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Chantilly Brown

By: EgmontGrigor2011



Spelling is Kissock English

* * * 

INTRODUCTION

President Brown's daughter Chantilly disliked being jobless and socially isolated on the allegedly sun-drenched tropical island of breeze-caressed coconut palms and mile-long white-sand beaches that tourist brochures label unabashedly, 'A Romantic Dream Destination' and 'Fantasy Island Is One Credit Card Zap Away'.

Only yesterday a 7-year old runaway from school endeavouring to escape harsh discipline was hiding between 'breeze-caressed palms' and had his head split open by a falling coconut. That put the concept of breeze-caressrf coconut palms into sharper perspective.

Chantilly sniffed and wondered how could one's body become sun-drenched when the 8840 square mile island was shut down by 120 mph hurricanes? And when those frightening big blows ended, decaying fish, diesel from sunken fishing boats and the washed up huge lake of rotting sewage from the sanitation pumping station pipeline outlet two miles off the coast would for weeks if not months trash the 'mile-long white sand beaches' on the tourism-favoured northern coast.

Actually the longest beach was a mere 781-yards long and white shells crushed by tidal action gave the impression the grey sands were white. It was never stated in tourist brochures that on average sharks catch seven tourists a year or that twenty or so tourists a year die in fights, dynasty, food poisoning, any one of seven deadly fevers or are gored by a wild boar.

The brochures had pictures of green turtles but made no mention of giant and deadly spiders, or the world's most venomous sea snakes, giant bats or huge biting ants that a few years ago reputedly surrounded a copulating couple on Lulana Beach and in the morning all that was left were bones. The story never surfaced because the newspaper reporter who reputedly gathered evidence of that incident of world news status, mysteriously disappeared on her way back to her newspaper.

* * *

Chantilly, a 23-year old with a masters in marine science, rubbed purest medical grade lanolin cream into her nipples to inhibit cracking in the corrosive climate of salt laden air, heat and the periodic drying winds off the inland desert. She, her mother and sister, spent a small fortune on skin protection that their husband/father willingly provided because of his fondness of beautiful women.

The president of the democratic-ruled nation of 260,700 people was entitled to travel abroad with his/her family every 12 months for three weeks and the Browns had just returned from Canada, their choice of country to visit this year. For Chantilly, the joy of going abroad was offset by the despair of returning to 'paradise'. She'd tried unsuccessfully to find employment in Canada that would have allowed her to stay behind but none of the interviewers, unfortunately all female, could bring themselves to recommend employment of a dazzling beauty who had no work experience and arrogantly required a high salary.

So she returned to the island and sulked, lost weight and lost her humour. She was such a pain that her father had his official motor yacht stocked with fine food, fine wine and a female hospitality crew of loose morals and invited the government's Minister of Tourism to join him to cruise away the weekend. The result was Chantilly was offered a position in London as the Republic of Kissock's tourism representative, a position usually taken by a near retiring big-wig.

Chantilly went personally to thank the ugly Minister of Tourism after signing her two-year contract, and happily allowed him to have sex with her. It was worth it, bent painfully over his desk while he toiled for twenty minutes before climaxing. Well it was a prestigious position that included an apartment above her office in High Street, Marylebone plus secure parking and a self-drive black Mercedes coupe.

CHAPTER 1

Chantilly arrived at her new home mid afternoon and that evening held a party in her office for some old friends she's made over the years when receiving her secondary and university education in London. In the report she sent back to her Ministry, her guests had fictitious names and fictitious occupations such as Mr Basil Perkins, managing director of Vacations International Inc and Miss Shelia Chessman, managing editor of Exotic Holidays Magazine.

"Oh darling how lovely to see you again," cooed Felicity d'Drum (named in the report as Miss Sheila Chessman), festooned with expensive jewellery because her father was awash with money, being a dark beer baron.

Three hours later Chantilly found Felicity being shafted on the kitchen table by the Rt Hon. Steven Wright-Higgins (named as Mr Basil Perkins), Minister of Litter Control in Her Majesty's Government. Enterprisingly, she slipped off her panties and climbed on to the table and made it a threesome.

Three of Chantilly's girlfriends stayed on to clean up the offices but then, finding themselves too tired for sex with Chantilly, they staggered off.

Chantilly was relieved about that because her butt was tender became Steven hadn't used lube. She thought that evening of drunkenness and mild debauchery ought to have re-established her on the social scene and she could now return to being a lady... well as near as she could get.

She met her staff of three in the morning. Oliver was a computer graphics and design expert who also looked after electronic communication and maintained the office's computer system.

Young Mavis made tea and looked after the mail and courier deliveries/collections and did things no one else wanted to do.

Elegant Ivy was Chantilly's PA. 

"What do I do?" Chantilly asked.

"Your hair and nails, answer the calls I put through to you and attend luncheons and return to the office in time to leave for the day."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well that's what your predecessor did before he was recently recalled and as did the woman before him."

"And what do you do Ivy?"

"Everything you are supposed to do in respect of administration. You have to host dignitaries and plan the marketing of any promotion the Ministry sends us in a Diplomatic bag.

Chantilly yawned and said she liked it and Ivy said she thought Chantilly would.

"Doesn't this office originate promotions to publicized Kissock's tourism potential?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because it's never been done."

That told Chantilly her middle-aged PA had been trained within the socialist bureaucracy.

She stretched and yawned when Ivy left and thought she should go up to her luxurious flat and sleep till evening so she would be fresh when she hit the bars to find a suitable guy to take her clubbing.

Chantilly opened her handbag and took out her contract for filing and paused to glance through it, looking for any clues about job specifics but found none. She came to the last paragraph and read it carefully: 'I Chantilly Margaret Cinzia Brown solemnly swear to serve my country with honour and dignity while officially representing the Republic of Kissock. I promise to work diligently and effectively to promote the tourism attractions of my Indian Ocean homeland.'

