Bryce Courtenay - The Potato Factory

He removed a hand from his crotch and grabbed the cigar from Hannah, throwing it to the floor and stamping on it several times until it became a soggy, pulpy mess. Removing his hands he glanced down upon his recently violated area and observed a hole in the light coloured material not larger than a sixpenny bit, but in a strategically awkward area. Again clasping both his hands over it he backed away from Hannah.

'Damnation and blast! I have an appointment at four of the clock and cannot first go home!' Sir Jasper cried.

'Why, sir, it is not much of a mend,' Hannah remarked calmly, 'an 'ole no larger than the tip o' me tongue, and what might come about if a gentleman could 'ave took forty winks in his club chair with 'is pipe or cigar in 'is mouth. You must let me attend to it at once – I am a clever seamstress who will soon repair it invisible.'

'Keep your filthy harlot's hands off me!' Sir Jasper said fearfully, backing still further away from Hannah, so that he now stood in the corner with his back against the wall like some miscreant schoolboy who has failed at spelling.

'Tut, tut!' Hannah clucked. She was accustomed to crisis and mostly took immediate possession of the situation. 'Come now, sir, it ain't that bad!' She rose from her chair. 'See I shall move yer chair and sit upon it and you shall stand behind me back, remove yer trousers and pass 'em to me across me shoulder. I 'ave needle and thread with me and I am trained as a seamstress.' She smiled brightly, acting quite unconcerned and natural in her manner.

Sir Jasper looked at Hannah suspiciously, then he turned slightly away and uncupped his hands briefly to observe the damage once again. 'Very well, madam,' he said, the sulkiness still contained in his voice, 'but this service rendered does not alter your predicament! Attempting to fee an officer of the law is a very serious offence!'

Hannah chose, for the moment, to ignore this remark. A man without his breeches, she reasoned, is much more amenable to compromise. She rose and placed the table upright, then crossed to his chair and turned it so that when seated her back was towards him. She sat down and arranged her skirts.

'Come now, sir, it is to mendin' we must now pay our attention.' She waited with her hand placed on her shoulder ready to receive the recently damaged garment.

Sir Jasper found it impossible to be in opposition to Hannah's calmly stated demands. His imagination took flight and he was once again a small boy intimidated by his nanny. Standing with only a woollen vest above his waist as she chided him for some small misdemeanour, running her hands down his thighs and massaging his buttocks as she threatened him with the back of her hairbrush, then kissing and fondling his tiny waterworks, which, now in its adult proportion, was growing at a quite alarming rate.

Sir Jasper, quite breathless, seated himself upon Hannah's recently vacated chair and hurriedly removed his boots and then his trousers, releasing his engine with a spring as the restraining cloth passed beyond it. Whereupon he replaced his high-heeled boots upon his feet.

'Quickly! We must 'urry to mendin', or you'll catch yer death,' Hannah said solicitously, her fingers fluttering impatiently upon her shoulder.

She had already prepared the needle and thread from her bag. Now she took the trousers from Sir Jasper, and quickly turning them inside out blew the cigar ash from the surface of the cloth, and commenced to work upon the hole, gathering its edges together and stitching it in the manner of a sutured wound, this being much the quickest and neatest way under the prevailing circumstances.

From the corner of her eye she now observed that Sir Jasper had come to stand close to her shoulder and was breathing heavily. She turned slightly towards him and was confronted by his stiffened prod almost touching the edge of her bonnet.

'Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?' Hannah's vast experience of men made her summation almost instinctive. 'A little boy what's 'urt 'imself? A little boy who wants nanny to kiss 'im better?'

'Yes, yes, please, nanny, it hurts a lot, please can you kiss it better!' Sir Jasper gasped urgently, his voice a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Hannah laid down her needlework, took the pins from her best bonnet and removed it, placing it on the table, whereupon she unpinned her hair and shook her head, so that her hair fell to her shoulders in a cascade of brilliant titian-coloured curls. Her movements were deliberate and calculated to excite him even more. Then, with Sir Jasper wincing and groaning at her shoulder, she took his manly pride between her thumb and forefinger. Moving her head closer, she ran the point of her clever tongue around the underside of its purpled cap at the point where it joined the manly thrusting stem.

'Ooh! Oooh! Oh, God! Oooh!' Sir Jasper moaned.

Then she withdrew her tongue. 'We'll not be 'earing any more of bribery charges, will we now, ya naughty boy?' Hannah cooed.

'No, nanny! I promise! Please, please, I beg of you, suck upon me! Oooh!'

Hannah smiled and licked her lips, and took him once again and brought him to the ultimate point before she withdrew her tongue again. 'And no more of 'anging?'

'Oh, Jesus! No! No more of hanging!' Sir Jasper whimpered. 'I beseech yoooou!'

'Swear it as an English gentleman, upon the 'ead o' the King 'imself!' Her tongue flicked out and licked invitingly at her lips then, darting further, playing mischievously with the tip of her nose.

'I swear as a gentleman, upon His Majesty's head,' Sir Jasper gasped. 'Please, nanny, do me! Do me now, I beg of you. I cannot bear it a moment longer, suck me dry, ooooh!'

Whereupon Hannah took Sir Jasper into her mouth and, with the help of her lascivious tongue, proceeded to satisfy him beyond his wildest fantasies. Completely exhausted, he reeled back and collapsed, gasping and panting. Half sprawled upon the chair, his pot belly was an incongruous helmet placed upon his otherwise skinny frame, his naked, hairless legs, encased at their ends with high-heeled boots. Hannah noted with satisfaction that his nose, now flat and pale as a badly risen scone, cowered against his florid, sweating face.

'Yer trousers,' Hannah said, rising and covering his nakedness by placing the garment across Sir Jasper's lap. 'I apologise most 'umbly,' she said, grinning wickedly, 'I made much too light of yer other cigar, it is a most worthy smoke, sir!'

Sir Jasper looked up at Hannah and gave her a small smile, his tiny obsidian eyes expressing a much becalmed disposition.

'If we are to be friends, m'dear,' he panted, 'it is best that I state the terms right off.' He sat up, clutching his trousers to his crotch, attempting to sound businesslike in his manner. 'I can do nothing for your husband other than attempt to forestall his march to the gallows. We can enter a plea that no long-tailed notes were found in his possession, only those of five pound value, though these are of exceptional quality and most numerous. The judge may, with a little persuasion, come eventually to see that transportation rather than hanging is in order.'

Sir Jasper grunted, and bent down to remove his boots. Arising, he proceeded without shame to reap-point his trousers to his skinny frame, and then, seated once more, returned his boots to his small stockinged feet.

'We shall, of course, need your co-operation in the matter of the counterfeit fivers,' he said, looking up at Hannah for her confirmation.

'An' me?' Hannah asked. 'What's to 'appen to me?'

Sir Jasper rose from the chair and stood once more trousered and confident. His recent intimacy and claims of friendship seemingly quite forgotten, and with his thumbs hooked into the lapels of his cutaway coat, he declared, 'Ah, yes, the sewing woman! We must reward the sewing woman.'