Current Affairs, Drama, Elections, Fitness, Geography, History, Literature (English, European), Meteorology, News, Politics, Renn Faires, Science, Theatre

Recent Profile Visitors

6743 profile views
  1. Coming from the pessimistic end of the spectrum is the best way to approach it. The first question to address is "How skinny is skinny?", and before you say "Is that a trick question?" let me explain (by using a bit of maths which I will try and explain as best I can). To misquote Forrest Gump "Skinny is as Skinny does" or in other words, skinny is a relative term. Your profile page states that you are 1.82m (5ft 11 and 10 / 16ths inches) tall and that you weigh 80kg (176lbs). This gives you a BMI (Body Mass Index) reading of 24.15 (which is classed as slightly underweight). Now before you start panicking and thinking that all your hopes and dreams are doomed to failure, allow me to show you someone else who had a BMI of 24.15. Namely Mr. Jack King who competed at the 1958 Mr. America contest standing 1.67m (5ft 5 and 3/4 inches) tall and weighing 67kg (147lbs) at a bodyfat of 8% and a BMI reading of 24.0.
  2. In reply to the statement made by @MLMuscle all I was doing was just making sure he was aware that to become even moderately muscular takes a great deal of time and determination. Like the rest of the forum, I am very pleased that he has started on that journey, but didn't want him to come back with an opinion that three months later he'd be a hulking mass of muscle and therefore believed that I should be honest and explain just how much time and effort is required.
  3. I am glad that the issue of sleep has been brought up as it allows me to mention something else, time. In a 24 hour day, top class bodybuilders can spend up to 12 hours of their awake time (having slept for 8 hours a day) actually bodybuilding. This includes preparing and eating meals, training as well as getting to and from the gym. As a result this means that you have to COMMIT (and I mean that literally) to spending 12 hours every day preparing to train, actually training and recovering from training (and as such it means that you cannot work in a job). If you have the resources to do that without working, then yes, you can indeed make progress, if you do not, and I am sorry to sound so final about this because it's the only answer, then the answer is "Forget being a bodybuilder"
  4. Exasperated Photo Shoot Manager: "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Look, when I hired you as the muscleman for the cover of this new computer game we have been asked to produce the artwork, what part of "I shall not cause the entire male members of the staff to cum just by smiling" did you not understand? And don't think I don't know what happened to the catering truck being flipped upside down! The evidence was cleaned up by the make up artists!"
  5. I'm natural in my outlook for one very simple reason. I cannot stand needles of any shape or form (although I can tolerate a flu vaccination every autumn / winter) the idea of injecting yourself every so often just fills me with dread.
  6. Chapter Ninety Seven The following day Fleet Street was in turmoil. There was so much news to report that every single newspaper rushed out so many editions, they had to hire three times the number of newspaper sellers just to cope. The main headline was of course Phileas’s win with the Telegraph placing his picture pride of place on the front page and stating that “in all of the history of this great nation, the name of Phileas Fogg should be held on the same plane as that of Richard the Lionheart, the archers of Agincourt, Henry Tudor and Her Glorious Majesty, Victoria” Some of the other newspapers however were reporting another story that had broken a few hours later. That was the report that Mr. Sullivan, the governor of the Bank of England had been sacked by the Chancellor after an anonymous source made an accusation that he had misappropriated funds from the Bank. No doubt, you can guess who the source was as was proven that afternoon as Mr. Sullivan was walking past Westminster Cathedral when he passed a bench on which was a man he recognised. “Phileas got lucky, that’s all” said Timothy as Mr. Sullivan stood by him with his arms folded, “It wasn’t my fault, give me another chance Mr. Sullivan, I won’t fail you again, I promise?” As Mr. Sullivan sighed, he sat down next to Timothy and said “I’m looking for work myself, you wouldn’t happen to know anything available, would you?” “The success of Phileas Fogg” mused Timothy, “has seen the downfall of our own schemes!” Some of the other newspapers refused to even mention the two stories stating that “they were serious newspapers that only carried serious news” and therefore reported from Germany that a professor had found a message in a book dating from the eleventh century that appeared to be untranslatable and a report from Australia, that a ship had been sunk by what the captain described as “a monster, three hundred cables long” but as you can imagine these newspapers didn’t sell a copy all day. Whilst the newspapers boys of London were running around selling newspapers left right and centre, the story that would appear in the Tuesday editions was taking place at Westminster Abbey. You see, the moment that it was discovered that Phileas had completed the journey within time, it was as if the whole of the British establishment went, as I believe the Americans call it, “stir crazy”. The government announced that it would consult with Her Majesty the Queen to see if Phileas could be rewarded for his journey and this even extended to the Church of England who announced that, if they were willing, Phileas and Aouda could marry in the Abbey usually reserved for royal weddings. They consented and so on the afternoon of December 23rd 1872, a large crowd gathered outside to see the happy couple leave the Abbey. As the doors opened, Reverend Wilson, given special dispensation by the Royal Peculiar to conduct the service, led the procession. Phileas was dressed in a resplendent black morning suit, white shirt, white tie, black trousers and shoes with Aouda next to him all dressed in white with a train that extended a good ten feet behind her which was held proudly by Jean dressed to look almost like his master. As the happy couple paused on the steps, a cry went up from the gathered crowds “HOORAY FOR PHILEAS FOGG!” As the married couple looked at each other, they smiled. A smile that was tripled as Jean stood next to them for the ceremonial photograph. As they stood there, they could see some familiar faces. His Lordship was in attendance, Mr. Ralph, the young reporter who had sent Phileas on his way, various members of the Reform Club, and trying their best to keep the crowd under control two exceptionally familiar faces under the command of Commissioner Rowan. “Come on, Drummond” moaned