Fate is a queer mistress, is she not?

Sometimes, Fate can give you a good, hard kick to the gonads, but then mere moments later she can pick you right back up again, and passionately lap at those self-same testicles with her Tongue of Good Fortune.

Take last night, for instance. I was attending yet another terribly tedious private function, held by the Duke of Dipwick and his incredibly boring acquaintances; an achingly vapid bunch of individuals who would not know a good time if it kicked them square in the jaw, and then shat on their throats. The only reason I was there at all was because there was to be free booze present, an offer that never fails to draw me to social gatherings, much like a (ruggedly handsome) moth to a flame.

Anyway, I was doing my best to avoid the dreary guests and their tiresome talk of markets and finance and the like, and was failing rather miserably. Every where I turned I was confronted by yet another grey-faced poltroon either wittering on about investments and banking, or eagerly pressing a business card into my hand and urging me to pay them a visit. I desperately wanted the ground to quickly swallow me up.

Actually, that is a lie. I wanted the ground to quickly swallow them up, leaving me completely unharmed.

Anyway, it was as one boring old fart babbled on at me, that I suddenly looked across the room, and saw her.

Oh! She was like an oasis of gorgeousness in this dry desert of a party! A stunning, dark-haired
lovely with big, beautiful eyes and a big, beautiful chest to match. My heart soared at the very sight of her, and my Lord Palmerston positively sprang to attention.

“Well, what do you think?” said the dull old duffer beside me.

“I think I would very much like to bend her over my drawing-room table, and spank her arse silly,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the fair creature across the room.

“Pardon?” the man exclaimed.

“Hmmm?” I replied, lost in my erotic day-dreams.

“I’m talking about my savings, confound it! Where should I put them?”

“I shall tell you exactly where to put them,” I said, growing increasingly irritated by this awful little smear of a man. “You can stick them right up your arse, and shit them right back out into your mouth for all I care. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be somewhere infinitely less boring.”

I brushed past the dullard as his mouth flapped open and shut in shock, but I did not care for his opinions. I was positively enraptured by the raven-haired beauty I had spotted, and desperately wanted to introduce myself, and nothing was going to come between us.

Except, I hoped, my lengthy man-pole.

“Good day, m’dear!” I began as I finally drew up before the lady. “I am Lord Likely, and you are…”

“Dorothy,” replied the woman. “Dorothy Mount-Worthy.”

“I was going to say ‘absolutely ravishing‘, but that shall do!” I replied smoothly. Dorothy smiled a lovely, radiant smile in return. “A pleasure to meet you, Dorothy. Tell me, what is a lovely lass like yourself doing at such a cripplingly drab gathering?”

“Oh, well, I work at the offices of Mr. Penscratcher over there,” Dorothy replied softly, indicating to a fat, balding man standing with a group of equally fat and balding men. “He thought it might be useful to his business to have me come along and mingle.”

“Ah, well, I am all for mingling!” I said. “There really is nothing like a good mingle, you know.”

Dorothy smiled again, a sight which only endeared her to me further. It was time to push proceedings further.

“May I get you a drink, m’dear?” I asked. “Or possibly some intercourse?”

Dorothy and I stumbled into my opulent mansion some hours later, laughing and giggling like a pair of naughty schoolchildren.

“I still cannot believe you pushed Mr. Penscratcher into that fountain!” Dorothy chuckled.

“Well, the man was clearly an oaf. Furthermore, he positively reeked of pork and sweat. I figured he could rather do with a bath.”

“Oh, you are terrible!” beamed Dorothy. “I like that.”

“Well, milady, I can be considerably more terrible yet,” I grinned, taking Dorothy’s hands in mine.

“Really?” Dorothy said, as I drew her closer to me.

“I can be positively awful,” I replied, leaning in to kiss those luscious, full lips.

And then my wretched ball-bag of a man-servant, Botter, appeared, completely souring both the mood and the atmosphere with his fetid stench.

“Um, milord,” he whispered. “I must have a quick word in your ear.”

“You shall receive a quick kick in the nadgers if you do not sod off,” I retorted gruffly. “Can you not see I am about to plough this delectable bit of totty?”

“Please, milord! ‘Tis urgent!”

I rolled my eyes in despair. “Fine! Excuse me my darling,” I said, turning back to Dorothy. “I shall be right with you!”

Dorothy nodded happily, and I withdrew to the other side of the room with Botter.

“Well? What is it, man?” I hissed. “What is so ruddy important that you have to interrupt me when I am so near to pumping this delightful woman full of my esteemed cock-sauce?”

“Well, milord, it is just that Maud is here…apparently, you were supposed to be taking her out for dinner tonight, or something. She is quite livid, and is threatening to tell her father about how shabbily she has been treated…”

“Oh, bollocks!” I cried.

Maud was the daughter of a powerful local judge, Judge Joseph Dreadful, a man who took little persuading in locking people up or hanging them by their throats until they were dead. When I recently found myself before him on a charge of indecent exposure, the only thing that kept me from heading straight to the cells was a hastily-conceived deal to accompany his daughter on a night on the town, a deal I had completely forgotten about. It would take some pretty nifty wrangling to reverse the damage done by my absent-mindedness.

“Where is she?” I enquired.

“I have left her in the study, milord,” Botter answered. “I thought it best to keep her away from any room containing cutlery.”

“Good show,” I said. “Right, I shall have to hide dear Dorothy from sight for the moment while I sort out this mess. I dare say that if Maud caught me with another woman, I would wind up on the gallows before you could say ‘well hung’. You go and keep Maud entertained in the meantime.”

Botter nodded, and dashed off to the study, while I went back to Dorothy, who was drunkenly leaning against my grandfather clock.

“You have a big clock,” she giggled, stroking the side of the timepiece. “A nice big clock.”

“Ha-ha!” I chuckled nervously. “I would very much love for you to continue stroking my clock, but I am afraid a slight emergency has arisen. I must momentarily leave you, but do feel free to make yourself at home in any of the rooms of my mansion. Except that one,” I said, pointing at the study. “That is…that is where the emergency is happening.”

Dorothy shook her head, and slowly staggered off down the hall. I watched her disappear down the west wing of the mansion, partly to ensure she was out of sight, and partly because I simply wanted to observe her delicious derrière as she sauntered off. Good heavens, I could not wait to clean her chimney.

With Dorothy out of the way, I straightened my neck-tie and turned to face the study. It was time to face the judge’s daughter, and time to save my neck.

Sometimes being so ludicrously fanciable can be terribly tiring work.

… To Be Furthered.

- Lord Likely.

A Tale of Two Ladies is lovingly dedicated to the wonderfully gorgeous Kerry, and the gorgeously wonderful Sarah. A cracking pair indeed.

Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: The concluding chapter of A Tale of Two Ladies!

humor-blogs.com saw a lady once.

> Subscribe in a reader