The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 06byPAUL C©
The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 06: Funeral Rights
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Number 6 in the Paul & Jenny Series
The January sky was grey, heavy with the snow that had been promised all week.
I stood at the open grave of my Grandmother as they began to throw the earth on top of her coffin. It made a hollow sound as it hit the polished wood.
I put my arm around Jenny's shoulders. They were shaking with her grief.
Grandfather stood at the head of the grave. My mother and father behind him. All the other mourners were leaving. Passing around the end of the twelfth century, perpendicular style, church, to the cars parked outside the front gates.
The grave was slowly filling as the sexton and his son threw in more and more soil.
"Make a good job of it, Harry." My Grandfather said and turned away. Looking fist at my Father and Mother, then to Jenny and I, he continued.
"Come on. There's nothing more for us here. We have guests."
He strode away leaving us to follow.
Hudson stood at the open rear doors of his large, old fashioned, Rover.
The Rector stood at the bonnet.
"Come and see me Roland." He held out his hand.
My Grandfather shook it.
"I don't think so Padre." He shook his head. "I've seen to many die to have any illusions."
He climbed into the back of the car. Mother and Father joined him.
"You coming with us Paul?" My Father asked.
"We'll walk." I replied. "If you don't mind."
"You'll come Padre?" My Father inclined his head to where my Grandfather sat.
"I'm afraid I cannot until later." He said. "I have a christening."
"Let's go." My Father climbed into the back of the car.
Hudson drove off.
The Rector made as if to speak to me but I walked past with a muttered goodbye.
We passed the pub. Crossed the road bridge, which spanned the stream. Opening the gate we followed the Bridal path that ran along its side.
We didn't talk. Jenny was crying softly and I didn't want to speak.
The lights were on in the cottage as we passed the footbridge over the stream.
The bridge my Grandparents had had built before I was born.
We walked on. Jenny, in her grief, oblivious to where we went, I not able to face the crowd that awaited us.
We reached the clearing where the old oak stood. It had started to snow. Slowly. Big flakes.
Taking my scarf from around my neck I wrapped it around Jenny's. Pushing the ends inside the top of her coat, over her breasts. I held her close. My face felt cold. Jenny looked up and taking a handkerchief from her coat pocket, wiped at my tears.
She rested her cheek against my chest.
"What do you think will happen next?" She held me tight.
"We've told the police all we can, I think." We had both been interviewed on two occasions since our return at the weekend. I couldn't think of anybody who hated me that much. We hadn't mentioned Mambo Lang, anyway we'd heard on the world news that in a mass suicide, a Haitian Witchdoctor had died with number of his followers after murdering a British national.
Michael had looked at me when we had heard this on the television in the London flat before driving to Somerset.
"I said only a few drops."
Father had greeted Michael de Lang and Roddrego as long lost relatives after he had recovered from the shock of seeing them at the airport. I'd just not had a chance to telegraph. Either from Miami or Lisbon.
"Sorry." I'd said. What else could I say? I was responsible for the deaths of perhaps half a dozen people but I felt nothing.
My father had put his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry he deserved to die, a lot of people will sleep easier knowing he is not around."
We stood holding each other in the hollow of the old oak's trunk. Partly sheltered from the elements. The snow was settling.
"Come on." I said, taking her by the hand. "Let's go back."
We walked back down the hill, over the bridge and entered the house through the back door. Millie leapt up to greet me, trying to lick my face.
Dumping our coats on the backs of the chairs around the kitchen table we went through to the hall. It was full of people in black. The front door was open and people were standing under the porch. We started to force our way through when I heard my mother's voice.
"Ah, Paul. At last. Stay in the kitchen and make some fresh tea. There are some bottles of beer down the cellar steps, bring some up. Jenny? Will you mind taking the covers off the trays on the tables and start passing them out? I've so many people to see." She was gone.
We walked back into the kitchen. I opened the door leading to the cellar. At least half a dozen of the steps had a beer crate on it. I lifted the first one into the kitchen.
"So that is where it's hiding?"
It was Steve. Behind him I saw Len.
