Wicked Plum Moments
Hullo, chums!
I've compiled a handful of R-rated drabbles called "Plum Moments". In each snippet, Bertie says or does something, leaving Jeeves to figure it out for himself. It's up to you to decide (a) whether Bertie is indeed flirting, and (b) whether Jeeves truly is clueless. Enjoy!
Plum Moment 1
"...and so I tell Bingo, 'Leave it to Jeeves. That man's an unflappable bird if ever I saw one.'"
Mr. Wooster and I were in the kitchen, where he had so far been enlightening me on the plight of his friend Mr. Little, and consequently entreating my involvement.
"I shall endeavour to formulate a suitable scheme accomodating the young lady, sir."
Having said so, I bent over to retrieve the cubed chicken breasts from the refrigerator.
"Golly, I see you can accomodate me...", came Mr. Wooster's husky murmur from directly behind me.
"I beg your pardon, sir?" I enquired, straightening and turning to face him.
"Eh? Accomodate me... In that plum thingummy of yours..."
"Accomodate you in my scheme for Mr. Little's lady love, sir?"
"That's what I said!'
His pitch was noticably a little higher than usual.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's fraternal and often paternal affection for his friends.
*****************************************************
Plum Moment 2
"Sorry I'm late. The Bassett simply wouldn't shut up, and I -"
Though my back was turned, I sensed Mr. Wooster slowing in his tracks as he entered the dining room.
"What're you doing here, Jeeves?"
"Polishing the unused silver, sir."
I could hear the disappointment in his lagging gait as he slowly approached the table from behind me.
"They ate without me, did they?"
"I am afraid so, sir."
There followed a short pause during which he appeared to be observing my ministrations from over my shoulder.
"What's that you're doing?"
"Cleaning the forks between the prongs, sir."
"Hmm... And what's that?"
"Sir?"
"That there on the table!"
His finger over my shoulder pointed directly at the remnants of dessert.
"Plum and cinnamon gateaux, sir. I believe Monsieur Anatole-"
Hardly had I spoken when Mr. Wooster lunged towards the dessert with immense gusto, consequently trapping me between himself and the table. He eagerly leaned forward, his chest covering my back and his pelvis digging into my bottom, as he snatched up a freshly polished spoon.
"Sir, I could step around and fetch the platter-"
"You stay right here with your prongs."
I nearly toppled over onto the table, gasping audibly at the friction between his his hips and my bottom. He reached over my pinned form, right across the table, and helped himself to a liberal amount of what was left.
"There Jeeves, missing supper wasn't so bad after all."
Mr. Wooster spoke with the spoon still protruding from between his lips, which curved into a smile as he stepped away from me.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's appreciation for Monsieur Anatole's culinary accomplishments.
****************************************************
Plum Moment 3
"Wooster Butterfingers, that's who I am!"
"I shall take care of it, sir, you need not-"
"You needn't always be such a sport. Especially when your master goes and splatters plum sauce all over your spotless apron."
"Indeed sir, it was merely a lack of spatial coordination on your part."
"What was so special about it?"
"Spatial, sir. The mammalian brain-"
"Don't think I have one. Aunt Dahlia will be along soon so you'd better get that off."
However, I had indeed been endeavouring to divest myself of the soiled garment from the moment the accident had occurred.
"What's wrong now?"
"The apron strings have been knotted-"
"S'pose Butterfingers could make amends now."
Dismissing my protests in the name of feudal propriety, Mr. Wooster promptly moved in close behind me and began fiddling furiously with the knots. I felt his shallow breath on the nape of my neck and his fingers on the small of my back.
"Sir, there is insufficient-"
"Shush. I like tricky knots."
Eventually the strings loosened against the fabric as his fingers slipped through, though I could not defend the loss of time incurred as a result.
"There we go... And there's the doorbell."
I heard Mr. Wooster's breath hitch, as distinctly as I felt his fingers skim over the curve of my behind. He plucked the apron off me as suddenly as he had volunteered to help remove it, mumbled an apology for having spilt the sauce, and hastened to receive his aunt.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's guilt at having caused my inconvenience.
***************************************************
Plum Moment 4
"Charming, eh? Went and picked them up this morning. What d'you think of the colour, Jeeves?"
"Plum, sir. The shade of gravity and regal splendour. However, incongruous with your disposition, I fear."
"For Pete's sake, Jeeves, I won't even ask what that means. It's not for me, after all."
"Sir?"
"Happy birthday, Jeeves."
Mildly confounded at Mr. Wooster's unpredictable impulses, I imbibed every detail of the tailored trousers he held up for my perusal.
"I personally found it eccentric but I supposed you'd obviously have your own interpretation of the colour. One that suits your 'disposition'."
"I am overwhelmed by your magnanimity, sir, but may I ask how-"
The wave of incriminating embarrassment that captured his face betrayed that he had expected such curiosity on my part. I broke off, patiently awaiting an explanation.
