The Minder

***

Philip

Sitting back in his chair, Philip congratulated himself on his transaction - while not the best, he still made a small profit. He was happy to get funds and reduce his debt. He would be glad to offload Jane, especially if she married into the Egliston family. She may have social graces, but she has no business skills whatsoever, after having the best English private school education and Swiss Finishing School. Philip thought maybe, "I overindulged her, trying to make up for the loss of her mother?"

***

Jason

On our return journey, Sir William took me into his confidence. The meeting was to discuss Philip Harrison's Portuguese real estate holdings on which they struck a deal. He also expressed his request to court Jane and got Philip's approval.

Arriving at Sir William's flat, he informed me, "Jane and I are out to dinner this evening to celebrate the financial agreement with Philip Harrison. Please return in two hours, Jason."

So I chauffeur them to dinner and write it off as a political meeting, then take up my usual position and wait. Thirty minutes later, Jane squeals. I jump to attention and approach Sir William's table. Sir William has asked for Jane's hand in marriage, and she said, "Yes."

Once it all calms down, I congratulate Sir William and Jane, then retire to my prior position. Sitting in thought, I realise Sir William needs a beautiful female escort for the many functions he has to attend. Being a much younger woman would not hurt. I noted the kiss at the door was much more intense than their previous ones.

***

A week later, with a grin, I read the London Times wedding announcements proclaiming Sir William Egliston's engagement to Jane Smyth (née Harrison), at 26 years, a soldier's widow from Kensington. The story continues, "Sir William, aged 56, a captain of industry and CEO of his family import/export business. He was also a member of parliament in the House of Lords. His betrothed, Jane Smyth, had already moved into the manor house. A quiet wedding in the planning stage will be held on the Estate in Chelmsford." I'm sure it came as a big surprise to many of his peers and colleagues at his age.

Midweek, I get a call to escort Sir William and Jane into town. I pick them up from Sir William's flat and drive them to the address given. Sir William informs me they are off to get wedding rings. I pull into the curb outside the shopfront of Royal & Sons* Jewellers. While they enter, I circle the block to find a cab parking spot. I then wait outside the store's front door for their exit.

The wedding is only five days away, and I'm the lead security officer. I spent considerable time scouting the estate for entry points. Most of the perimeter is a brick wall about nine feet high.

A huge marquee is erected on the west lawn of the house, with close access to the kitchen and toilets. All guests have invitation cards. Personnel such as electricians, caters and their staff were issued security cards.

Thankfully, the wedding goes off without a hitch, both in the actual wedding, catering, speeches, dancing and security. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see much of the ceremony. A lone paparazzo got stuck in a tree trying to get over the estate wall, so we had to call the fire brigade and deal with that.

Sir William and Lady Jane depart that evening. I drove them to Heathrow for their honeymoon flight to the British Virgin Islands.

On the drive, my mind drifts back to the past and the moment that led to this. My cobber, Bill, and I were on a night patrol in Northern Mali. We were reconnoitring the current enemy position and strength. When Bill got sloppy and stepped on a mine.

Thankfully, being improvised, it wasn't very powerful. I don't remember much other than being thrown backward ten feet and a searing pain in my lower right leg. Coming to my senses, I found Bill lying a few yards away, unconscious. His left leg was missing from just below the knee and was bleeding profusely. I dragged him into a ditch for cover. Pulling off my pants belt, I used it as a tourniquet to slow down the blood loss.

Retrieving his medical pack, I removed the antiseptic aerosol and sprayed the raw, jagged stump""even while unconscious, Bill moaned. Next, I grabbed the pain relief injection from the medical pack, including antibiotics. The wound on his leg was so big and jagged. I used my knife to cut up the rest of his pants as a patch.

I attached the cotton material over and around his remaining leg stump using black insulation tape. Wrapping the tape around Bill's leg and holding the fabric in place slowed down the bleeding. Finally, I released my belt, and the patch held in place.

My next job was my leg, which appeared to be broken halfway between my knee and ankle. I had a piece of metal shrapnel sticking out of my flesh. First, I used my injection to manage the pain. Cutting off my pants leg, I left the shrapnel in place as it was deeply embedded into the bone. With the antiseptic spray, I gave my injury a good blast, which nearly rendered me unconscious. Spying two lengths of tree branches, I used the remainder of the black insulation tape and made a makeshift splint for my leg.

