Jason Isaacs Times Five - a Parody - COMPLETE

Felton Comes Across

Of all the crew, Milord Felton was the most difficult to keep clothed. It wasn’t that he was hard on his clothes. He just kept taking them off. He said he was allergic to the modern fabrics and got all itchy when he wore them for any length of time. He also argued that as steward for the estate, and working outdoors, he never got any clothes dirty or sweaty if he was naked. More likely he just liked hanging loose around the house. Percy was indifferent, and Tav ignored him except for occasional rude comments on his medallion. Lucius and Hook, however, were incensed.

“Must we be subjected to Felton’s pitiful displays of vulgarity?” Lucius grouched. “It’s exceedingly unsanitary. Not to say unsightly,” he added, stroking his own velvet sleeve.

Felton’s loincloth had finally succumbed to one too many launderings and fallen into irreparable pieces. Unfortunately, during her quest to find a replacement piece of pure linen, Felton had discovered the joys of nudity. He was being remarkably resistant to suggestions of alternatives by his compatriots. And, being shrewd in his own way, he noticed that she never added her voice to the arguments for him to wear more clothing.

James’s words were even less subtle, “If you don’t put something on your arse, my hook may find its way into virgin territory.” He paused, then smiled in wicked speculation, “Or maybe it isn’t – virgin, that is.”

Felton stared narrowly at Hook. “Are you impugning my masculinity? You, who’ve spent half your life on a ship with nothing but men and that hook?”

Oh, dear, she thought. When hostilities head down the proclivities road, nobody is safe. “Felton, come upstairs with me, please.”

He sauntered after her with a backward superior look at the others. “Yes, my dove.”

Felton was extremely gifted at growing things and he spent much of his time outdoors tending his extensive vegetable, flower and herb gardens. He had developed a beautiful tan that emphasized his fascinating pale blue eyes. He knew it was a pleasure for her to look at him, all of him.

She turned into the upstairs corridor toward her bedroom, but veered into the game room at the last minute. When Felton came in behind her, she closed the door.

“We haven’t used the pool table in quite awhile,” he smiled happily.

“Milord,” she sighed, “enough is enough. Your naked bum is creating contention among your fellows. Perhaps you don’t see the real reason.”

“’Tis easily seen,” he replied. “They’re all jealous of my glorious physique and don’t like being reminded of it.”

She stared. “Felton, my dear, you all have exactly the same physique. You know that. I’m sorry, but I’m putting my foot down – you need to wear something more than your birthday suit around here. I don’t want Hook to rip you a new, er, arse. I much prefer your ‘glorious physique’ as presently packaged.”

“Hmmph. So what is the real reason, then?” mumbled Milord.

“I think everyone, including you, thinks you will be getting preferential treatment with your blatant display. Are you really so uncertain of your worth to me?” she said sadly.

Felton was dismayed at inadvertently causing distress to her, and thought about her words. Was he feeling eclipsed by Hook’s splendor, Lucius’s elegance, Tavington’s uniform (women always loved uniforms), and even Percy’s sleek ferocity? He began to wilt. What did he have to offer, the poorest and least educated of the group? He had been someone special in the Dark Ages, but here, his peerage was outdated and worthless. What else did he have to offer her?

“Felton, love, I don’t need to be constantly reminded of your presence by seeing you in the altogether. Do you know why I value you? You are far and away the most natural, the earthiest of the lot. I find that very sexy, Felton. You are elemental male, Milord, no frills, no uptight layers. I can totally relax in your company. You are very special to me.”

Felton gaped at her. “I am?”

“Of course, you are,” she hugged him tightly. “And always will be, Milord. I’m so sorry I haven’t successfully made that clear to you.” She sniffed and smiled, “Now, how do we solve the clothing problem? What would you be willing to wear around the house? Another loincloth?”

“Well, “he said hesitantly, “I always liked my leggings, but not the leather ones. They chafe.”

“Good enough, Milord.” If you can get past your fabric allergies, there are marvelous synthetics that would make wonderful leggings with no sagging. Any color you want.”

Felton blushed at her reference to his “allergies”. They both knew he’d faked his afflictions. “No fancy colors,” he said. “Just brown or grey, maybe.”

She smiled with genuine pleasure. “I think you’ll look splendid in your leggings. And maybe some soft boots. Promise me no shirt, though, except possibly in winter. I love your medallion.”

Felton smiled back, a soft gleam appearing in his eyes. He started slowly backing her toward the pool table. “As long as we’re already here, my dove…”