The Apprenticeships

Jack kindly but firmly rebuffed bank officials when they advised him to invest his assets. I already have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to do with my money, I have a lot of details to work out, then I'll definitely come back to you. They left him alone from then on, at that time the customer was still king. Besides his work at St.Anne's, he spent every minute in his bachelor room. Rose regularly brought him snacks and drinks and did not disturb him while he was working. She usually quietly reminded him that he hadn't fucked yet today and that withholding semen was very unhealthy. It was fine with him, even if she was spouting purely medical nonsense, but it didn't take long and he was really relaxed afterwards. He was grateful to Rose for remembering to take care of him, for making sure he fucked every morning or squirting in her mouth. She closed the door when Jane was in the house so as not to disturb her. If Jane did come in, she would stop and watch them kindly. Never did she lie down with them, a threesome with a housekeeper was out of the question. She had to keep her distance.

Jack took his work at St.Anne's seriously and really devoted himself to his project only in his spare time. One day, he was ready. For weeks, his evening chats with Jane had fallen victim to his project. Now he acted mysterious, setting out white wine, port and tea on the coffee table and waiting. Jane sat down tensely and looked at him. He had jotted down key words on a piece of paper and was telling her about his project.

He had rented three apartments side by side on Upper John Street between Regent Street and Soho. He wanted to open an open general practice. It was to be open to everyone, whether they had health insurance or not. Open to everyone and especially to those who were often forgotten, poor families, the unemployed, whores and the homeless, beggars and uprooted people. There were of course already similar facilities on the outskirts or outside London, but they were far out and mostly run by church associations. He wanted to be in the middle of the city and be there for everyone, neither religion nor origin, skin color or status should play a role. He had to start with two colleagues, come into contact professionally with specialists who wanted to participate pro bono, i.e. free of charge, on a case‐by‐case basis. He needed three people for registration and clerical work, three nurses for the three doctors, and complete, modern medical equipment. He had made a note of the equipment, including suppliers and prices. Pharmacies and medicines posed a problem, he knew that. But it had to be done somehow. Jane asked questions, many questions. He corrected the figures for personnel costs, renovation, furnishings. For the uncertain medication line item, he set £100,000 annually. Jane promised to support him, but she did not want to invest money yet, maybe later. He was grateful for her openness and support. It was important to him that they managed the project as a couple; she was his rock. And Robert, of course, he joked with a wink. He didn't want her money anyway. They embraced, it was a deal.

Well after midnight, they got up. It was much more expensive than he had estimated. He could not and would not give away that much of his inheritance. Still, he rewrote the concept until it was ready. First Peter, then the bank. He met Peter at the gentlemen's club for steaks and cigarillos. Peter didn't want to read the concept, he wanted to hear it. He listened with his eyes closed, nodding to himself. At the end, he asked a single question. What about after the three years that were planned? I'll be bankrupt and London will have one less welfare institution, Jack said dejectedly. That's how we get ahead, Peter said. First, invest at most a third of your assets, maybe only a quarter. Second, demand at least twice that from the bank. And third, free yourself or Jane to go after investors, donors, sponsors, etc. You don't just start a project like this, you carry it forward. It can't work otherwise. They were silent for a long time. Then Peter cleared his throat. Not that I don't have enough on my plate already. But I'm going to start you off by working on the rich and super‐rich. I'll just have to make the time. He recalled that the Mossleys had been successful bankers for centuries. He, as the youngest son, was outrageously lucky and didn't have to work in the bank, Peter said with a grin.

Before they left, Peter tried to bring up the matter of Veronika. Veronika was a great, sensual woman who had immediately charmed him. Jack quickly waved it off. He and Jane agreed that if two adults were meant to spend time together, then it was their private business. He had had a lengthy conversation with Veronika and she was very proud to be fucking such a distinguished English Gentleman and all that. Moreover, he and especially Jane were pleased that he could still take time for private and pleasant things. Peter nodded silently and squeezed his hand tightly as they left. Jack gazed for a long time after his old friend, who, leaning on his walking stick, walked to his cab, followed by the shadow of his bodyguard.

So it happened. Even before the renovation began, Jane and Jack met weekly with Peter at the Coats of Arms. They ate the delicious steaks and Jane noted down every tip, every name, every little clue. They took turns on the phone promoting their project. Many conversations were fruitless at first, but word seemed to get around and eventually something moved. Jane kept very accurate records of these phone calls. Jack negotiated with the contractor Peter recommended and was able to negotiate a price cap for the renovations. If it held, the cost was a third less than his estimate and they would be done in two months at the latest, or sooner. Peter nodded approvingly, well done son! Immediately, Jack got behind having furnishings and medical equipment delivered at the right time. Since he was placing such a large order, the set‐up of the equipment was offered free of charge. This point in his concept was properly appreciated.

Jane took it upon herself to arrange for two ladies to work in the office and as receptionists; she had some acquaintances in the referral milieu. The two most suitable women were older, but had already worked in this job and were desperately looking. Women around 50 who had raised children and whose husbands were now fucking women 30 years younger rarely found good jobs again. They could be paid satisfactorily; there was no cutting corners. Jack was able to interest two doctors, whom he knew and appreciated from his internship, in the project. Being able to be their own boss was important to both of them, as was working in a private practice without their own investment. Jack could not offer them as much as they were currently getting, but if his changed concept worked out, it could become more. Jack had changed the concept, they would take paying patients when capacity was available besides offering free services. Colleagues were preparing to leave, writing patient lists and putting out feelers to see which specialists and institutes wanted to join pro bono.