Slowly a veil of responsibility shrouded Chantilly. She called Mavis and asked for tea and replied no iced bun or chocolate biscuits.

Sipping Bronson's Mid-Morning Blend in a bone china cup, Chantilly called Ivy and asked how much annual budget was available from this month's budget. The answer was $349,729 in Kissock dollars or about £210,000.

"You'll get a quite a few parties out of that," Ivy said icily and Chantilly said stiffly, under influence of her new cloak of responsibility, that she wasn't a party girl.

Chantilly made an international call and a sleepy voice said, "Who the fuck is phoning at this hour of night."

"Oh my apologies? I'll call some more convenient hour. What time do you usually jerk off?"

"Chantilly, Chantilly Brown?"

"Yes Uncle Dick." she said to Billy Brown, her father's youngest brother. On her 18th birthday Uncle Billy had taken Chantilly's virginity because none was lining up to do it and from then on he became her Uncle Dick because on that infamous night in the cellar he'd said dribbling, 'Here comes your uncle's dick'. 

They talked about his fishing operation and he said well if he pulled finger out he could make two fishing trips a day, taking a maximum of 40 fishermen per trip. He became really enthused when Chantilly said he probably could charge each person $200 with nothing to pay if they didn't catch a fish.

Chantilly sipped more tea thinking about the photo she'd taken only last year when she'd gone down to the fishing wharf as she liked to do to buy fresh fish from Uncle Dick. He was just returning after being out to catch the 5:00 am start of the incoming tide and returned four hours later with 400 hastily gutted fish hanging on lines above the deck and already putrefying in the tropical heat. But that was okay because they would be ground up for garden fertilizer. The edible fish would be down below on ice.

Chantilly had her camera with her and took the phone of Uncle Dick and his strung up fish. He waving at her, dressed in filthy shorts, filthy armless white Polo and was unshaven. It certainly was no tourist picture. 

She went upstairs and returned with that photo from her collection of favourite memorabilia to weep over when she felt homesick.

"Hi Oliver," she said to the IT man and graphic artist. "Ivy tells me you are in a gay relationship?"

"Yeah. Want me to resign?"

"I call that a preference, not a disgusting unholy act Oliver."

"Oh."

"Oliver can you work with me to produce an advertisement that will be a quarter page in magazines and will adjust easily to requested size in newspapers?"

"Sure Chanty, piece of cake."

"Great and if you wish to shorten my name the preferred choice is Tilly you fag."

He laughed and said she would be refreshing to have around. He invited her to sit down and she handed him the photo to scan.

A few days later Chantilly grabbed all the national dailies off Marvis who yelled, "Hey Tilly we share them."

"My first ad is in these newspapers today.

Everyone gathered around and when they gasped, Chantilly and Oliver looked at each other and grinned.

"Gawd that fisherman looks like a pirate," Ivy sniffed.

"He probably has a big dick," Chantilly said, and Ivy leaned forward to take a closer look at the illustration.

"He looks like a genuine fisherman," Mavis said, but who would pay two hundred bucks to catch a fish?"

Chantilly the authority said, "A fisherman who rarely catches fish and thinks when eyeing this ad he'll catch up to 400 in four hours and will be photographed with his catch and will be able to keep as many fish as he wishes."

"Go on, he can't fly home with food, especially smelly fish."

"Well he won't be thinking that when he books to go to Kissock, but if he is a thinking fisherman he'll extend his stay to give him time to eat through his catch."

Just as Oliver had done when composing the advertisement to Chantilly's instructions, Ivy and Mavis looked at Chantilly in awe.

Within three days all available aircraft seats from Great Britain for the 11-hour flight to the Republic of Kissock had been taken and a national UK travel agency had chartered a cruise liner with 2700 beds to sail to Kissock for a week's stay in port to accommodation the overflow of bookings.

Uncle Dick called Chantilly.

"Fuck off caller, it's 2:00 am."

"Hi Big Cunt."

"Uncle Dick, you know that's your intimate name for me is not something to be used on an international phone call."

She was ignored. 

"The boys and me of course wish to thank you. Ten of us solo owner-operators have formed a consortium to cope with the deluge of fishermen already arriving. Because we have no charter fishing operations on the island, we'll establish some because we are out to make hay while the sun shines. You are a whiz darling and we have all got our wives or girlfriends to write to the Minister of Tourism congratulating him on his wisdom in appointing you to your position."

"Why didn't you guys write, it would appear more personal?"

There was silence.

"Oh god, you bums can't read or write?"

"Yeah but we can fish and screw brilliantly," her uncle snarled and cut the call.

Ivy came in, white-faced.

"You have been summoned to our London Embassy at 2:00 this afternoon."

"Oh what for and don't they know I might be busy?"

Ivy turned green and clutched the door-frame. "Chantilly a no-show will be regarded as treason. Punishment for that ranges from a rap on the knuckles to death by firing squad."

"Oh."

"So you can go?"

"Yes but you come with me."

Ivy flushed with pleasure and said she would confirm. "The office cleaning account has a healthy surplus. Let's raid that for hair-dressing and new dresses and shoes."

"Good idea. I'll sign the chit authorizing the purchase of new carpeting. The auditors will never know this is not new carpeting."

"God Chantilly, you are brilliant at financial screwing and I bet the other kind as well."

"Oooh back off darling."

Ivy's face turned brick red.

The Embassy of the Republic of Kissock was a converted pub in Lambeth on Westminster Bridge Road. Chantilly parked the Merc on no parking lines outside the Embassy and an official came out, checked her identity and affixed temporary diplomatic plates over her plates to keep traffic wardens and tow-away truckies at bay.

Ambassador Irene d'Rocke greeted them warmly and admired Chantilly and Ivy's dresses. 

"What is your designation Mrs Smallbone?"

"Um."

"Ivy is my PA Your Excellency."

