Dragonflies The Duncan Peters Files

by Fontien, Samantha

  “You’re right Rube’s breakfast it is, and it’s on me, seeing you got the takeaway last night; now fuck off so I can shower.” And with that he pulled the door closed and turned on the shower, leaving an amused Rubin standing outside the door.

  By the time Duncan was showered and shaved, Rubin was already dressed and sitting listening to music loudly as always. Duncan picked up his kit bag and rummaged through it. As he picked through his small selection of civvies, he brought them to his nose smelling each garment for its freshness. He felt the tinge of anger return, as he thought of his wardrobe and drawers full of his clothes at home. There is was that word again, ‘home’. He bit down on the inside of his mouth, as he always did when annoyed. He used this practice as a small child to stop himself talking back to his mother, and not receiving another blow across his face with whatever she had in her hand or in her reach at the time. How he hated her. Thinking of her only made him angry. He grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled his legs into them. Again his mind wondered back to his childhood. How he hated his mother, her face flashing into his mind, and he had every right.

  Duncan was born on the 8th October 1964, in Queen Charlotte’s hospital, in Chiswick. Due to the extensive labour that his mother was in, they had used forceps, unfortunately damaging the skin on baby Duncan’s head which had become infected. Due to this, Duncan was kept in hospital for six weeks and this was increased because one silly nurse had put baby Duncan on the side that had the swollen infection. Duncan’s mother only visited once in his first week of life, and the same, right up till his fourth week. For the fifth and six, she never bothered to turn up. His father however was very prominent in his life. Between him and his Aunt, they had done a fantastic job in raising him. His mother had finally walked out of his life for good just before his twelfth birthday. She had been in and out of his life from a young age but at the age of twelve she had made it permanent. She had never taken to motherhood. It was only as an adult that he understood this. She had been an orphan, and been reared by nuns in one of the convents in Hammersmith. She had left there at sixteen, and trained to be a nurse. She took up singing to earn extra money, and turned up one day at his father’s bands auditions. His father often told him, it was love at first sight when he saw her. They quickly became romantically involved, thus resulting in Duncan, and a quick walk up the aisle.

  He admired his father, he never spoke ill of his mother, making countless excuses for her over the years. For a typical white collar city worker at that time, he had made up for the lack of his mother’s presence with huge amounts of love. He was quite a man, Duncan never understood, how as a shy man, his father, went up and played the drums for his own band. His aunt was a constant in his life, a great substitute mother if ever he could have chosen one. She was his father’s elder sister, who sadly, had been unable to have children of her own. She spoiled Duncan terribly in every way.

  He remembered his father’s words after yet, another one of his and his mother’s confrontations. “Son, don’t be so hard on her. She never had a mother to show her what to do.”

  He accepted this now. How could motherhood come natural to her? No one to show her the ropes! Fucking women he thought thinking back to Juliette. He pulled his black t-shirt over his head as he walked into the room to Rubin, who was sitting now with his feet up across the whole seat. Upon seeing Duncan, he rapidly swung his legs down to the floor as he stood and stretched yawning loudly.

  “So,” he clapped once sending a deafening noise echoing throughout the room, “Breakfast is on you then.”

  “At least let me get my boots on Rubin.”

  Duncan looked sighing, while inserting his feet into both boots and lacing them up. He too stood up and the two men grabbed their jackets from the banister and headed out the door. They were lucky as the Uxbridge Road was a hive of activity. He followed Rubin in through a door; the front shop windowpanes were steamed with the condensation from the hustle and bustle of the greasy spoon cafe, and all who prevailed of its hospitably. They walked to the counter, waiting to be served by one of the two homely women who were engrossed in chatter between themselves at the huge tea urns brewing endless cups of tea. One of the ladies approach the counter taking her pen from behind her ear, ready to write on the small pad in her hand. The two men placed their orders for ‘big hearty breakfasts with all the trimmings’. The woman asked if they wanted teas. Duncan asked for a cappuccino. The woman raised her eyebrows at him, looking at him like he had two heads.