Jack bit the bullet with his bank and others. No credit for such a project, which did not yield turnovers and profits. It would be money wasted. Jack experienced a losing battle for the first time and cringed with grief. Then came the good news from Jane. After three long and friendly phone calls, Mossley Financing, owned by Peter's family, agreed to contribute a generous amount each year as long as the project did not turn a profit. Peter stonewalled, saying he had nothing to do with it. Neither Jane nor Jack believed him, but they drilled no further. Jane had some success and was able to collect gifts and donations at an increasing rate. It was soon apparent that they could do it without the bank loans. Jack put in only a quarter of his inheritance, as Peter had suggested, and stuck to it ironclad.

Just as ironclad, Peter insisted on working two at a time in Peter's office three days a week. It was his training. He listened in on phone calls, read operational plans and drafted memos, file notes and memos. Most of it he spoke into the Dictaphone, after which it was typed, forwarded or filed somewhere outside. Peter always wanted Jack's opinion or assessment. They discussed every case, even if in the end Peter sometimes decided against Jack. He always explained why and what additional considerations he had for the decision. Jack learned quickly and got better and better at his assessments. How to deal with royalty and politicians and what to avoid. He soon knew the organization quite well, memorizing faces, responsibilities and special skills. He had created a card index for this, which was locked in Peter's safe every evening. Peter had it all in his head, but he immediately saw that the card index was necessary. He wasn't going to live forever. He added to the card index daily, so some of it could be of use later. The data in his head could outlive him.

Jack found the triple burden exhausting, working at St.Anne's, moving the project forward, and working with Peter. Jane had taken over management of the project and had little appetite for sex at the moment. Rose awaited him every morning before breakfast to get Master Jack ready for the day very quickly. He always fell asleep in the evening with Jane in his arms, masturbating gently and quietly now and then before falling asleep. She preferred to do this when the work day was so long and she just wasn't up for quick, hurried sex. Masturbating was just gently drifting off to sleep, and Jack liked to hold and caress her while he did it. She was still asleep when he slipped into Rose's bachelor bedroom in the morning. Rose always knew when they were fucking in the evening, then she didn't have to lie naked on the bed in the bachelor's room and get excited herself before fucking. She was very rarely wrong, and then she was called by Master Jack very quietly from the stairs. She liked that less, because then she didn't have time to masturbate and get herself aroused before fucking. Rose knew how stressful his day was and settled for 5 minutes of sex. She knew he didn't want a hand job and mouth fucking only when they had plenty of time. He had apologized for just fucking her so hastily, but Miss Jane was never one for the quick morning sex. She always tried to keep herself in peak arousal while rubbing her clit and triggering the orgasm after he penetrated her. She loved it as much as he did when he fucked her in orgasm, thrusting and squirting in as soon as the orgasm subsided. Rose jumped up limberly afterward and fixed the breakfast she always prepared. While serving, Rose wore only her old robe, which revealed more of her nudity than it hid. Neither she nor Jane made any remarks about it. Rose sensed that Milady liked looking at her as much as her Master did. Rose's pussy was still hot from fucking and his semen slicked inside her vagina. She had time to masturbate and shower later, when the gentlemen had left. She was very proud to relieve her dear Master of the sexual pressure every day, it fit wonderfully with her self‐image and her view of what made a good servant. He started working visibly energetically and Rose masturbated quite intensively before showering. Her masturbating in the evening decreased, she masturbated very intensively in the morning before and during fucking.

Preparations for the project were in full swing. Jane had taken over as supervisor, since St.Anne's was keeping him fully occupied. He had to take on at least two three‐day shifts and devote himself fully to the children's wards. The pretty and voluptuous ladies provided him with lovely night duties, no question. It became difficult to coordinate work with Peter, but somehow it always worked out. Jane understood and didn't blame him because they saw each other only briefly. He had little time left for Rose, racing by cab to the hospital or Peter's office. At night he held Jane close and quietly told her about his day at work. She wanted to be stroked lustfully by him as she masturbated sensitively and delicately before falling asleep. His stroking made it even more intense.

Jack was waiting at the Men's Club, Peter had never been late before. The waiter brought a message on a silver platter. Still on the way, about 30 minutes, sorry, Peter. Jack sat back and sucked on his cigarillo. Thirty minutes to himself. Women swirled in his mind like snowflakes. Mia and the sex with her that could be compared to nothing. Mia, who had immediately confirmed that Lilly wanted to switch rooms with her. Lilly, who insatiably wanted to make up for what she had missed. The young women at St.Anne's who were completely uncomplicated and full of sensuality seeking pleasure. Rose, who motherly cared for the sperm jam and liked to be fucked. Jane, who was currently just masturbating a lot and just wanted to be erotically stroked by him, that's all she really wanted.

Jack had a recurring dream, confusing and mystical. He was assembling a larger‐than‐life female metal figure. Leg by leg, ass cheek by ass cheek. The vulva and the belly. This was no crude tin doll, but an erotic woman whose skin shone like liquid fluid and like liquid silver. Some force made him feel and explore the metal sex in every dream. Everything was there that a woman had. In further dreams he completed the gorgeous woman, shoulders, arms and hands. Curls of hair coiled around her head like pure silver. He saw her face, but he could not remember her features. As often as he touched her sensually, as often as his cock slid into her vagina, a tremendous power flowed through him. He knew in the dream that this power was there to enhance his nameless gift. It was natural in the dream to recognize the power of the All‐Mother, the Primal Feminine. He could feel the penetration of the power almost physically, that's when he woke up. He thought nothing of hocus‐pocus, yet he knew it was something almost real. He hurried to Rose and squirted full of lust in her throat.