"Oh excellent. A young woman of your astonishing green-eyed beauty ought not to venture out in the City of Sin unescorted. Shall we get the ceremony over and then hit the liquor?"

"Yes please," the visitors chorused.

Floodlights were turned on to brightly illuminate the small wine velvet lined area of the drawing room and a guy arrived with a tripod-mounted video camera and hanging off his neck was a large Canon digital camera.

Ambassador d'Rocke and Chantilly took up their positions and Chantilly was asked to show a bit more upper breast line.

"Are you right Sid?" she called to the camera guy who turned out to be her husband.

He nodded.

"Chantilly Brown," the Ambassador began, "I have been instructed by the Prime Minister of the Republic of Kissock on the approval of Parliament to honour you for brilliant service to our country's flagging tourism industry. Almost overnight you have sent tourists streaming into our beloved country to go fishing. Those promotions you devised will be run periodically to keep the inflow coming."

Ambassador d'Rocke then performed the investiture after asking Chantilly to nominate her area of affiliation for her title. She chose Augustine.

"Under the authority invested in me I declared you, Chantilly Margaret Cinzia Brown, the Republic of Kissock's First Baroness," she said, placing a royal blue velvet cape around Chantilly's shoulders and then taking an ornate eight-inch wide gold star from a footman, she pinned it over Chantilly's left breast.

"Congratulations Chantilly, Baroness Augustine."

Her husband, the footman and Ivy clapped.

The spotlights turned off and the ambassador kissed Chantilly and said, ""Normally you would be been recalled home for a parliamentary investiture. But when this matter was referred to the Prime Minister, he said it would be more economic to state a parliamentary function for you when you return home on furlough."

"That's fine, I wasn't expecting anything other than verbal commendation because I an aware I had stimulated the inflow of tourists."

When they returned to the tourism promotion office, Ivy carried the large leather case into the inner office and closed the door behind Chantilly. She dressed Chantilly in her cape and then opened the door and said, "Please stand Oliver and Mavis."

They stood obediently.

"Oliver and Mavis," Ivy said grandly. "May I present Baroness Augustine."

Mavis and Oliver looked agog as Chantilly walked out.

"Omigod," Mavis said. "I'll get tea."

Small announcements under a large and glorious photo of the Kissock's new and only baroness, showing handsome cleavage, appeared in national newspapers throughout the UK. Thereafter social invitations regularly flowed into the office for Chantilly and she made it to coveted social lists, crudely known as the A-lists by the unwashed.

Oliver had said, "Ma'am how do we address you?" and Chantilly replied, "As Tilly silly."

Ivy said primly, "And what about formal correspondence?"

"In general correspondence I shall simply be Chantilly Brown with no reference to title. In reply to formal invitation or our sending of formal invitation I wish to be referred to as Lady Augustine and underneath that my title as Director of the London Office of the Republic of Kissock Tourism. In legal documents I shall be the Right Honorable Baroness of Kissock. Formally I shall be introduced as Chantilly, Baroness Augustine. I have been briefed that Kissock's peerage is not officially recognized in the UK but my briefing from home says we should use our titles honourably in the UK."

The first invitation Chantilly accepted was to have Saturday night dinner with Ivy and her husband Jack and three other couples.

Chantilly arrived in high heels, tight jeans and a tight top and the diamond necklace her ecstatic mother, Lady Brown and her father Sir Cyril, had sent her when news of Chantilly's ascent into the peerage was announced by the Prime Minister and reported widely in the media in Kissock.

A girl of about thirteen answered the door and asked scathingly, "Where's you tiara?"

"Sorry darling, no one has bought me one. You must be Jane. Lead me to your mother please."

"Mummy has bought a new dress in your honour."

"Oh very nice."

When Chantilly reached the drawing room she saw Ivy was wearing the dress they'd bought for the visit to the embassy.

Ivy's husband and the six other couples stood nervously until Chantilly eased the tension by kissing Ivy and then handing a bottle of red wine from the office cellar and kissing Jack, she and saying, "Hi Jack, you're quite a hunk."

Ivy introduced the other couples, Chantilly kissing the women and shaking hands with the men.

"The cabbie bringing me here told me this awful joke about female condom pouches," Chantilly began.

"Just a minute," Ivy called, racing off with Jane.

Thanks to Chantilly the evening was a great success, a laugh a minute and the Smallbone's and their friends all hugged Chantilly affectionately when she prepared to leave.

On Monday morning when Ivy bought in the mail she said, "You were sensational on Saturday night and this morning Jack reminded me to tell you that was our best dinner party ever."

"No problem. Jack's cute and you have really nice friends."

On of the letters was from Shelley Irons whom gone through primary school on the island with Chantilly.

'Hi sweetheart, congratulations in getting the big gong or whatever it's called. The Republican Magazine ran a full frontpage photo of you with you in your regalia. Yummy those tits! All our all classmates I've spoken too can't believe you have been honoured so substantially at your young age. Enclosed are some photos of the Basil Lane Markets. I asked Pete Lane, now a professionally photographer, to take them and he agreed provided he could shaft me. I agreed but hadn't realized he meant once a week but it's fine, I can service two men easily. Mom thinks if you can do for the markets what you did for those fishermen down at Port Augustine, then there would be money to spare from increased turnover to provide new roofing for the market without spoiling the old world charm of the markets that we all so love. What do you say babe? Counting on you. Shell-the-Girl.'


Chantilly Brown



Chantilly remembered playing chasing running around the stalls when she was young and the fat stall women would yell "I'll tan you little asses if I catch you" but they never would do anything but give them a little treat from their stalls. Those women loved their marketplace and they all adored kids.

Yes she would help them.

Chantilly sorted through the photos and selected three beaming women in tattered fibre plaited hats, all women with huge bosoms.

The fullpage advertisement appeared in The Sun, Daily, Mail, The Guardian, The Daily Record (Scotland) and the Irish Independent.

