gamesmanship

BY THE LAKE OF MIRACLES

A Fictional Tale of Game-Players of Lancaster Shire

By Izzy Ess of Inverness

Sir Thomas Effingham resided in a country mansion by the Lake of Miracles, between York and Older York, in Lancaster Shire, the former Duke of Birmingham’s fine estate, about a hundred years ago.  Sir Thomas was but forty years of age and had not been betrothed or married, nor had he had a lot of dates.  He had been an only child of Esther and Ezekiel, two very quiet Anglicans, who were so unemotional, they never hugged him or kissed him or even patted him upon his butt.  Rumour had it at the time that Essie and her Zeke had only been united sexually once.  They were not the most attentive folks for high society and lived alone with their sole child until an errant bomb, dropped from a Messerschmitt, killed them both in their small gardens by the Lake of Miracles.  Thomas had not missed them much.  He had his herd of Shetland ponies and his very large kennels full of Basset hounds, which he adored and they adored him, too.  Some folks had said that he was reclusive and mysterious, while others said he had no people skills and related better to his pets than any part of royalty.  That he was smart was evident by all the classic texts he studied on his own, without a formal education or exposure to the many public schools to which most of his contemporaries went.  Had he taken classes, he would surely have excelled in Mathematics, Physics, Philosophy, Geography and History.  He had some definite good aptitude for writing and for painting.  His oils of parts of his estate were eventually deemed outstanding, almost photographic.  He liked to write the classic sonnettes based on Shakespearean formats and several of his poems that have survived are excellent and worthy of wide circulation.  His subjects were quite lofty and not a one was based on unrequited love.  Instead he wrote of ancient warriors and their bold feats, quite fictional, but tied together by some view of history and local lore that he contrived to quite amuse himself.  His income was assured by clever husbandry and organic crops of wheat and corn and barley which were sold in local markets and as wholesale for the huge London population needing food.  He had large contracts for the making of some famous beers which were reputedly the best there was to drink, except for Guinness products.  Several of his crops were designated “For Her Majesty, the Queen,” and his business acumen was obvious, behind the scenes.  He had a large staff of experts who were managers for him without close personal involvement.  It was said that he was richer than the King or Queen of England, which may have been a truth.  Prince Charles led all the other Royal members in the new organic farming methods while he was quietly at least as good as the prince.

Sir Thomas just ignored the invitations sent to him to attend the royal ceremonies that were so well publicized.  His quiet personality prevailed.  He remained a mystery to most who came in contact with his enterprises, quietly amassing gold reserves of unknown quantities.  He dabbled successfully in futures markets.  Here again, everything was done without publicity that would have been forthcoming had he wanted the publicity.  He shunned the public eye.  Hardly anyone knew what he looked like.  No one guessed that he controlled entire third world countries from the privacy of his estate.  Some folks did liken him to the industrialist, Krupp, of Germany who quietly did own a full quarter of the Earth’s entire wealth.  Like Krupp, he organized those secretly administered strong holding companies which funnelled everything toward one man.

By any standard, Sir Thomas was a handsome and commanding man.  Outwardly, he was quite happy with his hounds and ponies.  His business acumen was not so obvious.  Some would have said he was the most aggressive, enterprising leader of a huge and wealthy empire that rivalled any past or present financial empire.  The fact that no one was aware of its international scope was truly amazing.

Mrs. Mary Sonderberg, a divorcee, twice over, was a Doctor of Economics at Cambridge where she taught and did research in the Department of Economics as the Assistant Head of the Department.  Regularly, she presented papers for the scientific community and for the mavens of Fleet Street, the traders of the FTSE, where stocks, bonds, options and wild stories did abound.  Her weekly newsletter on the latest recommendations for buying and selling and holding of securities was distributed in London and around the world.  It was very insightful reading for those who were the insiders of the London money scene.  Ms. Mary was a very beautiful woman who had bedded kings and queens, as well as princes and princesses.  She was wealthy with her publications and in her background of manipulating a substantial capital so wisely, she had managed to become a billionaire.  She could have easily retired, but as she said, “What would I do with my spare time?  I love this stuff!  It is like a great big game and I can play it with the best!”  Her specialty was the tricky ferreting out of not well known promising people or their companies and making money with extremely clever buying and selling of options, if available, or simply using huge amounts of money for speculation.  Her successes were quite legendary.

