The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again Part 2

THE PAINTING

Lady Trammerton was waiting outside the gallery in an Aston Martin with her daughter, Persephone. Typical blonde Sloanes, the pair of them. Lady Trammerton was wearing a navy blue tweed suit and black Launer bag, like Mrs Thatcher. Persephone was in what looked like a patent blue leather trouser suit, with a large blue leather Versace bag, like a Tory Catwoman. It would be good to get her round the Crescent. I strode into the gallery wearing Dior briefs and a Rolex. Lady Trammerton raised an eyebrow, Persephone was less than impressed. Does she want the fucking Poussin or not, the stuck up cow.
‘Oh bollocks’ I said ‘Someone’s had it away!’
The Poussin was missing from the wall. Oh fuck. This was far from ideal. Lady Trammerton was very dismayed.
‘Er..Lady Trammerton, we’re ever so sorry. Would you be interested in this fine moose head instead? Shot in the Yukon during the gold rush I believe. It’s a beauty, look at its face’ I didn’t sound too convincing.
Lady Trammerton stood on one leg. ‘Hugo, as much as I am attracted to various species of deer ( not in a sexual way you understand ) today I came here to purchase a Nicolas Poussin, not a grazing ungulate with antlers that has long since seen the tundra.’
‘Oh well, nice gloves’ I said winking, alluding to her expensive Hermes leather gloves.
‘Yes, aren’t they’ she replied ‘I have no idea why you seem to be pointing down your pants. Do you have the Poussin hidden down there?’
Persephone was standing waiting impatiently, jingling the car keys. Sarah was looking around the gallery, in the hope of seeing the painting.
Fuck this I thought. Well, I could just have a wank. Obviously Lady Trammerton was so drunk last time, she doesn’t remember the time she played with my todger outside the Ritz. I could ply her with fine wine.
‘Well, love to stay and chat all day, we really must be getting orf’ said Lady Trammerton.
‘That’s a shame’ I said ‘my mate’s having a barby at Pelham Crescent in the gardens later, I was going to invite you both. Free champers and all that’
‘Good day, Mr Posset’ snapped Persephone, in her shiny blue catsuit.
‘Pelham Crescent Gardens, 9 o’clock’ I said
‘Bye bye Lady Trammerton’ purred Sarah, sighing. With her Jimmy Choos on. I crawled across the cold marble floor and started to kiss her shoes. Several customers were perusing artifacts. Fuck them, let them watch. Let that moose watch too. Persephone glanced out of the window as she started up the Aston Martin. Hugo Posset you kinky devil, she thought.
Sarah’s Jimmy Choos were the centre of my attention once again, as we had a few hours to kill until the party. Oh that naughty moose was watching!
‘Bet you’re glad to be in this gallery’ I said to it.
‘Indeed I am’ said the moose ‘I enjoy being the voyeur, Mr Posset’
‘Oh this is sublime’ giggled Sarah.
‘Yeah, I prefer this place to my old stomping ground just north of White Horse in the Yukon’ it went on ‘there was no central heating, famous paintings, and fetishistic proprietors of galleries in the Yukon.’
‘Did you see who took the painting’ asked Sarah.
‘Yeah, it was Tony the Leg’ said the moose ‘You won’t know him, but I can describe his features if you get a sketchbook’
‘Uhhhhhhhhh, yeahhhhh’. I moaned and it was a class orgasm. A woman came over and enquired about a nice Bernard Gribble in the window. A brilliant painter of ships was Gribble.