The type above the picture of the three grinning women read: 'Hi, come to our markets for a laugh a minute where we sell fruit and curios but never pre-owned dentures. Open all year and we always trade in brilliant sunshine except when it rains and we close for hurricanes.'

The caption under the photo read, 'My friend's mothers, from left, Jules Cartia, mum of four kids who include her husband (sometimes), Penny Firth who sells imitation diamonds and wishes she could afford one for herself, Dash Honeyfield, mum of seven from three marriages and the older kids work her stall outside school hours. Retired guys carve ornaments for Dash's stall from whale bones (Greenies these whales die of natural causes and beach on our island) or make beautiful wallets and handbags and ornate jewellery boxes out of pig skin (Greenies these wild pigs die of natural causes it is said, but anyway something has to be done with the skins after butchering to conform to our nation's self-sustainability policies). 

We are clean and green... just look at our rainforests and freely growing lawns around most houses. Grass clippings from our sports fields are packaged and sold at our markets as 'shredded native lettuce'... an award-winning innovation... and no infant in our society ever goes short of mother's milk. Shredded native lettuce is a wonder food).

At our markets shoppers can buy tickets to share a meal with a Health Department approved and licensed Kissockian family. Guests are expected to arrive with the booze. Main course include grilled glazed tuna steaks (minimum size of steaks 10 ounces), smoked wild boar tenderloins or roasted leg of wild boar, wild goat or luckless chicken. For a real treat pre-order the wildly popular local dish called Mary's Little Lamb rack, served by a bawling female called Mary. An adult will fetch in McDonald's for your kids if required.

Tourists are invited to attend Sunday church services. Dress standards for men are a suit, ties are optional but shoes and socks are required. Women are required to wear white and wear bras and panties and to have breasts fully covered. Church attire sells cheaply at local markets. Tourists are not expected to place money in the collection box but if you feel obliged to put something into the box to avoid embarrassment slip in $50 as the minister and family exist on Sunday collections.

Well that's all. Wander off to your nearest travel agent and book your holiday to the Republic of Kissock and hand this advertisement over at the Basil Lane Markets and you'll get a 30% discount off your most expensive purchase. Kissock believes its Basil Lane Markets offer the world's most enjoyable shopping experience. You'll never forget your Kissock holiday. Jules, Dash, Penny and friends await your arrival. Book yesterday to avoid the rush. Thanks, from your Kissock destination promoter, Chantilly Brown.

Newspaper readers rolled around laughing when reading that advertisement and of course most felt the desire to go to the island and do what Chantilly suggested.

The next day a letter appeared in a national newspaper:

'I have never travelled outside of England and Scotland and after reading that advertisement in your newspaper today about visiting the markets in Kissock in the Indian Ocean, I really thought I should go. I called Kissock's office of tourism in London and spoke to a charming lady, Miss Chantilly Brown. My god, what a sweet name. 

Well to cut it short, I told her I was nervous about visiting such a far off place. 

Miss Brown said she would speak to her mother about me and called me back and said her mother would personally host me due to my age. I'm 91. 

Ten minutes later my daughter brought in an email confirming that arrangement. I almost fell out of my chair when learning from the official letter Miss Brown's mom is Lady Brown, an Italian countess and wife of Kissock's president. 

Omigod. I'm booking my flight today.

Mary Tennyson (Mrs).

Editor's note: We have verified the above letter is genuine and completely factual.'

That day Britain's media swarmed on Chantilly.

Ivy was outraged by the demanding intruders and said they should come back at 4:00 for a press conference. It soon became obvious that with so many TV crews wishing to attend, the office was too small to host such a mass gathering. One of the journalists chatting to Ivy kindly phoned her uncle high up in parkland administration and it was arranged that the press conference could be held at the open air theatre in Regent's Park.

"This is ridiculous," Chantilly said to Ivy. My office is plenty big enough. How many media people will be attending?

"About 150 including camera crews."

"Omigod."

"Well what do you expect writing those stupid advertisements? I knew it would only be time before the media stuck its talons into you."

Chantilly looked crestfallen and went to her office and returned with the newspaper that had published Mrs Tennyson's letter.

Ivy's hands began shaking the newspaper and she finished reading she blurted, "Omigod. You are becoming the Florence Nightingale of Tourism and the media is on to this."

Chantilly whined, "I've only done what other tourism promoters do."

"Bullshit. I bet Florence said the same thing about nursing."

There were at least 300 media personnel at the park venue on London's only gloriously fine afternoon of the month. Lions at nearby London Zoo were asleep so there was only the hum of traffic and overhead airplanes to compete with Chantilly's dulcet tones. 

Ivy, who's hired a cheap sound system, announced Chantilly.

"Ladies and gentleman of the media, I give you Chantilly, Baroness Augustine, director of the Republic of Kissock's tourism office in London, the Kissock's only tourism office abroad."

There was no appearance.

The hassled Ivy yelled Chantilly and the door of the nearby Mercedes opened.

"Sorry guys, Chantilly was reading one of your newspapers," Ivy said. "She enjoys the comic strips."

The media gathering waited in sullen silence. And then...

TV camera lights switched on, camera lights flashed and the most commonly ejaculated word that was heard was 'Jesus' from with the pack of hardened London journalists who believed they'd seen everything.

Chantilly arrived at the lectern with her chestnut hair cascading in ringlets and wearing a totally inadequate top and matching bilious green hot pants and feet her feet were bare and toenails were painted iridescent aqua.

"Hi guys. It's great to have you taking an interest in the Kissock's tourism industry. Call me Chantilly or Tilly if you wish. First question please.

"A-are you for real?" asked a hard-faced woman near the front holding up a hand-held digital recorder.

Chantilly laughed and asked, "Is that your devious way of asking me to strip and invite you to touch to confirm I'm real."

She immediately became the Darling of the Media, the huge roar of laughter scaring zoo animals.

"Your second intelligent question please."

"What made you take this novel approach to tourist promotion?"