Fix as he tried to keep the crowd from surging forward, “put your back into it, man!” “Here” asked Drummond as he did, “you can’t treat me like I’m a nobody now, we’re both constables!” As they saw the former Inspector, Phileas raised his hand in the air and sought silence. “Thank you all so very much for coming to witness this new adventure in my life” Mr. Fogg said, “As you know we were pursued around the world by two people. We took these two people to be friends, helped them in their moments of difficulties as any good English person would, but they turned that back on us and arrested me for the robbery of the Bank of England, and there they are!” he concluded and pointed at the inspector and constable who were booed by the crowd. “HOWEVER” said Phileas, raising his voice, “In forty-eight hours it will be Christmas, a time of year when we forgive those who have wronged us and forget those wrongs. Commissioner, would you reinstate that brave man who was working under a misapprehension, if I donated five hundred pounds to the Metropolitan & City Police Orphanage” Commissioner Rowan nodded instantly and as the two policemen approached Phileas, words seemed to fail the now reinstated inspector. “You…You did that all… for me?” he said and broke down in Phileas’s chest to which the gentleman gently patted him and said “Sir, I would do it for anyone in the same position as you!” and with that handed him to Drummond and chuckled “Take good care of him, I think he might need it!” Drummond saluted and whimpered “There goes the politest Englishman I have ever known!” Phileas helped Aouda into the carriage that had been hired for the occasion and got in himself. Jean closed the door and taking the seat next to the driver, nodded to him. The driver cracked the reins, and the carriage headed off towards the reception being held at the Reform Club. As he did, he suddenly realised who was driving and he said “So you got sacked then?” “But your master found me this job that pays me a quarter more” he replied with an Irish lilt adding “and thanks to your master, my cousin owes me twenty pounds. Please, when you are able, thank him for me will you?” Jean nodded and smiled. As he sat back he closed his eyes and thought “These last eighty days with my master have been some of the most adventurous I have ever had. Perhaps I should write them down and send them to my cousin in Amiens, now what’s his name, oh yes, that’s right Jules” and with that he chuckled adding “Perhaps I should leave out the bit about me and my master loving each other though!” and with that closed his eyes and imagined himself lying in the wedding bed as his husband and his wife created new life, he would grab hold of his husband's powerful chest, thrust his nine incher into his husband and whisper "One part ecstasy for one part pain, non?" THE END
  7. That is part of the upgrade process (from past experience)
  8. Chapter Ninety Six The hansom cab that just happened to be passing screeched to a halt and as they all piled in Phileas declared “Sir, a hundred pounds if you get me to the Reform Club five minutes ago!” “Yes, sir” came the reply and with that the cab set off. As you can imagine comfort was abandoned in favour of speed and thus two dogs were run over and five carriages were upturned to meet the requirement. The cab almost slid to a halt outside the Reform Club as all three left with Phileas taking the lead. As he bashed through the front door he yelled “Sixty seconds, Jean, I’ll lead the way!” and with that rushed up the stairs, ran faster than he had ever done before and just as the bell at the top of the clock tower housed at Parliament started to strike the three-quarter hour, he opened the doors of the great saloon and announced in a loud and proud voice “Here I am, gentlemen!” and in doing so won the wager. “You’re…. You’re…. You’re…You’re here?” stammered Mr. Sullivan as the full enormity of what happened just thirty second ago began to sink in. “How nice to see you all again!” smiled Phileas as he entered the room and greeted everyone by name, shaking their hands as he did so and then wondered if he could chance it and added “I do hope I have not inconvenienced anyone, you see I did wonder about popping in last night shortly after I got back, but, well you know how it is with long journeys, got back home and, poof, out like a light. Didn’t wake up until two o’clock this afternoon actually!” “WHAT?” exclaimed Lord Albemarle, “but that would mean that you arrived back on…” “Day Seventy-Nine, your lordship, that’s right!” smiled Phileas, his deception having worked “By Jove” declared the aged Lord, dancing as best he could in his wheelchair, “I knew he could do it, three cheers for Mr. Fogg, Hip, Hip, HOORAY” and with that defied his age by standing up in celebration, sadly although he was spirited enough to attempt the feat, his legs were still disabled and as he overbalanced he and his chair fell over onto Mr. Sullivan, who was holding Phileas’s cheque that he had signed all that time ago. As Phileas raced to His Lordship’s aid, righting his chair and enquiring as to his health to which he replied “Never felt better”, Mr. Sullivan groaned as he got up and was faced by “I believe that I have fulfilled the requirements as laid down by the wager, sir, therefore I would like my cheque back please?” and plucked it from Mr. Sullivan before he had a chance to complain. Just then Jean entered carrying the bag that he had picked up in the rush to leave Saville Row and as he did, he winked saying “Forgive me monsieurs, but if my understanding of the reporting of the wager was correct, does this mean that as you wagered four thousand pounds each, he has won an extra twenty thousand pounds?” The people who wagered against Phileas nodded sadly and taking bunches of notes they placed them on the snooker table which Jean pocketed into the bag announcing “Five thousand, ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand pounds, monsieur, for a combined total of forty thousand pounds. Congratulations, monsieur, your fortune has been restored!” “Sir” said a voice that caused nearly everyone to gasp in horror, “may I be permitted to enter?” “A woman” declared Mr. Sullivan, “in the Reform Club? Your Lordship, how can you…?” “Mr. Fogg?” asked Lord Albemarle, “would I be correct in assuming that this lady is your guest for his evening?” “She most certainly is” replied Phileas as he went to take her by the arm, “and with your permission, Your Lordship, I would like to introduce her!” Permission was granted, much to the disgust of Mr. Sullivan, and she was formally introduced as “The Princess Aouda-Jeehee” and then paused to let the last part of the name sink in, “Fogg” “Well, well, well” chuckled Lord Albemarle, “the confirmed bachelor is going to become a husband eh? Mr. Fogg, may I on behalf of the Reform Club wish you all the very best!”