Peter arrived, wordlessly greeted Jack, and hastily drank his whiskey. He reported that the operation in Iraq, which they had thoroughly planned only 10 days ago, had failed including Plan B. The team had been unable to bring the Iranian scientist, who had come to Baghdad for a congress, to England, and the worst was to come for the defector. The team had been caught and captured earlier. Peter had negotiated with Iraq for two hours to get our three people released. The extraction team was stuck with the vehicle and could not help. Iraqi intelligence had to give in to the government, which wanted to make an example. When politics got access, things always got ugly. Jack suggested they put off lunch and go straight to the office. He called the hospital from the cab that he would be late, No, he did not know how long. At the office, they spread Operation Barduk out on Peter's desk. Jack got a high‐ranking Iraqi on the phone. He patiently sounded him out, intelligence man to intelligence man. He found out that one of the general's favorite cousins was serving time in Israel. He whispered to Peter whether they had power in Israel. Peter nodded and picked up the second phone. He greeted Israel with Hebrew phrases and switched to English. He pulled Jack's notes to him and read out what this cousin's name was and what prison he was in. He nodded in agreement and looked to Jack, go! Jack was negotiating with the Iraqi general. The cousin could be on a helicopter in 30 minutes, heading for the Syrian‐Iraqi border. Could his 3 agents also be flown to the Syrian‐Iraqi border in that time, to the airstrip three miles east of Abu Kamal? The general promised to call back in 15 minutes.

Jack glanced at his gold Portugieser every few minutes. The Swiss precision movement seemed to move with difficulty. Jack knew a minute was just a minute, so he stopped drumming his fingers on the desk. Peter kept talking to Israel. 48 more, he wrote on the paper. 52, Jack wrote. The general said the three men were on their way to the helicopter, one was injured and would have to go to the hospital as soon as they landed. He added that according to the official report, they had escaped and were shot as they fled. Jack nodded, okay sir, I will get this man to the doctor as soon as I can. He asked for details of the injury. Rifle bullet in left shoulder, stab wound in left thigh. Artery injured, makeshift treatment. That was the more dangerous injury. The other two uninjured.

Jack gave the arrival time, 42. The general repeated that they were on their way. Peter relayed to Israel, one man critically injured, immediately to hospital. Israel confirmed that a doctor was in the helicopter, they would inform him immediately. Peter switched on his phone. Please not now, Mr. Minister, am in the middle of an ongoing operation. Thank you, Mr. Minister, in about an hour. He looked frantically at the ceiling. The minister's dog had run away. Jack grinned, though he was on pins and needles. "Dog run away, call MI6!" It was hilarious, though they both had to keep their cool. The Iraqi general said angrily, they are still refueling the helicopter! Do you Brits also have to refuel first when there is an emergency? Jack replied in the negative, saying at least one was available at all times, fully fueled and ready to fly. That's good, said the general, it's sometimes more difficult with us. Helicopter is in the air, he added, still a good 40 minutes. Jack took notes, Peter too, 28 minutes. He passed the 40 to Israel, they wanted to slow down the flight so as not to be too long on the ground.

Peter pushed the buttons again. He listened, then dialed and got connected to the Syrian ministry. He listened, then said emphatically that this was not a Syrian issue. No, the radar reconnaissance was already correct, but it was a cooperation of the Kingdom with Israel, a prisoner exchange. No, he may take it, tomorrow the Foreign Office will come to him directly. Thank you, sir, just make the call! He ended the conversation and called the Foreign Office directly. After a few minutes, he had the right man and gave him a quick rundown in bullet points. Yes, the handover was in 15 to 20 minutes. Keep Syria out and back off at all costs! Yes, thank you! He interrupted and asked Israel, they both had helicopters on radar, meeting in 7 minutes. The Iraqi general confirmed, 7.

All they could do now was wait, wait, wait. After just under 15 minutes, Israel reported, prisoner handed over, three men on board, return flight. Ground contact 4 minutes with rotors running. Peter immediately called the Syrians, he informed that the action was coming to an end and thanked them for keeping still. The Syrian pressed around that the minister himself was at an event and had better not be disturbed. Peter smirked and promised that the Foreign Ministry was expecting the call from Syria tomorrow, but if there was no call, they would not address it themselves. Error? Phantom signals? Of course, it's common with radar. Peter hung up with a smile and called the State Department. The man on the other end listened attentively and promised to report it verbatim to the Minister. He asked again for Peter's personal security code, just to be sure. Peter put the phone down; enough was enough. Jack stayed on the line with the general and reached for Peter's receiver. He asked the Israeli how things stood. Yes, he was the adjutant, the boss had gone out for a moment, you know, older gentlemen just have to have to more often. The Israeli laughed softly, that was international.

The helicopter had landed on the hospital, the injured man in surgery. He said that is all he has, the others are also being examined. He would stay on the line for another 15 minutes and in the meantime try to find out more from the military hospital. The Iraqi general called in on the other line. One of the men in the helicopter knew the cousin by sight and confirmed his identity. He thanked him succinctly and said he would call Sir Peter again tomorrow. Good bye, good bye! Jack hung up and waited for the Israeli. Peter lit another cigarette and offered one to Jack. They smoked in silence and waited. Then the Israeli. The man's life was not in danger, he said, but he was still undergoing surgery. It is expected that the men will be able to travel in 10 days. He asked very politely that Sir Peter call his boss tomorrow and clarify further steps. He gave his rank and name, Jack gave his and added, Adjutant with Sir Peter. He returned the Shalom! with Shalom, my friend! and hung up.