Throughout her money plays, she maintained a very busy social life and was often seen with eligible men or hard to get men, both single and married, and also women.  Her sexual adventures were not hidden much.  She was openly available for any adventure that was being offered her and had been surprised by members of the media in bed, or on the floor, with very famous personalities, singly, doubly, triply or in very large groupings that didn’t seem to slow her down, at all.  In fact, this publicity was good for her social reputation and it brought more offers of adventures, locally and nationally and internationally.  She would say that, “I am not the wallflower that my parents wanted me to be and that there’s a great big world out there just always waiting for me!”  The insiders knew that this was just a show to cover up the cleverness with which she started rumours and manipulated values of securities for great advantage.  Her billions did not come from shy approaches.  She was a beautiful tigress that was dangerous to most investors.  The insiders always were quite wary of her truer motives for the things she did and said.  The few who followed her quite closely would emulate her trading and would benefit immensely.  Those that passed her off as fluff were soon defeated by her cleverness.

That Ms. Mary had a Jewish name intrigued most folks.  She was actually Anglican, by birth and rearing.  She’d married first an African-American would was the owner of an Import-Export enterprise that specialized in Afrikaner Aboriginal Artistic Objects which were so sought after in the past few years.  The primitive Objets d’Arte were dark in background, high in ebony and extremely colourful, especially the ones depicting naked, very black, native and beautiful women in the middle continental areas of Africa.  The very tall Massei were definitely her favourites and fetched a lot of money for her in the London and international Art Markets.  On her desk in Cambridge, she displayed a one foot hand-carved piece of ebony that depicted head and neck of an African woman with an aquiline nose and stretched out ear lobes and those rings around her neck.  Her coif was tightly cut to the shape of her regal head, and contrasted with a colourful tight headband that was just beautiful.  Her expression was of dignity, confidence and power that came shining through.  One would imagine that she was a princess or a queen in her own country with her own people.  It was heavy and carved from one thick dark branch of an ebony tree.  The artist was unknown but was obviously in love with his model.  There were blue beads of the area that adorned her ear lobes that were elongated.  The elongation of her neck with neck rings was exquisite.

When Mary moved on and got divorced, she was already wealthy and the legal division of her fortunes with her first husband’s netted her a bundle.  Within a year, she met and married a Jewish Jeweler, originally from Belgium.  His diamond business had branches in London, New York City and in Antwerp.  Sonderberg was extremely wealthy and quite generous to his beautiful Anglican wife.  They separated when he caught her in a grouping of some ten adventurers in their own penthouse in London.  She netted another bundle from this divorce and was really set for life.  These marriages were only some of the settlements she did receive from other men who felt obliged to slip some golden coins into her coffers.  Some of this was known, but most of it was private and extremely quietly accomplished so as not to give the strong impression that our Mary was a gold-digger of the very sophisticated types of gold diggers in High Society.  Everyone could see that her beauty and her brains were her best assets and she used them very cleverly.

For years, Mary had tried to flush out her game. the secretive Sir Thomas Effingham.  The normal channels were not open to her or to anyone.  Sir Thomas was as reclusive as they come.  His strongly protected privacy increased the thrill of the hunt for Mary.  She devised a clever plan.  It cost a bundle to buy out a kennel specializing in the Basset hound.  She took on the aura of a country squire that is retired and just expressing his strong interest in dogs.  She moved the kennels to a property that was adjacent to the huge estate of Effingham’s.  She had patience and she waited patiently.  It worked.  Her prey came quietly into her kennels.