I grabbed the radio, hoped it was still working and called base camp. After giving my call sign and answering the mandatory questions with required responses, proving I was not under duress. I gave our coordinates, then told them two were down and gave a brief evaluation of our injuries and what steps I had taken.

They returned to me fifteen minutes later and said there was no chance of a nighttime rescue. It would attract more attention. They would send in a helicopter at first light, be ready to drop smoke.

I acknowledged.

I kept my knife at my side in case the enemy returned to find any survivors of the landmine. While waiting, I thanked my father, an electrician by trade. He always had rolls of black insulation tape handy. I followed suit. It made managing our injuries so much easier.

Much later, in an English army hospital alongside Bill, I meet his younger sister, Melony. Every time she visited Bill, we'd chat and eventually developed a relationship. When we were discharged, Bill insisted I stay with his family as they have a large farmhouse in the countryside with room for me. That way, we'd be able to go to physical therapy together.

Melony dropped Bill and me off at the hospital for twice weekly physical therapy as she worked in town as a secretary in a local law firm. My relationship with Melony grew after returning to desk duties in the army barracks. Twelve months later, I asked her to marry me, and she replied in the affirmative. We found a small flat in town, and Melony moved in. I stayed at the farm with Bill until we were to be wed in two months.

Then it all came to an abrupt end.

Bill and I were out for a quiet buck's night, just the two of us, as all our compatriots were overseas. We passed mine and Melony's flat on our way to the farm. When Bill suddenly yelled out, "Stop!"

He growled, "That rotten lying bitch wouldn't, would she?"

Having no idea what was going on, I stopped.

Bill said, "Give me your key." He bolted out of the car, hobbled to the door, and used my key to gain entry. I followed at a distance. As I reached the door, there were raised voices and a scream. Then suddenly, a naked man clutching his pants in one hand ran past me out the door. He jumped into a BMW parked at the curb and dropped rubber to escape.

I could hear Bill shouting his disappointment at Melony. Then he came to the door saying, "The wedding is off. That was her married boss from the law office. She just couldn't keep her legs together" again!"

So that ended my future married life. A month later, I was offered the job of a Minder, so I took it.

***

Two months on, my mobile rings - the caller is my boss in the Minder division. Sir William requests my services to pick up Lady Jane and himself from their estate home in Chelmsford and chauffeur them to The Lord Mayor's Ball in London. It is to be a red carpet event. When I arrive at the Estate, Sir William gives me the keys to his Rolls Royce, so I park my cab in the open barn.

As there is plenty of internal security, we Minders place our vehicles around the premises at various positions. We keep in close contact and are alert to any external terrorist dangers.

Around midnight, Sir William phones and asks to be picked up at the function centre entrance. Once both passengers are ensconced in the Rolls, I ask, "Where to, Sir?"

"Home, please, Jason," says Sir William. "We were booked to stay overnight at the Hilton. However, Jane feels off-colour and wants to retire to the manor."

It's well after one a.m. when we arrive at the house. Sir William insists I stay the night. After parking the Rolls in the garage, I have a quick shower in the downstairs guest room.

Around three in the morning, I'm woken by the sound of breaking glass. It appears to emanate from the library. I quickly slip on my pants. The intruders make so much noise talking to each other. I know exactly where they are. I met three aged-round-bellied burglars at the foot of the front staircase to the first floor.

"Hoy" you're not supposed to be here!" exclaims one of them while pulling a gun from his pocket. "Don't move, or I'll shoot you."

I grab the shield with the family crest embezzled on its face from the Medieval Knight standing guard at the bottom of the stairs.

The burglar with the gun laughs. "That's not going to help you." Raising the gun, he shoots as I rush towards him, holding the shield before me. The gunman fires again. Perhaps he expects the bullets to go straight through, but it only puts dents in the steel shield. He frantically fires a third shot in frustration. Hitting the shield, it penetrates halfway. By then, I've collided with the gunman, propelling him with such force he's flung off his feet and rocketed three feet onto the wall. I hear an expounding of breath, and he drops to the floor with a loud moan.

