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I am often asked to elaborate on some of the more sordid tales alluded to in my memoirs (of which there are three volumes so far – do keep up. Available from all disreputable booksellers.), but the devil in me rather enjoys the fact that the reader has to employ his or her own imagination to fill in the scurrilous details. While I am sure that many such an imagining would be more than accurate, Christmas is a time for treats, is it not? And I am confident even the most luridly-minded among you would fail at dreaming up a situation such as that which I am about to unfold.
I am sure you remember the most satisfactory outcome of the diabolical affair of The Devil In Amber. Percy Flarge had laid on a splendid dinner, and thus restored by virtue of wine and victual it took little persuasion for me to follow Aggie upstairs to the wonderfully clean, soft bed that awaited. However, before I could pull her down with me and see about ridding her of that delectable Swiss peasant dress, she nimbly stepped free of my clutches and indicated a huge, steaming, brass tub in front of the wood-burning stove.
"My dear Lucifer, you have done me so much service today – will you permit me to now do something for you?" she asked, in that terribly endearing, formal way of hers. "If it would please you, I should like to help you wash the memory of that dreadful cave away."
"It would please me very much." I answered in earnest, already beginning to strip as I made my way over to the tub, shedding the last of my garments with practiced ease as I stepped into its soothing waters. The water was the perfect temperature, and I could now see that there were two pipes branching off from the sides of the adjacent stove that led to some sort of ingenious mechanism in the base of the bath, which served as a warming plate to keep it just the right side of boiling. What will the Swiss think of next, eh?
At any rate, I was soon submerged and enjoying the meticulous ministrations of Aggie as, kneeling behind me, she massaged my scalp and combed out the long strands of my (still) black hair with her fingers. I enjoyed watching the contrast of her coffee-coloured skin against the fine, white porcelain of my own as she soaped and rinsed my arms, and then my legs and feet. Other parts of my anatomy were beginning to feel distinctly left out, however, but whether this was through deliberate teasing or woeful ignorance, I could not say. I decided to take matters into my own hands and suddenly stood upright, causing Aggie to rock back on her haunches with surprise and fix me with an accusing glare. I simply raised an eyebrow in retort, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes could not help but follow the rivulets of water now cascading down the planes of my (still) lithe and toned body.
"Lucifer! That is cheating." she admonished crossly.
"Well I am certain you won't be complaining in two minutes' time my dear." I smiled my most devilish smile and, without further ado, scooped her up and headed in the direction of the bed.
It was some hours later that I lay awake after having more than lived up to my promise; a persistent sense of disquiet having taken hold over me soon after our glorious completion and Aggie drifting off into sated oblivion. (What, you didn't think that was the hair-raising story I had to impart did you?)
If only we didn't have to be in cursed Lit-de-Diable. That stone memorial in the avenue of poplars played heavily on my mind and it was as if I only had to shut my eyes and I would be back on that fateful night in '17, the insolent quirk of lips in the flare of a match the last I'd seen of that boy before all hell had broken loose...
I was brooding (very prettily, I might add) at the window when a pair of dusky arms snaked around my waist and I felt Aggie's warm, naked body come to rest close against my own. Before I could turn around, however, that all-too-familiar feeling of time stopping and utter silence falling began to take hold and I became rooted to the spot. Would I never be rid of this macabre guardian?! Instead of a paralysing fear, however, it was with a sense of wonder that I discerned a figure beginning to take shape in the reflection of the window.
Now, you'd think it impossible for a ghost to swagger into existence, but trust Charlie Jackpot to be the one to achieve it. It was as if he was the same as he had been back during the heyday of The Vesuvius Club, The Prague Problem, The Baker Street Incident, and other such thrilling adventures that I am sure you all have heard of.
Before I could cry out in amazement, however, he seemed to step forward and I felt a sudden burst of heat behind me as Aggie shuddered in our embrace. I spun round frantically, hoping against all the odds that what I had just seen had not been an illusion, but there was just Aggie. An Aggie, who, normally so very serious even in the pursuit of more carnal matters, was standing there with a distinctly Charlie-esque smirk on her face.
"My dear, are you quite alright?" I managed to find my voice finally, but Aggie just issued an incredibly filthy laugh, took me by the hand, and dragged me towards the bed.
"Now Sir, who has been looking after you with me gone? Poor Lucifer, so neglected!" That taunting, impudent tone could only be Charlie and, dazed at what was happening, I allowed myself to be manhandled into lying spread-eagled on my back in the centre of the bed. "Bet you've not had it this good in a while!" smirked the girl (boy? spirit??) in front of me, before taking my tumescent cock (for it always behaves well, even in a crisis) into his-her mouth. Now this was the Charlie I remembered. I had not yet initiated Aggie into this most delicious of practices, not wishing to overburden the girl who still had so much of the convent about her, so this was all Charlie. The startling lack of a gag reflex, the tongue of such dexterity and strength that it seemed to never stop moving, the perfect amount of suction, the almost preternatural ability to know when I was dangerously near the edge, and finally that look, deep in his eyes as they locked onto my own, that he really relished doing this.
My orgasm almost took me by surprise, so locked in reverie was I that when I finally couldn't resist closing my eyes and surrendering myself to the tide of feeling, I was sure that, for a split second, all I could see was Charlie made whole again, and I cried out his name as I slipped into oblivion.
Gasping, I shot upright what seemed like only seconds later, but the look on the face before me was wholly Aggie. "It does not taste as bad as I thought it would," she proclaimed, as if making a report to a science committee, "And you pick the most disreputable men to be your servants." I couldn't help but laugh as I leant forward to kiss her – the heavy sense of the past having been replaced by a wonderful lightness of feeling. And, as I drew her up into my arms and settled down for a repose worthy of the Gods, I could've sworn there was a scent of honey lingering in the air...
I shut my eyes and smiled the smile of Lucifer.