  9. Chapter Ninety Five During the time that Jean had been doing his errands, Phileas and Aouda had had their tea and planed every single piece of the wedding service down to the minutest level. The ceremony had to, under the statute of law, be carried out before midday and so if the Reverend could accommodate them, they would have the service at eleven o’clock in the morning and would be a small event with only those Reform Club members able to attend doing so with Jean would be the main usher. Phileas asked whether Aouda would like to have, as was tradition, a carpet of blossoms to walk along to secure a happy path through life, but she declined saying that blossoms were probably very hard to come across in central London in the middle of winter, a statement that Phileas agreed with and with that chuckled. Next came the wedding ring and it was decided that a plain gold band with the initials of the couple and the date of their wedding engraved inside would be sufficient. Although convention dictated that they would walk out of the church first, with Jean last, having concluded that there would be no better person to give Aouda away than the man who had rescued her, that tradition could be dispensed with. The reception, normally a breakfast, would be catered for by the Reform Club’s kitchens who would also be asked to make the wedding cakes as tradition stated. A very elaborate cake which would be on display during the whole reception, a smaller cake for Phileas to have, a dark fruit cake, and a smaller cake for Aouda to have as well, a cake made entirely of icing and divided between the number of guests. There was one tradition that it was decided would not be done until after Christmas and that was the honeymoon. Phileas would, as tradition stated, carry his bride to a secret place but unlike tradition, it would be a place where her relatives would find her as he resolved that he would keep his promise and have the honeymoon in the Netherlands so that she could finally be reunited with her relatives and he could formally introduce himself as their relative by marriage with of course, Jean looking after the luggage. It was only when Phileas finished reading the arrangements back to ensure that they were in the proper order that he suddenly realised that Jean wasn’t back yet and opening his watch he said “Goodness me, twenty-five past eight, what can be taking him so long?” “Perhaps the reverend has been delayed?” suggested Aouda to which Phileas nodded and sought to be excused saying “I don’t know why, but I have this feeling of needing to go to the toilet, must be all that tea!” and with that he excused him and went to the toilet. As he came out he passed by the clock and through force of habit, checked it against his watch, noted it was showing the right time and was about to carry on when he stopped. He checked his watch again, then the clock and then the watch again. “How very odd!” he mused “What is?” asked Aouda joining him by the clock “Well, this clock has been set by Jean” said Phileas, “presumably by his watch. Now, as we travelled around the world, I told him to move his watch on four minutes for every degree that we crossed, just as I did, so when we reached France I moved mine on an hour, by the time we had reached India I had moved mine on another four hours and so on but he didn’t and on several occasions the time he had was nothing like the time where we were was. For instance, I remember him telling the Brigadier as we crossed India that the time was half past two in the morning when it was actually half past seven!” “The sun disagreed with him then?” asked Aouda “On more than one occasion!” chuckled Phileas, “so how do you explain then why my watch says half past eight and this clock, set by him, also says half past eight?” “When I was at school” said Aouda, “I was very good at maths. May I help you solve this problem?” “Of course you may!” smiled Phileas Aouda asked if she could use the globe in the library to help, to which Phileas consented, and as he wheeled into hall, she started to work out the mystery of the clocks. “Would you agree with me?” she asked, “that the world is a sphere, a circle with a large amount of air in it?” “Air supplied by those honourable members in the Commons?” chuckled Phileas as she nodded “Perhaps” she smiled, “but a circle is three hundred and sixty degrees. Each major meridian is fifteen degrees apart, so let’s see how many times you adjusted your watch” and they both counted each major meridian and came up with the answer of twenty-four. “Do you agree” she continued, “that there are twenty-four hours in a day, and therefore your watch and Jean’s clock are a day out?” “That makes sense” said Phileas looking at his watch, “the question is though, which clock is showing the correct time? You know how much of a stickler I am for accuracy!” No sooner had he asked that question than the front door seemed to explode closely followed by a hurricane. That hurricane was Jean and as he collapsed to the floor, his packages falling either side of him, all he could do was pant. The reason? He had just run the four hundred metres from the vicarage to his master's house in fifty five seconds. A task that would have seemed impossible to a mortal human, but for those fifty five seconds Jean was Hercules, Samson and Porthos rolled into one, a superhuman, to deliver his master an important message. A message that was being prevented from delivered by the taxing of his body. “I presume you have a reason for this most undiplomatic entrance!” demanded Phileas, standing over the heaving mass that was Jean. “My master!” gasped Jean, his chest heaving, his heart pounding and his head spinning “marriage—impossible—” “Impossible?” asked Phileas, “What do you mean impossible?” “Impossible—for tomorrow” panted Jean, as he started to feel his cock harden as his mind took stock of what he had just done. “Because?” asked Phileas “Because to-morrow—is Sunday!” gasped Jean and with that almost passed out, but as he did so a spark of realisation clicked in Phileas’s mind and he turned to Aouda saying “Why are our clocks showing the same time? Because it is the same time, twenty-four hours apart” and with that rifled through Jean’s waistcoat and pulled out his watch declaring “This is the correct time” and as he looked at it he gasped, “and I only have fifteen minutes to win my wager!” and with that he rushed up to his room, got dressed at what almost seemed like the speed of light, rushed downstairs, grabbed Aouda and Jean who although still panting had now been able to stand up, dragged them all to the corner of Saville Row and yelled “CABBIE!” Does @powerbeats fancy giving us a view of Jean's pounding heart after setting a new record for the 400m?
  10. Chapter Ninety Four As the married trio to be took tea, Jean asked about his employment status. “Employment status?” asked Phileas, “There’s no question at all. Whilst inside this house we shall be married, to the outside world you will still be my manservant” and with that he got up and picked up the ten pound note from the hall table, “so how about you prefect your role and take this to pay for the ironing woman to steam and press my morning suit, a bouquet of flowers, and ask to speak to the Reverend Wilson, vicar of St. Marylebone Church about a wedding for tomorrow, Monday, December 23rd 1872” Jean smiled and taking the note replied “Oui, monsieur” and as he left chuckled “Remember, monsieur, when I get back you promised that I could lift you in that chair” and with that left hearing his master say “My dear, would you like to see just how strong Jean is?” Jean practically travelled with a hop and a skip as he travelled towards the heart of Westminster. He was going to be married to his master, no, his lover and soon to be husband and would able to remain next to him always disguised as a manservant to the outside world. He’d never been an actor before, but this was a role he was almost destined to play. He arrived