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The Tale of the Muscular Manservant


CardiMuscleman

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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”

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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?”

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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

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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?

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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!”

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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

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  • 2 years later...

One of your best stories. The excitement, the drama, the adventure, love, muscles and pounding hearts - everything comes together in an impressive fashion.
I love this!

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