Peter retrieved a bottle and two glasses from a cabinet. A 120‐year‐old Glenturret, he said, you can only get at the Queen's. For special occasions. They clinked the crystal glasses and drank the velvety delicacy from Scotland. Jack looked questioningly at Peter. How were we? Peter took his time and took a deep sip. Operation Barduk failed, defector lost, extraction team on the way back. Three men freed and safe the same day. Not a bad result. I tried two adjutants before you, both ineffectual. The better one I held for three days. Peter cleared his throat, saying nothing about the other. Working with you was a pleasure. You jumped in, right in the middle of the arena. You work fearlessly and wide awake. I like that, I will recommend you to the Lord Chancellor when the time comes. No, he laughed, that's not the Prime Minister, God forbid! He shook his head laughing, there is still a long way to go.

Peter followed up. How is the project going? Jack reported, the two colleagues had been working flat out for two weeks and it was far less chaotic than feared. The two ladies at the front desk were worth their weight in gold, bringing calm and order to the store from the start. The two colleagues brought a surprisingly large number of paying patients with them, and a bookkeeper would be needed willy‐nilly. Peter asked how he himself was coping with the task? Jack replied that at the moment he was fully committed to St. Anne's and could only come to his office for an hour or an hour and a half at the most. His colleagues would have to carry the main load for at least another year and a half, and then he would get full licensure and be able to work full time at Upper John Street. Peter had listened attentively and nodded with satisfaction. You're not the guy to take shortcuts, he noted. Jack raised his eyebrows, two years to licensure, anyone would have to. Peter looked at him sharply. You believe it, don't you? It speaks to your character. But in the real, ugly world out there, there are enough people with no character, no faith, no decency. Sorry, son, but that's the sad truth, the harsh reality. And shortcuts are tempting to all too many.

I'm starving, Peter said, looking at his wristwatch, the Men's Club was still open. Jack nodded in the affirmative and Peter called the Men's Club. Jack called St.Anne's, it was probably going to be very late and inquired how it was going. All was well, said the head nurse, the young resident had stepped in without hesitation and had everything well in hand. See you tomorrow, doctor! Then he called home, Rose was on the line and he said he was going to the Men's Club for dinner with Sir Peter now and would not be in until later, she would not have to fix him dinner. So he went to dinner with Peter, the Argentine style steaks tasted delicious. They talked for a long time after and Jack had a decent sit down. Two glasses of the finest Scotch and an uncounted number of ports, that went in neat! He staggered alongside Peter to his cab and took another home. Jane was already asleep and Rose ushered our drunken hero into the bachelor's room and stripped him naked. He had a three‐quarter erection, which she took care of instantly. The erection lasted a good two hours and she fucked the senseless man, whose semen didn't spurt out, but just kept pouring out. She had to fuck all alone in a sitting position, and when she recognized from his moans that he was ready, she pulled out the cock and rubbed it with her fist as long as the semen oozed out. Then she put the semi‐stiff one back into her vagina and fucked him all over again. She made every effort, for Master Jack's semen seemed inexhaustible. She didn't put her Master to sleep until the semen stopped flowing. She was very pleased with herself and covered him motherly, he would have a severe hangover problem tomorrow.

Jack gradually found a good rhythm to his time management. He worked some overtime and night shifts at St.Anne's so he could get a few days off. He was ironclad an hour and a half or two at Upper John Street, treating mainly the non‐paying public. They did not yet have a name for the ordination and were called Crawley, Finnegan and Lockhart as their doctors. Surgical procedures were left to Jack, who was the most capable surgeon. Larger operations they had to perform in a hospital, which was quite expensive. Finnegan and Lockhart did an excellent job and had internalized Jack's social attitudes. Treating the destitute free of charge was loosely supported by the paying patients. It was foreseeable that the ordination could be profitable in the future. They had hired an experienced accountant to do the billing and keep order in their finances. Of course, there were minor problems to be solved every day, but there were no real, major problems. The BBC had made a documentary about them and after it aired, the waiting room overflowed. Despite all efforts, appointments got mixed up and there was chaos for days. After the rush, everything calmed down.

Peter was sympathetic, but only for a short time. Jack fell asleep on night duty and realized his limitations all too clearly. Peter's chauffeur took him to the office by the quickest route; Peter was full of energy and drive. They planned small and large operations with the same precision and prudence. The difference was only whether more or less was at stake. They used well‐rehearsed teams; they trained teams to work as a team. Peter and Jack revised the agents' training programs. Each had to know his place and that of the person next to him. An organizer, a lock picker, a weapons man, a driver and a transporter, respectively. Infiltration teams and extraction teams often consisted of the same agents and had to be trained on both different types of actions. Pistoleros and snipers were rarely used.

Most tasks revolved around protecting, safely transporting, or obtaining information. The most exciting part was turning agents, planting moles, or getting secret‐keepers to talk. Defectors were very rare, but usually valuable. Bringing them silently and quickly onto one's own playing field was a very demanding operation. These operations were often lengthy, but immensely demanding and exciting. Jack knuckled down fully to these tasks and was very reluctant to go to the often fruitless or sobering meetings with politicians and celebrities. Peter knew this, but Jack had to know and be able to handle this side of the job as well. What Jack had mastered perfectly by now was the seamless switching between his different roles. Neither St. Anne's nor his ordination knew about his double life in Peter's office. For Rose, too, Sir Peter remained the loving, caring uncle she had enjoyed fucking frequently in Nick's day. She had no idea of the secret service activity then or now. Jane was in on everything, though Peter didn't want her to be at first. Jack got his way, Jane was his wife after all. Period.