at the ironing woman’s shop at half past six that evening and explained what he wanted. “Oh, I am so pleased to hear that” replied the ironing woman, “I have often thought that Mr. Fogg would make an excellent catch for someone. He is the most delightful gentleman in the world. His wife is going to be the luckiest woman in the world” “And I will be the luckiest man in the world” Jean said under his breath. The ironing woman steamed Mr. Fogg’s morning suit to his usual high standards and by half past seven it had been pressed and steamed and as Jean offered the ten pound note he received seven pounds in change with the message “A special treat for Mr. Fogg, I’ve taken a pound off the cost, just for him!” Next on the agenda was flowers. The florist was also very pleased to hear about the impending nuptials, describing him as “the most refined gentleman that London has ever produced” and took a great deal of thought about Aouda’s bouquet. She came back a few moments later with a wrapped bag and handing it to Jean said “There, these are very special flowers, very exotic ones at that, which I think will be just the ticket. That will be two pounds please!” “Don’t you mean three pounds?” asked Jean The florist smiled and said “Don’t tell anyone, special offer because the marriage!” So, as Jean arrived at the vicarage, he had five pounds in his wallet. However, when he asked to speak to the vicar he wasn’t there as he was attending his parishioners, but the verger said that he would be more than welcome to wait until the vicar came back. As Jean sat on the steps of the vicarage waiting for the return of the vicar, his thoughts turned to his acting role. Of course, to the outside world he would be a manservant par excellence, always at his master's beck and call, never thinking of anything but how to make his master presentable but behind closed doors. Oooh, their days would be filled to the brim with such strenuous exercises, flexing of pumped muscles and, if Aouda consented, sexual gymnastics that it was no wonder that when the vicar did arrive he found Jean smiling from ear to ear half dozing on the steps. “Hello there” said a voice, “nice dream?” As Jean came to, he found himself looking at the vicar and apologised. “No need to worry” he replied, “Sorry for the delay was speaking to the House of Lords earlier and they delayed me with my other duties, so how can I help?” “My master, Monsieur Phileas Fogg, wishes to be married and would like to know if you would conduct the service?” “So” chuckled the vicar, “the confirmed bachelor has finally fallen in love eh?” “Oui” Jean replied adding under his breath, “twice over!” “I would be delighted to” replied the vicar and with that took out his diary, “and when would he like the service?” “Tomorrow” replied Jean As the vicar thumbed through his diary, his face fell. “Sorry, tomorrow’s a little busy actually. I can do Monday if you like?” “Yes” replied Jean, “that is when he would like to be married, Monday, December 23rd!” “Are you sure?” asked the vicar looking at his diary “Absolutely positive” replied Jean The vicar scratched his head and asked slowly “Your master, Phileas Fogg, wishes to marry tomorrow, Monday, December 23rd 1872?” Jean nodded “Well” replied the vicar, “he may want to get married tomorrow, but if he wants to get married on Monday he will just have to wait like the rest of us. Tomorrow is Sunday!” “No, tomorrow is Monday!” replied Jean “And I tell you sir, tomorrow is Sunday” insisted the vicar, “I don’t know what calendar Mr. Fogg uses, but in my diary tomorrow is Sunday, December 22nd 1872, so it’s…Oh!” he exclaimed as he found himself talking to nobody and the boxes that he had noticed on the top step gone. “What strange manservants Mr. Fogg employs these days!” he said and went into the vicarage
  11. Chapter Ninety Three Phileas placed the pot of geraniums on the table in the garden, turned around and bowed politely to Aouda. “Madam,” he said, “will you pardon me for bringing you to England? If so, I wish to offer my apologies for doing so” “Sir” she began, but Phileas raised his hand “Please let me finish,” continued Mr. Fogg. “When I decided to bring you far away from the country which was so unsafe for you, I was rich, and counted on putting a portion of my fortune at your disposal; then your existence would have been free and happy. But now I am ruined. Therefore, it was completely irresponsible of me to do so” “Does that matter?” she asked Phileas nodded, “You see, when me, Jean and the Brigadier rescued you, my personal fortune was still intact and I felt sure that I would be able to help you reunite with your family. After what happened in Hong Kong, I was determined that should still happen and when there was a suggestion of the Netherlands, I resolved that after we arrived back, I would pay for you, and with your permission me as well, to travel to Amsterdam and find your relatives, but now I have only ten pounds to my name, I realise that the only way I can do that now is to sell the home I have lived in for many a year, say goodbye to my faithful retainer and…” “I know it, Mr. Fogg,” replied Aouda; “and I ask you in my turn, will you forgive me for having followed you, and—who knows? —for having, perhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?” “I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Fogg “You rescuing me from those worshippers of Kali cost you a whole day, sir, a day that you would have had in hand!” she said “Madam” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “you could not remain in India, and your safety could only be assured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors could not take you. Any gentleman of character would have done the same, and you know what, I am such a gentleman. So, what if I love my manservant with all the furor that a man would love a woman, I am a gentleman!” Jean gasped, his master had admitted to Aouda his feelings to him. “But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?” she asked “As for me, madam,” replied the gentleman, coldly, “I have need of nothing.” “But how do you look upon the fate, sir, which awaits you?” “As I am in the habit of doing.” “At least,” said Aouda, “want should not overtake a man like you. Your friends—” “I have no friends, madam.” Jean couldn’t stand any more of this and rushed up, stood beside him and announced “Oui, moi!” “Your relatives—” “I have no longer any relatives.” As Jean gasped, he looked at his former master, who nodded sadly “I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no heart to which to confide your griefs. They say, though, that misery itself, shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne with patience.” “They say so, madam” he said, and then did something that Jean wasn’t expecting in a million years, he admitted everything “Madam” he said, “over these last eighty days I have found myself falling in love, twice. I fell in love with my manservant the day I met him and…and…and madam, I believe I have fallen in love with you as well!” “Mr. Fogg,” said Aouda, seizing his hand, “do you wish at once a kinswoman and friend? Will you have me for your wife?” “You mean…?” asked Phileas to which Aouda nodded “Phileas” she said, “where I come from, there is an ancient text called the Kuma Sutra. It is a document written in Hindi that states above all else that a man may love anyone. I love you, and you not only love me, but your manservant as well. I therefore propose that the three of us enter into a formal relationship where I have a husband and you have a husband and a wife!” “Mon Dieu” exclaimed Jean, “you mean…” “Why should I deny the man I love of the love he has for another?” she smiled Phileas blushed and seeking permission from his intended, kissed them both. “Jean, Aouda, I love you both with my heart and soul!” As Jean and Aouda hugged the Englishman, he chuckled “Well, I’ll be, we shall marry tomorrow!” Jean piped up and asked “Who will be the bridesmaid, Monsieur?”