On that fateful day in May, Sir Thomas Effingham was dressed for farming while Mary was in dowdy clothing typical of someone who lived well and not ostentatiously.  She had been awarded the OBE and could call herself a Lady, Lady Mary Abercrombie, her maiden surname.  She’d asked her parents to come live with her in luxury and help her manage all the dogs.  The presentation to Sir Thomas was two elderly Anglicans, Doreen and Charlie Abercrombie who were running a family concern helped by their spinster daughter, Mary.  All the Abercrombie’s had been studying the rearing of the Basset hound and care and feeding in a kennel full of Basset hounds.  Sir Thomas was immediately comfortable with the Abercrombie’s, apparently not suspecting what was the truth about the beautiful, aggressive tigress who was effectively disguised.  The first time, they just discussed the hounds and how they both had similar approaches to their care and feeding.  Thomas was impressed and asked about the price and everything.  He wrote the information on his pad reliably pocketed in his farming clothing.  Thomas, of course, had no idea of how special in appearance Mary was but Mary liked him very much, immediately.  She’d learned to keep her personality quite passive.  Thomas said he’d like to have a second look someday, perhaps on Sunday, after church.  The Abercrombie’s said they don’t do business on Sunday, but they do enjoy the evening tea with company and quietly inquired if the good Sir would like to join them for this.  Sir Thomas acquiesced and came to Sunday tea.

In fact, Sir Thomas decided to get dressed in his Sunday’s best and walked to the St. Peter’s Anglican Church nearby and was not surprised to be sitting in a pew right next to the Abercrombie family who were also dressed quite nicely for the service by a Reverend Smythe who was enthralled to have such lovely guests that day.  The passages that were read by some congregation members were from Joseph’s story and his ability to interpret the dreams that the Pharaoh experienced, the twenty-third Psalm and one of the gospels that described Jesus feeding many folks by divine intervention.  The sermon delivered by Smythe need to give up all their worldly treasures for the poor to ensure that they would enter Heaven.  With a smile, the Reverend Smythe quoted the gospels which said, “It is easier to get a camel through the eye of a needle than to get a rich man into Heaven.”  Both Charlie Abercrombie and Thomas Effingham made sizeable donations to the collection baskets.  Smythe was quite obsequious to both Sir Thomas and Sir Charlie asking them to come just anytime they wished to St. Peter’s Anglican Church.  As the crowd dispersed, Doreen asked Thomas to join them for afternoon tea.  Sir Thomas lied and said, “I’m awfully sorry but some matters need my personal attention at this time.  May I take a rain check and come for tea next week after church?”  All the Abercrombies could see he was prevaricating.  He looked no one in the eyes and looked down at his shiny patent leather shoes, instead.  “Of course,” said Charlie, right away.  “We’ll keep the cozy on for you and you can surely come and share some tea and crumpets with us, next week.  Have a great week.”  “Toodle-oo,” all of them said and started walking toward their respective Basset kennels.

Mary thanked her parents for a job well-done.  She needed some excitement, right away.  Her prey was certainly elusive and precautious.  She needed some real intimacy with a friend, or two, right away.  She hugged her parents and departed for a weekend in London, or Paris or Prague or whatever…

Sir Thomas needed time to check these people out.  They had suddenly appeared last month and all his checking had found nothing to be frightened of.  By all appearances, Mary, Charlie and Doreen Abercrombie were harmless and well-meaning.  They seemed to be some quiet version of a typical English family, Anglican and formal, friendly and inviting to a wealthy neighbour with an interest in their Basset hounds.  Yet, something told him all was not what it appeared to be.  He and his managers had discussed the Abercrombies and no amount of computer searching discovered any threat to him or his security.  He formulated a plan with Lester Kronenberg, his chief assistant, a trusted member of his staff.  Lester was about the same age as Sir Thomas and was as much a “buddy” as Sir Thomas every had.  Lester’s loyalty was solid.  Only one thing was disturbing to Sir Thomas but it was not major for either Lester or Sir Thomas.  Lester was an openly gay man.  There, of course, had never been a moment when his homosexual leanings interfered at all with his diligence, intelligence and creativity with the inner sanction of the Effingham establishment.  Lester and Sir Thomas shared strong interests in Shetland ponies and the Basset hounds.  They also found that they were prone to delve into History and Philosophy, English Literature and Mathematics.  Also, they were both puzzle addicts and liked to solve the Times Crosswords and competed to see who could complete the difficult word challenge.  Also they were both intrigued with words, in general.  Sir Thomas possessed a library of dictionaries, including the OED compact dictionary, two volumes of over 300,00 entries in such tiny print that the publisher included a magnifying glass to accompany the huge double volumes.  Their game was to open the OED at any random page and challenge each other with all the words on two whole pages.

