May Day Part 24

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

"Well I'll be buggered..."

Bodie shot him a look. "Maybe later."

Doyle ignored it, frowning out the window. Something was itching at him. "Maurice Seaton's got alot to lose if he's caught taking dubious pictures at an Embassy ball, you know."

"So? Some people like taking risks."

It had been cramped in the broom cupboard, but far enough away from both ballroom and kitchen that they'd decided it was safe enough. Not as if they were on duty this time, they were genuine guests, brought by - if you please - the Honourable Cynthia Wyndham-Smythe and her best friend Celia someone-or-other. Not as if they were guarding the realm, and dilletante in their duty or anything.

It was almost empty, that broom cupboard, except for a single bucket, and a mop which Bodie ran suggestive and lascivious fingers up and down before he switched the light off. It was small enough to echo, too, so that the sound of their breathing seemed even louder, so that the chik-chik-chik of his zip being slid slowly downwards was a roar, so that he thought he could feel every inch, every atom of Bodie's skin when Bodie wrapped his hand around Doyle's prick.

It was hot in the broom cupboard, hot and quiet and loud and... Bodie kissing him, hard, Bodie's hand on his prick as he pressed himself against Doyle, hard and urgent and... they wouldn't last long, neither of them would, they'd been on duty for nearly six days straight, rarely together, always with other people around when they were, and all he'd wanted was Bodie's hands on him, and his lips, and the heat of his breath, and...

"Where could they have planted a camera?"

"Eh? Broom cupboard. We said."

"No, but..." he could feel his mind racing, nearly tripping over itself in its hurry to work it out, "The broom cupboard was small, only just room for both of us..."

"And the mop."

Doyle ignored him. "...we would have noticed a camera."

"Oh come on, the state we were in, we wouldn't have noticed the Bolshoi Ballet."

"We would," Doyle insisted, "There was no room for a camera in that... those pictures were in focus you know!"

"Wouldn't be any good for blackmailing us with if they weren't."

"Yes, but..." There was something else, Doyle knew there was something else. The broom cupboard was small and dark, and Bodie had danced with Claudia Seaton, and the speeches, and the lights, and... "Cynthia!"

"Cynthia?"

"Cynthia!" He snapped his fingers, ran his thumb across his nose. "You danced with that Seaton woman, and then you came over to tell me what she'd said about her husband!"

"So?"

"So – I was standing by the corner waiting for the girls to come back from powdering... whatever it is they powder. You stood in front of me, and you put your hand around my neck and pulled me close so that I could hear, because the bloody band was bursting into Chatanooga Choo Choo!"

"They were lousy too... oh."

"Yeah exactly. Oh."

"You mean..?"

"The bloody pictures really were innocent."

Bodie took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Doyle, and they were both thinking Oh shit, and they were both thinking Now Cowley knows.

“It was Cynthia who introduced us to Seaton.”

“Cynthia?” Bodie sounded sceptical, “Yeah, but why?”

Doyle shook his head, he didn’t know. “Pull over.”

“Eh?”

“Pull over!”

“You’ll upset Tom, there’s not much parking around here.” Bodie indicated and squeezed into a space on the high street just as it came vacant, then turned off the engine. For a few moments they were quiet, watching the world going about its business while they sat there, blackmailed and innocent even if they were guilty.

White drove slowly past them, scowling.

“They looked dark.”

“Cheap camera.”

“Mmmn. Cynthia?”

“Bloody Cynthia...”

May Day! Part 25

[hambelandjemima.livejournal.com]

“Doesn’t she live…?”

 

“Five minutes away.” Bodie indicated with a jerk of his head behind them. “That way.”

 

“What are we waiting for then, Stirling?”

 

“She won’t be up yet.”

 

“So we wake her,” Doyle growled, and Bodie saw a flash of impatience cross his partner’s face. “Come on, Bodie. Cynthia or Williston? Cynthia’s place is nearer; we see her, find out why she took the photos and then go see Williston.”

 

“I don’t like any of this, Ray.” He started the Audi and let the engine tick over for a bit.

 

“It’s not the first time we’ve been done over by a girlfriend,” Doyle shrugged.

 

“You’d think we’d have learned our lesson by now, regarding the weaker sex,” Bodie observed, tapping the steering wheel.

 

“My experience with the stronger sex hasn’t exactly been all plain sailing either,” Doyle replied curtly, then let out a breath and smiled, turning to his partner. “Present company excepted, though, sunshine.”

 

“You just love me for my u-turns,” Bodie smirked, executing a perfect one hundred and eighty in the road, before accelerating towards the establishment of Cynthia Wyndham-Smythe.

 

o0o

 

The Honourable Miss Cynthia Wyndham-Smythe was annoyed at being woken on a Saturday before noon and let both partners know using language that Doyle had never heard before and which brought back fond memories of barrack-room hi-jinks for Bodie. His chuckles brought forth further blasphemy and Doyle silenced him with a glare that would melt icebergs at the North Pole.

 

In between curses, Cynthia let them know that Maurice Seaton (who, incidentally, was a rather frightful chum of Daddy’s – they’d been at Eton together) had simply asked her to take photographs of those he called ‘the ordinary people’. At Doyle’s raised eyebrows, she elaborated: “Anyone without a title or money, darling, and you two fit the bill perfectly.”

 

She gave them other names – people she’d taken photographs of for Seaton – but she had absolutely no idea why he wanted them. Perhaps he had a dartboard, she suggested, before closing her stylishly buffed front door, leaving them standing on the landing.

 

They took the stairs, each musing over the new information. Outside, Bodie waved cheerily at White as he passed by the building for the umpteenth time, while Doyle stood by the driver’s door of the Audi. He held out his hand. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

 

“You gonna take care of them this time?” Bodie dug in his pocket for the spare set he’d taken off Doyle the previous day.

 

“Cross my heart and hope to--”

 

Doyle caught Bodie’s expression. “Yeah, I’ll take really good care of them. You’ll have to wrestle them off me before I’ll give them up again.”

 

A gleam came into Bodie’s eyes as he pressed the keys into Doyle’s hand and leaned in close, his breath ruffling Ray’s curls. “Don’t think I wouldn’t try it,” he promised.