  “Sweetheart, as lovely as you are, we have tea or coffee only.” Her pen pointed to the sign that said Tea or Coffee 60p. She looked at him impatiently waiting for his answer without taking her eyes off the two.

  Duncan scanned the kitchen, there was nothing to indicate anymore other than the tea or coffee option as he muttered “May I have a tea please?”

  “And manners as well as looks. Take a seat darling and I’ll bring them over for you,” she smiled as Rubin flashed her a huge cheeky smile, while she pushed her short hair behind her ears, obviously flattered at Rubin’s accompanied wink.

  “Thanks Gorgeous.” And with that Rubin grabbed one of the papers off the counter and gave Duncan a playful tap as he walked to an empty table and noisily opened up the paper, promptly putting his feet up on the chair beside him, leaving Duncan to also thank the lady and join Rubin at the table opposite to him. He leaned back on his chair, grabbing a paper himself that had been left by another patron and started to read until two teas we placed down in front of them. Rubin being the cheeky chappie he was smiled up at the lady again.

  “Thanks my darling, Ohh by any chance, do you do freshly squeezed orange juice?” He looked up, his eyes smiling. “Boy’s got to get his vitamin C, we’re growing lads.”

  Duncan broke his attention from what he was reading, thinking ‘this should be good.’ Knowing full well from his scan, there was no sign of an orange or anything that resembled it behind that counter. And Rubin was using his Scottish charm, quiet heavily on this poor woman.

  “Well,” she sighed, as she flushed scarlet, her hand to her chest as she leaned in to reply. “Well we don’t have it on the menu, but,” she looked over at her colleague behind the counter, who was staring at her friend. “We don’t normally, but I’ll make an exception for you lovey.” She shouted over to her astonished friend, “Maureen, I’m just nipping out to the grocers next door for some oranges, I’ll be back in a minute,” and she was gone.

  Duncan smiled to himself and shook his head, as he returned to the article he was reading.

  “What?” Protested Rubin, as he too returned to his reading chuckling to himself.

  “You have this gift Rubin of manipulating women, it’s just unbelievable, just unbelievable, and you have no shame.”

  “Ahh you’re just jealous. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all my tricks,” he laughed as Maureen brought the toast to their table and smiled as she set it before the two handsome rugged men. Rubin watched her, smiling before taking a bite from his toast, as she walked back behind the counter.

  Duncan looked over the paper at his friend.

  “You’re incorrigible Rubin, honestly.” He laughed before returning to his read.

  *****

  Rubin knew he had skills with the ladies, he always had. He was a mammy’s boy, and proud of it too. He was an only child; his father had died when he was two years old. His mother was left a widow after a bungled robbery of their grocery shop. She was a hard worker, and kept the business going. She was a strong woman teaching him if you do a job, do it properly. She had rubbed off well on him, as she wanted him to have an education and do something with his life. She didn’t want the life she and her husband had for her pride and joy. He was reared with “he was destined for bigger and better things’. She would tell him tales of his father, of where he had served in the army. It spurred him on to do well, which made his mother very proud. Sadly she died of cancer a month before he went to Cambridge University. Rubin had been a drun
ken mess when he first met Duncan. He had masked the pain he was in, by being in a constant drunken haze.

  Duncan stepped up to the plate, seeing he was on a collision course for self-destruction and had taken him under his wing. When he had received the page from Duncan last night, he certainly hadn’t expected Duncan to be a single man again. Although he had to secretly admit, he was delighted his wing man was back on the market. He hated Juliette for so many reasons. He and Duncan made a great team; they had each other’s backs no matter what the situation. And believe me there were many.