Sir Thomas found Lester at the personal computer console in his own private office.  It was constructed with his own modifications right into a huge mahogany desk that recorded sound and videos continuously of his office and the surrounding grounds.  With a twiddle of the controls, Sir Thomas established that his office and special rooms around the mansion and the grounds were secure and uninvaded.  Lester had seen this close monitoring by his boss a thousand times.  He admired Sir Thomas and his guarding of his privacy.  He quipped, “All is quiet on the Western Front, Milord!” and went back to what his screen was showing him.

“I found something interesting about the strange Abercrombies, Tom.  It seems they are making a deliberate set of moves to get to you through your strong interest in Basset hounds.  The deed on the property right next to yours has been signed by Mary Abercrombie and the settlement was in cold hard cash.  The man who owned the Basset hound kennel was in business for many years and was successful.  His profit from the sale of his concerns was sizeable.  Mary Abercrombie has some deep pockets, it seems, to be able to afford the price she paid.  It appears as if she made an offer that couldn’t be refused.  There was no bargaining, according to the land records.  I can’t find anything of Mary Abercrombie except for the usual shit about her birth to Doreen and Charlie some forty years ago, in a small village just north of London, North Minster.  The Abercrombies were well off but were not wealthy by any means.  Charles Abercrombie inherited a small hardware store there from his father who had similarly inherited it from his father.  Doreen and Charlie ran the Abercrombie Tool and Hardware Olde Shoppe and were very comfortable.  They retired about 10 years ago and were easily able to be very comfortable on the profits and the income from Charlie’s wise investments, mainly very safe Treasury Bonds bearing interest with the classic coupons which could be clipped off conveniently, which was substantial income for the two of them for a while.”

Sir Thomas listened carefully to Lester’s findings.  He transferred all the research files to his own console and quickly read through all of them, substantiating what Lester had told him.  His own research had failed to come up with anything except a very boring story of Doreen and Charlie Abercrombie.  And, like Lester, had found nothing interesting at all about the daughter, Mary.  He muttered, She must have been married or something and changed her name but I can’t find a record of it in all the stuff that I looked at.  Keep looking Lester.  I need to be sure before I do something with them next Sunday.  I did accept their invitation for tea and crumpets for next Sunday afternoon.  A mystery woman is not what I can deal with easily.  It makes me feel extremely vulnerable.  And you know how reluctant I am to be just simply social with any one. Eh?”  Lester nodded and went back to his Google search engine.

Lester continued: “I can’t find Mary’s history anywhere.  The Abercrombies, that is, Doreen and Charlie, had no other children and lived happily in North Minster.  Perhaps she worked as an unpaid employee at the Abercrombie Shoppe, but I can’t find that substantiated anywhere.  Nor can I find any way that Mary could have amassed such a large amount of capital to be able to buy out the Basset hound kennels as she did and move them to be adjacent to us.  The Abercrombies, Doreen and Charlie sold their house about three months ago to come and live and work with Mary, apparently.  They still cut coupons and are independent of Mary, financially.  It doesn’t quite hang together, boss.  Mary Abercrombie seemed to disappear from North Minster when she was a teenager and her re-appearance, with a lot of capital, is a mystery to me.”

Sir Thomas said, “I’ll see you later, alligator.  Happy landings, my friend.”  He walked to his private suite and undressed.  He showered meticulously, as was his wont.  He put on farmer’s clothes and went to see his Shetlands and his Bassets.  All seemed Kosher and in order.  He loved spending time with his pets and knew them all by name, as they knew him by smell.  His mind relaxed as he reviewed the meetings with the Abercrombies in his mind.  He lay down on a bale of hay and took a nap amongst his friends, his pets.