At least twice a year, Peter had surgery performed at Morrison Manor to let the agents practice in the operating room. He felt this three‐day training was necessary; you had to be ready for real, major operations. Peter smiled mildly when Jack assigned both Mia and Lilly to the training. Jack had to practice running the operating room. Peter made sure that Jack was accepted by the agents as a leader and that he also performed the subordinate activities on his own at the end of training. He was, after all, supervising the operation and helping Jack where necessary. He did not spare Jack the unpleasant moments when one had to report personally to politicians and nobles. Jack grew into this task and still managed to find time to screw Mia. Jack didn't even want to know if Peter was lying with Lilly or not. Peter was secretly grateful to Jack for putting the horny bitch in his bed. Earlier, when he was running the operations, he lived ascetically and didn't waste time fucking. Lilly was jealous of Mia, but gave the boss and herself nice hours.

Peter invited for the first time to a joint dinner at Crawley House. He had Rose deliver the finest ingredients, she was to prepare quite fine steaks. Rose had festively set the table and deliciously prepared appetizer, main course and dessert. No one knew what the occasion was. They dined and chatted about this and that, they praised Rose specifically and she set up the coffee table so they could continue chatting after dessert. Peter said quietly to Rose that they wanted to talk undisturbed. Rose curtsied in an impossible way and whispered, Yes, My Lord! and closed the kitchen door behind her.

They were among themselves and looked expectantly at Peter, who, against his better judgment, was awkwardly lighting a thick Cuban and smoking it with obvious discomfort. In the year of our Lord 1138, King Stephen appointed the first Earl of Pembroke ... well, we can skip the history if you want. Jack breathed a sigh of relief; he had already read up on King Stephen's marshal history several times, and that of subsequent generations as well. Peter elaborated that the Mossleys joined the Pembrokes more than 450 years ago. Initially a dynasty of swordsmen, they quickly developed a knack for banking. The Pembrokes were represented in the House of Lords by Sir Sidney Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Earl of Montgomery; the Mossleys were never in the House of Lords. The Mossleys operated quietly and had amassed a tidy fortune over the years. His share of the pie was about a quarter of a billion, just over £250 million. After the recent assassination attempt, while still on his sickbed, he had changed his will. He had no children of his own, and left a small portion to the grandchildren of his brother Henry, with whom he had previously consulted. The larger portion was to be inherited by Jane and Jack. Henry understood his thought process right away and encouraged him that he was doing the right thing. Peter was silent, all hung up on their thoughts.

Peter's voice sounded brittle, I have no children of my own. You two are my only children, if I may say so. He nodded and gave Cuban a premature thumbs up. Almost instantly, he lit a cigarette and refilled his glass with a three‐story whiskey. Jane, who was already smoking her second roll‐up but had not yet touched her first glass of wine, put her hand on Peter's hand. Dear Uncle Peter, let's not talk about death, certainly not about inheriting! Tears ran down her cheeks. I wish that you would stay with me for many more years! She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She looked at Jack. He shook his head, as understandable as that was after the assassination attempt, it was probably too early to think of your death, dear Peter. He was touched to be in his will, he said, but he basically didn't care about money. He could live on what he earned as a doctor. They were silent, Peter watching them through the cigarette smoke.

This is how we get closer, he said. Money, it's really just a digit on a bank statement. What you do with it, that's important. But I didn't really want to talk about money, you two will have to do that once I'm in sacred ground. But I was getting at something else entirely. It came to my attention when I had to be transferred in the hospital for three days because of a burst pipe. What a dance the poor ward nurses did to get nobility and gentry to share a room! Surely they could not put me in with a bourgeois lieutenant. I objected, if the lieutenant was half pretty and willing....? But they did not laugh, the matter was much too serious. Peter grinned, finding his remark witty and humorous. He paused for a long moment.

Jane and Jack, you are both middle‐class, just 'middle‐class', in quotes. That says nothing, but absolutely nothing, about your character, skills or other qualities. You will always hit a ceiling at the top, whether it's the BBC or MI6, your careers will end there. Every petty, piddling aristocrat will shit on you from the top! And that, my dears, pisses me off. Mighty! Peter paused and looked at them through the cigarette smoke. Jack, of course, knew what Peter was getting at from the mention of the bourgeois lieutenant, but he kept silent and listened intently. It's been stinking to me for months, for years, Peter said. I have to do something about it before I join my ancestors. I want to adopt you both. Then you'll belong to the nobility, then no one will shit on you anymore. And it would also strongly back up my will in the will!

Peter sat back, rummaging for his pack of cigarettes. He had stated his thoughts, now it was the others' turn. Jane collected herself and said she didn't want to talk about death. Especially not about inheritance, she was too young for that. Period. Adoption was something she would like to think about, it would be a great honor to be his daughter. Whether that could really help her at the BBC, she doubted. You would need a penis for that, and she could only take care of a penis by the hour. They all three laughed and Peter slapped his thigh a few times, hourly in care, that was delicious!

