My Fair Lad - Part 6
A reimagining of My Fair Lady. Set in London, about now.
It tells the story of Chas, a rough edged lad, down on his luck and Mark a successful banker. Mark and his banker colleague Gerry make a bet that he can teach Chas to be a gentleman and be accepted into the banking profession.
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Crash, Bang Wallop, what a picture.
The London Metals Exchange Annual Ball was a good event.
As we arrived we posed for a photo, in front of a huge flower arrangement and the LME logo, we stood close, beaming, happy, unmistakably a couple. The photos were printed off and available in frames by the end of the evening, that's another £100 I'll never see again.
I had a booked a table for 10, for the senior team and their partners. Everyone at work knew now, no more secrets and they all like Chas's youth and new perspectives that he brings to the business. He's not on the books, yet, he's still using the £1k I lent him, which he's given me back by the way, but they like having him around, eye candy, I expect!
Daniel Craig had nothing on how Chas looked in his Tuxedo. Chas insisted he wanted a made to measure and that he'd pay. Saying he'll get a lot of use out of it.
He looked so sexy. Simon did his hair regularly now, and he'd mproved the cut over the few months, finding the inner Chas.
Chas filled his clothes well, even more so now in the 5 hot spots', Guns, perfect. Pecs, perfect. Package, perfect, just shows enough to keep you interested in looking again for more. Buns, absolutely perfect, muscular globes. Eyes, perfect, cheeky and dancing.
Yes, Chas is just pure strength and has a body to die for underneath the crisp white shirt, not gym buddy popping muscles, just pure lad.
Chas hasn't a clue just how good looking he is, which makes him all the more sexy.
I still need to get him a permit to deal in the ring. Then I can take the £10k from Gerrys fat wallet.
I lobbied the LME guys and Chas conducted a charm offensive, dancing with partners wives and their other halves, complementing them on their dress sense and pulling them in close as they danced to smell his pheromone laden musk. Chas said he was squeezed in all places, yes all, as the older women loved dancing with this hot guy.
He met some of the trainers, commenting how much nicer they are in person than on a zoom call. His working class persona coming through, making them realise he's different, not just another turn of the Oxbridge screw and out pops another posh clone, but something unique.
I meanwhile sponsored the prizes for the exchange members, that's another £5k I won't see again, but I still remember the £500 I won years ago and how great It felt, and why not, I'm easily able to afford to give something back now.
I thought Chas was ready for the bear pit, he had the accent, knew all the jargon, all the TLA's and he's been doing deals for 3 months now, and afterall it's just another market auction really.
Gerry came over and whispered in my ear, leant over me as I sat at the table,
`I'm rather getting ready to pick up my £10k. I thought I'd charter an air taxi from London City and fly Celia to Verona for the opera, that will be a nice tax free perk. You might have sorted his haircut and clothes and knocked a few corners off his appalling accent but the bear pit, believe me those guys will rip your darling boy to shreds, Don't worry, £50's will be just fine, do enjoy the rest of your evening, won't you?',
I went for a pee, I spied Chas in the next urinal but two to me, he hadn't seen me, he was too busy laughing at something the guy next to him said, as I watched them both peer down at each others cocks, and pause, as they rocked their heads back in sync and presumably pissed.
I finished, shook off, tucked away, zippered up and left. Chas followed, we took an Uber.
A week passed, waiting for his acceptance letter to enable him to trade, the final step to my £10k bet to wipe that smile off Gerry's face.
We checked the mailbox daily, nothing but cards for massage services, the Dickensian prostitutes now plying their trade via smartphones rather than seedy pubs.
The concierge buzzed up. A bike courier has just dropped off a package for Chas.
Chas was swimming. When he returned some 30 minutes later, I let him know and he ran down the marble stairs in just his speedos, giving James a surprise. Chas then ran up the six floors, that's twelve flights, without breaking into sweat and beaming at me he opened the package and read the letter.
His face fell, he threw the letter down. I thought fuck that's another £10k I won't see again. Do I hug him, do I console him, the seconds seemed interminable,
He jumped in the air, beaming,
`Gotcha' he said,
I read his letter of acceptance, and looked at the pen drawing of his seal that was used by members to seal deals in pre electronic times.
