The Seehofer Chronicles: The Memoirs of a Courtesan

By Jaime Davenport

Due to the sexual nature of the text, this novella is unsuitable for anyone under the age of 18.

In the summer of 2012, the twenty-year-old journalist Sybil visits her grandmother at her cottage in the idyllic English countryside. She is little prepared for what follows.
Rebecca Seehofer has decided that the time has come to record her memoirs for posterity and, aware of the similarities in character they genetically share, has decided that Sybil is the woman for the task.
There follows the recollections of Becca as her time as a secretary in the British civil service during the 1960’s in the Department for Cultural, Artistic and Technological Studies. Becca’s primary job is that of a professional courtesan, paid by Her Majesty’s Government to ‘entertain’ her clients for the furtherance of British interests. The natural conclusion of such activities leads to prostituting herself for Queen and Country.
Rebecca had always been aware that her libidinous tendencies marked her out as being different. That the psychiatrist who treated her when she studied at university should take advantage of what was classified as her ‘aberrant traits’ was not unsurprising given the attitudes of the late sixties.
Becca’s talents drew her to the attention of Mary Weaver, the woman responsible for grooming Becca to become a consummate professional courtesan during the less than enlightened ‘swinging sixties’. Mary knew only too well the primacy of sex as a potent weapon in the male dominated world of industry and diplomacy.
During the course of Becca’s revelations, Sybil becomes aware of her own developing proclivity as already perceived by Becca. Sybil’s initial reservations are quickly suppressed when her grandmother reveals the identity of her grandfather, a man who has remained a mythical figure throughout Sybil’s life. So many vagaries concerning the enigmatic existence of Rebecca Seehofer are suddenly exposed and with it comes Sybil’s recognition that she and her grandmother are closer in thought and deed than she had ever envisaged.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaime Davenport
• Release date: Dec 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311019615

Jaime Davenport

Writing should be fun.We all love a story, don't we?I am English. Or should that be British? Either way, I write in English, although the Queen may question whether I represent her particular take on the language. Who knows, she might have actually read some of work and I might be destined for a peerage?Ah yes, writers are dreamers and I am no exception.If you happen to be reading this, then good for you! If you are reading this and have read some of work, then even better for you! I hope that I haven't offended you, although that is perhaps preferable to having bored you.Thanks for stopping by.Happy reading!

Book preview

THE SEEHOFER CHRONICLES.

THE MEMOIRS OF A COURTESAN.

By

Jaime Davenport.

Copyright 2012 Jaime Davenport

Smashwords Edition

Published by

Jaime Davenport on Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Table of Contents.

PROLOGUE. – BELGRAVIA.

CHAPTER 1 - MOUNT PLEASANT.

CHAPTER 2 – SYBIL TAKES NOTE.

CHAPTER 3 - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY.

CHAPTER 4 – REVELATIONS.

CHAPTER 5 - THE INTERVIEW.

CHAPTER 6 - THE SECOND INTERVIEW.

CHAPTER 7 - A RED MOONRISE.

CHAPTER 8 - BUNNY BEDFORD.

CHAPTER 9 - THE PENTHOUSE.

CHAPTER 10 – DOUBLING UP.

CHAPTER 11 - THREE’S COMPANY.

CHAPTER 12 - WHO’S THE DADDY?

Author’s Note.

The story of Rebecca Seehofer is a tale of the reminiscences of her time as a secretary in the British civil service and the extracurricular activities expected of her. That these deeds were sexual in nature implies that the book contains intimate descriptions of her conduct during the course of her career and is therefore only suitable for adults.

The tale is set in the summer of 2012 with references back to the 1960’s when Becca was in her twenties, the chapter headings reveal the dates of the events. I hope you enjoy the adventures of Rebecca Seehofer.

PROLOGUE. – BELGRAVIA.

8th February 1968. London.

Rebecca Seehofer felt distinctly nervous. The flat in London’s chic Belgravia was cloyingly warm, totally at odds with the sulphurous fog that billowed spectrally in the cold February air. The night mist imbued a sense of claustrophobia and worse still, a feeling of isolation. They were in the heart of the capital and yet they may as well have been on a Pacific atoll. We’ll, perhaps a desolate island in the Outer Hebrides would have been a more apt comparison.

Becca sat demurely on the beige couch next to her fellow secretary, Sally. Both girls balanced cut glass ashtrays on their clenched thighs and smoked, Sally noticing the way that Becca nervously toyed with the cigarette ash. They knew each other reasonably well, both being secretaries for departmental heads at the ministry. However, this was the first time they had worked together.