"I had no other choice because it was the only way I knew. I just tried to tell it how it is. The Republic of Kissock has only 260,000 people living in eleven coastal communities plus 700 displaced nomads from Middle East countries and Egypt wandering our inland desert. Our Government applies administration services with a benign hand, encouraging everyone to live like one big happy family. The Revolutionary Party has governed unopposed ever since driving out the French, Portuguese and British claimants to island sovereignty almost 200 years ago. The revolutionaries were descendents of shipwrecked sailors and emigrant families who'd landed on our island over the centuries."

"Then why is it we've never heard of the Republic of Kissock?"

"It would be rude of me to say because you and people like you are ignorant. So I'll say it's because our country doesn't have wars, or sportspeople good enough to become international soccer stars or world class golfers and we have our own film industry and so our actors don't feel necessary to go cap in hand to Hollywood."

"Are you married?"

"Hell no I'm only twenty-three and a party girl."

"In the two months since you ran that appealing advertisement about come to Kissock to fish, has your country received much response from that promotion?"

"Prior to that ad running, our tourism figures were fairly stable. In the first month after that ad appeared our tourism numbers lifted by 15% for the month and if we maintain that rate we should attract 1,629,000 tourists this year."

"Are you saying the island nobody knows about gets more than half a million tourists a year?"

"Yes."

"But how is that when no one knows there is an island in that part of the Indian Ocean and has tourist attractions?"

Chantilly said sternly, "And what part of the Indian Ocean are you speaking about?"

"I have no idea."

"Well let me suggest that intrepid travellers are probably a lot smarter than some journalists."

The gathering had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Look, all of you get your features, documentary or travel department editors to apply to my office within the next twenty-four hours for a representative to go on a sponsored visit to the Republic of Kissock and on the twenty-fifth hour we'll select five journalists to accompany me to the island for five days. My department will pick up the tab for air fares and I'll arrange accommodation in the president's home but we'll mostly eat out because the president and his wife, who are my parents, are busy people and have lots of functions to attend."

Chantilly was applauded and she laughed and said, "I'll work those journalists hard and expect them to write the truth about what they find. The journalists will be able to hire competent photographers and film crews on the island who'll mostly be my relatives."

"Is it true your mother is not a real countess?"

"Yes my mother s Donatella began pretending she was a countess when a child and never grew out of it. She awaits the Italian Government to recognise her acquired title and honour her. My mother is Italian; my father says he's part British, Portuguese and French."

"Do you sing?"

"No."

"Who are you dating her in London? A busload of guys I bet?"

"I wish. I had been hoping for an Earl or two, er separately. Or perhaps just someone like me."

"My brother is free at the moment."

"Oh fine, suggest he give me a call."

"His wife is in America."

"Tell him not to bother calling."

"Are you moral?"

"Yes I don't steal."

"I mean sexually?"

"Oh goodness no. I like fun."

The questions became progressively more pathetic and Chantilly said suddenly, "Well thanks, that's it."

She then posed for photos and film close-ups. She refused to remove her top.

Snippets from the media conference appeared on TV that night with the presenters all growling Miss Brown declined exclusive interviews.

Next day headings on newspaper reports of Chantilly's media conference included:

'Chantilly Brown'

'Charming and Witty Baroness Augustine'

'Sexy Chantilly'

'London's Most Eligible Bachelorette'

'Where's Kissock the Republic?'

'Damn We Didn't Ask Her Breast Size'

'Chantilly Elevates the Peerage'

'Tourists Find Kissock'

'Nightly I'll Dream of Chantilly'

'World's Most Effective Diplomat'

After reading that lot Ivy and Chantilly sat back stunned.

Ivy said, "I was meaning to ask will your parent's house have enough rooms? They may have other guests staying."

"Yes the Presidential Palace has seventy-four bedroom. The Government architect misread the brief that stated twenty-four bedrooms. Mom allows rooms to be serviced and used by when hotels when they are full. Look if you are that interested come with me when I take the media. If Jack wishes to accompany you he'd have to pay his way I'm afraid."

"Oh thanks. Yes I accept, thank you. Jack can stay at home. I've never been on holiday be myself since marriage took my freedom and I really do want to meet your mom."

Journalists who boarded the Emirates first class cabin represented The Sun and The Guardian Newspapers, the Holiday Destinations website, World Travel UK Magazine and Farm Lifestyle Magazine. UK Fishing Magazine and Travel Agents Monthly joined the party at their own expense after making passionate representations to Chantilly without offering sex or 'sweeteners'.

A huge crowd was gathered at the airport because Chantilly had not been home since being elevated to Kissock's miniscule peerage. The size and warmth of the welcome amazed the media and Ivy until they realized the turnout was for Chantilly.

The five days went all too fast for Chantilly's tour party. They just loved the friendliness of the people, enjoyed some exotic sights and adventures but the big night for them was being included as VIP guests at a parliamentary dinner that began with a formal replay of the investiture of Chantilly as a baroness. It was done with all pomp and ceremony in front of the President in formal attire and his wife beautifully gowned and festooned with diamonds and precious stone jewellery. It seemed incongruous that people who were proud republicans could so obviously enjoy pageantry, complete with trumpeters, which belonged to former days of colonial rule and repression.

On the return flight to England, with champagne flowing, three well-away journalists proposed a toast to Chantilly, 'To our amazing princess, we salute you.'

It was all good fun and for some the fun continued when everyone settled down for the night. A plum bearded guy qualified the on-heat Ivy for membership of the mile-high club and the guy from the Farm Lifestyle Magazine continued to mount Chantilly like a bull as he'd done every night they'd been on tour. Chantilly would finish with him that night but his administrations reminded her that she really must find a suitable boyfriend with a big dick like Leon's who'd so pleased her.

CHAPTER 2

Romance arrived at last for Chantilly after she attended a dinner at the weekend home in the country of a Harley Street medical specialist Merrick Chambers and his wife Sylvia who owned a string of travel agencies.

