Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy (37 page)

“It was just a suggestion.”

“A silly one.”

“What’s going on?” Mike, bathrobed and still dishevelled from sleep, provided a timely and welcome distraction from crab talk, by leaning over the stair rail to peer at us all. “Do we need to call crowd control?” His nose concertinaed as he caught a sniff of the niff. He descended the stairs, echoing what had already been asked. “What the flaming hell is that?”

“We’ll let you know when we find out,” said Shane dryly. “Leo’s investigating. It’s coming from under the stairs.”

“Smells like a corpse.”

I continued my quest to brass it out. “You haven’t misplaced a sub recently, have you, Mike? Maybe you shoved the poor sod bound and gagged under the stairs and forgot about him. The smell is probably his butt plug decomposing.”

“It’s too early for bad jokes.”

Grinning, I dodged a playful cuff from his hand.

“FOUND IT!”

My stomach performed a somersault at Leo’s triumphant pronouncement. Everyone surged forward, and then shrank back again, as he emerged from the cupboard holding the nobbled jackets at arms’ length. The smell rolled from them in pungent waves, as if glad to be free from the confines of the cupboard. I fancied I could see prawn ‘spirits’ wreathing around the hall like a fishy version of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings.

Despite a certain anxiety, I could not, for the life of me, prevent a surge of wicked glee at the horrified look on the bondage boys’ faces when Leo swung their jackets at them, his tone furious.

“These bloody reek! What the hell is wrong with them? Where have you been with them?”

“What?” Jak and Vince simultaneously grabbed their respective jackets, ramming them under their noses.

“I don’t understand.” Jak blanched as he sniffed at his jacket. “It was fine when I came. I’m sure it was. What could have caused it to smell like this? It’s disgusting. It’s my favourite jacket too.”

I felt a sudden pang of guilty regret. He looked almost tearful. On the other hand, mean as it sounds, I felt nothing but a sense of sweet triumph with regard to Vince. He took the path of denial.

“Mine was fine, too. It’s virtually brand new. Designer brand. Cost me a mint. It must be something in the cupboard that’s caused it.”

“There is nothing in my cupboard to explain that smell. I’ve had everything out. It’s definitely the jackets, they’re the hub of it.”

I cleared my throat. “Leather is funny stuff. Maybe there was a fault in the curing process and the material has gone off.”

“All of a sudden?” Vince gave a contemptuous sneer. “Both jackets? Hardly. Talk sense. It has to be something in the cupboard, not the jackets.”

“It is
not
my cupboard.” Leo wrinkled his prominent nose. “Your jacket is the worst, Vince, by a long chalk. It’s positively rank.”

“What animal supplied the raw material? A skunk? A ginger one judging from the colour.”

Vince shot me a look of pure fury, but didn’t get a chance to verbally retaliate.

Dick shook a reproving finger at me. “Be quiet. Remarks like that aren’t helpful.”

Pat ventured a question. “Could it be sweat? I know from experience with Bill’s gear that leather grain does tend to retain sweaty smells, especially as it gets older.”

I couldn’t help myself. I leapt in again. “If it is sweat, then Vince needs to consult a doctor. His body odour seems to be unnaturally toxic. Maybe his father can prescribe something to neutralise it.”

Shane gave me a vexed look. “You were told to shut up, Gillibran.”

I raised my hands in silent surrender.

Leo stabbed a finger at Vince’s jacket. “I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t sweat. It’s on the outside for a start. You’ve obviously come into contact with something putrid, Vince, and it’s contaminated your jacket and thus my cupboard. You must have spilt something on it, or rubbed up against something. What dubious dives have you been hanging out in?”

“None, and Jak’s jacket stinks too.”

“Probably from being hung next to yours.”

I stepped out of easy reach of the men folk before sweetly inquiring. “How did you travel here, Vince, in a slurry wagon?”

“In a taxi, you idiot.”