Chas was so pleased he punched the air.
I copied the seal on the printer/copier by my desk and emailed the design to my jewellers in Hatton Gardens to have it carved into black onyx to match the cufflinks I got him as a present.
On the Monday he started at the pit he dressed well but not too formally, trying to reach a medium. He'd get his `jockey', his distinctive unique patterned trading jacket when the committee and his colleagues thought him worthy.
He walked to the exchange to clear his mind, it's about 35 minutes to Finsbury Park. He introduced himself to the Master of The Ring, showed his paper seal and was allowed in. The guys had very sharp elbows, but Chas soon manoeuvred himself to the front row and tuned into the fast talking deal makers. Each metal is traded in turn.
Some guys were calling him `Waiter' and shouting out drinks orders whenever he tried to bid, his bids not being heard, but he soon got their measure with some very daring trades sneaking in right on the wire. His harsh Ramsgate cockney twang cutting through the public school cut glass accents like a knife through butter.
He had outsmarted them and made some good trades all on Day 1. He took a few of those who'd talked to him out for a drink and then walked back to the apartment. Full of tales of his first day. As high as a kite.
Oh how he paid me back that night, he was like an iron rod, insatiable, I saw the sun rise laid on my belly, Chas ramming me, knelt high, impaling me, rocking his hips, building up for a final release then a couple of hours sleep.
He spent his days in The Ring now, it starts at 11:40 so we can have a leisurely breakfast after his morning swim, counting down another 70 lengths of the highly expensive pool I pay for and he's still time to walk to the office. After he returns we have a cuddle and then he'll swim again or go for a run to clear his head before we eat or before he takes me to bed, high on adrenaline.
I'm left alone now to ply my trades in the silence of my apartment.
Gerry calls, the answer machine whirs. We're having breakfast
`Hi Mark, it's Gerry, call me, you know what day it is don't you?',
`What's that all about' Chas says,
`Oh you know one of Gerry's little games, he'll have the bonus figures ar settled a mammoth deal knowing him'.
Chas nods as he bites into a toasted crumpet, the jam and butter running down his chin,
I kiss lick it off, he grins and I know what's coming next, he stands and I kneel, I pull his trackies down, feeling his hot mounds under my hands as I try to calm his swinging pole on my tongue before I take him deep and he rocks into me, grunts and fills my mouth with his salty morning liquor. Rubbing my hair.
Chas changes into his speedos and is ready for his swim, to put in another mile, counting down the 70 before he walks to the bear pit.
He's got his routine. But I seemed to have lost mine. I feel a bit heavy actually, as though I've gone off the boil a little. I just can't keep up with his swimming and so I stopped going with him, no point and anyway I'm learning about the pure money markets, where the big boys swim.
Commodities are so last century. Making money off money is where the action is, risk free.
Anyway, I resolve to start again with Ben my personal trainer next week, if he's got a slot for me. I hope he has, Ben makes Chas look puny and his gorgeous thick Scottish accent makes me weak at the knees. I imagine my cock is between Bens buns. I'm so hard i'm spewing precum. I can't help but tickle a load out, leant over the toilet, watching my spurts hit the water.
I'm doing some good trades, it's all new to me but heck, it looks easy. Essentially I now buy up mortgages that people have taken out with banks, who parcel them up and sell them on. They're just like a commodity you buy them and sell them on making a little of the many millions on the way.
I fancy keeping some of the US ones that I bid for and beat others to by a fraction and so reaping the rewards as the payments come in, monthly, as the loanees pay off their loans, better than having it in shares or even a long term savings accounts, those are for mugs and how banks make their money, everyone knows that!
I can even vary the interest rates on their loans, like a God. I pay for the privilege though, I employ admins to run the accounts leaving my time free to buy some more.
The London banks parcels are ok, don't get me wrong, but they seem so pedestrian, all the action is in buying up US debt parcels. I sell my UK ones at a tidy profit and swap to a Florida bank who's selling off their mortgages as they move towards more profitable business loans, some parcels are rated higher than others but the big money is in the lower rated ones.