"Measurements? Of course. Measurements, ho. About the legs. I safely assumed ours were of the same length. And...the rest... You're, erm, a rational bird... There really was no other way by which... I mean, what's the point of a surprise when... Dash it. I smuggled a pair of your undershorts as a sample. Anything else, that is, any other lower garment would've got you hunting high and low for where it had vanished all of a sudden."
This revelation understandably left me more confounded than before, but I was careful to mask my bewilderment. Quite effectively, if I may add.
"See? You're already grateful for Bertram's resourcefullness. It's only rational. Now because of me the trousers will have to fit you like a glove. Remarkably snug around around the buttocks, I was told. Yet to see it for myself... Wear them today. For me. Will you?"
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's determination to avoid our caustic conflicts regarding his attire.
**********************************************************
Plum Moment 5
"I like 'em ripe!
And I want 'em round,
Oh, wouldn't they glisten in bran-dy?"
Mr. Wooster had of late developed an inclination towards what he termed "The 'Figure It Out' Numbers".
"Plump and pert,
Each blushing mound...
The sight of 'em gets me all ran-dy!"
The lyrics of each 'song' (as I am disposed to call them) went into describing the generic features of a particular object. At the end of each performance, he would invariably expect me to identify the subject of his song.
"I'll grab 'em in bed,
Or take a shot in the kitchen...
A man goes places if he dares!"
I myself had no knowledge of the origin of these little compositions. So far, I suspected my master's involvement to a large extent.
"Poke 'em, squeeze 'em,
Bite 'em, tease 'em,
Can't deny they're best in pairs!"
Mr. Wooster eagerly craned his neck from in front of the piano to catch a glimpse of me in the adjoining room.
"Lord Jeeves, I can't wait to get my hands on a pair! And the sooner you guesss what I'm talking about, or rather what I was singing about, the sooner you could, well, give them to me..."
His cheeks coloured as he slowly licked his lips. Possibly in anticipation of being rewarded with what he had sung of.
"From what I gather, sir, the song refers to spherical fruits. Plums, perhaps? This is merely an assumption, considering most fundamental aspects of the fruit were excluded from the lyrics..."
I was on the verge of adding that I could not entirely account for brandy, sexual arousal ('randy', in his words), or grabbing snacks in bed, when I noticed his crestfallen demeanour. Presumably at the accuracy of my guess.
"Right, Jeeves... Fruity, to say the least. I'll, erm, have to go hunt for another then... Another song, that is. Not another, you know, chappie. To sing to."
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's desire to instill in me a love for his preferred genre of music.
*********************************************
I've compiled a handful of R-rated drabbles called "Plum Moments". In each snippet, Bertie says or does something, leaving Jeeves to figure it out for himself. It's up to you to decide (a) whether Bertie is indeed flirting, and (b) whether Jeeves truly is clueless. Enjoy!
Plum Moment 1
"...and so I tell Bingo, 'Leave it to Jeeves. That man's an unflappable bird if ever I saw one.'"
Mr. Wooster and I were in the kitchen, where he had so far been enlightening me on the plight of his friend Mr. Little, and consequently entreating my involvement.
"I shall endeavour to formulate a suitable scheme accomodating the young lady, sir."
Having said so, I bent over to retrieve the cubed chicken breasts from the refrigerator.
"Golly, I see you can accomodate me...", came Mr. Wooster's husky murmur from directly behind me.
"I beg your pardon, sir?" I enquired, straightening and turning to face him.
"Eh? Accomodate me... In that plum thingummy of yours..."
"Accomodate you in my scheme for Mr. Little's lady love, sir?"
"That's what I said!'
His pitch was noticably a little higher than usual.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's fraternal and often paternal affection for his friends.
*****************************************************
Plum Moment 2
"Sorry I'm late. The Bassett simply wouldn't shut up, and I -"
Though my back was turned, I sensed Mr. Wooster slowing in his tracks as he entered the dining room.
"What're you doing here, Jeeves?"
"Polishing the unused silver, sir."
I could hear the disappointment in his lagging gait as he slowly approached the table from behind me.
"They ate without me, did they?"
"I am afraid so, sir."
There followed a short pause during which he appeared to be observing my ministrations from over my shoulder.
"What's that you're doing?"
"Cleaning the forks between the prongs, sir."
"Hmm... And what's that?"
"Sir?"
"That there on the table!"
His finger over my shoulder pointed directly at the remnants of dessert.
"Plum and cinnamon gateaux, sir. I believe Monsieur Anatole-"
Hardly had I spoken when Mr. Wooster lunged towards the dessert with immense gusto, consequently trapping me between himself and the table. He eagerly leaned forward, his chest covering my back and his pelvis digging into my bottom, as he snatched up a freshly polished spoon.
"Sir, I could step around and fetch the platter-"
"You stay right here with your prongs."
I nearly toppled over onto the table, gasping audibly at the friction between his his hips and my bottom. He reached over my pinned form, right across the table, and helped himself to a liberal amount of what was left.
"There Jeeves, missing supper wasn't so bad after all."