  He sat there pretending to read his paper, as he peered over at Duncan. When he arrived home, Duncan was pretty much hammered, he was glad he brought the four girls home. If Duncan hadn’t been up for the challenge the girls were instructed to join the fun and games he was partaking in with Bernie and the busty woman in his room. He sipped on his cup of tea, as he watched the cafe lady, push the door open with a brown paper bag, full to the brim of oranges. He did the gentlemanly thing and held the door open for her, catching one of the oranges that fell from the bag with one hand. He was swift and sharp, even after a night of drunken debauchery. He was due to return with Duncan, someone in Head office must have liked them as for both of them to have this leave together was obviously pre-ordained. He was glad otherwise they may have a serious situation, with Duncan being detained at the local cop shop until the military police came for him. And with him being a serving officer, well that wouldn’t have looked too good on his records.

  He found it a little worrying that Duncan wasn’t his normal chatty self. He knew talking about Juliette was out of the question; Duncan no doubt would talk about it when he was good and ready. For now, he could at least talk about last night and what Duncan thought of his first threesome. He had just asked the question when the tea lady and her colleague Maureen came down armed with their hot plates filled with fried food, and freshly squeezed orange juices in each hand, and accompanying beaming smiles, as they plonked down the items in front of the two hungry chaps. They of course nearly dropped the plates with surprise at hearing the word threesome; Duncan nearly spat the tea from his mouth. Yep Rubin had timing alright. The two women quickly scarpered off back behind the safety of their counter; all Duncan could do was to shake his head at Rubin, much to his amusement.

  “Well the reason I’m asking Dunc, is that I have a few parties lined up till we get shipped back.” He looked questionably at his friend.

  “But its Christmas eve tomorrow,” Duncan replied while taking a bite of his toast which he had dipped into his runny egg yolk.

  “Aye, I know that, fuck Dunc, every day’s Christmas for me,” he laughed as he winked up at the two ladies who were conversing behind the counter. “You can’t mope around, you need to keep busy, and I can keep us very busy if you know what I mean.” He chuckled mischievously, to Duncan’s ‘NO’ shaking head, as Rubin nodded ‘YES’.

  “Ohh yes indeedy, party central, here we come.” Laughed Rubin, not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

  4

  Suck my Kiss.

  Five days later, all Duncan could remember, was a montage of parties, which all seemed to merge into one. He burped; he could still taste the drink from the night before. Throughout the several plane rides back to base, his memories from the past few days, unravelled from the ‘one big threesome’ image from the first night. Which kept flooding his mind and into a series of lovely ladies over the various other nights, and the extraordinary things he had experienced and did. Like drinking champagne from the toes of one young lady as it was pouring down her silky leg. He smiled over at Rubin, who was sleeping soundly, his head resting against a cargo net full of kit bags. He laughed to himself, Rubin could sleep on rocks.

  Thanks to Rubin, he had those fantastic mental images rather than the one of Juliette. Just thinking of them made his cock hard. He shifted in his seat to ease the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers. Not a good thing when you’re on air transporter filled with squads of soldiers, heading to the front lines.

  He would save the Juliette image for when he was behind enemy lines.

  He closed his eyes, and the images came flooding forward. The party he and Rubin had been at was only a few doors away from Rubin’s house. He laughed to himself, that man even had it on his door step. It was Christmas Eve, the people who owned the house were huge swingers, and known for their very ‘private parties’ in certain circles. It was only those in the know, who would know of the antic’s that went on in the large Georgian town house, five doors down, across the road from Rubin’s.

  He remembered questioning Rubin, as to why they had to wear suits.

  “Because my good man. You have to have style, a touch of ‘je ne sais quoi’.” Rubin stood in front of the floor length mirror running his fingers through his hair. “A good suit to a woman is an absolute panty dropper.” As he walked past Duncan he patted him on the shoulder. “Man, you’ve been domesticated for too long. Marriage made you old before your time. But never fear, your pal Rubin’s here.” He laughed.