Within a day, I'm all in, no commodities left in my portfolio. At the end of the week I've made millions for my clients and myself.
Gerry is bereft at losing the bet, he hands over his £10k.
Well Mark, you've certainly proved me wrong and you have won the bet admirably. I sense a change coming, a new wave of traders. I'm getting tired of the plethora of new instruments and items to trade in. I rather like the feel of a solid investment and you can't get more solid than metals.
`In fact I've admiration for Chas at how he loves the metal often buying to actually warehouse. Just a word of caution, if I may, whilst I respect your trading acumen, just take a word of advice, please Mark, hedge your bets'.
He shook my hand and left.
Fuck, the money was rolling in five or six times more than dealing in metals. My clients are happy. I put everything I had into buying up more Bank of Florida parcels of mortgages, safe in the knowledge they are all secured against their properties. Easy money.
I got a call from Governance daring to question my last batch of purchases, asking for a POH certificate, that's proof of hedge that should be attached to the trade. I said I was on to it and bought a few hundred parcels of First City Bank San Francisco loans, they seemed satisfied. I should hope so too, we pay their wages don'tcha know, cheeky buggers, questioning a partner, Chas yes, but me no, back off sunshine.
I was going to tell Gerry about the cheap loan parcels, but why spread the good news, I can keep it all to myself.
The answerphone whirred,
`hi Chas, Reg here, I've heard there's a warehouse coming up, next to the one you rent from me, I'm a bit tight for space to be honest and could do with getting shot of the metals, might be a good buy, yeah goodbye a milllion, anyway call me for a natter Neph. Loves ya',
Chas is so old school, older school than Gerry, buying property to keep your trades safe! Me, no such complications. I'm sitting pretty, my loans are paying out regularly, OK so the last batch have had a few defaults, rough with the smooth eh?
Rough trade? My mind wanders to Gavs thick meat, my bit of rough, his smooth, tight buns, his load spurting out, surrendering to my ministrations, his beautiful cum face, pain and pleasure, blessed relief, feeling his balls, heavy, pulsing, his sack retracting as he empties them in my mouth, or splashes over my face, over my greedy willing tongue, lapping, swallowing.
It's too much for me as I rub my cockhead through my pyjama bottoms, i'm too busy to dress these days, dealing as soon as Chas swims.
I lower the pyjama elastic under my arse, and kick them off, my cock laid to one side, eager. I rock my office chair back, my head comfy on the leather headrest.
Closing my eyes from the panorama of London life before me, I grip my shaft, watching images of Gav fucking me, up me, tight in me, filling me, spurting over me, his grinning and gurning at me as his load cannons out. I shoot up my chest, a huge orgasm. I cry. Lost, alone.
Chas comes back, late, long past the end of dealing, he's a bit tipsy. The apartment in darkness.
`What you sat in the dark for?' Chas says, the lights almost blinding me,
`Where have you been, I was worried?', I say,
Oh just for a few with the boys, Algy was full of tales about his weekend, he'd visited the old soaks' as he calls them at the weekend, a shooting trip, he's invited us next time. Could be a laugh?',
He looks me up and down,
`Mm someone's eager, dressed for bed already! You get the bed warm and I'll come through, we could always grab a takeaway? Anyway hun, I'll just call Reg'.
I hear the banter and half conversation, Chas saying. `Go up to £9 a square foot, no more, including fees. No, I'm not paying more. Yeah Marks working from home, yes I know, can't do that selling veg, yeah, thanks for asking, we're both fine, doing well Reg, I will, my love to the family',
`You sound busy' I say, not enthusiastically, Chas ignores that, probably didn't pick up on it.
`How's your day been?',
he asks, cuddling me, big spoon, his hands cold, warming up by rubbing up my chest, his hands rubbing over my nips, his body warm, his dick hot, searing into my crack, pushing it in so my arse cheeks are nibbling it.
`Oh OK, same old, bought more parcels, they're doing great, a bit of turbulence in Florida this afternoon, I might have bought a duff batch, I'll sell them on tomorrow',
He rocked his cock up my crack on his bed of precum, I feel his cock nestled in tight, pulsing more out as he pulls back and scrapes his cock tip down my crack towards my soft spot, he pauses for a sign from me.