Mr. Wooster spoke with the spoon still protruding from between his lips, which curved into a smile as he stepped away from me.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's appreciation for Monsieur Anatole's culinary accomplishments.
****************************************************
Plum Moment 3
"Wooster Butterfingers, that's who I am!"
"I shall take care of it, sir, you need not-"
"You needn't always be such a sport. Especially when your master goes and splatters plum sauce all over your spotless apron."
"Indeed sir, it was merely a lack of spatial coordination on your part."
"What was so special about it?"
"Spatial, sir. The mammalian brain-"
"Don't think I have one. Aunt Dahlia will be along soon so you'd better get that off."
However, I had indeed been endeavouring to divest myself of the soiled garment from the moment the accident had occurred.
"What's wrong now?"
"The apron strings have been knotted-"
"S'pose Butterfingers could make amends now."
Dismissing my protests in the name of feudal propriety, Mr. Wooster promptly moved in close behind me and began fiddling furiously with the knots. I felt his shallow breath on the nape of my neck and his fingers on the small of my back.
"Sir, there is insufficient-"
"Shush. I like tricky knots."
Eventually the strings loosened against the fabric as his fingers slipped through, though I could not defend the loss of time incurred as a result.
"There we go... And there's the doorbell."
I heard Mr. Wooster's breath hitch, as distinctly as I felt his fingers skim over the curve of my behind. He plucked the apron off me as suddenly as he had volunteered to help remove it, mumbled an apology for having spilt the sauce, and hastened to receive his aunt.
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's guilt at having caused my inconvenience.
***************************************************
Plum Moment 4
"Charming, eh? Went and picked them up this morning. What d'you think of the colour, Jeeves?"
"Plum, sir. The shade of gravity and regal splendour. However, incongruous with your disposition, I fear."
"For Pete's sake, Jeeves, I won't even ask what that means. It's not for me, after all."
"Sir?"
"Happy birthday, Jeeves."
Mildly confounded at Mr. Wooster's unpredictable impulses, I imbibed every detail of the tailored trousers he held up for my perusal.
"I personally found it eccentric but I supposed you'd obviously have your own interpretation of the colour. One that suits your 'disposition'."
"I am overwhelmed by your magnanimity, sir, but may I ask how-"
The wave of incriminating embarrassment that captured his face betrayed that he had expected such curiosity on my part. I broke off, patiently awaiting an explanation.
"Measurements? Of course. Measurements, ho. About the legs. I safely assumed ours were of the same length. And...the rest... You're, erm, a rational bird... There really was no other way by which... I mean, what's the point of a surprise when... Dash it. I smuggled a pair of your undershorts as a sample. Anything else, that is, any other lower garment would've got you hunting high and low for where it had vanished all of a sudden."
This revelation understandably left me more confounded than before, but I was careful to mask my bewilderment. Quite effectively, if I may add.
"See? You're already grateful for Bertram's resourcefullness. It's only rational. Now because of me the trousers will have to fit you like a glove. Remarkably snug around around the buttocks, I was told. Yet to see it for myself... Wear them today. For me. Will you?"
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's determination to avoid our caustic conflicts regarding his attire.
**********************************************************
Plum Moment 5
"I like 'em ripe!
And I want 'em round,
Oh, wouldn't they glisten in bran-dy?"
Mr. Wooster had of late developed an inclination towards what he termed "The 'Figure It Out' Numbers".
"Plump and pert,
Each blushing mound...
The sight of 'em gets me all ran-dy!"
The lyrics of each 'song' (as I am disposed to call them) went into describing the generic features of a particular object. At the end of each performance, he would invariably expect me to identify the subject of his song.
"I'll grab 'em in bed,
Or take a shot in the kitchen...
A man goes places if he dares!"
I myself had no knowledge of the origin of these little compositions. So far, I suspected my master's involvement to a large extent.
"Poke 'em, squeeze 'em,
Bite 'em, tease 'em,
Can't deny they're best in pairs!"
Mr. Wooster eagerly craned his neck from in front of the piano to catch a glimpse of me in the adjoining room.
"Lord Jeeves, I can't wait to get my hands on a pair! And the sooner you guesss what I'm talking about, or rather what I was singing about, the sooner you could, well, give them to me..."
His cheeks coloured as he slowly licked his lips. Possibly in anticipation of being rewarded with what he had sung of.
"From what I gather, sir, the song refers to spherical fruits. Plums, perhaps? This is merely an assumption, considering most fundamental aspects of the fruit were excluded from the lyrics..."
I was on the verge of adding that I could not entirely account for brandy, sexual arousal ('randy', in his words), or grabbing snacks in bed, when I noticed his crestfallen demeanour. Presumably at the accuracy of my guess.
"Right, Jeeves... Fruity, to say the least. I'll, erm, have to go hunt for another then... Another song, that is. Not another, you know, chappie. To sing to."
I unhesitatingly attributed it to my master's desire to instill in me a love for his preferred genre of music.
*********************************************