Yes, its been a while. In case you’ve forgotten this story, start here.
“Really James, you must find your signature look.” Marta said as they lay in bed. Each was sore from the passionate but rough play that they indulged in the night before. He rolled over and pulled her into his arms.
“It goes against all of my work. My job is to not exist, until suddenly I do.” James had worked on his ghostly abilities and was rather proud of his ability to suddenly appear in the enemy’s back pocket.
“Well, if you can strike terror into your men by smelling of Pears Soap and sweaty uniforms, you are much better than I.”
James laughed. Marta wore a unique perfume. His cock swelled at the smell of it, and while he understood what she wanted him to do, he was reluctant. For most of his work, he had spent many years blending in. In the Middle East, he wore clothing from the local markets and drank coffee until it seemed to come out of his pores. In England, he did smell of Pears Soap, bought his clothes from his tailor on Saville Row when he wasn’t in uniform. “What would you suggest?”
Marta smiled. She’d been waiting for this. “Let us clean up and then go shopping. We have all day don’t we?”
“Yes. Just promise me that you won’t dress me in purple and feathers.”
“Never. Not after the first time. My ass still stings at the thought of the lashing you gave me after that little adventure.”
They were up and dressed in less than an hour, and headed for London’s shopping district. They visited his tailor, shoemaker and then Taylors on Bond Street. Marta picked through various scents until she handed him a bottle.
“Try this one.”
James smelled it. It was subtle and yet had a citrus tang. He daubed a bit on his wrist and waited a moment. The scent mixed well with his body chemistry. “Victorian Lime, eh?”
Marta smiled. “Yes. Wear it and your enemies will shit when they smell it, and know that you are on their trail.”
James laughed, and bought the cologne and other body products with the same scent. When they got home, he dressed in the clothing that they’d purchased. Looking in the mirror, he was pleased with what he saw. The khaki trousers echoed his uniform. The Oxford cloth shirt and subdued Loden green tweed jacket rounded out the look. He smiled. His new look was a mixture of Old Etonian and military strength.
James moved up in rank, and became the head of the PsyWar division of the SAS. His work was of the highest degree, and his men became known as Duncan’s Hounds. There was no escape for a spy or operative once the Hounds were on their trail. His kinky past time melded into one of the tools he learned to break or make an operative. While WWII was over, the Cold War was in full bloom. Working with the Yanks in Europe was a specialty as well. Their program for toughening up officers, SERE-Survival, Evasion Resistance and Escape training, worked for some operations, but not for all. That’s where Lt. Colonel, James Howard Duncan and his SAS squadron came into play.
James had turned his estate at Burleigh into a training ground. It was dual purpose, in that during the week, the grounds were overrun by various elite groups from NATO nations. Kinksters on weekends ran through the halls naked. With the help of Marta, and Nanny Alice’s niece Betsy, they kept the two groups separate. For the military members, there were areas that were off limits. Much to James’ sense of humor, Betsy had designated them as ‘family areas’. Meanwhile, on weekends, the whole of the estate was open to the kink crowd.
James stood on the wide balcony from which he could see the formal gardens. He heard the butler bring the tea tray and set it down on the table. “Thank you Geoff.”
The butler gave a slight bow and turned to go back into the house. James sat, poured tea and waited. He’d had a frantic call from Declan the night before. Now he was waiting for his friend to arrive. He was on his second cup of tea when the butler showed Declan where James waited. Declan sat down, took a cup of tea and sighed.
“Whatever is the matter?”
“James, I… I am in love, and yet…” He paused.
“Are you afraid she won’t like the club? Or does she work at the club?”
“The first. I never knew that I’d ever end up with such a natured. Now I’m in love and I want to tie her up, whip her ass until she has sweet juices dripping down her thighs and cries out to be fucked.”
James smiled. He’d been rather surprised that Declan had turned out to be so affected by the club. While Mark had been ashamed and never returned, Declan became a member of the club two weeks later. Gregory was a regular when in London, but that was happening less and less as his family grew. Apparently, his wife kept him busy and happy. “What do you want me to do?”
Declan blushed. “I want you to check her out. See if she’d be open to… to my tastes. I can’t see running two lives like Gregory does.”
James thought for a moment. “Tell me more.”
By the time that the tea was gone, the two men had settled on a plan.