Jack joined Jane, it was an unexpected honor to be his son. That would be the most important thing to him, but he admitted that the thought process regarding their careers carried weight as well. He felt some people would have to be consulted first, his mother Veronica, the Earl of Pembroke, Sir Henry Mossley and other Mossleys possibly. The legal side of naming and citizenship would have to be clarified. Peter nodded in agreement. He wanted to leave the questioning of Veronika to Jack; everything else was already done or in progress. By becoming a Lord he would automatically become a British citizen, he could keep the German one, dual citizenship agreement. His brother Henry was delighted and wanted to meet them as soon as possible. The other Mossleys had no objections. The naming and inheritance of the lordship were clearly regulated. The Earl of Pembroke, Sir Sidney Herbert, also agreed, they were only uncertain whether Peter's Earldom could be transferred to Jack without further ado. Usually, that was a privilege of the Queen. Peter sat back, he had thought all this through. Jack smiled at Jane, should we say Pa or Pop? She smiled back, she would vote for Papoushka, that sounds so romantic!

Jack became quite serious again. The adoption meant much more to them than the money that lay in the far future. He smiled to himself. Veronika would surely agree, he believed, because this way she, as the adoptive mother, could remind the adoptive father of his marital duties! The subtle bon mot made Peter laugh brightly. Bulls eye, he quipped,bulls eye! And Jane, who had devoted herself to white wine, joined in the laughter and asked Jack how to say Mütterchen in German. Mütterchens Fötzchen, Mütterchens Fötzchen! she repeated, laughing. Peter and Jane were already a bit drunk and Jane, laughing and chuckling, told what Veronika had told about fucking the Noble Gentleman and Peter laughed until his side stung. The evening ended happily, Peter called his special cab and left, hugging them both goodbye.

Jack called Veronika after a few days. He explained the situation to her and told her she would have to be in London on the deadline to sign her agreement. She was beside herself with joy and asked to be told in time. Her son an English Lord! She wanted to stay a week or ten days and pick out the appropriate wardrobe with Jane. He suppressed the exclamation Oh, you women! Wardrobe! and promised to get her to London in time. As expected, Veronica had no objections, Jack reported to Jane and Peter.

Jane asked Jack for advice. She had learned that a house diagonally across the street, barely a hundred yards away, was for sale. The previous owner had died and the heirs wanted to sell it. She wanted to buy it without any specific reason to do so. She had asked an acquaintance who was in the real estate market for a secret appraisal. The house was slightly smaller than Crawley Manor, in need of renovation, and had a large garden all around. The friend looked at it, £500,000 at most. Jack hired a professional appraiser who gave a thorough appraisal, purchase at most £450,000, about £150,000 renovation costs. He and Jane negotiated with the heirs. They had their own professional and wanted £550,000. They settled at £475,000, which was as far as Jane wanted to go and the heirs wanted to sell quickly. They saved the brokerage fees, and that was that. Jane had the renovation started immediately, using the same craftsmen who had already renovated Upper John Street. It would take them six weeks at most.

Jack told Jane about his dream in one of the intimate hours. The tall woman made of liquid silver. His cock, plunging softly and without fucking into the warm silver of her vagina. His semen that flowed into the warm metal vagina without having been squirted. The power that passed from her to him, flowing into him like his semen into her. How he woke up with a morning wood and slid over to Rose to thrust his erection into her orgasm. Jane said after a while that was a very nice dream. She envied him, she would have liked to be the Silver Woman herself. Jack hugged and kissed her gently.

Jane lay with her back on his chest after fucking him, masturbating soulfully and delicately. He caressed her breasts, belly and labia. He teasingly disturbed her finger on the knob of her clit, it was such a game between them. When her orgasm came, he took over her clit and rubbed it hard and relentlessly. She curled up like an embryo and her body twitched for what seemed like an eternity. She sighed deeply and gratefully and lay down beside him. She grazed his flaccid cock with her fingers and said, you know, I thought of Peter when I bought the house. When he would be old and retired, it would be a good idea for him to be near us, wouldn't it? Maybe Rose could take care of his household, I just don't know if she would want a Gentleman that old. I don't know... yes, yes, Jack interrupted, they were fucking while Nick was still around. He told Jane what little Rose had told him about it.

Jane listened intently. It may sound far‐fetched, but I thought that maybe Veronika had also been thinking about coming to live with us in London. After all, the filming was dying down, nothing was keeping her in Unterhaching, in Munich, maybe just the house. Peter and Veronika, could that work out? she asked and Jack nodded in agreement. It would be a good situation for everyone, for us, for Peter and Veronika, even for Rose, she had a crush on Lady Veronica. The two were from the same generation, Rose would have someone to gossip with and both already knew Peter's cock. But one nice at a time, Jack interjected theatrically, we don't want to put the Old Man in his grave! But let's wait with plotting, that's all too much in the future. But they discussed the idea again and again on their evenings. It was a great idea, they would show the house to Peter and Veronika after the renovation. Maybe the idea was not so absurd.

Weeks later, the renovation was finished. Upstairs were two spacious rooms with the common bathroom in the middle, accessible from both sides. On the ground floor, a spacious living room with integrated kitchen and two small, bright rooms. Between them a bathroom identical in construction. The basement clean and spacious. No servants' quarters. Jack and Jane agreed that all variants were conceivable here. Peter alone, or with Veronika. They could live next to each other, together, or separately on top of each other. Jane showed Peter around the house several times, asking him here and there how it could be arranged. Except for the two bathrooms, the house was still empty and could be completely redecorated. Peter was not taken aback and asked Jane directly. She answered him frankly, describing what ideas she and Jack had. Peter remained silent, keeping quiet for weeks, only promising to take a stand at some point.