As Chantilly and other guests prepared to return to London next day, Sylvia said, "I am so sorry you have no male to escort you Chantilly. I shall get our son to contact you."

"If he's as charming as you are Sylvia, I shall welcome that call."

"He's actually rather too lecherous for my liking my dear but yes, he is charming."

Mike Chambers called her and initially sounded okay.

"Hi my mom Sylvia Chambers asked me to date you."

"Oooh that sounds interesting. Are you interesting?"

"Yes of course but why bother what I'm like? One bang and you will see me again if I think you performed well."

"Goodbye Mr Chambers. Please don't bother to call me again."

"Bitch!"

Charming eh. Well Sylvia was his mother and her glasses had appeared rose-tinted.

A week later Chantilly drove to York where he'd been invited to address a travel agents' conference as Saturday night's guest dinner speaker. She asked that the fee offered by paid to a distressed animal welfare refuge and she was asked to make her address light with plenty of humour and she could speak about anything she wished. Chantilly was told the organization's vice-president Beth Charles had recommended her as a speaker.

The venue was the Royal York Hotel and being a Victorian building thrilled Chantilly. She adored old-style buildings because most of Kissock's public buildings were less than fifty years old.

After booking into her room, Chantilly went down to the delegate's table to report her arrival and the young woman said, "Please excuse me while I call Mr Charles who will look after you."

She sent an email on her phone and less than two minutes later a slim, dark-haired guy in a snappy suit came out, sighted the slim chestnut headed young woman with mouth-watering breasts and was heard to murmur, "O-mi-god."

He strode over and held out a hand that was ignored.

"Welcome Baroness Augustine. I'm Reggie Charles, one of the conference greeters, and I've been assigned to host you."

"Well Reggie, why don't you call me Chantilly and kiss me?"

She enjoyed watching the 30-year old squirm and heard the two females at the desk behind her suck in breath because Reggie really was dishy.

They kissed and she pressed her breasts against his chest, firm enough for him to be aware they were there. It disappointed her to have him back off looking flushed.

Reggie suggested a quiet tour around the city. He told one of the hostesses to advise the president that Baroness Augustine, the dinner speaker, had arrived and he and Chantilly went out and boarded a cab.

"Tell my about yourself Reggie."

"Um I'm male, thirty-one and am presently unattached and am general manager of my family's travel company with offices throughout England, Wales and Scotland. My mother is company chairman and my father these days just hunts or goes fishing or plays golf."

Chantilly: "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Well if you are unattached you might consider attaching yourself to me."

Reggie: "Is that an offer?"

"I believe so."

"Then I'll think about it," he said. "We need to talk more."

"Fair enough," Chantilly said, and did nothing to try to impress.

They returned in time to dress for pre-dinner drinks. She was hoping Reggie would offer sex instead of drinks but he didn't.

He was either a gentleman or perhaps gay or perhaps just a serious fellow who didn't rush to hump a woman. Chantilly hoped it was the latter. 

Reggie, in a dinner suit, was waiting for her when she emerged from the lift. He boggled when he saw Chantilly had her lustrous chestnut hair down and in waves. She wore a scooped neckline aqua blue dress that was cut at knee level at the front and tapered steeply to finish mid-calf level at the back and for a necklace she wore her ornate star emblem of office as a baroness on a short gold chain. 

Reggie kissed her and said in the tone of a man who believed he was very lucky, "Hi you look sensational."

"And you look handsome."

They went into the room and a guy with a deep voice called, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our distinguished guest speaker tonight, Chantilly, Baroness Augustine."

The women applauded and took in Chantilly's hair, face and figure while the men just locked in on her breasts, several gawking and forgetting to applaud.

Beth Charles raced over and Chantilly cried loudly, "Oh hi darling" and they hugged. Beth then introduced senior officers.

Later after main course dishes were being cleared, the president introduced Chantilly and invited her to speak.

"Hi everyone. What a great venue, what a great city and you all appear to be enjoying yourselves. The reality of your vocation is you guys sell dreams and now that I work on the fringe of the tourism industry I am aware of that and have worked to exploit that perception. But you also know the flip side to selling dreams is your clients miss flights or their flights stay grounded, their hotel rooms are a retreat for bed bugs and usually because of their own mismanagement, some of your clients return home after a disastrous holiday.




Chantilly Brown



"Tough."

"I prefer to dwell on those who had the time of their lives when away and will return to "people like you with repeat business."

"Well it's just like life in many directions. For example, see these, she said, jiggling a breast with a hand under it. Mine began their journey by spouting when I was about eight months through my thirteenth year. I then found a curious thing as I grew older... males couldn't keep their eyes off them while females pretended to ignore them."

"There came a problem. I thought they were becoming too large."

"Accept what you've got," said my mother, an unreliable consultant because when she was a kid she pretended she was a countess and through her teens kept up the pretence and today people really believe her claim she is a countess in her own right. Our Government knighted the President of the Republic of Kissock, who is my father, when he resigned to become president and that gave my mother the honorary title of a ladyship. But being Italian she dreams on that one day the Italian Government will authenticate her claim to being a countess. Perhaps our government will resolve the problem for mother and elevate daddy in the peerage when he retires."

"An aunt told me not to worry about what I had because when women age most still remain unhappy with their breasts and dream of the days when their breast were full, perky and sexy. I guess we all worry too much."

"I dreamed that I would grown up like my girlfriends, have lots a boyfriends and marry the one who suited me best and then start pregnancies."

"Well that dreamed was wrecked because I am blessed with beautiful hair and apparently people think I am beautiful and have a great figure. Guys my age generally stood off, having this crazy idea I was too good for them and untouchable because I was the Prime Minister's daughter and it worsened when I was became the president's daughter because at home I'm shadowed by two national security guys who try to look nonchalant but in reality stick out like sore thumbs."

