The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again Part 4

THE SERPENTINE

Sarah drove me to the Serpentine Gallery the next day to see the launch of the Manolo exhibition. Society beauties and celebs were strutting about the park in ridiculously high Manolo shoes. It was a glorious sight.
‘There’s only one real shoe and it’s a Manolo’ chirped Lady Clambury-Cleet
‘Absolutely’ said Sarah, playing with the zip on her Manolo black leather knee high boot. She placed her Tanner Krolle snaffle bag on the sun baked terrace. She crossed her legs and sipped a Martini. The life of Riley. I gave her legs a good rub telling her she had the best legs in town. She did. She rubbed my cock in return saying I had the best Mr Python in town. She spoke with forked tongue. I licked her boots in front of Lady Clambury-Clam.
‘Alright Posset’ said Max Ponds who appeared from nowhere. Oh no, I‘d forgotten about our competition. Oh fuck it. Fuck it. ‘You ready for the big one?’
‘I’m ready for the big one?’ winked Sarah, rubbing her boot on my crotch.
‘Yeah, one minute Sarah, I’ve got some business to attend to. OK Maxy boy, let’s get this over and done with’ I stood up and put my Mojito on the table. I sparked up a Davidoff.
‘This time I’m gonna stuff ya’ said Max, in his white Versace double breasted suit and Church’s brogues.
‘Fuck me Max; you’ve come dressed for the occasion’
‘Yep, I see you’ve come as usual. Completely undressed.’
‘Hot summers, pants are all that’s required mate’
‘Yeah’ laughed Max ‘Well come on, we’ve got a Serpentine to conquer’
‘Fucking easy’ I said as we strode to the widest point in the lake, watching the gentle ripples and boats.
‘I could jump that lake in my Manolos’ said a drunken celeb, she’d dragged along in our wake, and it looked like Eve Goddard. Posh tart. With that she ran into the lake laughing and stripped off. Mad posh tart.
‘You gonna do a bit better than that?’ I asked Max
‘Cheeky fucker’ smiled Max, as he prepared the ground for the run, inspecting for any hazardous divots.
‘Christ Max, you’re being very careful these days’
‘This is serious shit, Posset. I don’t just jump ponds nowadays. I jumped the lake in St James’s Park last week. I almost lost my footing on a divot. You have to be thorough!’
‘OK, toss a coin who goes first’ I said.
Several celebs had gathered and were whispering as to what was occurring. Manolo shoes gathering. Always good. I called heads and got tails. I got to go first. I sauntered over to the spot where Max had inspected the ground. Didn’t want to take any chances now he’d mentioned it. The wind was down, westerly direction. Ground was good.
‘Good luck, old boy’ cheered Barwick Ford. Fuck me, he didn’t miss a trick did old Barwick.
I took a deep breath. I estimated the trajectory. There were some ducks the other side of the lake, right in the landing area, milling about.
‘Someone shoo those fuckers’ I shouted across. A young lad with a stick scared them off. Then there was a deathly silence as everyone’s attention was on me. Here we go. I got off to a good run and I judged the moment of take off very well indeed. I adopted the flying fox position and I flew across the lake and landed the other side. I rolled judo fashion and got up to the sound of cheering. Pressure was on Max now. He was psyching himself up, doing star jumps. You could cut the atmosphere with a Manolo heel.
‘Go on Max’ said a Doberman, sitting on the lakeside, nose sniffing.
Max took a run up, then stopped and started again. That’s in the rule book, if you bail out on the first run, it’s fine, just don’t bail out at the last minute like Boots did once down the park. He ended up in the drink. Max went into a good run, curls blowing in the slipstream. Surprisingly he opted for the tomcat position and hit the other side of the lake with ease. Damn it.
‘Oh bother’ said Barwick, spitting out a cherry stone.
‘Nice jump’ said a Doberman.
‘OK’ I said ‘Now we do it, carrying two ducks’
‘You’re on’ said Max, grabbing two mallards, quacking and squawking they were. They soon settled down when he fed them some old crusts. He held one firmly under each arm. He was confident and decided to go first. He misjudged the trajectory and let the mallards go in mid flight. He landed in the water. Oh he was angry, splashing his way across the lake.
‘Nice one Max’ I shouted, ‘the ducks got him’
Oh well it was my turn so I selected two fine specimens, nothing too rowdy, they settled down quickly under my arms as I took a run up. Fuck me I soon realized how difficult it is to get in position with two mallards under each arm. Nonetheless, I succeeded where Max didn’t. The cheering was ebullient. Barwick was rubbing Lady Clambury-Clam’s tits in celebration! Good old Barwick. Max skulked off into the bar to get drunk.