I whisper a `yes' on my breath as I exhale as he slides in, a little dry, rough. My mind pictures Gav as I replay him fucking me, imagining his thick, eight inch shaft opening me up, probing for my button, ramming his bull balls into my cheeks as he tries to get deeper, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back as I wail, my ring burning.
Chas gets himself off, I do too, shooting as Gav/Chas shoots up me.
`Oh baby', he whispers in my ear as his cock blasts out its load up my chute, he falls asleep, I rub my spunk into my skin like body lotion and drift off. Warm, sticky, cosy, his throbber still up my arse, recovering in his dream, his body twitching. I wonder what he's dreaming of. That lad in the gents perhaps? Algy? Gav?
I wake alone, another day alone, he's probably swimming, and gone to eork straight after, he lives for that pool, I strut and walk to the bathroom and have a pee. I pull up my pyjama bottoms and walk through. I smell bacon, the table is laid, juice, crumpets, porridge.
Chas sees me scanning the table, `the grill is in the oven, a full English'.
`What's brought this on?',
I see the card and the present.
`Happy Birthday, did you think I'd forget?'
I see the small package, oh fuck I hope it's not a ring.
He hugs me, his pyjama bottoms bulge with a much bigger package.
I cry, sobbing as he cuddles me, his strong arms rubbing my back, then a hand on my nape bristling those short hairs and one on my butt, caressing, squeezing.
`You've been working too hard Mark, even hard arsed Gerry was saying so',
`Oh when?' I said attempting to keep it light but failing,
`I bumped into him last night in the All Bar One opposite the Exchange after trading, just me with a few of the lads; Algy, Monty and Hugo. Gerry's started trading in the ring again, he said if a street urchin like me can do it then this old Eton boy certainly can, you ought to try it, it's fun',
`You telling me how to trade now?', I said angrily,
`Heck no, it's just, you seem to have locked yourself away, you work from home every day, don't see Gerry, don't go for drinks after work, don't run or swim. No more Bill's cafes, walks by the river, Southwark Cathederal on Sundays, what's up Mark?',
I couldn't say he was not correct, fuck I'd even forgotten my own birthday.
`Oh just fuck off to work Chas, to your new friends, and don't bother telling me that you've not fucked Algy, I already know',
I didn't of course, but my rage and jealousy took over.
I threw his present back at him, the wrapping split as it hit the kitchen cupboards and the green leather box opened as it hit the tiled floor, out spilled a shiny object, I saw the brilliant flash of white and a streak of yellow then red as the object bounced off the plinth and skittered across the floor to my feet.
The room went silent. I crumpled at the knees, Chas leapt over to support me as I bent to pick up the gold tie-pin, the head set with 3 jewelled carved thistles, each thistle a different jewel; a diamond, a yellow citrine and a ruby.
`Oh Chas it's beautiful', I say as I twirl it in my fingers, the safety chain so fine, the workmanship exquisite.
I looked at the jewel over his shoulder as he hugged me, how it caught the light.
`Yeah, I saw it and thought of you, I bought it with my first months trading money, after paying you the £1,000 back. It's a thankyou, for all you've done for me. The diamond says I love you always, the citrine is to bring abundance and success and the ruby is for passion, and vitality',
`It's a copy of a fabergé one made for George 5th, his was all different coloured diamonds though',
`Wow, are they all real?',
`Sure, there's a certificate folded in the box',
`Oh Chas, you're so thoughtful and so kind,',
He turned my face to kiss away my tears, our lips met, his gentle kisses on my unshaven face.
`What about sexy, funny, and a fucking beast in bed?',
I laughed,
See you can do it', he says, come on let's eat breakfast and shower, you can show me how much you love your present in bed',
`Now that's a deal' I say, brightening up.
`Oh and for your information I havn't fucked Algy, I wouldn't fuck Algy, and I only want to fuck you, oh and Gav occasionally as we both do I suspect so that cancels out',
Chas spooned out the porridge from the pan, drizzled honey sexily from the spoon, licking his lips, grinning at me, his bulge back. He popped the crumpets in the toaster and we ate up,
`Watch the plate, it's very hot', he said as he put the full English on the table.
