Give Satisfaction

Jeeves-- my valet-- is nearly always a welcome site. Baring the presence of bicycles I would say always. On the night in question he cut a striking figure when he met me in the lobby of the Drones to walk me home. As handsome as he looks in uniform, the sight of Jeeves dressed to the nines is second to none. He told me once that evening wear has a stimulating effect on the morale and on this we agree-- consider me stimulated. It’d become routine lately, his collecting me from my club. I wondered why he does it. Makes one compare oneself to a damsel in need of an escort. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. The damsel’s role suits me as much as the white knight’s does Jeeves. He nodded at me and said,

“I trust you had a good evening, sir” as he handed me my hat and stick, which he must have retrieved from the porter. Sometimes he can be too dratted efficient-- I had hoped to visit the lavatory before departing but here he was, looking so dashing out of uniform and waiting for me to take my belongings and walk with him-- I could wait.

“Yes Jeeves, topping. And before you say anything, the hat you admonished me for donning this evening was quite the thing among the drones. They all wanted to know where I’d bought it.”

“Is one of the gentlemen involved in a production of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in the coming weeks, sir?”

The obvious sarcasm should have caused indignation but I was starting to find it rather endearing. What a frightfully Basset-esque development. Still, I must parry the insinuation lest I let him take an inch, as there aren’t enough miles in the world for Jeeves to take in return. Although if I’m being honest I’d give him all of my inches, if you get my drift.

“What rot Jeeves, you are not the only arbiter of taste in the metrop. One wonders whether one doth protest too much. Anyway, I hope your night was as spiffing as mine?”

“A most enjoyable function, thank you sir.”

We walked in companionable silence as I fought against the urge to take his arm. There has been what I can only describe as a frisson between us lately. I’ve been attracted to him since he first entered my service, but the emergence of the tender pash had complicated matters. I find that I when I visit a country house, as I am wont to do, I want nothing more than to ankle round the grounds with Jeeves, and those who I’d purportedly come to visit can go hang. For the last few months I have felt a twinge of regret when he stops undressing me, wishing he’d continue until I’m fully nude. Instead of bunging me into bed with a book I imagine him bunging himself in right on top of me. For so long I’ve harboured these fantasies and guiltily indulged them alone at night, I fancy I could frig myself for England.

Recently however, I’ve begun to sense the one thing I’d never dared to hope for-- reciprocation. I know it sounds barmy, but have I been imagining the lingering glances during bath time? The fingers that hold a proffered glass a few beats too long and brush against mine as he hands me my cocktail? Not to mention coming into the lobby of the drones to collect me on his nights off-- I have it on good authority that sometimes he waits over an hour. My lust has caused me to be hyper-vigilant, as one must always be when one is an invert. I might not be known for my powers of observation, but when the consequences are as grave as they are for someone with my proclivities, even I can rise to the occasion.

Speaking of rising to the occasion, I needed to be careful. All these thoughts of Jeeves and his arms and me in the role of his damsel were threatening to have an effect. I focused for just a moment on my cock, willing it to behave and remain au repos, which is when I noticed that the call of nature had become louder. I regretted not visiting the facilities before departing but thought little of it as it was a short walk.

A short walk indeed. Quite uneventful bar the lecherous thoughts about Jeeves that grew harder to keep at bay with every step. If only the same could be said about the lift. We had no sooner started our ascent to the third floor when a loud clang rang out and we jolted to a halt. Jeeves reached out to steady me but otherwise appeared unruffled, which was good because I was as ruffled as one of those Dutch chappies in those dreary old pictures. He called out to the doorman, who replied something I couldn’t quite catch. Then he turned to me and said reassuringly,

“Sir, I’m sure an engineer will be summoned in good time.”

“Oh, rather.” I answered absently, looking around the small enclosure as if I actually expected to find a heretofore unnoticed secret door, perhaps to a lavatory.

I was in a bit of a pickle. I was increasingly aware of the results of the nights’ festivities sloshing around inside me, but I was relieved that it was only Jeeves with me in the lift. Relieved. Good lord. I don’t want to sound vulgar but I really did need to relieve myself quite badly.

“May I enquire, sir, if you have given any more thought to a prospective sojourn to North America this autumn? You might enjoy driving the new Auburn Speedster through the...”

He continued, no doubt extolling the virtues of whatever it was that he wanted to do, which he would try to trick me into thinking I wanted to do, so I stopped listening as a matter of principle. Jeeves was in the midst of another campaign to convince me that it’s in my own best interest to take a holiday, the upshot being that my holidays involve him accompanying me. He is not subtle. Just this morning he left a brochure artfully tucked within the folds of the morning paper that featured a spectacular looking rushing body of water of supposedly great scientific interest. I wasn’t sure when he’d stopped talking but supposed that conversing about travelling was preferable to focusing on certain other goings on, even if I was giving in to his manipulations.