‘Next time I’ll have you Posset’ he groaned, soaked in his suit.
‘Yeah, bring it on’ I clapped.
The gallery bash was in full swing, lots of leather I noticed. Leather really was in fashion, it was a no holds barred display of expensive designer skin. I was getting trouty. Sarah was looking hot in her skintight number, as she sashayed over to me and gave me a big snog.
‘Well done Hugo, brilliant technique’ she cooed.
‘Cheers posh bitch’ I said.
‘Now can we resume, my boots are in need of your rabid attention’ she reminded, fluttering her long lashes, looking so fucking beautiful it gave me butterflies.
‘He’ll have you next time’ said a passing Doberman. Strange beast.
‘Oh there’s been some news’ said Sarah ‘Tony the Leg was spotted in Worlds End earlier today. Police are following it up. I want that Poussin back’
‘I couldn’t really give stuff about it’ I said.
‘Really Hugo, you have metamorphosed into a completely new person. You loved that old painting’ Sarah frowned.
‘I prefer your boots anytime’ I said flicking a zip pull.
‘Nevertheless, I do like a good Poussin’
‘And I like a good pussy’
‘Naughty naughty Hugo Posset’ Sarah purred, rubbing my crotch hard, gently sipping a martini with her other hand, her Patek Phillippe shining in the sun.
‘Say that again in your poshest voice you bitch’ I urged.
‘Naughty naughty Hugo Posset. Naughty naughty Hugo Posset’. I shot my load. There was another stain in my pants. Fuck them; let them see my dirty pants. They are all stuck up, upper class wankers; let them see my come stains. Ha ha. I wandered into the bar, amongst various aristocrats, their braying voices permeating the place. It was glorious. My knob was hard in my pants.
‘Oh, it’s the man who only wears his pants’ giggled Camilla Start-Dart
‘Super, soooo super’ added Jilly Coppers
‘Admirable, very admirable’ smiled Izzy Buckworth-Chard, in the highest platform Manolos with black leather straps. I ogled them like the dirty bastard I was. I saw small splashes of drink on the delicate leather. Lovely toes.
‘I am enamoured with your shoes’ I said to Izzy ‘I must kiss them’
Izzy put a foot forward. ‘Really Hugo, when Sarah told me you had changed I didn’t go along with it. Now I’m inclined to believe it. I must say I prefer you to the old stuffy bastard you once were. Now get down and kiss my shoe you modernist’
I noticed Jilly Coppers was taking notes in a Smythson notepad with a lovely Mont Blanc pen. Giles Broughton turned his nose up, quite disgusted, but saying nothing. Fuck him.
I savoured the smooth leather straps around a beautiful aristocratic foot, perfect painted toe nails in red. I kissed good.
‘This is better than Champneys’ purred Izzy sipping a Manhattan.
‘Lovely posh foot’ I panted, laying on the floor of the bar, stroking myself in ecstasy.
‘Oh really’ sighed Giles the cock.
‘Lovely posh high heels’ I moaned, coming to an amazing climax, looking up plenty of skirts, seeing plenty of women had come along commando, but gripping Izzy’s heel as I hung on as a long orgasm subsided. Fuck that was good.
It ended abruptly as Giles decided to kick me in the face with his Italian shoes on. He nearly broke my nose; there was blood all over Izzy’s foot.
‘Fucking shoe boy’ snarled Giles
‘Right you bastard’ I said, as I unbuckled Izzy’s Manolo shoe and held it like a knife. ‘Come on you fucker’
Giles tried to shove his broken beer glass in my face but missed as Max swung a good punch into him. Nice one Max. People were clearing the bar. I lunged at Giles with the shoe, as he regained balance. He was a tough bloke. He cut my chest with the broken glass. That really hurt. I gritted my teeth and rammed Izzy’s shoe into his face, stabbing hard, relentlessly. Giles soon fell to the floor. Max kicked him in the ribs a few times. Giles groaned and surrendered. No more snide comments from Giles.
‘Nothing like a good old bar brawl’ clapped Camilla Start-Dart who never left the bar.
I spent the rest of the evening getting pissed with Max, talking about various lakes and bodies of water he’d leapt. Fuck, one day he’ll be doing the English Channel.