There was a serving hatch through to the dinning end of the main room. Len opened it and passed the crate through. Nameless hands received it. The same for plates of sandwiches and snacks. The kettle was boiling. Jenny made a pot of tea and passed it through the hatch. Without waiting to be asked she refilled the kettle and placed it on the Aga to boil.
Steve brought up a second crate of beer from the cellar and the four of us sat around the kitchen table. Len took a penknife from his pocket; it had a bottle opener at one end, and took the tops off four bottles.
"Can I have wine?" Jenny said.
"I'll get some." I said.
I switched the light switch on before I made my way past the crates on the cellar steps to the underground corridor that ran the width of the house. At the far end a door opened onto an iron staircase leading up to ground level at the side of the house. At the other end was an old, old door. Bolted top and bottom which opened into a tunnel which lead to the walled garden. Six doors opened off the corridor. A hundred years before they would have been store rooms and servants quarters. Some were still used to store old furniture and documents; one had been lined with bins and was the wine cellar. A small oblong table stood in the middle of the room with three folding wooden chairs.
I switched on the low voltage light in the room and went to the white wine bins.
I selected two bottles of sweet French and was about to leave when I heard footsteps outside and Dorothy poked her head around the door.
"They said you were in here."
"Just getting some wine for Jenny."
"And me, I hope."
"Sure." I'd spent to long in Howie's company. "I mean of course. What would you like?"
"I wanted to get you alone." She said, ignoring my question.
She stood close to me and put her hands over my ears. I held a bottle in each hand.
"I don't know how to thank you for not letting Dave know what I did on the cruise."
She ran her fingers down my cheek and kissed me gently on the lips. Putting her arms around my back she hugged me close. I could feel her breasts squashed against my chest her nipples hard. Her pubic mound pushed against my groin. My prick twitched.
She must of felt it as she stood back, looked me in the eye then down at my groin. Her hand went to the zip of my trousers and pulled it down. She reached inside the hole in my underpants and pulled out my hardening prick. Sitting on a chair she pulled it into her mouth. I didn't know what to do. It was all so sudden. My hips began to move involuntarily and I started thrusting in and out of her mouth. I could feel myself growing.
"Paul." I could hear footsteps outside. "Where's that wine?" Jenny's voice.
Dorothy pulled her head away from my prick and, with difficulty, stuffed my prick back inside my trousers. I turned away from the door as Jenny entered zipping myself, together with some pubic hair, up. It hurt.
"Oh, hallo Dorothy. I didn't see you come down here." Jenny seemed to have brightened up a little.
"I thought I'd see if you had any red wine down her." Dorothy stood up and picked up a bottle. "This looks like a nice one."
"You had better ask Paul." Jenny looked at the bottles I was carrying. "I don't like red wine. Come on, everybody's waiting."
I followed them out into the corridor and up the stairs, switching off the lights as I did. She may have been in her forties but Dorothy had a nice ass. Fuller than Jenny's, which was small and pert, almost boyish. I watched them both as they climbed the stairs. Jenny's dress came to mid thigh whilst Dorothy's was knee length. Both wore neutral coloured tights or stockings. It didn't know what I found most attractive. The figure hugging tightness of Jenny's dress or Dorothy's looser, freer flowing garment.
Back in the kitchen all the eight chairs around the table were taken. We had been joined by Dave, Dorothy and Carole who were staying at my parents and my Mother's younger brother, Colin and his wife Joyce. I never had liked him. Thirty-five years of age and fancied himself as a lady's man. Even tried it with Jenny once, she told me, she told him where to go. Joyce was nice I could fancy her. She and Jenny didn't like each other.
Jenny gave me her seat and sat on my lap. She gave me a funny look when her ass cheek came into contact with my semi-hard prick. She put her arm around my neck.
I had a glass of beer, Jenny some wine as we were grilled about our cruise. We gave them the cleaned up abbreviated version. More beer, more wine. The atmosphere began to fill with tobacco smoke. Even Len seemed to be smoking these days. With only one fully working lung Dave didn't smoke at all but all the rest had or did smoke.
I'd never really enjoyed it but still had the odd one. Jenny would only smoke when I did. Steve and Dorothy were in the fifteen to twenty a day group as was Carole. Today, it seemed, we were all smoking.