In May 1966, the time had come. Peter's office had everything well prepared. Veronica sat excitedly on the train, Jack had sent her a first class ticket as before, and she would have plenty of time to outfit her wardrobe with Jane. Jack and Rose would pick her up at Victoria Station, Rose insisted. She hugged Milady as if they were sisters. Jane accompanied Veronika and sometimes Rose to fashion boutiques to update Veronika's wardrobe. With a heavy heart, she parted with some flashy pieces, but she trusted Jane's taste. She gradually learned to wear subtle, ladylike makeup. Jane showed her around the new house and the two talked shop about decorating ideas. Jack's question about whether she wanted to move to London, she denied at first. However, she wanted to think about it, it was probably an important decision. The ladies left for the hairdresser's.

Peter's office had prepared everything precisely and meticulously. The royal family was obliged by law to attend. The celebration was thus held in a small ballroom of the Buckingham. On one side Peter, his future children and family, on the other his brothers and their families. The Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery wore an ancient shoulder‐cloak, as did Peter. They waited until the Royal Lady arrived along with her attendants. Frankly, no one knew her. But she was there, representing the Queen. Officials sat at a table and presented the deeds for signature. First the adoption of Jane and Jack, the deeds signed by Peter, Sir Mossley and the Earl. Sir Mossley and the Earl solemnly shook hands with Jane and Jack. They affixed the Royal Seal, the royals never signed.

Then an official announced in a loud voice that Sir Peter's son now received lordship and earlship. Again certificates were signed and solemnly laid aside. Peter placed his fur‐trimmed cloak over Jack's shoulders, then the Royal Lady strode up and shook hands with Peter, Jack and Jane. An imperceptible hesitation, then she gave Veronika and Rose a soft handshake as well. She strode out, after barely three minutes. They had to wait, for the man of citizenship business was late. Jack and Jane were engaged in heated but friendly discussion by Lord Mossley and Earl Montgomery. Lord and Earl both embraced them, they were welcomed into the family. They were introduced to all the family members. It was obvious that both heads of the family were very pleased. Lord Mossley went to his brother Peter. He congratulated him with a firm handshake, saying he could be proud of these splendid children. The late official came at last, and the citizenship was sealed. Gradually they set off, driving in a long motorcade to a reserved guest garden. The party lasted until evening, Jack and Jane going from table to table.

Another day, Sir Peter's cab pulled up. He took the keys of the new house and Veronica by the hand, then they went over without a word. They didn't come back for two hours, Veronika beaming like a freshly polished gold coin and holding Peter's hand. They told nothing, absolutely nothing. Strictest secrecy, his personal touch. Peter nodded and said they would be back after dinner, then they left by cab. Jack and Jane sat in the park behind the house and finally had some time together. They tried to look into the future. They were going to vacation in Portugal for three or four weeks in midsummer. Long after dinner, Peter and Veronika came back. She was exhausted from all the fucking, she whispered in German to Jack as they hugged. She went right upstairs, not wanting a drink. They drank in silence and Peter asked Jane if her offer still applied. The house. The retirement home. Jane clutched her chest. But of course, Pet... Father! He growled, Peter or Uncle Peter, I'm serious.

He wanted it and to furnish it to his liking. The two bedrooms upstairs with extra‐wide beds. Downstairs, two study rooms and a cozy living room. And he wanted a good telephone system, telephone in every room. Two lines and a secret line, that would be installed by his office to his liking. And he wouldn't come until the end of the year, not before. Two bedrooms, Jane said stretched. Peter replied that maybe his brother would stay with him sometime, or at least spend the night. He also wanted to know how much the rent would be. Jane said as if shot out of a pistol, £20, the Lord! This completely threw Peter for a loop. Per night? he asked and Jane laughed, per hour! They haggled like carpetbaggers for a few minutes and Jack thoughtfully poured more whiskey, white wine and port. It was delicious to listen to the two of them in their mock fight, it really was hilarious. In the end, Jane said very firmly, One Pound Sterling a year, that would be her final word. Peter nodded in agreement, I admit defeat, and grabbed his glass. I'm really getting old, he muttered smiling.

The daily routine returned. Jack's Lordship was received with warm congratulations at St.Anne's and Upper John Street, but otherwise had no effect. He threw himself into work and worked in addition with Peter. The latter said not a word about his retirement and only let Jack know in general terms that the new house had no bearing on the timing. No matter how much Jack asked around Peter, no one knew anything about it. On some Sunday evenings, Sidney or Henry would show up to talk with Jane and Jack. They were very nice and talked about their families. Henry talked a lot about the Mossley Bank, which he ran. This was his fourth visit and he already had a clear picture of Jack. Henry was increasingly involved with the Americans as was Jack, the intelligence man. Henry knew about this because he sat on the civilian board of the security services and had great influence over their budget. Jack outlined the scope of the reorganization of the training programs and hoped that Henry could make a case for it. Henry understood quite well, but he couldn't promise anything. That Jack did not see himself in the banking business and wanted to remain a doctor with every fiber of his heart, he had understood fairly soon. He actually thought it was a great pity, because Jack was one of the brightest minds in the family. And he didn't know yet who could run the bank after he retired. Jack, unfortunately, was not. Jane listened to the two men and felt there was no room for a woman. Jack knew exactly what she was thinking. He gradually engaged her in conversation and let Henry see how educated and smart she was. When Henry had gone, he took her in his arms. The time is not yet ready for women at the top. It downright hurt him, physically hurt him, how much she was suffering. I won't take it without a fight, Baroness! he whispered, whoever gives in has already lost. Oh Jack, she whispered, Robert and I are not welcome anywhere. He wiped the tears from her cheek. Don't cry, read up on banking, you'll need it!