"Okay you may well be thinking so what, the spoilt little brat has only experienced what she deserved?"

"Well you could be right. But when I was a kid I made money selling fish in my aunt's stall in our most popular market. It was rather unpleasant but I stuck to it because someone had to sell the fish off my uncle's boat and mom and dad told me that if I wanted to have money to spend then to go out and earn it. I began selling in that market at the age of eight and a half, the time when my pocket money from my parents stopped."

"I guess you can seek where this is heading."

"It might seem crazy that our government should make me a baroness when most of our parliamentarians would have remembered me when I was a dirty-faced kid selling fish out of boxes of shaved ice. Well the moral here is things change." 

"I was sent to London for my secondary and then university education and that sure as hell broadened my mind. At secondary school I was beaten up and offered and accepted cigarettes and at university I experienced sex, lots of it because guys didn't know who I was and I experimented with drugs but then met this nerdy son of an earl and he threatened to dump me unless I stopped popping pills. I preferred sex to drugs so the decision wasn't difficult."

"I went home with a masters in marine science but couldn't find employment with the Department of Maritime Affairs and Fisheries even being the daughter of the President because they said they weren't recruiting and I was too sexy and too flighty to be working for them. Sex dried up because I was back home and guys weren't interested in me anyway because I was unemployed. But fortunately my old girlfriends would take me out to dinner and dance with me so I maintained a bit of a social life."

"Then dad, worried about me not working, decided to have a quiet word with an old parliamentary colleague and lo-ho I was appointed to run our country's only tourism office abroad, in London.

"I have a staff of three and was supposed to implement tourism projects arriving from our Department of Tourism but none came. I then found my uncle for whom I'd sold fish when I was a kid had bought a new fishing boat and was in financial difficulties with repayments. So I came up with an idea of how to promote his business and had my office computer guy put my words and the picture I supplied together for a newspaper and magazine advertisement. Well I kept the stuff simple and homely, because that's how I am and because I know being on holiday is not always fun. But I knew many guys go fishing and never catch a thing so my advertisement offered the dream of a fishing holiday on a boat showing 400 fish strung up in rigging with the promise they could keep all they caught. Well people from the UK are still going to Kissock in huge numbers for the fishing with my uncle and his mates who have now formed a consortium of owner-operator fishing boats for charter."

"I was excited by my success. All fishing charters are now booked 12 months ahead and the guys are having bigger boats built and so our boat building industry is booming, our hotels haven't had it so good for some years and on and on it goes. I almost wet my pants thinking this is all because of me, well substantially because of me."

"And then because of my service to tourism, and no doubt because I'm the president's daughter, our Government made me a baroness. Now here's something that might interest you. Why did I choose to become Baroness Augustine? Well because that's the historic name of the locality of our fishing port and another place I promoted that is now also receiving heaps of tourists, the Basil Lane Markets where I used to sell fish. Incidentally those three grinning women, real characters, who were in that photograph used in that ad, are the younger sisters of three of dad's best friends and I thought my earthy approach to tourism injected with a bit of humour would work and by heck it sure has. Those two ads ran just the once in several publications have already sent more that 50,000 extra tourists to Kissock. I haven't received a salary increase or even a letter of commendation from the department I work for. I suppose they think my title is sufficient and with my father being the president I don't need money. Well that's life, it's just such a laugh."

"Well to wrap up, let me tell you this. A month ago I took five journalists and two others who paid their way, to Kissock It worked as designed. They all had such a good time and each of them wrote at least one complimentary article about just how good Kissock is as a holiday destination. Two days ago I called those seven journalists to thank them and made an astonishing discovery: four of those journalists have already booked to take their families to Kissock. Imagine the goodwill that could generated in time to come? Sometimes we do the right things."

"I had this idea of running a promo competition of going fishing with the president and dating the president's wife. Mom was all for it but dad knocked it on the head. I guess we can never win them all. Thanks for listening."

Chantilly received a standing ovation.

One interesting answer came to a question about Kissock's economy.

"For two centuries are economy was based on earning foreign funds from the export of mangos, lime, breadfruit, papaya, watermelons, bananas and fish. Those still remain staple exports but today the big earners come from tourism of course and gold and platinum low down in the walls of a ravine cut by an ancient river that once ran through our inland desert. We mine on a restricted basis to provide mining income for future generations." 

At the end the function, Reggie escorted Chantilly to her room. She was quite shattered when he refused to enter. He went after kissing her goodnight and she slammed down on to the bed and sobbed in frustration, knowing her pussy had been lubing, wanting it. She drove home next morning, leaving at 5:00 and not seeing anyone connected with the conference. 

On Monday at the office Chantilly twice picked up the phone to call Reggie. His work number was in the conference registration pack she'd picked up as she was leaving the hotel. But twice she baulked, deciding not to chase him. If he wanted her then he knew what to do.

He called two days later. Oh very cool, she gritted.

"Hi Chantilly I can't stop thinking of you."

She played dumb and asked who was speaking.

He sounded surprised and she said, "Reggie... Reggie who? Oh yes Reggie I met in York."

Reggie said almost accusingly, "I thought you'd remember me."

"Of course I do. The guy in a dark Italian cut suit who was appointed my conference host. You showed me some of the local sights for which I'm very grateful. York is a wonderful looking city."

"I was calling..."

She cut in and said, "Oh yes you were."

"Chantilly I'd like to take you to my parents' country home near Colchester, sixty miles north east of London, on Saturday afternoon. Mom and my sister can't stop talking about you."

"And what about you?"

"Oh I just fend their questions. I told you I can't stop thinking about you."

"Very well. We'll go in my vehicle. Tell me where to pick you up."

"Okay but why not my car?"

"Because if you lose interest in me I can leave when I wish."

Reggie said quite coldly as she wished and gave her his address and mobile phone number so he could be waiting outside for her.

"Do that if you wish but I can double park because some forgetful guy left diplomatic plates on my vehicle.