  12. Chapter Ninety Two As Jean made his way downstairs, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Aouda or Phileas, his heart was breaking. Phileas was more than just his master and his lover, he was a friend, perhaps the best one he had ever had. But he knew that with only ten pounds to his name, Phileas would have to sell the house that he called home and wouldn’t be able to afford a manservant. His last act he dedicated to his master. Pulling a stool from besides the clock in the hall, he stood on it and wound the clock up, set it to twenty-five minutes past two, set the pendulum swinging, closed the door and put the stool back. Then as he stood back, he smiled. His final act as Phileas’s manservant would ensure that the gentleman who relied so much on clocks would have a clock to rely on. As he took the ten pounds out of his bag, placing it under a paperweight on the table, he kissed it and said to himself “Look after Phileas, will you? I know you won’t allow him all that many luxuries but I would feel better knowing that he was able to look after himself” and with that made his way towards the front door with tears in his eyes. As he let himself out into the cold afternoon, he took a moment to caress the door handle before pulling the door shut. As he placed the key underneath the doormat, it was all too much for him and he burst into tears, sobbing pitifully moaning “I only spent about twenty-five hours in that house, but they were twenty-five hours of bliss!” and as he stood up, he sniffed and headed down the road towards his former digs in Kensington, plodding down the street. Each step, taken with his head bowed looking down at the ground, seemed to be as it taken through treacle. This matched Jean's mood and if anyone had been listening to him they would have heard him bemoan that he and his lover should not be parted in such a manner. They were supposed to have been together until the day the died, spending each night in the basement with the fire roaring nicely making the room well into the nineties which, thanks to their constant lifting of weights would make the actual air temperature almost reaching 110°F, which would cause both men to start sweat profusely, which in turn would cause them to disrobe slowly out of their exercise clothes, to just a pair of trunks then completely naked. It would be at this point that both men would stop exercising and at a word of command from his lover, show off their muscled physiques. They would do this for over an hour, raising the temperature of the room to almost 115°F and prompting them to sweat to such an extent that they would be barely able to function, the first one to collapse would be carried out of the room by the other , taken to their bed and at the winner's choice force the loser into accepting the whim of the winner, which if Jean was the winner would involve his master having to withstand the force of him sucking every ounce of cum from him. But that was of course, nothing more than a pipe dream, and certain he was now outside his former digs Jean sighed and murmured "My lover, please forgive me" and with that raised his head... ….and was rather startled to find himself back where he had started, outside Phileas’s house. As he tried to work out what had happened, I feel I can tell you. He had walked down the length of Saville Row, crossed the street, walked the opposite side of the street, crossed over again, and done this at least five times as if unwilling to leave the house of his former master. Coming to the conclusion that this was due to his conscience, he simply couldn’t leave without at least saying goodbye to his former love and so, adjusted his clothes and re-entered the house and steeling himself, he made his way to his former master’s bedroom. He gently knocked and said “Monsieur, I have come to say goodbye, may I come in please?” and waited for a reply. As he waited, he suddenly became concerned and knocked a little louder and when that didn’t receive any reply, he started to worry. Had he, knowing that he would not be able to support either Aouda or Jean, committed suicide and was even now lying dead on the floor? Jean couldn’t stand it and tried the door. It was locked from the inside. This was too much for him and he took a few steps back and charged at the door bursting through it with all his might. As he flew through the now open doors, he landed on the bed and gasped at what he saw next to him. His lover's morning clothes, all laid out on the bed, exactly where Jean had placed them on the first day he had gained employment but even worse was, besides the dent that Jean had created, the bed was completely pristine. It had not been slept in. This set Jean into a panic and he charged straight to the spare room where Aouda was also deeply concerned and between the two of them, they resolved to search the entire house. It was sheer luck that found him, as Jean opened a door in the kitchen to the garden and spied him at the bottom of the garden, wearing nothing more than his pyjamas and a dressing gown holding a pot of geraniums. As Jean relayed the location to Aouda, he decided to attend to his former master and as he got closer, he could hear him speak. “I love her!” he said gently. As Phileas closed his eyes, he remembered where it all started. It was the gardens of Singapore, driving in the governor’s carriage. That moment when she presented him with an orchid as a buttonhole, that was when he knew that he was love with two people. His manservant, the only man he knew with strength that matched his, and Aouda, the Indian princess he played a part in saving the life of. As he continued to remember the times that he spent with them both, a voice broke into his thoughts. “Monsieur, are you all right, monsieur?” “Oh, hello there Jean” he said, “Yes, I’m all right, why do you ask?” As Jean explained about finding his bed empty and fearing the worse, Phileas’s feelings for him grew. This was a man who had performed far beyond the expectations of a manservant, his sterling defence of him, when he barely knew him, in Paris, yesterday in Liverpool and now, thinking that the worst had happened and yet still he cared for him. “…so I…I…I could leave you and say “Au revoir, Monsieur” replied Jean, and with that turned around lest his former master saw him cry. “I understand” said Phileas, almost with tears in his eyes as well. Jean had been a most faithful manservant and as he continued “I shall of course write you a glowing reference and I hope that you do get your wish of finding a master who stays still” and with that placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder and whispered “Good luck, my lover!”. As Jean started to walk away, Phileas said, “There is one last thing you can do for me, could you ask Mrs. Aouda to speak with me please, I have something to tell her!” Jean turned, his eyes red with tears, but nodded and delivered the message. As he relayed the good news that he had found Phileas and that the gentleman wanted to talk to her, he escorted her to him and as he stood a respectable distance back, he was just about to announce her when she said “Please, Jean, stay, I have something to tell him as well that could be beneficial to you as well!” Jean nodded and announced “Mrs. Aouda, monsieur”
