A/N This is a birthday present for Kissman. Happy, happy! It comes with birthday greetings, general well wishes, and lots of love. Kissman, may you enjoy all the good things on your special day!
I'm posting this under my Chelsie OTP prompts, for lack of a better place – and because the idea came indirectly from a prompt I saw on tumblr otpdisaster. The prompt was something about Person A daring Person B to place a phone call to Person C during the course of aggressively passionate, intimate activities (between Persons A and B). I've altered it a little and toned it down quite a bit to suit my purposes, but it's still the same general idea: one half of the pair trying to carrying on a phone conversation while enjoying the attentions being bestowed upon him/her by the other half. (I'll bet you never imagined Mr. Molesley inserting himself in a love scene with the Carsons – or maybe you did!) To borrow a term from evitamockingbird, it's "suggestive fluff."
Special thanks to evitamockingbird and brenna-louise for their help with this one.
Kissman – and everyone else who's reading – I hope you enjoy!
The Carsons' cottage, sometime after marriage and shortly after retirement. When exactly? Dunno. Doesn't matter.
Charles arrived home just as Elsie picked up the receiver of the ringing telephone, which stood on the small table in the hallway between the kitchen and the parlor. "Carson residence," she chirped pleasantly. "Mrs. Carson speaking." She had her back to the door and didn't see or hear him come in, and he overheard her saying, "Oh, hello, Mr. Molesley."
Charles cursed silently as he registered the caller's identity. Mr. Barrow, who had been promoted to butler upon Charles's retirement, had taken ill and had been confined to his bed for several days, and Mr. Molesley, who had been left to manage in the new butler's absence, was frantic. When he'd reached the point where he could no longer pester a sickly Mr. Barrow with frivolous inquiries, Mr. Molesley had begun calling Charles at the cottage to ask a thousand and one questions about the running of the house. Though Charles harbored no real fondness at all for the man, he did not wish to see standards slip, even though it was no longer his responsibility, so he impatiently endured the footman's almost daily barrages of largely unnecessary queries.
He thought it best not to make Elsie aware of his presence so that she could tell Mr. Molesley, without intentionally lying, that Charles was not at home. With any luck, the impossibility of talking with Charles would be enough for Mr. Molesley to end the call mercifully quickly. Charles quietly hung his coat and hat on the coat rack, and he heard Elsie say, "No, I'm sorry, Mr. Molesley, Mr. Carson has gone into the village. I'm not sure when he'll be back." Charles was pleased, thinking that was the end of it – or nearly enough so. But his ever-helpful wife continued, "Is there something I can help you with?" Then, as she listened to Mr. Molesley's response, she turned around and caught sight of Charles. He began vigorously shaking his head and flailing his hands, pleading with Elsie not to inform Mr. Molesley of his arrival. It was evident from her sustained silence and attentive listening that there was indeed something with which Mr. Molesley thought Elsie might help, and she did not betray her husband's presence.
As Elsie continued to listen to the hapless, helpless first footman, replying occasionally with a "yes" or "I see," Charles approached and greeted her silently with a kiss on the cheek. He expected her to summarily dispense with Mr. Molesley and his phone call so that she could greet her husband properly and give him her full attention; however, she did not. The crisis du jour seemed to require some remediation, or at least the poor footman sounded so desperate that Elsie felt compelled to placate him. Charles stood next to Elsie and waited for her to end the call.
"I believe Mr. Carson kept the Rundell candlesticks on the right hand side of the bottom shelf. Unless Mr. Barrow has relocated them, they should still be there," she said.
Charles shook his head, not surprised that Mr. Molesley was unable even to do something so simple as to find a pair of candlesticks.
"Yes," Elsie went on, "I think they would be perfectly suitable."
Charles began to grow impatient and decided there might be a way to hasten the conclusion of the conversation. He stole around behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and began kissing the back of her neck. Elsie pretended to be unaffected, but he heard her soft intake of breath and saw her eyes flutter closed and back open.
"Well, I don't know as much about wine as Mr. Carson, but I think the Margaux would be a good choice. Mr. Carson has always favored it. You might check with his lordship."
Having failed to obtain the desired reaction from his wife, Charles proceeded to take more aggressive measures. He reached under her arms and brought his hands to the top button of her blouse, near her throat, and unfastened it. Holding the telephone as she was, Elsie was unable – and perhaps unwilling – to deter him as he nibbled her earlobe – the one that was not obstructed by the telephone's earpiece – and his hands slowly worked their way down her front, unbuttoning her blouse.