Three or four open packets lay on the table with a couple of cigarette lighters and some boxes of matches. People just helped themselves to whatever packet was nearest.
More beer, more wine. I was sent to get some more bottle of wine. Dorothy offered to help but Jenny said she'd come with me.
I put my arms around Jenny's waist in the wine cellar but she shrugged me off.
"Not now, please." I think I'd upset her so I didn't push it.
She must have seen my disappointment so she kissed me.
"Perhaps I should have let Dorothy help you."
She kissed me again and we carried a bottle each back up the stairs.
Two more crates of beer had been brought up from the cellar steps when we returned. My father was sitting in my chair drinking beer from a glass. Putting the wine on the table I stood with my back against the cellar door. Jenny leaned back against me. I put my arms around her waist and nussled her hair. Steve past me a glass of beer and Jenny some wine.
I could feel my prick growing against her ass cheeks. She pulled away slightly then pushed herself back against me.
She looked back up at me. I kissed her.
"This is not the time and place for that." She wriggled her ass against my hard on. "Make it go down. I can't walk away with you like that. Everyone will think I caused it."
"You did." I said, with feeling.
My Father stood up.
"Was this your chair? Sorry I must mingle."
I walked very close behind Jenny to the chair. I sat down, she sat on my lap. She almost broke my prick in half when she sat on it. It didn't stay hard for long.
"Alright dear." She looked at me.
All I could do was mumble.
More beer, more wine. The numbers were thinning out. My mother was acting as taxi driver, ferrying people into town. Then it was only our group remained. Roddrego and Michael had brought my Grandfather out into the kitchen, more chairs had been brought from the dinning room. Also the Whisky and Brandy had appeared.
I wasn't keen on spirits so I stuck to my beer. I was feeling full. I had to slip to the toilet twice to make room. I tried to persuade Jenny to come with me but she wouldn't. She went once by herself and made me guard our chair. Whilst she was gone Dorothy slipped into the chair next to us and put her hand on my knee under the table.
"Sorry I didn't finish it downstairs." She whispered her hand travelling up my thigh. "Maybe another time."
"Please don't." I mumbled.
"Alright. I'll be good this time but I still owe you one and my day will come."
A final squeeze of the inside of my thigh and she was gone. I took a deep breath.
Carole took her place, her hand on my thigh.
"I can't thank you enough for all you did for me and Howie." The hand started moving.
"I don't need thanking, thank you." I caught her wrist in my hand.
Jenny came back and sat on my knees. Carole moved her hand.
"Paul's Mother's back she wants to know if you're ready to leave yet." Jenny said. "I think She's getting tired."
"Of course." Dorothy said from the other side of the table. She rose unsteadily to her feet. "Come on Dave."
Dave looked up bleary eyed. My Father stood up.
"I think it is time to go. " He said, helping Joyce to stand.
Suddenly only Grandfather, Roddrego, Jenny and I remained.
Jenny put the kettle on and Grandfather went down into the cellar and returned with a bottle of Cognac from his special reserve and a box of fat cigars.
Jenny made a pot of coffee and placed it on the table with some cups; a bowl of sugar and a jug of cream. I helped her to clear away the other debris. Empty bottles back into their crates, wine bottles into the waist bin. The ashtrays were emptied. We all sat down, except Roddrego who hadn't moved, as befits the son of a former South American Republic President.
My Father poured us all a glass of Cognac without asking and as we all sat there warming the fragrant liquid in the brandy bowls cupped in our hands Roddrego began to tell us of his first meeting with my Grandfather and Grandmother. Their search for a Ruby mine. How it was still producing and was the main source of both his and my Grandfather's income. The trouble they had had with it shortly after I was born. He wanted us to visit it as my Grandfather had said that one day his share would belong to me. Jenny got quite excited. She became more excited when she heard that I had been taking lesson in flying light planes and that my Father owed a Piper aircraft. I wasn't in love with flying as my Grandfather and Father were and hadn't been up since before my trip to Northern Ireland in the summer. I promised Jenny I'd start again in the spring.