Swivelling quickly, I fling the shield like Captain America at the nearest burglar, six feet away, catching him in the chest, which produced a resounding scream and the breaking of some ribs. He drops to the floor, clutching his chest while moaning.

The third burglar decides it's time to flee and runs down the hallway towards the backdoor. I pull the lance from the Knight and fling it with all my might at his back. It doesn't reach him. However, it skips along the granite floor, tangling in his legs, causing him to trip and slide along the well-polished floor head-first into the wall with a memorable thump. He lay there, unmoving.

Just as I take the scene in, clapping echoes around the hallway. Sir William and Lady Jane are standing at the balcony railing overlooking the front entrance.

Sir William calls out, "Jolly good show, old chap" I've summoned the police."

The upshot of my heroics is Sir William offering me a full-time job as a bodyguard for the family. My position will be head of security for the estate. Naturally, Of course I accepted the job with a considerable pay increase. I move into the small room on the ground floor at the back of the house.

Sir William doesn't replace the Medieval Knight's shield. So the story of how the bullet dents came to be is regaled by him for every new visitor, with some swashbuckling glee.

My first job is to review the estate security systems, of which there are virtually none. Other than an old keypad with five IR sensors. They're quickly defeated, as was shown by the three aged burglars. Sir William has said to spare no expense. He allocated an old storeroom as a security office. Soon after, high-tech security equipment was installed. All on battery backup.

Twenty cameras are positioned around the estate. Another ten inside the manor with alarm sensors on all windows and doors, even in the chimneys. The front gate is remote-controlled with a video link and a com-pad. A wireless card is used to open the gate for car entry. Razor wire is attached atop the perimeter wall for added security.

While these security measures will stop the average burglar or person with hostile intent, they won't stop a well-trained terrorist team. It is an unlikely event, but something to consider, regardless.

Nine months slip by, and Lady Jane is still not pregnant, which surprises me. One afternoon, I'm invited into Sir William's study. Upon my entry, Sir William looks uncomfortable. Lady Jane is in attendance, sitting demurely to one side of Sir William. Another seat faces the main desk. He indicates I should take a seat.

Sir William rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers.

"Jason," he says, "I have a problem, and it's affecting our progeny. Some five years ago, I was kicked in the groin by my horse in the stables, and it seems I cannot father children because of that mishap."

"As you know, I have two children, one son soon to be air to the family business. My daughter, Jenny, is a very qualified accountant - but wants to be a stay-at-home mother. So, I don't need any more children. However, Jane has expressed her desire to have a child, not necessarily a family child, if you get my drift."

"We are asking you to be that child's father. However, we will never be able to acknowledge your parenthood. Now to get around the family name problem, we propose you and Jane pretend to travel to Spain to seek Jane's long-lost cousin who is with child. Unfortunately, she'll die during this fake childbirth. Jane will officially adopt said child and return to the estate to raise the child as her own. Which, of course, the child would be."

Wow. Talk about complicating things.

"Okay," I say bluntly. "If Jane were to get pregnant discreetly with your permission, everyone would think the child was yours, causing heritage problems later. Alternatively, if Jane were to get pregnant, it would appear she had an affair, cuckolding you. Finally, Sir William, you are unwilling to let everyone know you are sterile. So, the only easy way out is to use Jane's family member for the fake adoption. Yeah, it makes sense to me. I'll be happy to inseminate Jane. My only question is, do we do it the old-fashioned way or in vitro?"

A look passes between them, and Sir William responds, "Because security issues and records need to be kept, I prefer the old-fashioned way. Jane agrees. Are you up for that?"

"I can't see a problem. Jane is a beautiful woman. I assume there will be no hanky-panky after the event?"

"You assume correctly," came a stern reply.

"One final question. Jane's father will know there is no distant cousin. Is he going to be a problem?"

Jane responds, "Actually, I have a long-lost cousin who died in a car accident three years ago in Spain. Daddy has no idea where she is or if she is alive or dead. So, we are simply resurrecting her for nine months."

On the first night of our union, we met in one of the upstairs guest rooms.

Jane wears a long unromantic nightgown. I'm wearing new cotton pyjamas.