“I say, Jeeves, what’s the name of that water thingummy you want to visit the next time we venture to New York?”

“Niagara Falls, sir. It is actually comprised of three waterfalls, which together have a flow rate of six million cubic feet of water per minute. It is purported to be quite a spectacle.”

“Six million, you say? Golly--”

“Yes, sir, one of the highest flow rates in the world. The sound of that quantity of water crashing down onto the rocks below and the feel of the spray from even a great distance is meant to be quite invigorating. In fact,--”

I felt a spasm as I imagined myself as the source of the waterfall and Jeeves bearing the brunt of the spray, so to speak. I needed to think of something else immediately.

“Thank you, Jeeves. Jolly good. Enough about waterfalls for now, what?”

“Very good sir.”

Now, Jeeves has ‘very good sir’d me countless times before, but this time it sounded rummy. My nerves, already stretched to the point of unravelling, could hardly stand up to a Jeevesian inquisition. He knew something was amiss.

“Forgive me for saying so sir, but you no longer seem to be in high spirits.”

I knew I couldn’t hide my predicament indefinitely. Besides, as humiliating as this situation was, Jeeves had made a bit of a habit out of solving my problems. One of his brilliant wheezes would be just the ticket.

“Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me, Jeeves. The young master’s spirits are indeed low. I’m afraid I have to admit something rather embarrassing--”

I stammered, not sure how to continue “--you see, the reservoir is full, but the deluge continues. The river is set to burst its banks. The dam is holding for now, but a flood is imminent. That is to say, nature is no longer merely calling. She has sent bounty hunters who are banging down the door as we speak!”

Now that the cat was out of the bag I saw no harm in giving in to crossing my legs a tad. A hand might have drifted down and briefly pressed against my cock for good measure.

He didn’t look surprised, but a reply was not forthcoming. It’s not often that my valet is rendered speechless. His eyes widened as he breathed in slowly, ran a finger between his collar and neck, and bit his lip. I admit I was staring. Not many things could distract me from my need, but the site of Jeeves’ bottom lip caught between his teeth was one of them. How many times had I pictured that very same lip caught in my teeth?

The brief spell was broken when he caught my eye.

“One solution does present itself, sir.”

“Well, present it to me post haste, my good man.” I clapped my hands together as I said this, as if it was my eureka moment instead of his. Salvation was close at hand.

Jeeves cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. He never looks nervous, even when outlining his most hair-brained schemes, so I was on high alert.

“You could urinate into your hat, sir.”

“Now, I say, Jeeves, that is simply not on. I know you disapprove of this particular style, but that’s no reason to wish it to be sullied beyond-- ”

He interjected.

“I am only thinking logically, sir. If you allow nature to, as you say – take it’s course – the result will be sodden trousers and a puddle on the floor. Given that maintenance engineers will certainly be present at the time of our eventual egress, there would be no concealing that outcome. This also holds if you simply relieve yourself on the floor. The freeholders may very well levy a fine or speak of it at the next leaseholders meeting.”

I had to admit the chap was right, but didn’t quite follow how my hat was involved.

“But Jeeves, surely--”

He interrupted again. Of all the bally liberties!

“However, sir, a hat with a jacket draped over it will, I believe, provide sufficient cover for us to exit the lift in the presence of engineers while being spared any undue humiliation. I would, of course, offer my own, but I fear that my simple homburg would not hold the required volume.”

He uttered that last phrase with the least convincing attempt at regret I’d ever heard.

“As ever, your logic is impeccable. In normal circs I’d never entertain such a preposterous notion, but...”

I trailed off, unable to form a coherent response. These were not normal circs. On one hand, he had a point. On the other hand, I suspected machinations were at play that went beyond the emelior-whatsit of my suffering. And I was suffering indeed. My thoughts were jumbled and my ability to speak began to falter. Words flowed out of my mouth but in all the wrong order, spiralling as if circling a drain. Good lord, what I would’ve given for a drain right at that moment. I felt a few drops escape and lost all semblance of control as I grabbed myself with both hands while ineffectively scrabbling at the buttons of my trousers.

Tears might have been pricking at the corners of my eyes. I might have cried out in pain, humiliation, or both. The only thing I was sure of was Jeeves’s hand on my shoulder, anchoring me as he said softly,

“It’s okay Sir, let me help you.”