`More tea birthday boy?' He said as he poured, holding the pot high, his cock obscene, held back by his pyjamas.
The bacon grill was lovely, overcooked after my tantrum, but lovely all the same.
When we'd finished, I took Chas's hand and pulled him to bed, I was raging hard, for him, for his smell, for his musk.
`Mmm nice' he says, gripping my turgid shaft and pumping me harder,
'how do you want me?' He whispered.
I pushed him on his belly and he lifted up his arse, I shoved a pillow under and felt the urge to smell him, to savor his musk. I spat on his arse cheeks and pulled them apart, his fiery ginger hairs matted, plastered down by his secretions, his hole sweaty and with deep musk, I licked tentatively, my dick raging, spewing, I pushed my face in, both hands pulling his arse checks apart, his smooth shiny orbs of muscle, flexing as I made him writhe.
I lifted off and kissed up his back, my cock resting at the very top of his arse crack, my weight on this hunks back as I kissed up to his shoulders. I lowered my arse and raising my arse up my dick fell and as I pushed it grazed his crack, it found the detent and I pushed in on my slaver.
He winced, I saw his head lower in pain, as I nailed him, I heard him breath sharply as I pummeled him, hard strokes, who said I didn't like the sound of slapping balls, of moans and wails.
I was in the zone, pushing down on his shoulders, his arms gave way and his upper body fell, I supported myself on my arms, partially extended, my belly pressing on his back as my arse lifted out like a beam engine, rhythmically pushing my shaft into his hole, until I could take no more and I fell on him, pumping my load into him.
I roll off him, he turns to lay on his back, I do a 180 and take his soft cock into my mouth and suckle him, slavering over his soft shaft and balls, wetting them.
My droopy, sticky, smelly, arse coated cock is banging on his face as I devour him, getting him rock hard, the taste my own arse, my own musk, smelt occasionally when sniffing a perfume or a flower, but unmistakably my musk mixed with his own from my last nights fucking, now coated on his shaft.
I straddle him and lower myself onto his hard cock and ride him, fast and long, then slow and short, taking him to the edge and backing off, cooling him until he's begging me for his release.
He's wailing and thrashing his head on the pillow turning from side to side. If he tries to throw me off, I just sit on him. I'm rock hard as I pump up and down on his cock. I build up, feeling like I'm on a short fuse now. I ride him until I shoot up his body and quickly lift off to blow on his cockhead, enough to trigger his orgasm. His spurts flying high and landing splat, next to mine.
I clamber up his body for a kiss, our sensitive, delicate cocks softening, we make out.
I notice my Apple watch stirring, buzzing, my phone pinging. The answer machine whirs, It's Gerry,
Mark, something big has happened in US, a bank has gone, the markets are in free-fa. . .
The line went as I leapt out of bed, no time to put on a robe, I powered up the PC waiting for fucking windows to load, what a time for a fucking update to verify. I stare angrily at the desktop camera, it finally logs me in and the trading screens are bright red. The news ticker says US Federal Reserve has declined to bail out the Florida bank citing the mis selling of sub-prime mortgages.
I look at my positions, the values of my parcels and clients parcels are plummeting further on every screen refresh. I try to sell, surely the Bank of England will start buying, get some of the value back, after all they are all secured against US properties, maybe I can rent them to the former homeowners as a landlord?
I turn on my US CNN news feed. It's in a Chicago suburb, with rows of derelict and boarded up houses, the voiceover is explaining that these are the types of properties that many of the loans were secured against.
It interviews a hairdresser who says she took out eight loans secured on her mother's house, she spent the money boosting her business, getting a new car, but when the interest rates rose she couldn't pay back and defaulted.
Chas is watching over my shoulder, he's saying
`it's just a bad day Mark, you're hedges will get you something back at least, minimising your losses'.
I was physically sick, gushing out the breakfast in an acidic roar all over the floor. My legs went and I fell into the pool of sick, still wretching out more, on my hands and knees, puking.
I'm done for.
TBC