  13. Chapter Ninety One As the party made their way back to Phileas’s home, none of them spoke the entire way. Twenty minutes later, they arrived and as they did, Phileas sighed. He gently walked up the steps, touched the doors gently, and then gesturing to his manservant who gave him the key, he opened the doors. He walked in, looked around and after Jean had lit the lights, walked to the clock in the hallway. As he did he sighed again and said simply “How ironic” as he noted the clock had stopped at a quarter to nine. He then turned to his travelling companions and feeling his heart break addressed them. “Jean” he started, “I cannot thank you enough for your friendship and loyalty, and yours as well, Princess. Please, Jean, show the Princess to a spare room and then you may retire!” Jean nodded and asked Phileas when he wanted to take breakfast. “There shan’t be any breakfast” he sighed, “come tomorrow morning I won’t have the money to even pay your salary” and with that started to walk upstairs to his room saying only “Goodnight” which Jean thought sounded as if he was going to burst into tears. As he started to follow his master, Aouda stopped him and said “He needs time to be on his own” After showing Aouda to a spare room, Jean returned to his room in the top of the house. The first thing he noticed was his lamp which he turned off, plunging the room into darkness. The lamp that had been burning the whole eighty-day journey and as he lay on his bed, he knew there was only one course of action. His master couldn’t afford to pay his bill or indeed hire a manservant, therefore, as much as it broke Jean’s heart, he would have to leave his lover and the only man he had ever admitted being inverted to. As he felt tiredness fall across him, he moaned “I would do anything to stay with my master, anything” and with that he fell asleep. “Please rise for the honourable Justice Obadiah, on loan from the Royal Court Houses of Calcutta!” As the court rose, the judge entered. Today was the day that the country had been waiting for. Ever since he had lost his wager, Phileas Fogg’s character had been dragged through the mud, so when an allegation emerged that he and his manservant had been involved in a homosexual relationship, the press went mad and suddenly accused him of everything that had gone wrong with Britain since the independence of the United States. As the judge began his summing up, Phileas and Jean sat in the dock wondering what would happen and replaying the case in their minds. First, the prosecution laid out the groundwork. Despite all their precautions, their sexual antics had been spied upon and when the defence counsel, Phileas himself, stated that under British law none of the evidence would have been accepted as it had been obtained whilst the witness was committing a crime themselves, namely being a peeking Tom, the Home Secretary found himself being dragged into it and was called before Parliament to issue a statement on the matter. That statement, which announced that it would be no longer a criminal offence to be a peeking Tom, caused uproar with the papers supporting the government calling it a “moment of common sense” whilst those opposed suggested that “the minute that someone finds out something against this government, the lies that this government have put forward will be found out”. Thus, the evidence was admissible. The defence decided to adopt a purely character based evidence and so over the course of the defence, all the people that Phileas had encountered were brought to the Old Bailey. All of them agreed that, on the surface, Phileas was the perfect English gentleman, but when cross examined by the prosecution, chinks started to appear in the armour. Captain Mason, head of the US Cavalry in Nebraska, had to admit that he was inverted and was given a dishonorable discharge thus, Colonel Proctor announced “I knew there was something odd about him, that’s why I challenged him” and even the train driver who had driven him to London had to admit that, under the letter of the law, Phileas had hijacked the train. “Gentlemen of the jury” announced the judge after an hour of summing up, “You have heard the evidence!” The foreman of the jury stood up and led them into the jury room. There was nothing more that could be done except wait, and my word, did they make people wait but finally after fifteen days, a verdict had been reached and the main show court was packed to the brim with reporters from all over the world. “Have you reached a verdict on which you all have agreed?” asked the judge “We have, your Honour” came the reply “On the charge that Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout did, on several occasions, conduct homosexual acts, how do you find the defendants?” “Guilty, your Honour” came the reply and instantly, the court erupted. The newspaper reporters all started scribbling as if there was no tomorrow and it took the judge nearly five minutes to restore order. As Jean and Phileas looked at each other, they knew that this was the end. “The verdict has been passed” announced the judge, “and therefore sentencing is due. Jean Passepartout will stand” and as he did, he started to whimper “You have been found guilty” the judge said, “but I believe it is because you were led by Mr. Fogg. Therefore, I will show leniency. You are to be jailed for ten years!” and with that he banged his gavel causing Jean to collapse in tears. However, as Jean was led away, worse was to come, and as the judge reached for a black cap the entire court gasped. “Phileas Fogg” he stated, “You have been found guilty of the crime of homosexuality!" Phileas bowed his head and announced "Your Honour, there is no need to pronounce the sentence. I know that you are going to condemn me to death, therefore Your Honour, I wish to die in a manner of my own choosing. I have long considered hanging a cruel and barbaric method of execution therefore, beg permission to be taken to the United States where, at a time of their choosing, I wish to subject myself to their tests of a new form of execution devised by Mr. Edison, namely having a large amount of electricity pass through my body killing me instantly" After a discussion between the judge and the Secretary of State for the Empire who was present on behalf of the Government, there was a nodding of heads and the judge declared "So be it!" and with that banged his gavel “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” screamed Jean “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jean screamed and with that woke up in a cold sweat. As he tried to recover his breathing, he gasped “It was a nightmare!” and started to recover. As he did, he looked at the watch that was sitting beside his bed. It showed the time as being two o’clock and as he drew the curtains, still panting from his dream it was clear that it was two o’clock in the afternoon. As he recovered he knew what he had to do and as he got dressed he sighed “Goodbye, my lover!”