  Rubin turned and brushed off the shoulders of the suit he had lent Duncan, with pride on his face. Duncan saw him lick his thumb and move towards his cheek, and start to brush off an imaginary smudge, before Duncan realised what he was doing and pushed him off, much to Rubin’s amusement.

  “Charm, my good man, is all you need,” Rubin smiled as he fixed his shirt cuffs.

  Duncan shook his head at his uncouth friend, he was unsure about what he was letting himself into. He knew Rubin had an appetite, but for what? He truly didn’t want to know the in’s and outs of his best friends’ sex life even though, he had heard most of it, in their early days... Now! God only knows.

  “Let’s do the Cambridge gig and say we’re working as physicists.’ Chicks dig brains and brains in suits.” He stood there smiling, his hands outstretched. “They’re honey to a bee,” then he thought, “No, no, let’s say we’re transatlantic pilots, that’s what they think I do anyway around here anyway. It’s perfect. We’re both pilots” Rubin said excitedly.

  He remembered the clap of Rubin’s hands, as he followed him down the stairs and out the door, bottles of champagne in both of their hands, as they briskly walked over the road and up the steps to the black painted door, which Rubin pushed open.

  He couldn’t remember what he expected exactly, but it certainly wasn’t what he thought it would be. They walked into a huge room, where loud music was blaring, and bodies were either jumping or swaying rhythmically to the beat of the music that thundered out. Immediately Rubin went into party mode moving his head in time to the beat, a huge grin on his face. Duncan followed behind him, taking in everything that was going on around him. The next thing he heard were a squeal of delighted hello’s as Rubin was greeted with kisses from the hostess and entourage of young ladies. He had to give it to Rubin, as he found an empty wall space and watched the master work his magic. Rubin looked like he was having a ball, as a drink was shoved into his hand, which he immediately swallowed down while still moving to the music. Duncan was mesmerised by the antics being conducted in the room, he was immersed in watching the love fest that was being conducted on the large sofa. His attention was only broken when he saw Rubin walking towards him still moving to the loud music, a drink in each hand.

  “Loosen up old man,” and he pushed a drink into his hand, “Drink!” he ordered. “It will put some lead in your pencil.”

  Duncan did so, and Rubin pushed the other drink into his hand nodding his head at him to finish that one too, which he also did, shuddering to its contents as it slipped down his throat causing him to slightly gasp.

  “Fuck Rubin,” he pulled a face. “What was that shit you gave me?” As Duncan smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That shit tastes like cough medicine, its fucking rank.”

  “That my good man was a Jägermeister, now follow me and I will introduce you to my friend the Jägerbomb,” and he led a bemused Duncan to the kitchen.

&
nbsp; The next thing he remembered was the gorgeous blonde and he upstairs in one of the many bedrooms. It was dimly lit, and they had made good use of all the furniture. There was even talk of them having sex on top of the wardrobe, but that soon was settled as they fucked against it instead. She laid there, teasing his cock before slipping it back into her mouth, he thought about last night. Although the young lady was doing a marvellous job, and he really couldn’t complain, it wasn’t like the night before. The excitement igniting his hardness with a throbbing pulse, which made her moan more loudly. Yep he had to hand it to Rubin, two tongues caressing his cock, was unquestionably more fun than just one. He was delighted when she asked ‘if he would mind if her friend Kim could join them’. Duncan could only smile and reply,

  “Of course,” while secretly he thanked God for Rubin Miller.

  He was jolted out of his sleep, by the plane wheels hitting the tarmac. The plane drew to a standstill. He and Rubin also fell asleep en route to their base. His mind drifted back to the wild nights. Some were still a montage of erotic events. He remembered him and Rubin at one point, each high-fiving each other while giving it doggy-style to their prospective ladies at another one of the kinkster parties Rubin had dragged him willingly to.

  It was on the second day of being in base camp, when Juliette’s letter arrived. He knew instantly it was from her; with her beautifully hand addressed envelope. He put it into his top pocket, and headed into his tent. He sat down on his bunk and started to read;