​Lucky had reserved a Grand Piano Suite at Claridge’s.  Nothing pleased Lucky more than sitting down nude at that piano whilst playing Satie​ or, as she warmed up, Liszt.  She also liked mimicking the playing of Vince Guaraldi, the jazz pianist if she felt like leaving the classical repertoire. 

Athletic in her play, I’d watch from a couch as sweat began to run down her chest toward her lap.  Sometimes she would sing, especially if playing Cole Porter tunes. Once soaked in sweat, she’d move to the suite’s main bathroom to wash and soak in a large tub. On those days, she blew off the gym. 

During her musical moments, Lucky made sure that I ate well.  I appreciated that.  Music goes best, like good wine, with good food. I was eating poached eggs on sourdough bread with Wye smoked salmon and a side of bacon.  I asked for a side of mornay sauce.  It’s a wonderful dip for bacon.

When life is good, I tend to forget the troubles of others.  In particular, I forgot how foolish Wiredu was to start the shit pot that came from kidnapping Constance.  On paper, he had a good plan.  Lord Caligula and fils, along with Wolverine, reasoned Holland was the place Wiredu would stash Constance.  They sent their sparrows out in search of her through the Dutch countryside.  Wolverine even made trips to Brussels to extract intelligence on her Wiredu or Constance’s where about in Holland.  

Wiredu, though, had fooled them all.  Instead of Holland, he whisked Constance to one of those nudie resorts born of the German FKK (Free Body Culture) movement.  Everybody knows you don’t have to dig deep into a German heart before you discover the nudist within him.  Even in the old East German days, the East Germans had vast selections of nude beaches to visit.  It showed they still had a love of freedom, whatever the grim oppressive facts of East German life.  So there Constance lay in a bungalow.  

Most of the time Wiredu and his crew sauntered about the bungalow in slippers without anything else.  They slip into thongs when walking outside.  

Constance couldn’t help but notice they had younger, harder bodies than his Lordship.  Outside the door, they had van loaded with weapons.  

They were living in a fool’s paradise.  None of them had considered how Irascible Lawless would react.  They had only worried about Lord Caligula and company.  They though they had him outwitted. 

People must not forget that Irascible (1) fabulously wealthy, (2) a master hunter, (3)  possessor of the finest hunting nose in North America.  He reacted to the kidnapping of Constance as personal affront.  Nobody had consult or paid him for it.  Irascible is just the kind of guy who will not put up with not getting notice or a cut.

Whilst Lord Caligula and his crew loitered in Holland, Irascible was on the move.  He got a corporate buddy to fly him Luxembourg.  Once Irascible started spreading his money around, relying on his corporate pirates to help him, he soon had clues.  He must go to Germany.  

I don’t know when he picked up the scent, but he headed.  He headed to the beaches of the North.  He was undeterred by other scents.  He knew the smell of Constance.

Lucky and I were still resting at Claridge’s, though Lucky had bought some sort of incendiary mortar, when I switched on the telly.  Voila.  I got news of a murderous brouhaha in Germany’s north. On a gorgeous stretch of nudist beach, there had been a blood bath. 

Nobody knew all the details. It was gruesome.  A number of men had been found skinned and eviscerated.  They were spread upside down like butchered deer tied up for smoking.  And they were being smoked.  The bodies were labeled with dates and times, with the tags “Long Pig 2,” “Long Pig 3,” “Long Pig 4” etc. etc.  It appeared somebody had made a meal of a missing Long Pig 1, as the authorities discovered a plate of long big with baked beans and empty bottle of Cote du Rhone.  The killer had also defecated. Yuck! Their was evidence of Long Pig in the feces.  

Evidence showed that a van had departed a now deserted bungalow.  Witnesses described the occupants.  Several of them appeared to be dead Long Pigs.  At least 2 or three men had left with a barely dressed woman at speed.  

Breaking news came on.  A missing woman, Constance Lawless, had surfaced in Kiel after being tossed her from a van.  She survived the ejection but was now in hospital.  Kiel was an unsurprising destination, since rumour had it that the nudist resort was a little known one east of Falckensteiner Strand. 

Within a day, the tabloids were having a go at Constance.  The Sun published a story, based on a tape they somehow obtained, of Irascible visiting Constance.  The story featured a photograph of Constance bandaged and obtunded in her hospital bed.  The story showed Irascible Lawless had minimal sympathy for her.  To quote, “Really Connie?  You have a pack of Nigerians bushwack you in Luxembourg? What next?  Can you still deal with rattlesnakes?  Must I protect you from foxes when you go walking the fields?  It’s pathetic Connie.  Lord Caligula is making you soft.”  

The Sun claimed German authorities wanted to have a word with Irascible, but nobody knew where he lived or how to contact him.  The Americans were claiming Irascible was probably a Canadian. The Canadians said he was most likely an American.  Lord Caligula was quoted as saying, “News of Irascible’s existence is too easily credited.” 

But Lord Caligula and his crew had their own problem.  The Polar Bear Paedophiles were wily.  The Dutch police arrested, on an anonymous tip, Caligula, Peregrine, and Wolverine for possession of pornography depicting bestiality, a style of porn outlawed in Dutch law since 2008.  It was refreshing to learn, even at his Lordship’s expense, that the Dutch did have a limit, although it took them to 2008 to discover it.  

I was surprised that the Bears had not put that law to rest, but you never know when you need a charge on an enemy.  In their lairs, the the bears had as many smooth, thin, hairless Dutch boys with pageboy cuts as any pervert could want.  I did wonder what the rumours about the Paedophile bears insisting the boy where women’s jewelry and makeup were about.  You would’t imagine that anybody who eats raw seal would be that particular.  What a strange new world that has such people in it.

For once, his Lordship let his solicitor do all the talking for him. It didn’t take long to convince a magistrate that his Lordship was innocent.  To do that, he blamed the filth pictures on Peregrine and Wolverine.  He promised to arrange treatment for the two of them in England.  The claim was made easier because the beast porn was found in one of Peregrine’s suitcases, albeit with commentary rating the pictures and videos in what seemed to be his Lordship’s hand.

Lucky made the best of the opportunity.  The night after his Lordship’s arrest.  Lucky left me alone.  She went out.  In about 3 hours she returned to the Piano Suite.  She made a beeline for the bathroom where she showered.  I switched on BBC news.  Lo, a reporter stood outside Mission Galore’s reading HQ.  A vast blaze was gobbling up Mission Galore real estate. The reporter said witnesses claimed somebody had mortared the HQ with 3 incendiary rounds.  

When the Lucky came out of the bathroom drying her hair, I asked her about the Reading fire.  She told me that people who kill friends of her often discover that they are rather unlucky.

As Lucky put it, “You would have to believe in a world without karma to believe you could kill a friend of mine like Charles de Guerre without some bad luck as a consequence.”

With that off her thin chest, she then ordered a haddock omelet with mornay sauce.  She fed me bits of the haddock after I got tired of nibbling on her toes, as she drank Boerl Kroff 1996 champagne.  Toe kisses always made her laugh and generous.  The champagne never hurts, either.  And Claridge’s does make a fine mornay sauce.  The stuff is velvet smooth in the mouth.  Lucky is generous after a triumph.

Once she had ate her full, Lucky lay in bed, opened herself, switched on telly coverage of the fire in Reading, and pleasured herself.  She let an orgasm push her into sleep.  I was how it was.  Avenging de Guerre had let her get calmer, but not so calm she didn’t have a Walter under her pillow.