“Could have been something in that,” said Pat helpfully. “The taxi I got from home to the station didn’t smell too fresh. I think someone must have vomited in it the night before. Some smells are hell to get rid of.”

“The taxi was fine.”

“How or why doesn’t matter at this point. The damage is done,” said Leo impatiently. “Take the jackets outside, go on. I will not have them in my house. Drape them over a garden bench. Maybe the fresh air will help purge the smell. You can hang them in the garage after that. I think they’ll have to be professionally cleaned before you can take them into civilised company again.”

“Maybe a squirt of Febreze will help?”

Leo dismissed my suggestion. “It’ll take more than Febreze to mask that smell, on the coats anyway, though it might help to freshen the cupboard.” He flicked a hand at Vince’s arse and then at Jak’s. “Why are you still loitering here? Take your jackets outside, now.”

Vince paused as he passed me. His face had a nasty set to it and for a heart stopping moment I thought he was going to accuse me of having something to do with what had befallen his jacket. He didn’t. He walked on, holding his smelly garment in front of him. I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

“I could have done without that little sideshow.” Leo, looking uncommonly harassed, sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m behind schedule now.”

I experienced a flash of remorse at being responsible for the sideshow in question. Leo liked everything to be perfect on a party day. He had a proud reputation to uphold. “You get on with whatever you need to do, Leo.” I feigned a poise I was far from feeling. “I’ll put everything back in the cupboard, no bother.”

“Good lad.” Leo’s face cleared. He clapped me on the shoulder. “There’s a bottle of Febreze under the kitchen sink. I’ll get it for you. Open the front door for a while too, let in some fresh air.”

“Will do.”

Leo rubbed his hands in a businesslike fashion. “Right. Those that want breakfast, get it now, because I’ll be wanting my kitchen to prepare party snacks presently. I don’t want it cluttering with bodies.”

The crowd in the hall thinned, herding towards the kitchen, leaving just Pat, Shane and I.

Shane studied me. “You eaten yet?”

“I’ve had tea and toast.” I said, experiencing a stir of unease at his cool scrutiny of my person. Did he suspect something? Was I exhibiting an aura of guilt that his warlock eyes had picked up on? It wouldn’t be the first time. He had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to scenting wrongdoing on my part, perhaps because he
always
suspected me of wrongdoing.

“Then get on with your volunteer work and clean this mess up. The place looks like it’s been burgled.” He turned to Pat. “How about you, have you eaten yet?”

“I’ll give Gilli a hand first.”

“He’s more than capable of sorting this lot out. Come on, Pat, get something to eat before Leo puts the kitchen out of bounds. He’s manic on a big party day.”

I smiled at Pat. “You get your breakfast. It won’t take me long to heave this lot back under the stairs.”

“If you’re sure?”

I nodded and Pat followed Shane towards the kitchen.

I flung open the front door, letting in a blast of cold air that set the ornaments on the Christmas tree swaying and tinkling.

Leo put in a brief appearance, thrusting a bottle of Febreze at me before disappearing again. I squirted it liberally around the cupboard interior to camouflage the last lingering molecules of prawn odour. Gathering up boots, shoes, coats and other paraphernalia I began repatriating them. I was finishing when Pat returned from the kitchen.

He shivered. “It’s freezing out here. I think we can close the front door now, Gilli, what do you think?”

“Yeah, it is a bit nippy with it open.”

“Smells a lot fresher anyway.” He moved briskly to the door and closed it before turning to me. “Our friend Vince didn’t seem too happy about his jacket did he? I wonder what caused it to smell like that?”

I liked Pat, but I didn’t know him well enough to offer up a candid confession. I gave a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders and an airy, “his inner stinker leaving its mark.”

We started laughing, and then sobered as Ian materialised, giving us both a hard stare as he passed by us on his way upstairs. I pulled a face at Pat.