"I'm sorry Mr. Molesley; I couldn't hear you. What was that again?" said Elsie into the mouthpiece. Charles smiled. It was unlikely that Mr. Molesley had noticed Elsie's distracted state, but Charles certainly had, and he was pleased to have been successful in his attempts at redirecting Elsie's concentration.
Still standing behind her, Charles carefully untucked the hem of Elsie's blouse from under the waist of her skirt and undid the last two buttons. Elsie's blouse now hung loosely from her shoulders. Her neck, upper chest, and corset were exposed in front, and Charles leaned over her shoulder and peered down to admire the sight. He moved his hands to her wrists and unbuttoned her cuffs, making sure not to dislodge the earpiece or the mouthpiece from her hands, and gently slid her sleeves from her wrists, down her forearms, and to her elbows, first one arm and then the other. His lips trailed his hands and kissed a path along the bare skin. Then he eased her blouse from her shoulders so that it draped around her back and the sleeves caught at the elbows. As long as she needed both hands to hold the telephone to her ear and to her mouth, there was no way he could remove her blouse completely, but he was content to kiss her shoulders from behind and to tickle the back of her neck with his heavy, hot breaths.
Charles loosened the laces of her corset. After listening for a moment longer she answered, "Yes, Mr. Molesley. You can tell Madge she is correct. Her ladyship prefers the light blue sheets." Elsie's words were strained and a little breathless, and her eyes were closed.
Charles stepped around Elsie to stand in front of her. As she replied to Mr. Molesley's questions – "yes, of course," "no, I don't think so," – Charles drew one finger over Elsie's neck and chest, tracing along her collarbone and the line where her corset and shift met her skin. He knelt before her to inspect the busk of her corset and began unhooking the fastenings. After he'd undone them all, it was a tricky business to slide the corset from her body. Her hands were still occupied with the telephone, and her blouse still hung from her elbows and wrapped around her back, but Charles managed to remove the garment despite the obstructions and set it down on the floor next to him.
As Elsie continued to assist Mr. Molesley with his queries, Charles continued to divest her of her clothing.
Since he was already in position, he unbuckled her shoes. He held each shoe in place, and she raised each foot in turn to step out.
Next, he placed his hands at her hips and pressed gently. He undid the buttons at her skirt waist and let the article fall down her legs and pool at her feet. She obligingly stepped out of it. His hands worked their way slowly up her calves, from her ankles to her knees, tickling, teasing, kneading, squeezing. When he arrived at her knees, his hand moved under her shift and lavished the same attentions on her thighs. He felt around for her garters and removed them. Then he rolled each stocking down her leg administering the same touches on the way down as he did on his way up. Finally he slid his hands back up under her shift one last time and withdrew her knickers.
All the while, he marveled at Elsie's ability to calmly answer the footman's questions as she was being systematically stripped of her clothing. He'd always marveled at her powers of concentration, but this was impressive. Her eyes were closed, and her head was thrown back, indicating to him that she was indeed affected by his actions. But when she spoke, her voice hardly wavered. Her breath hitched once or twice, and she shivered occasionally, but her answers were perfectly sensible, and Mr. Molesley would surely be none the wiser to what was happening in the Carsons' cottage as he acquired the information he sought about table linens, silver, china, and crystal. Charles only hoped that Mr. Molesley's inquisition was nearly over. How uncertain could he possibly be? He was, after all, a trained butler.
As Elsie stood before him, wearing only her shift (and her blouse caught around her elbows), Charles thought ironically that this was the first time he'd ever been envious of Mr. Molesley. At the moment, the man was claiming more of Elsie's attention than she was sparing her own husband - who happened to be undressing her!
Charles decided to deal the final blow, the one which he expected would put an end to all this nonsense. He lifted her shift, hoping to kiss a path along the naked skin he found underneath, but Elsie apparently had other plans.
At the first contact of his lips on her stomach, she squeaked, "Ooh! Ah! Oh, Mr. Molesley, you're in luck! Mr. Carson has just come home." Then she raised her voice and pretended to call out across the room, "It's Mr. Molesley on the telephone for you, Mr. Carson. He's got some questions about tonight's dinner service."
