Hobson stood inside the royal treasury thumbing through his financial ledger. Obsessed with accounting for every last piece of gold, he tallied up the week's expenditures and drummed up new propositions for the Queen to consider. He could not bear the thought of his precious mountain of gold dwindling.
The doors opened, and Page, fresh from her defeat at court, scowled unpleasantly. The Queen had just denied her proposal to rebuild the ruins of The Old Quarter, which had been thoroughly destroyed during the revolution. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the mountainous funds, and she shook her head in disbelief. The nerve of The Queen...How could she simply deny the people a chance at having their homes once more. Did she not see that the people lived in the streets-begged on the corners? She crossed her arms over her chest, and her eyes found Hobson.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Page, but the treasury is off limits to guests," Hobson said as he looked up from his ledger. Before his eyes could dart back down to his work, he became acutely aware of the way her crossed arms pushed her abundant ebony bosom upward. The elderly man had not seen such a display in quite some time. Feeling a strange surge of heat, he swiped his glistening forehead with a handkerchief.
She raised a brow at him, tilting her head to the side. She watched his eyes drift downward, and her cheeks flared with the heat of anger. For the moment, she decided to ignore his unsettling, wandering gaze, and she drew in a sharp breath. "You didn't happen to have anything to do with The Queen's decision in court today, did you, Hobson? Or do we have only Reaver to thank for that?" She uncrossed her arms, and put them squarely on her hips. "She's decided to leave The Old Quarter as it is 'to save the funds in the treasury.'" She observed the gold once more. "The treasury looks pretty full to me."
Hobson's eyes followed the woman's hands as they drifted downward. He shook his head sharply, trying to rid himself of the thoughts of what may lie beneath her tight-fitting garments. "B-But, Miss Page, the treasury must remain stable in order for us to have a chance-"
"In order for us to have a chance, Hobson, we must rebuild!" She snapped, taking a few heated steps forward. She tapped her foot impatiently. "The people cannot live on the streets! What is there to fight for if not them?" She surveyed the older man, her thick lips shifting into a severe grimace. " I can see that this is going nowhere. What could you possibly do to help me-to help the people?" She whipped around, intent on storming out of the treasury as quickly as she'd entered.
"I, er...well, you see..." The portly man stumbled over his words as he caught sight of her perky, round bottom. A jolt of desire awakened his aged, long-unused member, and he felt a sudden strain on his form fitting ivory pants. "Wait, please! Perhaps there is something…"
She paused, glancing over her shoulder at the royal aide. "What do you mean, Hobson?" Her eyebrows raised, and her lips parted as she awaited an answer. The man's usually pallid complexion had become rather flush, and having grown up in the part of Bowerstone she had, she was well-acquainted with the lustful glares of much older men. She would surely be able to make this work to her advantage. She spun slowly, her expression softening, and her hips swaying as she made her way toward him. "You realize how devoted I am to the people of Bowerstone, don't you, Hobson?"
Hobson panted softly, overcome with amorous feelings he hadn't felt in decades. "How devoted?" He repositioned himself behind the podium to place the ledger down and hide the underwhelming-yet still visible-evidence of his arousal.
She continued her pursuit of him, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. "Extremely devoted." She reached to the fastening of her blouse, unhooking it and giving a better view of her heaving, generous breasts. "I'm almost…feverish with devotion…" She swept the back of her hand across her forehead, then decided to remove the headband that kept her dreadlocked hair pulled away from her face.
The old man gripped the sides of the podium, the knobby, arthritic joints of his fingers whitening under the pressure. He was losing control at an alarming rate. He had to protect the treasury. It was his duty and passion...but how could he resist the exotic temptress that was now closing in on him. "Perhaps it is simply too warm in here. If you would wait in the library-"
"I don't think that will be necessary," She said, her gaze smoldering. She ran her tongue across her luscious lips, and she moved toward the piles of glimmering wealth. She bent to pick up a piece, displaying the sizable asset in the back of her trousers. She turned slightly to gaze back at him. "I think that we can negotiate a deal right here." She lowered herself onto the pile of gold, ignoring the discomfort of the hard metal wedging into the softness of her body. She lifted a coin, trailing the cool metal down between her breasts, then back up once more.
Hobson gaped in disbelief. Was this truly happening to him? A young, seductive woman throwing her irresistible body atop the mountain of his beloved funds? He adjusted the semi-hardened bulge in his pants before turning around fully. Before today, he'd had many dreams about copulating in the treasury, amongst the gold and jewels, but even the wildest of fantasies failed to fully inspire such a physical response from below his belt. He looked at Page, stroking his white goatee nervously as he searched for words.
"Oh, Hobson," She said, curling a finger at him to beckon him forth. "You have no idea how ready I am to work for the people's betterment." She let the gold tumble down her body, sliding down to join the rest of the royal funds. In a swift movement, the clothing covering her breasts was gone, and her plump, cocoa orbs spilled into view.
The way that the shining gold pieces contrasted against her smooth, dark skin sent Hobson's head spinning. Sweat began beading across the old geezer's wrinkly forehead, and he made another pass with his already-moistened handkerchief. Panting heavily, he pulled his cravat loose and unbuttoned his red coat. His snake-like tongue darted out to lick his thin, cracked lips. He had certainly taken 'advantage' of the solitude that the treasury provided on many occasions, but never before with an actual woman present. He quivered with excitement as he spoke. "And what kind of work would such a young, v-vibrant woman such as yourself be doing?"
Page let her fingers trail down the valley between her breasts and paused to offer him a grin. "Why don't you come over here so I can show you?"
