Chapter 7

Over the next couple of months things began to come together with the shooting proposals and everything else moved along very nicely. We took a short trip to France, again by private jet, very interesting, but that will have to wait until another time. For the present we tried to get to grips with what was going on here. I have to say that I was thoroughly enjoying every aspect of being the landed gent, including the 'extras'. I had made a fair investment in the local lingerie shop, not to the point where I thought I should buy it, but the results were spectacular. Rose bloomed, she thoroughly enjoyed showing off her acquisitions, and I delighted in removing them. Mrs King, or Laura, was an active partner, although not so frequently as Rose, and HL had joined us on one occasion, which Laura had enjoyed after her initial reluctance. It was Rose who gave me my first surprise by suggesting that Chrissie was interested in receiving a knicker allowance. It was after a fairly energetic session and we were recovering when she said.

"I think Chrissie would like some new undies."

"What!" I exclaimed. "Isn't she a bit young, I mean..."

"She's sixteen, big enough and old enough to know her own mind. And I'd rather she was getting taught by someone who cares about women rather than fumbling about with some of these grubby little no hopers that always seem to be after her."

"I'm sorry. You would rather... ?"

"Well, she is my daughter."

Damn, that hadn't reached me. And I wasn't sure about the morality of mothers procuring men for their daughters. Still, who am I to talk about morality?

"You'll have to let me sleep on that," I said.

"Sleep with, I think you mean," she said with a giggle, and she got up to get dressed.

The next shock, more of a surprise came when I was taking tea with Emma. As usual we were taking a break after our initial energetic coupling, when she said.

"I don't seem to be included in the knicker allowance."

"Um..." I began. "We always seem to get past the underwear stage so fast that I hadn't thought about it."

"That's true, but it would still be nice to throw off something a bit special."

Now, let's be honest here. I had always thought of the knicker allowance as providing a bit of an excuse to give the ladies with a little extra. In the way of pocket money that is. I didn't think they were spending all the money on under garments, but now that I thought about it I realised that they probably were. What might seem pretty generous to me was in fact no more than covering the cost of the frilly bits. I discovered this a day or two later when I went into town and peered in the window of the lingerie shop; naturally I wore and old raincoat and a hat pulled down over my eyes. OK I jest, but I did discover that you can pay £100 just for a pair of very skimpy knickers. Less is more in its truest sense. And the girls were in fact obviously comparing notes, or knickers, and seemed to enjoy the whole thing. Ho hum.

And then she continued. "But I doubt I could get anything very nice that fitted me."

You can't beat a challenge. I can't anyway. The number of times people have said 'Oh that can't be done' to me, and then I've done it, is beyond counting, I just seem to have the sort of brain that can't resist the challenge. 'You can't use blue for food packaging'. I did, very successfully. 'We like the cathedral window but it won't work as a logo. It did, thank you for the money. Frilly undies to fit a large girl? You bet I can, even if I have to make it myself. And I've done that kind of thing too.

"You'd better tell me some sizes."

"Don't I get to pick my own? The others do."

Do these women discuss everything?

"No, I'm taking charge of you. I shall mould your wardrobe to my tastes. You will be the sexiest, smartest game keeper there's ever been."

At which point she moulded herself to me tighter than a spandex body suit.

Well now, let's be honest, a few minutes with the World Famous Search Engine and I had the contacts for the sizes I required. It wasn't rocket science and a couple of days later I had the first parcel. That afternoon I went for tea.

We went upstairs and into her bedroom with Emma shedding her clothes along the way as usual. I had only taken off my jacket when she turned and looked at me.

"What's up with you, are you tired of me?"

"Oh no," I said, "but today is just a bit different."

And I tossed her a pretty package.

"For me?"

"Yes, for you."

She opened the package, and then blushing and dived for the bathroom.

There was a squeal of pleasure from the bathroom, and a few of minutes later she came out.

"The blush looks very good on you."

She giggled. "What about the bra and knickers?"

I hadn't wanted to get anything too extravagant until I was sure of the sizes, so I had just limited it to these.

"They look very good too."

I wasn't entirely sure that the gift had been a good idea when she launched herself at me, but over the next half hour or so I changed my mind.

It was a week later that she dropped the real bombshell. In fact it turned out to be a day for them.

I had given her a lacy basque which delighted her, and we had gone into the first round with her on top. I was getting very close when she said. "It's a pity it won't fit me for long."

"Why ever not?" I grunted, "going on an eating binge?"

"No, I'm pregnant."

I just fountained up into her, which put her over the top.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, "That did something for you.

When we calmed down I asked if she was serious.

"Yes," she said.

"But you can't be." Which I realised wasn't a good thing to say as she burst into tears.