  14. Chapter Ninety As Aouda tended to Jean’s injured knee, the manservant imagining himself filled with the might and strength of Samson, Hercules and Porthos and the skills of the American cowboy and fashioning a rope out of a nearby chain of metal, lassoing the train and pulling back to the station as if hauling a beast of burden back to the stockade, Phileas set about trying to find an alternative. The guard was helpful by telling him that the next passenger train to London was due to leave Liverpool at six o’clock that evening, but as that would arrive in London by midnight, that was a nonstarter, and that was the only train due to leave Liverpool that day. So, when a train whistle suddenly blew, Phileas asked “And that is not a train, sir?” “That is a train” replied the guard, “and it is headed to London, but I am sorry you may not get on it?” “And why not?” asked Phileas “Because it’s a freight train, sir, freight trains do not carry passengers!” came the reply “We’ll see about that!” said Phileas and strode off in the direction of the train. The train was in the final stages of getting ready for the journey and was reversing down the track. As it met the buffers of the guard’s van, Phileas applauded the driver, which took him rather by surprise. “A perfect shunt, sir” said Phileas, as the driver climbed down to secure the fittings, “you must have been doing this a very long time!” “Thank you, sir” replied the driver in a broad Irish accent, “it’s very rare to be praised for what I do every single day!” “I have been a firm believer of praising where possible” smiled Phileas, “may I enquire where you are going?” “London, sir” the driver replied, climbing back on board the engine “And may I ask how long it takes to get there?” “My goodness, sir” smiled the driver, “are you one of these train spotters I keep on hearing about? I operate under the strict guidelines laid down by my company, sir. I am obliged to complete the journey in as close to six hours as physically possible!” Phileas opened his watch. The time was now ten to three in the afternoon. “Tell me, sir, hypothetically speaking, do you believe it is possible to do the journey in less than six hours?” Phileas asked The driver rubbed his chin and replied “Possibly, yes, but you’d have to be awfully lucky with the points” Phileas decided to come to the point and ask if it was possible to board the train with two other passengers. “Sorry, sir” came the reply, “Passengers aren’t allowed on a freight train. It’s against the regulations. If I did, well, I would be fired straight away!” “Sir” said Phileas, “I must reach London by a quarter to nine this evening and your train is the only way I can do it. If you can take me and my friends, and you are sacked because of my actions, I promise to ensure you get fair representation at your tribunal and, if the worse comes to the worst, I shall find you an alternative job that pays more than your current position!” “Hold on a second” said the driver as he leaned out of the cabin, “I think I recognise you” and as he stared at Phileas, he started to smile and clapped his hands. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re that Phileas Fogg fellow who’s trying to travel around the world in eighty days, aren’t you?” “Guilty as charged” replied Phileas with a chuckle “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” replied the driver and leaned out even more and said quietly “I have a cousin who wagered five pounds on you at two to one that you would do it. Do you know how much fifteen pounds would mean to him?” “The world?” replied Phileas “More than that, sir” replied the driver, “it would pay his rent for the next three years. You know what, sir, hang the regulations!” “Thank you so much, sir!” and with that Phileas gave a loud whistle and a moment later, Aouda and Jean, hobbling slightly came to the side of the engine and introduced them as his passengers. “Right” said the driver, “Madam, if you will be so kind as to go into the guard’s van and you two gentlemen can ride with me in the engine itself, just keep out of sight whenever we get to a station, yes?” After the final trucks were added and the points changed, the train was given the all clear and at three o’clock precisely on December 21st 1872, the train left Liverpool with three extra passengers. Phileas had managed to catch yet another unscheduled service and this time didn’t have to outlay any money, but if he didn’t reach London within the next five and three quarter hours, the ten pounds lying at the bottom of the bag would be the only money he had, so it should come as no surprise to hear that every fifteen minutes the gentleman made a note of where they were, how far they were from London, how fast they were going and their estimated time of arrival. As the train travelled through Cheshire and the industrial town of Crewe, Phileas’s calculations showed that the train was travelling at thirty-five miles an hour meaning that they would arrive in London forty-five minutes after the deadline, this calculation was confirmed as they travelled through Stafford and again at Lichfield. Having received the same news three times over, Phileas turned to the driver and asked why the train didn’t seem to be going as fast as the driver had expected. “Oh, that will be the freight sir!” he replied, “we are carrying rather more than usual, thanks to it almost being Christmas!” “If, purely hypothetically speaking of course” ventured Phileas, “if you were to leave the freight behind?” and with that winked at the driver. “Oh, Mr. Fogg” chuckled the driver, “my mother told me there’d be people like you around, but you know what, I agree with you. The devil take the hindmost as my father used to say!” “That’s the spirit!” smiled Phileas and turned to Jean and asked if he felt strong enough to uncouple the freight wagons. Jean stood to attention, grimaced a little but replied “Oui, monsieur!” and surely, if a little slowly, clambered over the coal in the wagon next to the engine, climbed up onto the roof of the guard’s van, kept as close to the roof of the guard’s van as possible as he travelled along it, and then climbed down into the back of the guard’s van. As the train sailed past the station in the town of Nuneaton in Warwickshire, Jean uncoupled the freight and it slowly started to be left behind. A fact that the stationmaster was not too pleased about. “HEY!” he shouted as the train disappeared into the distance, “What am I supposed to do with all this freight eh? As Jean climbed up to the roof of the guard’s van, he chuckled and said “Nothing to do with me, monsieur” and made his way back to the engine and reported the fact to his master. The deliberate loss of the freight seemed to do the trick as the speed increased to move the estimated time of arrival to precisely a quarter to nine. Phileas needed an extra five minutes from somewhere and so ordered Jean to help with the shoveling. By the time the train reached Bletchley in Buckinghamshire, they had made up an extra minute, but still Phileas needed more and so he joined in the shoveling as well. With an hour to go, they were at Aylesbury, some forty miles from their destination and the driver said “Sir, this train is going faster than any freight train ever” and per the calculations, now being done mentally with the driver writing the sums down, they had a three-minute leeway, a leeway that could have been lost at King’s Cross station, if the driver hadn’t swapped keys at the first attempt despite travelling at close to forty-five miles an hour. In fact, as the train arrived at Paddington, it was travelling so fast that the brakes couldn’t hold the train and it slammed into the buffers at the end of the track bending them something awful. Phileas offered to carry Jean, but he felt confident that his knee was strong enough to run on and so as they all poured out of the train, they ran. The last calculation was they had two and a half minutes to get to the Reform Club, eight hundred meters from the station, a feat that would require almost superhuman effort and as it was Phileas who had to arrive, he took the mantle and ran as fast as he could. However, as they darted out of the station, Phileas screeched to a halt and wailed in horror at the sight. His watch had been wrong; all his calculations were wrong by a full five minutes. For as they looked at the clock outside the station, it gently ticked to twelve minutes to nine. He wasn’t two and a half minutes early; he was two and a half minutes late. “For a while I thought we could do it” Phileas said sadly “What now, monsieur?” Jean asked “We walk home” his master replied, “it’s all we can afford to do!”