"Okay, three rules: First - no kissing. Second - no foreplay. Third - you leave after climaxing."

She pulls the cover off the bed, drops her nighty, and lies on the mattress, opening her legs slightly. I remove my pyjamas.

"So, I'm supposed to get hard after that display. No way, you gotta give me more than that or the deals off."

"Hmmpf," she mumbles and motions me over. Taking hold of my limp cock, she strokes it. Inevitably, it slowly rises to its full length. Happy with that, she falls back onto the bed, opens her legs and says, "Okay, get to it."

How romantic, I thought. But do as requested. However, Jane isn't ready either, so much to her disgust. I spit on my cock for a bit of lubrication and get inside. After a couple of strokes, she loosens up, and I hammer away for a good ten minutes until I come.

She responds by clamping her legs together, swivelling around and putting her heels on the bedhead. Then, looking over her shoulder at me, she dismissed me, saying, "Okay, you can go."

Wow, what did I expect? I return to my room, quickly shower and fall asleep when I hit the pillow.

The following night is the same. But at least I'm sleeping well.

I've had enough by the third night and don't arrive at the assigned time. I'm in my room reading when there's the thumping of feet down the back stairs and up the corridor, and then the door bursts open.

"What do you think you are doing? We're wasting time! Tonight is my last chance to get pregnant," she shouts, now out of breath.

I'm not too fond of her bursting into my room without knocking. I could have been doing something personal.

"Tell me," I said. "Do you think a child conceived in love makes a better child?"

Jane can see where I'm going.

"Mmmmm," she responds, unwilling to commit in case it leads somewhere she doesn't want to go.

"So, if it were your soldiering husband, it would be with love?"

"Maybe."

Interesting answer.

"So how about we use a bit of romance and a small amount of foreplay to get us into the mood to make a love child?"

She thinks about that for a moment and says, "Okay. But don't go overboard."

We retire to the bedroom. I ask Jane to lie down naked with her legs together. I remove my pyjamas and take a small bottle of scented oil from my pocket. "There is nothing more stimulating than having a massage from the person you are about to have sex with."

I rub the oil over her naked body and massage her arms and legs. Starting at her waist, I work my way to her breasts, kissing her nipples. It takes a while to get her moaning, and by the time my fingers travel down to her abdomen, she's putty in my hands.

As I massage down over her vulva, her legs automatically part. Pouring drops over her mons, I caress her clitoris hood, bringing out her clit. l'm fully erect to the point of straining.

Jane suddenly grabs my hands, saying huskily, "I'm ready" I need you in me" NOW."

This time, we make love. She holds my arms as I kiss her nipples, slowly working my way up to her throat and neck. Jane whispers, "Oh" oh" oh" "

Somehow, I hold out until her orgasm and follow a second later.

We lay in each other's arms for a moment. Then Jane comes to her senses and closes her legs. We were done. So I left.

Much to my chagrin, Jane got pregnant on our first try during ovulation. I must have strong swimmers.

We waited for four months before Jane shows. Then we are off to a small hospital in Spain with an old English doctor in residence who needs retirement funds. All goes off without a hitch. Jane poses as her long-lost cousin, Penny. The donation of a large sum of money to the hospital and all records show Penny had a daughter and died during childbirth. Jane and I returned to England five months later with Jane's adopted daughter, Rose.

The celebrations are short-lived though, because Sir William dies from a massive heart attack at his office six months later.

Sir William's son Michael is already in the role of company manager and is soon voted in as CEO of Egliston Trading Company. His family quickly moved into the estate manor house. Thankfully, Michael wants me to stay as head of estate security, so I still have a job.

While not kicking Jane out, they don't invite her to stay. Only six months after going from "˜lady of the house' to an uninvited guest, she feels uncomfortable.

I step up and ask for Jane's hand in marriage. It's common sense as we have a child together. I'm surprised by the enthusiasm with which she says, "˜YES'.

Unknown to me at the time, Sir William bequeathed Jane some 500 thousand pounds. So she purchases a quaint four-bedroom home three miles from the Estate manor, spending half of her money.

We have a quiet wedding at the local registry office. After that, we take our small family for a two-week-long holiday to Scotland to see the sights and visit my sister.