"God Chantilly, it's a serious offence to misuse diplomatic plates."

"No problem, my defence would be I hadn't noticed they were there and anyway one call to the Foreign Office and I would be excused because England would not like my father to cause an international incident over a pair of crummy plates."

"I see."

"Reggie I must ask you something. You're not gay are you?"

He was obviously shocked. "Most certainly not!"

She laughed and said thank goodness for that. He had her worried. She cut the call.

On Saturday Chantilly parked outside his third-floor flat and went around the car and sat in the passenger's seat and she called him and said she was parked outside.

"Omigod, I'll be right down."

He rushed out and she pointed to the driver's side and he rushed around the vehicle and got in and made no effort to kiss her. So she kissed him and said not to worry, if she were jailed her country would send its special assault team to free her.

That was said in jest but it panicked Reggie smoked the tires taking off and immediately behind them a police car siren sounded. 

He pulled over.

A woman cop came up and Chantilly said told Reggie to wind the down the window.

"Sir you were illegally parked and then took off in possibly a dangerous manner. You also have diplomatic plates"

The policewoman leant forward to look at the passenger and said, "Omigod, Baroness Augustine."

"Good afternoon officer. We are running a bit late. We are on our way to Colchester."

"My Lady, traffic is heavy. We'll give you a siren escort to the ramp on to the A12. Keep close to us driver."

As they waited to set off, Reggie said, "Chantilly your behaviour is appalling."

"Well Mr Nice Guy. If you think back I made no claim that I was a diplomat and made no request for a police escort."

"Um gosh no, I'm sorry. Chantilly you must understand. For some reason you make me feel awkward and nervous."

"I have a way to cure that?"

"How?"

"Never you mind just now, it will make you nervous. Follow that cop car."

The big house was on a few acres grazing sheep a mile short of the town boundary. The driveway was full of visitor's vehicles.

"I thought this visit was to socialize with your parents and your sister?"

"And my married sister and her family. I'm annoyed with mom and Tess; it appears they've invited everyone."

Vehicles filled the driveway so Reggie drove up the centre lawn slowly to avoid cutting up the grass and to weave through trees. Someone had seen them because people began coming out of the house.

"I'm sorry about this," he said.

"It's fine. I'll be dating you and so we may as well get this over in one shot."

"Date me?"

"Reggie how can I have sex with you unless you date me?"

He turned a little white but said manfully, "Quite."

Chantilly thought that was an excellent and mature response.

"Here come mom and dad and sister Tess."

"They look happy and unafraid of me, not like someone we know."

"Chantilly, you're a baroness."

Ah, so that was it. He wasn't necessarily gutless.

"Welcome my lady," smiled Reggie's father and the good looking birthday girl performed a half curtsy. Reggie's beautifully dressed and made-up mom Beth kissed Chantilly in friendly fashion because they'd met before, at the conference in York. 

"Everyone please call me Chantilly and also you sir."

"Welcome Chantilly, please call me Trevor. This is the birthday girl Tess."

"Happy birthday Tess. You are twenty-five today I understand?"

"Yes," she said as Chantilly dug into her handbag and pulled out a small black velvet box while Tess simpered, "Omigod you are so beautiful."

"Well yes I suppose I am. Here's a little something for your birthday Tess. It's from my favourite street market back home."

"Omigod, it's a gold bracelet."

"Yes but only 18 karat. It was handcrafted by one of my girlfriend's father. The government mines gold on the island. I brought the bracelet for such an occasion as this as we are bound to be seeing more of each other."

Family members looked at one another.

"Come and meet everyone," Beth said, taking Chantilly by the arm. "Many here are eager to meet you."

On the drive back to the city, Reggie said, "My family adores you. I'm sorry some of the extended family and family friends engaged you in such dumb conversations."

"One gets used to that. I'm glad your family accepts me."

"Um they asked me what did you mean when you said to Tess, quote, "We are bound to be seeing more of each other, end quote?"

"Well if we intend dating regularly we are bound to see them occasionally, don't you think?"

"Yes that follows. I suppose I can date you."

She swung around to look at him and caught the grin.

"Let's go straight to my apartment for sex."

"Jesus," he said, and the car wobbled a bit. "Okay."

Watching Reggie who was sprawled on the bed on his back, Chantilly took his erection in her hand and licked it up from his balls to the tip. She then dribble on the tip and took half the length into her mouth and then pulled his dick away with a plop.

"Now do you still feel awkward and nervous around me?"

He grinned and said, "Not at all. Get me off bitch."

She sucked him into her mouth and squeezed his balls hard. 

Reggie yelped loudly and he rammed his dick deeply into her mouth.

Sucking noisily, she grinned, staring at him.

When the writhing and red-faced Reggie finally ejaculated he groaned, "I need to sleep."

"Oh now you don't, she spat and hauling herself up fed his leaking dick inside her. She them began bouncing and he found the energy to thrust and begin timing well. He grabbed her swinging tits and squeezed them and beginning to breath heavily, Chantilly's tongue flopped out the corner of her mouth.

* * *

Chantilly took Reggie to the island to meet her parents and everything went fine and he boggled when he first saw the size of the presidential palace and the grandeur of the staterooms. Her parents agreed to go to London for the engagement party.

The day before the couple left for Mauritius for a week's holiday, the Prime Minister called Chantilly in to a discussion and that afternoon he announced in Parliament that Chantilly, Baroness Augustine, would become Kissock's ambassador in London in three month's time when Ambassador Irene d'Rocke would return to Kissock to become Speaker of the House.

Reggie hugged her excitedly when hearing the news and Chantilly agreed with him they ought to marry before she took up her new post.

On Kissock's Independence Day, the Prime Minister announced President Brown had accepted the invitation to be honoured as the republic's first Earl. 

"Omigod, your claim of being a countess will be legitimised," Chantilly said excitedly when her mum Donatella called her with the news.

THE END