  15. Chapter Eighty Nine As Archibald was taken away, Fix held his cap in front of him and whispered “Shall I free Mr. Fogg then?” and was answered by a pair of ferocious looking eyes. Rushing down to the cells, Fix and Rowan screeched to a halt outside Phileas’s cell and at the order from the Commissioner the cell was opened. The Commissioner entered and coughing politely began his apology. “Mr. Fogg, please accept my apologies on behalf of the Metropolitan Police” “Apologies, sir?” asked Phileas standing up. “Yes, you see, we, that is the Metropolitan Police, had been given a description and an artist’s impression for the bank robber who robbed the Bank of England, three days before you left, that was so akin to you, well, in short, Mr. Fogg, you’ve been wrongfully arrested!” came the reply Phileas looked long and hard at the inspector and asked “Does this mean that both myself and my manservant are now free to resume our journey to London?” “Indeed you are, sir” said Rowan, “however there is someone here who owes you an apology as well” and with that he pushed the inspector forwards until both he and Phileas were almost touching noses. Fix just couldn’t stand being so close to Phileas and said “Go on, sir, I know you want to. Punch me in the nose, I deserve it!” and with that closed his eyes. “I disagree” said Phileas, and as the inspector opened his eyes, with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision of a machine punched Fix in the stomach. “Good hit!” cried Jean, “Parbleu! that’s what you might call a good application of English fists!” “Now” said Phileas, “if you will excuse me, we have a train to catch” and with that walked over Fix still curled in agony on the floor. “Here” said the commissioner, “let us assist, it’s the least we can do” and with that peered around the corner of the cell and bellowed “Get Mr. Fogg the fastest coach we have, on the double!” A few moments later, Phileas and Jean were reunited with Aouda and as she kissed Phileas on the lips. Jean smiled as they did, it was clear beyond anyone’s reasoning that the two were made for each other. As they went outside they were amazed to find not a horse driven coach but the very latest steam driven coach. As they clambered in Jean declared “The station, please, monsieur”, however as he climbed in and the driver replied, “Right ho, guv” in a broad Scouse accent, the driver’s eye glinted and he chuckled “Get ready Phileas, for the last ride you’ve ever going to take!” and with that drove off, just as Fix and Drummond charged out of the Custom House. “Please, Mr. Fogg” Fix shouted, “I need you to…” “Bye, bye” said Drummond as he waved to the departing coach. “…hear me say sorry” whispered the inspector and then turned to his companion and declared “Drummond, you’ve been told to obey everything I tell you, haven’t you?” “That’s right, sir!” he said, “A good constable always listens to his inspector!” “Good” he said, and then standing in front of him he said “Punch me in the nose!” “SIR?” exclaimed Drummond “Go on” Fix said, closing his eyes, “Mr. Fogg punched me in the stomach, which was good, but to really learn my lesson I need a good punch in the nose!” “Are you feeling alright, sir?” asked Drummond “Constable Drummond!” he declared, his eyes tightly shut, “I am officially ordering you to punch me in the nose, NOW!” “If you’re ordering me, sir!” said Drummond and delivered such a punch that Fix was propelled back a good five feet and landed face down on the pavement. As Drummond lay beside him, he asked “Was that alright, sir?” All Fix could do was groan in agony. *** “I’m worried” said Phileas as he examined his watch, “the next train for London leaves in precisely five minutes!” “Allow me, monsieur” and with that Jean popped his head out of the window and said “As fast as you can, monsieur!” “With pleasure” the driver replied and with that Timothy let off the brake. As the coach started to speed up, the passengers inside started to get bounced around. As they crossed a bridge over the river Mersey, Jean became suspicious and decided to find out why they seemed to be heading back to the docks and so asked the driver so. “Well, isn’t that a shame?” replied Timothy, dropping all pretenses about being a Liverpool resident, “you’re going to miss the train to London, then aren’t you?” and then suddenly took such a sharp left hand turn that Jean was very nearly flung out of the window. Hanging on for dear life, he muttered “This driver is crazy” and so climbed onto the roof and then sat down next to Timothy and demanded to know why he was travelling in the wrong direction. “Well” replied Timothy, with a wicked smile, “that depends on what direction is the right direction? Anyhow, just because your master has arrived back in England doesn’t mean he’ll arrive back in London, does it?” Jean suddenly realised something. He had heard that voice before. It was the time when he had punched a man, disguised as a French aristocrat off the coach that was heading away from Paris on the second day of their journey. As he had landed in the lake, he cursed loud enough for Jean to hear and now, he had heard that voice again. It was the person who had attacked them throughout the whole journey and as he realised this his anger fueled his strength as he grabbed Timothy and attempted to pull him out of his seat, but Timothy responded with a punch and sent Jean flying. In the time that it took Jean to recover, Timothy was now standing on the roof and then suddenly pulled out a knife. “It is you!” Jean declared as he recognised one of Maximillian’s knives and his anger now at boiling point, launched himself at Timothy, but was beaten back by the threat of being stabbed and tripped over something and landed heavily next to the steam engine. As Timothy took his chance, Jean rolled out of the way and instead of stabbing Jean, Timothy punctured a valve and let rip the loudest whistle that any steam engine had ever produced. The noise stunned both men but Timothy was the first to recover and gained the high ground. Almost in desperation, Jean leapt at him and the two men were in a struggle. The two men were evenly matched but Jean knew he had to get this attacker to drop his knife, so resorted to something that Hercule had taught him all those years ago. If you find yourself being attacked with something, use your own defenses, so Jean bit Timothy on the wrist. As Timothy screamed in pain, he dropped the knife, which was shattered by one of the coach’s wheels. Now, it was down to pure brute strength, but somehow Timothy was just as strong, perhaps even stronger than Jean as demonstrated when he kicked him with such force that he collided with the chimney and bent it. Jean managed to grab hold of the chimney, and gritting his teeth against the pain of the hot metal, held on dear life. Timothy, chuckling as he did so, stamped on Jean’s hands and said “Bye, bye, you meddling fool!” However, cries from the panicked residents alerted Timothy to the fact that the coach was heading towards a building and jumping into the driver’s seat he managed to avoid crashing into a bakery, but took the corner so hard that Jean was flung into the baker’s window and smashing it as he held on. Grunting with effort, he clambered back onto the roof and started to pound Timothy with his foot. Timothy responded in kind as he bit Jean’s knee causing the manservant to scream and collapse to the ground. As he nursed his knee, Timothy took full advantage and started to strangle him causing him to appear, upside down at the opposite window of the coach. “Jean!” exclaimed Phileas and apologising to Aouda for his “ungentlemanly exit” from the coach, climbed out of the window and punched Timothy on the hand. As Timothy recovered, Phileas knelt by his lover. His knee was bleeding badly but his fire and determination was still there and so with his master holding him, so he didn’t put any more pressure on his knee, Jean delivered first one then two powerful punches before his master delivered the coup de grace as with his good leg and his master’s other, they both kicked Timothy in the groin at the same time. Timothy screamed in pain and unable to balance fell off the coach and rolled along the road just behind the coach. “The coach” exclaimed Phileas and helping his injured lover, they both took control and within a matter of moments, they were heading in the right direction. Jean and Phileas looked at each other, smiling, knowing that the only way they would lose their wager now was down to themselves. They brought the coach to a screeching halt outside the main railway station in Liverpool and gesturing for his lover to clamber onto his shoulders, Phileas descended and allowing Aouda to leave the coach they all ran to the platform hoping that they could catch the last express to arrive in London before the deadline. Sadly, they had not, the train was even now puffing into the distance.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.