The Finder - Sex Stories

The Finder

... well do the maths on two million and it's a very happy day indeed.

But of course you need an inside man, someone who can get you in the door before the manor goes on the market, I have a few but none like Mr Crispin Fitzroy.

Where do I start? Eton educated, born into old money and guaranteed an easy passage through life, used to dealing with the higher echelon of society, he's probably related to most of them.

Usually pin stripe suited in town or in country greens when aiming his grandfathers Purdy shotgun at some poor unsuspecting pheasant at the weekend, like Prince Andrew you never see him sweat.

He is now late fifties tall and slim with an androgynous look, wavy raven black hair, greying at the temples and a million watt smile, effortlessly charming and witty, a must have at any social event.

Then why does C Fitzroy Esq currently use me as his finder, a local boy done well type when he is surrounded by fawning males and females.

Let's rewind a couple of months and I am at a boring society fund raiser slowly edging toward the exit when the afore mentioned Fitzroy homed in on me like a heat seeking missile.

He stuck out his arm offering a perfectly manicured hand, "David yes?"

"Yes" gobsmacked that he knew my name even that I existed, I took his hand and we shook.

Now I don't know about you but if I meet a guy for the first time the handshake is firm, not bone crushing but assertive but his was warm, almost seductive and lingered perhaps a tad too ...

... long.

He gazed into my eyes and I felt my soul kind of melting and melding into his.

He finally spoke "Lovely to meet you at last, let's go somewhere more intimate and talk business."

Intimate, I thought that a strange word but hey Mr Crispin Fucking Fitzroy knows my name and he wants to talk business, bring it on.

We wandered outside and strolled down the extensive grounds until a small gazebo came into view, it looked out over a beautiful lake, moorhens croaked and buzzards whistled overhead.

"Perfect, don't you think?", he asked, I nodded and he sat patting the seat next to him.

He pulled a silver hip flask from an inside pocket, unscrewed the chain held cap and took a long swig then offered me the flask, I sat and took a large pull, It was good single malt and warmed my body and soul.

"So Mr David I hear you have a killer black book, one that I would be very interested in."

"Mr Fitzroy" he raised his arm "Please Crispin to you no need for formalities."

We talked business and houses for a while and I began to feel at ease with his easy charm and wit. Frequently we fell about laughing recalling old acquaintances, epic deals and epic failures.

He sighed and took another hit from the flask then pulled two cigars from another pocket, lit both and handed me one. He took a deep pull from the cigar and exhaled, the smoke billowed around in the evening breeze. I studied the side of his face, the strong jawline, his elegant long neck it all smacked of ...