Pat waited until he was out of sight and then said. “Don’t let Ian worry you. He’s all right really. He’s just lived and breathed the scene life for so long that he doesn’t know how to turn off and be ordinary. If he isn’t playing a scene he’s organising one. He and Trina help run a company that arranges holidays in his native South Africa for those interested in bondage themed breaks. They often go out there.”

“Where is Trina do you think, still in her crypt or hanging upside down from the ceiling like the queen of the damned?”

Pat laughed. “She’ll be reserving all her strength for the party. She’s a hard player. Wait till you see in her action, it’s not for the faint hearted.”

“She’s scary as, so is he. Did you see him chowing down on chunks of that giant Toblerone bar yesterday? Eating an ordinary size Toblerone is painful enough, it’s like having a chocolate spike rammed through the roof of your mouth, but he didn’t even flinch. Leo said he works in the motor trade. I bet he uses his dick as a tyre lever and his balls as pressure gauges.”

“You are mischievous.” Pat wagged a finger and chuckled again, his pale eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can see why Shane and Dick enjoy you. My Bill was the same, he always enjoyed a bad boy.”

“Dick does, sometimes anyway, not so sure about Shane.”

“Shane’s a hard man to read at times, always has been. He had a reputation for being a bit of a cold fish, one of those men who have no time for superfluous emotion. Bill said that falling for Dick brought out his softer side.”

“Yeah. He loves him to bits.” I bent down to retrieve the last pair of shoes. Shoving them in the cupboard I firmly closed the door. “Done. I’m going up to the bedroom to chill and watch a bit of telly. See you later.” I paused. “I will see you later, won’t I? At the party?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s been years. I won’t be playing, of course, never was one for public playing, but I’ll enjoy watching the action. I’ll also be acting as a dungeon monitor, keeping an eye on things. It’ll be quite like old times, but without my Bill, of course.” He gave a proud sigh. “He was magnificent to watch, a true master of his craft.”

“Were you, you know, did you,” I hesitated and then got straight to the point. “Did you and Bill have a discipline relationship?”

He shook his head. “No, not as such, not like you have with your men. Bill was dominant, I can’t say any other, and I suppose I liked it, and when I didn’t, I let him know.”

“Good for you.” I grinned. Raising a hand in farewell I launched myself up the stairs.

Chapter Twenty - Kink

In the bedroom, I turned on the TV set, flicking through the channels, finding, to my delight, one of my favourite festive animations, a cartoon far older than me and yet timeless. ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas.’ I rooted among our Christmas gifts, which were piled in a corner of the room, selecting a box of Quality Street chocolates to accompany viewing. I opened it, picked out a handful of my favourite centres and set the box down on one of the bedside cabinets, next to Dick’s phone. Memory jogged and curiosity immediately supplanted all desire to watch cartoons and eat sweets. Had Dick really snapped photos of Vince’s tats? There was only one way to find out.

He had. I gripped the phone, experiencing waves of sick jealousy, along with puzzled hurt, as I viewed the images. Dick hadn’t stinted. There were at least a dozen photos. Why? Did he fancy poser punk? Was he a more desirable
class
than I was?

Making an effort, I recalled the lessons I’d been taught regarding jealousy and its management. I tried reasoning with myself. There could be any number of reasons why he’d taken the pictures. Vince’s tattoos were interesting, expertly done and beautiful in their way, and Dick is artistic. He often takes photos of things that appeal to him; elements of them finding their way into design projects.

Still, I curled my lip, as I observed Vince’s smug mug leering to camera as he flexed an inked arm muscle, I did not approve, and neither would Shane, I was sure of it. I deleted the photos. It was bad of me, but I didn’t care. I saw it as protecting Dick from a predator. If he wanted eye candy on his phone, he had no further to look than Shane and I for subject matter. He didn’t need to snap virtual strangers, even if they did have great skin art.

Guard duty done, I settled cross-legged in the middle of the bed and gave my attention to chocolate and Charlie Brown, followed by a couple of Tom and Jerry classics.