Sunday after Sunday, Jane and Jack had the service's motor pool take them to Effingham 30km southwest of London. Henry's house was a well‐maintained ancient country estate, and Henry had asked them to stay because he was wearing a cast for several weeks after an ankle operation. Henry and his extended family treated them like siblings, and while the youngest romped on the lawn, the adults sat on the patio and tested Henry's wine cellar. Jack threaded it quite cleverly to get Henry and Jane talking shop about finance. She was one of the Mossleys now, after all, and it would be a shame not to be well versed in banking. They didn't hide it; she at least wanted to know how the cogs turned. Henry was delighted because his children didn't give a damn about the family businesses.

Jack let the two talk shop and got to know Henry's adult children. With one ear, he was with Jane. With the other, he was all doctor, listening to their sexual problems. His new cousins were entering their 40s and suffering from yesterday's Victorian notions. They felt their sexuality bubbling up and could only have good sex in secret. One cousin in particular faced problems. She was married to a Mossley, she loved him, they had two splendid children, and she had a secret love affair with a younger lesbian. Jack felt the family and young children carried a lot of weight. Anyway, they would try a threesome. Maybe they would play along, maybe bisexuality was the solution for them. In truth, she would not risk too much, because whether it was lived secretly or openly, all three had the same chance. Secretiveness, however, held much more explosives than openness, which was embarrassing only at first. He said that he was not entirely happy with his own advice, but it was the right direction.

Months later, she quietly told him that the threesome had worked out quite well. Persuading the lesbian girl was difficult, her husband was immediately enthusiastic. Watching the two make lesbian love excited him a lot and he fucked her, his wife, with passionate pleasure. The girl watched with mixed feelings, she had never fucked with a man and did not want to. She held the girl in her arms as her husband deflowered and fucked the girl insanely. The girl cried silently when he cum inside, but let it happen. Her husband fucked the girl every time they met and she cried on her friend's chest every time. She never got an orgasm while being fucked and only wanted it during their lesbian lovemaking. Nevertheless, she let herself willingly be fucked two or three times in a row and sobbed when he cum inside her. After half a year it was over, the lesbian girl moved on, she was close to her husband again and her sex life experienced a new blossom.

Among Jack's most interesting interlocutors at the intelligence agencies was Natasha, an American native of Russia. She was an analyst for the American service and knew all the Russian players like no one else. They were both team players and worked on the principle of information sharing, you give me, I'll give you. They couldn't meet at the men's club, of course, she said jokingly, she lacked a penis! Mostly they saw each other in the sidewalk cafes, once or twice a month. Natasha was not one for bed, she said from the start, she was a fortyish virgin waiting for Mr. Right. She wasn't particularly pretty, her slim body accentuating the roundness of her big breasts. Jack certainly wouldn't have looked her up on the street; she would have come into the ugly Swede category. The redhead was certainly not his type. However, she talked about her sexuality in a completely free and almost provocative exhibitionist way and Jack learned about the 1000 ways girls masturbate. That were interesting and very intimate conversations. Once, when they met in a conspiratorial apartment weeks later, she showed him her favorite techniques with a frivolous smile. He watched excitedly, but he knew it would lead to no good and restrained himself with difficulty. Her virginity was rather theoretical; he could detect no hymen. He liked watching her masturbate and didn't need to know who she was fucking at first. The 40 year old was in truth already 46 and by God no virgin, had fucked hundred a men. A sparse bush of red‐gray pubic hair adorned her cleft. She completely encapsulated herself while masturbating and no longer perceived her surroundings as if in a trance. He lay naked with her and stroked her sex and masturbating hand. She emerged from the depths after the orgasm and beamed at him with shining eyes in which stars sparkled. When they knew each other better and were lying together, he fucked her very carefully in side lying position. He had her legs up and lay across in front of her sex. He watched her finger stroking her clit very delicately in the shape of a figure eight and squirted inside with a very bad conscience. She did not notice anything, she was completely submerged. When he penetrated her vagina, she began to hum and only stopped when he had squirted.

She emerged from the orgasm once and noticed his erection, as she had so many times before. "Oh, poor you!" she said this time, stuffing his cock halfway into her vagina. "You can squirt inside if you like, Jack, it's okay with me!" Her fucking movements animated him, he fucked restrainedly with half his cock. She had lowered her head and was staring at her sex entrance as if hypnotized. She smiled quite sweetly and stroked his cock and her clit with the same fingers, he had to squirt and he gasped he had to squirt now. She nodded excitedly and approvingly, "squirt away, my darling, come! Squirt in!" and when the squirting started, he thrust his cock in deep. She kept his cock inside her until it softened. Since then he fucked her, whether conscious or out of it, but only in the side position. He avoided the missionary position; it was too intimate for him. He deliberately did not want a sexual relationship with her. It was rather too much if they met once or twice a month to masturbate and fuck.

Natasha was a valuable asset and that was only as long as they weren't emotionally distracted. He was pleased that they were getting along so well. They had overseen a lot of small operations together in Russia in the first few months and it had worked out great. Peter had still had them closely scrutinized and cleared. Jack grinned, relying on his own nose more than the searchers. But working with the Americans was very loose, they preferred to do their own thing. When Natasha was transferred to Berlin after a year, he slept with her for the first and last time in the missionary position. He hugged her very intimately while fucking her three times in a row, that was his farewell to her.

Jane finished furnishing Peter's house and he moved in at the end of October after the bombshell dropped. She helped him unpack and Rose came with shopping bags to stock the kitchen. On the evening of the second day, Peter sat in his comfortable living room couch and enjoyed his first whiskey. The phone system worked perfectly; he had learned the functions within minutes. He could put the line from the office to his home, that was very important to him. Everything personal was here, the professional remained in his city apartment.

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