The two Japanese businessmen had left them alone, one to visit the bathroom, the other to prepare drinks in the kitchen.

So you’re going to do it then? whispered Sally louder than she had intended, an effect of the alcohol she had consumed in the expensive French restaurant. She had no idea of what she had been drinking; imbibing only what the sommelier had suggested to the senior businessman. All she knew was that it was intoxicating and delightfully expensive. Becca glanced anxiously at her friend.

Sally was the sort of girl that was transformed by make-up. At work she appeared as a young twenty-four year old, rather plain with an oval face that was on the cusp of being podgy, as was the rest of her body. Yet sat beside Becca was an all together different animal, a prime example of the predatory female of the species.

Becca conceded Sally looked very pretty, her heavy make-up offering the impression of a Hollywood starlet. The ruby red lipstick lacked subtly and projected only one message- availability. The cocktail dress refined Sally’s profile and her huge bust was haltered and shackled within the garment, manufacturing twin peaks that either intimidated or enthralled. Becca guessed that the Japanese senior partner inclined towards the latter.

Sally took Becca’s silence as affirmation and smiled gently at the blonde who was one year her junior.

Good for you, it makes it better for both of us, again whispered Sally in her broad Yorkshire accent. Why don’t you go to the toilet when he comes out and take your tights and knickers off. It sends out the right message. Oh, and your bra whilst you’re at it. That should get your bloke going.

Where do I put them? Becca’s modulated accent was pitched higher than normal, a result of the nervous trepidation that unsurprisingly assailed her.

In your bloody handbag! snapped Sally. Becca looked questioningly at her small silver clutch bag. Christ! gushed Sally, you’re not wearing your mother’s undies are you?

Becca blushed, as she was prone to do. Of course not, but the bag is very small...

Oh, just leave them in the bathroom and pick them up in the morning.

Becca blanched at Sally’s words- ‘in the morning’. She had been on many dates on behalf of the department but this was the first time she had agreed to spend the night with anyone. Her concerned musings were broken by the reappearance of the man who had visited the toilet. He was Becca’s date for the evening and the junior of the two men. He may have been the junior but Becca guessed him to be well into his forties. He was, at about five feet five, the same height as Becca without her heels, and slimly built except for a paunch. Becca had deliberately abstained from taking any note of his facial features; she preferred the experience to remain as anonymous as possible.

After drinks, the senior partner whispered into Sally’s ear and she giggled coyly. He led her towards one of the bedrooms and Becca caught Sally’s wink aimed exclusively for her benefit. If it was supposed to reassure the novice then sadly it had the opposite effect. Becca was left alone on the couch, the remaining man sitting in one of the seats opposite her.

Reassuringly for Becca, the businessman who she simply knew as Ken appeared equally as nervous as she did. The senior man, it appeared, was the more experienced in more ways than one.

Would you like to relax for a while? suggested Ken. His English, or perhaps more precisely American, was faultless but heavily accented. Becca smiled, hoping it didn’t emerge as a grimace.

I’d like that, replied Becca decorously. Ken smiled his appreciation, stood up, and began to walk towards the second bedroom. Becca extinguished her cigarette and followed.

The bedroom was the smaller of the two. Although pleasantly furnished, she was instantly struck by its austerity and lack of homeliness. The room had nothing to suggest occupation. Ken hovered by the double bed, which was covered by a plump red eiderdown quilt. He removed his grey suit jacket and placed it over the solitary armchair by the teak writing bureau. Becca hovered, clutching her handbag to her stomach whilst she waited with uncertainty. She was unsure of what she was supposed to do, the advice given to her by Sally forgotten as she was assailed by shame and the gravity of the situation. She empathised with the singer who forgot the lyrics of a song or the dancer who overlooked the choreographed moves.

Becca was no stranger to sex. The reason she had been offered her job was because she was a highly sexed young woman. However, intercourse had always been with partners of her choosing. She had never had sex with a man as part of a business association. Ken perceived Becca’s hesitancy.

Are you okay, Becca? asked Ken. Were his words spoken sympathetically or was he concerned that his promise of carnal indulgence was slipping away?

Yes, replied Becca without conviction, still not moving.

Well? asked Ken.

Unlike Sally, Becca had dressed far more casually for the evening. She wore a cream blouse with a trendy round neck collar and a deep blue skirt that fell to her knees. She had been wearing tights, but along with her cotton panties and bra, they were discreetly hidden in the bathroom.

Becca turned her attention to the window. The curtains were open and the fog eddied before the glass like a canvas screen. The effort required to raise her hands