Monday morning, Thomas had a weekly scheduled conference with his chief associates concerning holding companies and the possible acquisition of yet another chain of supermarkets who featured organic foods from his and Prince Charles’ farms.  One of his associates was a whiz at crop futures and often traded options in Chicago at the 24 hour Chicago Board of Options Exchange.  Thomas was considering buying a half million dollar seat there to save on commissions and to be able to profit from the traders who were trading there.  His ears perked up when he heard of an aggressive woman, Mary Kronenberg, who was also bidding for a seat at the CBOE, in the Board of Trade Building in Chicago.  He asked to get a picture of her and this was produced momentarily by one of the computer whizzes that worked for him.

“Gotcha Mary Abercrombie or Mary Kronenberg, whatever is your name!  Your dowdy appearance is a clever disguise.  I’m impressed!  Lester, get your ass in gear.  I’m sure I’ve found the mystery woman’s secret!”  Lester got busy on his computer and found several pictures of Mary Kronenberg and an extensive bibliography about a highly successful Economics Professor at Cambridge.  “If this is really her, boss, she’s a beautiful tigress with a nose for finance that is legendary.  Take a gander at her weekly newsletter.  She is really good!  I’ve heard of her for years.  She’s a Doctor of Economics at a prestigious University.  Her newsletter makes news here and all over the world.  This latest issue has an excellent article on organic food farming and distribution.  She mentions you and Prince Charles in the same paragraph!  What are you gonna do, boss?”

“Good work, Lester.  Keep digging.  I need to find out more about her to see if she’s vulnerable socially or professionally.  Get me all the news articles on her, especially the ones that show her picture.  This might be fun!”  Lester was amused.  It was not often that his boss showed this kind of enthusiasm.  Generally he was cool and detached and handled billions without blinking an eye.  Something big was going down, thought Lester.  He was beginning to like this Mary person a lot.  She was wild at times but was otherwise the tops in inside knowledge of big companies and unknowns.  She must have made a lot of money with that knowledge and made a lot of money for the folks that followed her advice.  “Quit smiling, Lester my friend, and get back to it.  We need to have a lot of information before next Sunday.  Perhaps I can surprise this Mary and have an advantage over her.  I thought it might be interesting if you attended church with me next Sunday and you got yourself invited as my close friend and associate to the afternoon tea.  Whaddya say, Lester?”   “OK!” replied Lester.  Am I allowed to wear my frilly blouse and bell-bottomed silken slacks and represent myself as your gay escort?”  “Yes!” said Thomas.  “That would be perfect!”

Mary Abercrombie was concerned.  She discussed it with her folks, Doreen and Charlie.  “By now, Sir Thomas Effingham might have some suspicion that we’re not who we appear to be.  I need a better plan for next Sunday’s charade.  Any suggestions?”  Doreen had a notion.  “We need to add another person to our ‘family.’  I think a lesbian young ‘sister’ might fill the bill.”  “Great idea, mom!  I have a young assistant, who happens to be a lez that we can employ to lend us a hand.  She loves play-acting and she would be just perfect!  I’ll call her right away.”  Mary retrieved her cell phone and rang up Samantha Sullivan, her trusted assistant and explained the situation to her.  Sam was enthusiastic immediately and said she’d be happy to dress up in her silken frilly blouse and bell-bottomed slacks and play the role of lesbian young sister for her.  She and Mary had shared a few adventures in London, Paris and Prague.  She drove out to the Abercrombie Basset hound kennels and planned it all with the Abercrombies.  All would be set by the time Sunday rolled around.

At St. Peter’s Anglican Church on Sunday, Reverend Smythe was glowing when he realized that there were very wealthy guests that day from Effingham’s and Abercrombie’s estates.  He expected appropriately large contributions from all of them.  The passages from Numbers, Psalms and St. Luke’s Gospel were read and the Sermon was about how folks in a community must help each other out.  Smythe was some confused as he felt two of his new guests were gay.  He made no sign or comment to embarrass them.  Anglican policy was such that mixed marriages or same sex couples would not be tolerated.  In fact, he made them feel extra-welcome with hugs and handshakes, all around.  Indeed, the Church’s coffers were filled up that day as the Abercrombies, Sir Effingham and both the guests, walked off together to enjoy an afternoon together at Abercrombie’s manse.