The geriatric man was now aroused beyond reason. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way toward the woman laying half-naked upon his pile of gold. He stood before her and let his shirt and jacket slide off, both garments reaching the floor quickly as they did not have far to fall from his squatty stature. His hands came up to cup his own breasts in an attempt to entice his new lover.
She suppressed a wave of disgust at the man's bare form, but she cleared her expression. If she was lucky this would be brief, and only mildly traumatizing. "Oh...Hobson...You're…" She choked softly, trying to force the words to come instead of the rising bile. "So very sexy."
Hobson let out a wheezing sigh as he began to free himself from his white bell-bottomed trousers. He paused as a fleeting fear that the appendage he was about to reveal would not function as it should. He was already lacking in the size department; he didn't need a limp noodle chasing away the conquest of the century.
She flinched as he started to remove his pants. Gulping down the growing knot in her throat, she kicked off her boots, chanting a mantra in her mind. For the people. For the people. For the people…. Perhaps she should have seduced Reaver instead. At least he was young and rumored to be well endowed as well as adept at giving pleasure. She shook the thought of Reaver from her mind. She would never have thought that he would be the more desirable alternative to anything.
The old codger stepped out of his pants, the widened openings at the bottoms allowing him to keep his shoes on. The air breezed against his drooping, wrinkled scrotum. He ran his hands under the visually obstructing over-spill of his round gut, feeling for his own readiness.
She scooted forward, her eyes trying to avoid the nauseating sight before her. She would do this and never speak of it. She would do this and it would all be over. She lifted the flap of his belly, gaining access to his semi-erect bobbin of a manhood. The musty smell was overwhelming, and she turned her head, drawing in a lungful of fresh, inoffensive air to hold while she performed the revolting task.
Wrapping her lips around his member, the taste of him immediately sent her stomach into a tizzy of extreme objection. It was not a very difficult task to take all of him into her mouth, but she found herself hindered by the weight of his gut and the way it came to rest on the top of her head.
Hobson tipped his bald head back and in a most vulgar fashion, he began thrusting his rickety hips into the woman's face, grunting with each motion.
She gagged, not from the underwhelming member in her mouth, but from the act itself. She drew away, gasping for air, and she turned her eyes up to him. "Why don't we do...something a little different?"
Page stood, unbuckling the belts that held her skirt and underlying trousers on her hips, and she pushed them down. She turned, showing off the round glory of her backside, and she knelt, bending over and inviting him to take her as he wished. This position would be optimal for her task, for she knew she would not be able to stand the sight of him much longer without regurgitating.
The white-haired man knelt behind her, aroused all the more by the slight discomfort of the gold coins digging into his legs. With one bony hand, he guided his prick into her heated center. He lifted the heft of his stomach and rested it onto her rear end before resting his aged body atop her strong back.
She sagged beneath the weight of him, but she eased herself back into him, inviting him to get it over with. She rolled her eyes at the noise of anticipation he made, and she cleared her throat. "Come now, Hobson. What are you waiting for?" The words luckily sounded seductive, and she tossed her hair as she glanced at him over her shoulder.
Hobson thrust himself into her. The distance was short, given the abundance of her backside and the inadequacy of his shaft. He began to flop on top of her like a fish out of water. The sounds of his wrinkled, flabby body slapping against hers flooded his hair-filled ears with delight. "Oh, Page," he rasped.
She endured the minimal sensation of his spasmodic thrusts, and she tried to hold her breath and fight back the tears of shame. She couldn't believe she was literally whoring herself for the people of Albion. Though no one would ever know what would come to pass here, she could only hope that it would be appreciated. "Oh yes," she said in a inattentive tone, trying to sound enraptured. "Yes, Hobson. Right there."
Many droplets of sweat slid down the wrinkled skin of the senior before dripping onto the curvaceous woman beneath him. His face purpled as he clenched his teeth and heaved a great, strained grunt. He arrived at his final moment, leaving an unimpressive dribble of his seed inside her. With rapid, wheezing gasps, his shifty eyes rolled back into his head and his arthritic limbs fell limp. His color now rivaling that of an eggplant, he collapsed onto her, his face landing between her shoulder blades with a loud smack. Drool began pooling from his gaping mouth as he gurgled his final breath.
The sheer weight of his sweaty, obese body forced her down into the mounds of gold, and she tried to gasp for air. She wriggled from beneath him, turning him onto his back. His eyes were wide and empty, but a faint smile of satisfaction still curved his lips. Realization crashed over her, and she had to cover her mouth to contain her scream of disgust and fear. The old codger was dead.
Without any thought, she started to gather her clothes, dressing herself as quickly as possible. Panic took hold, and she felt tears of shame and fear gathering in her eyes. She needed to leave as quickly as possible before anyone discovered the horrors that had just taken place. She fussed with her hair, sliding her headband back over her head, and she glanced back to the gold.
Would it be worth it? To steal from the treasury now of all times? She shuddered, and everything seemed a little clearer. Perhaps The Queen was right in denying her the rebuilding of The Old Quarter. Perhaps it would be able to wait until The Crawler had been defeated. Page's decision making was obviously in need of a little fine-tuning. Wiping her eyes, she fastened her coat, and she gave one final look to Hobson, who still looked pleased as punch despite the fact he was dead and sprawled across that which he loved most...his gold.
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," She murmured as she strode out of the room. As she closed the door tightly behind her, she silently vowed never to speak of this incident.
A/N: Yeah. We went there. There was plenty of laughing (and gagging) during the making of this ridiculousness. We're not sure what we have to put out there in order to get some reviews (follows & favorites even), but we're happy to keep trying by putting the more of most unlikely of characters together in very strange situations. Rest assured, Alternative Albion will keep bringing you the most unique Fable fan fiction out here...even if it does make you want to retch sometimes.