Charles panicked as he looked up to Elsie to find her grinning wickedly down at him. He moaned quietly, relinquished both her shift and his grasp on her bottom, and stood to take the phone from her. Not only would he have to abide Mr. Molesley's relentless interrogation, but his wife would likely exact some retribution for the teasing he'd just imposed upon her.
Happy to be rid of Mr. Molesley and eager to have her turn to bestow reciprocal attentions upon her husband, Elsie handed the phone over to Charles.
"Yes, Mr. Molesley. What can I do for you?" he began gruffly.
Elsie commenced her seduction by letting her blouse flutter to the floor. She wondered briefly if she should pull off her shift immediately or wait until later, and after a moment's consideration, she opted for the latter.
As Charles addressed Mr. Molesley's problems and concerns, Elsie unbuttoned Charles's suit coat. She couldn't remove it, of course, because he was holding the telephone, so she unbuttoned his waistcoat as well and slid her hands over his chest, feeling his warmth through his shirt and vest. She lifted her hands to his neck, unknotted his tie, detached his studs and collar from his shirt, and laid them all on the small table. Stretching up on her toes, she kissed his exposed neck, licking, nipping, and sucking tenderly.
Charles cleared his throat. "I do apologize. Will you please repeat that?" he said to Mr. Molesley.
Pleased to be flustering Charles, Elsie reached for his shirt cuffs underneath his suit coat sleeves, removed his cuff links – taking advantage of the opportunity to tickle the sensitive skin on the insides of his wrists – and set the links next to his tie, collar, and studs.
Finally, she began to unbutton his shirt. When she reached the point where it was tucked into his trousers, she wanted to pull it out, but his braces made it difficult. She pushed his suit coat and waistcoat to the sides and unbuttoned the front of his braces from his trousers. Now his braces hung loosely, and she was able to pull the front of his shirt from his trousers and undo the remaining buttons. Then she moved around behind him, lifted his coattails and waistcoat, and unbuttoned his braces in back. She pulled them through, out from under his waistcoat, and discarded them on the sideboard with his other accoutrements. Remaining at his back, she pulled his shirttails and vest fully from his trousers and reached her hands under the vest to find bare skin. She ran her hands over his back and scratched lightly with her fingernails before wrapping her hands around to his front and fondling his chest and stomach.
Charles's groans were audible and obvious; however, Elsie suspected that Mr. Molesley, on the other end of the telephone line, would only assume they were groans of impatience and exasperation, directed at him and his incessant pestering.
Elsie sincerely hoped that Mr. Molesley would soon run out of questions or that Charles would soon run out of patience, but when the conversation turned to his lordship's preferences for wine, her hopes were dashed. She could do nothing but proceed on her present course.
She stooped to untie Charles's shoes and held them in place as he pulled out his feet. Reaching under his trouser legs, she unfastened his garters and removed his socks, lightly grazing the skin of his calves in the process and earning an appreciative sigh from her husband. She placed the garters and socks inside his shoes and set the shoes next to hers.
"No, I don't think that should pose any problem," Charles told Mr. Molesley.
Standing once more, Elsie turned her attentions to her husband's trousers. They already hung loosely about his hips, no longer having the benefit of braces to hold them up, and it was a simple matter to undo the buttons at his waist and push the trousers down his legs. He assisted her by lifting each foot in turn, and she cast the trousers aside with the other articles of clothing on the floor. Finally, she reached up and pulled down his undershorts. He wasted no time in stepping out of them and kicking them aside, but still Mr. Molesley prattled on, and still Charles indulged him.
Elsie was frustrated that she could not undress her husband further in his current configuration, nor could she lure him away from his telephone call. But she had one more means at her disposal. She shook her head sadly and arranged her facial features into an exaggerated pout for Charles's benefit. Then she sauntered off down the hallway towards their bedroom. She stood just outside the doorway, where Charles could see her, provocatively shimmied out of her shift, and tossed it in his direction before disappearing into the bedroom.
"You must excuse me, Mr. Molesley. An urgent matter has arisen which requires my immediate attention. I shall ring you back at my earliest convenience," said Charles. And with that, he slammed down the telephone and followed his wife into their bedroom.
A/N Please leave a little (or a big) review if you feel so inclined, and please wish Kissman a happy birthday!
Oh, and if you notice any mistakes, that's because I had to fire my proofreaders. They both missed two typos in the last chapter, libbybell's birthday gift! (Not to mention that this might just be a little too risqué for a nine- and a thirteen-year-old.)