Doreen and Charlie brought out the brandy and cigars for all the youngster while they retired to prepare the tea and crumpets for late that afternoon.  Samantha, Mary, Thomas and his partner, Lester repaired to the billiard room where Mary and Sam beat Thomas and Lester, ten games straight in some strictly played three-cushion billiards.  Mary and Sam had planned this and had dressed in such a way as to reveal they weren’t wearing any underwear.  Each had worn a frilly see-through gauzy blouse which was revealed when they quite slowly removed their sweater jackets.  Tom and Lester countered by removing their frilly shirts altogether showing powerful pecs and abs for Mary and Sam.  At a signal from Mary, the women removed their blouses, too, and let fall their bell-bottoms to be completely naked as they played the billiard games.  It seemed they deliberately bent over the edge of the table to take their shots while laying down their breasts on the felt table top.  The men countered this blatant move with moves of their own which was to lay their manhood members on the table as they made their shots.  The four players of this, and other games, started giggling and laughing right out loud.  By the time the tea time was announced, the four playing opponents were laying naked side-by-side underneath the huge table with expertly carved thick Basset paws supporting it.  Each woman grabbed a penis and massaged it vigourously while each man paid close attention to the women’s lower lips and orifices.  Each player was a little tipsy because of the excellent brandy, but still managed to mount each other for some good old fashioned effing sex.  Doreen and Charlie joined them underneath the table and participated in the group activities by stripping and revealing all their body parts to everyone.  By tea time, Doreen did lead them all to the shower room where they washed up and soaped each other thoroughly.  The tea and crumpets were consumed with extra relish as the six naked persons sat down to eat and drink.  Giggles and hearty laughter soon broke out.  After tea, the group of six retired to Abercrombie’s master bedroom where the games continued almost uninterrupted until the dawn on Monday, when Sir Thomas and his associate, bold Lester dressed and left to walk the distance to the Effingham mansion.

Everything was recorded on film by hidden cameras and microphones.  The electronic record was accessed by both the Abercrombie and the Effingham Mansions’ excellent surveillance equipment.

At the consoles in the Effingham residence, Lester and Sir Charles made little comment except to say, “We have her now!  She’s the famous Mary Chronenberg, Professor of Economics at Cambridge and the author of the weekly widely watched ‘The Chronenberg Report.’”  At the Abercrombie mansion, Mary, Sam, Doreen and Charlie chuckled as they watched the films of yesterday’s debacle.  “We have him now!” declared our Mary.  “He’ll do anything we ask to keep this from some widespread distribution in the media.  He seems to take his privacy issues very seriously.”  At each house, the formulation of the “master plan” was figured out separately and was exactly the same in both houses.

Sir Thomas rang up the Abercrombie Mansion and asked to be put through to Mary.  Mary expected the call.  Simultaneously, Mary and Thomas blurted out the question, “Will you marry me, my dear?”  “Of course!” said both of them, instantly.  The Reverend Smyth was happy to accept a big fat fee for marrying Sir Thomas Effingham and Mary Abercrombie at a private ceremony at St. Peter’s Church.  Mary instantly became Milady Effingham and Sir Thomas was instated as the secret editor of the most famous Chronenberg Report.  The shenanigans of both of them were secretly recorded while their manipulative stock exchange maneuvers doubled, tripled and quadruples and their fortunes doubled, tripled and quadrupled.  They shared the seat on Chicago’s CBOE and played their games, endlessly, for fun and profit.  Mary bore Sir Charles two very intelligent and beautiful children, Effie Effingham and Abby Abercrombie.  Doreen and Charlie were quite thrilled and immediately became the permanent baby-sitting grandparents.  As for Lester and Samantha, they got married, too.  Their adventures in behaviour were exciting and unusual in terms of mixing straights with gays.  A really good time was had by all participants, including, sometimes, Thomas and his Bloody Mary, who otherwise enjoyed just playing housewife to her Effing Effingham.

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

October 2, 2013