More about Yvonne and Roddrego. They had been part of the group my father had flown out during the revolution. They had gone to live in France with Roddrego's parents. Despite fathering a child by Yvonne Roddrego had been forced to marry another women for diplomatic reasons. He had tried to keep her close as his mistress but that was frowned upon and so Yvonne ended up in England. A small allowance from Roddrego's family had enabled her to set up her in small shop in the thirties until the outbreak of the second world war. They had left London and Roddrego had left France to head back to the Caribbean where, with mine and Steve's Father's and Michael, he had thwarted Mambo Lang in some plot or other. Yovone, he hadn't heard from since. He imagined she must have changed her name.
This Cognac was very smooth. I suppose that if you have the best you can enjoy anything.
I told him that I had met her Grandchildren.
Which must have meant that they were Roddrego's also. I hadn't thought. Jenny punched me on the leg under the table. He cried when I told him of my meeting with them. He hadn't known of their existence. He wanted to know all about them. I could only tell him of their looks that one went to the same University as Jenny and that the other was due to join her their in a years time.
I decided not to tell him about the large candle and the fact that I'd fucked them both. Another story of the Spanish Civil war. About my father when he was younger than I was.
And the night wore on. The Cognac was so smooth, the coffee was continually freshened.
We moved into the sitting room. Jenny and I sat on the sofa. I put my arm around her. Grandfather and Roddrego took the armchairs either side of the open fire. More logs, sparks shooting up the chimney.
More stories. I must try to remember them. They discussed and dismissed major events in history they had been involved in as of little concern. However they became quite emotional when the talk came to individuals they had known.
Roddrego seem to want to say something about my Mother but Grandfather silenced him with a look.
Looking back, they seemed to communicate more by gestures then sounds when they were together.
I remembered spending an hour in their company when hardly a word was spoken but when we had parted I felt that we had communicated fully.
A snort came from my side. Jenny had fallen asleep. I shook her awake and led her, stumbling, up to her bedroom.
Turning at the door she kissed me goodnight.
She turned and stumbled to her bed. She lay down fully clothed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. I switched out the light and left.
I returned to the sitting room. Grandfather and Roddrego were asleep in their armchairs.
I made sure their cigars were out of harms way and went to the back door and let Millie out.
This first fall of snow had covered all her scent trails and she rushed around squatting to remark her territory.
A final look at Jenny and I went to bed.
It was uncommonly warm for early December she thought as she walked home from the Pub in Bristol where she worked to help support herself through University.
It was only a ten minutes walk to the flat that she shared with Jenny and Shirley. Along the main dual carriageway most of the way.
Lucky Jenny. Cruising the Caribbean. Nothing to do but sit and soak up the sun all day and party all night. She should be back on Tuesday ready for the new term start next Monday. She would probably stay with Paul until Sunday knowing her. Shirley, who was on the same course, had sent a copy of her notes to Somerset, which Jenny was supposed to read before then. Thinking about it. If she did read them she would probably be the only person who was up too date, as she didn't imagine anyone else would study over the holidays.
Paul. She smiled when she thought of him. She should really have tried for him. He had potential. Great tongue. It had been the first time anybody had put his tongue up her ass hole. It had just seemed the natural thing for him to do especially as she was straddling his head on her knees at the time. And when he'd made her come that time in the toilet cubical. That had been the best.
She could forgive even him his coming all over her hair as they watched the two Scout leaders make love in the tent.
At least Jenny had helped her get off with Len. She still saw him most weekends but his working for his Fathers haulage company made it difficult. It would become especially more so if he went on the fortnightly Middle East runs. Sometimes they were only back for a couple of days then they were off again.
She enjoyed her sex with Len. It was comfortable. But she was only nineteen; she wanted some excitement in her life.
She thought she heard a noise behind her. She turned. Nobody there. There had been some new faces in the bar during the last week. Two of them. A different one on different nights. Just the one pint at the end of the night. They both told everyone who would listen that they were working on the new link road and that they lived in Birmingham where they were going for the weekend. Strange they never mentioned each other and from their accents she would have thought they would have been heading south. Still with modern transport Birmingham was only two hours up the road.