"You have reached your destination" my female sat nav assistant confidently told me as I inched toward the towering wrought iron gates, leaning out and punching in the key code the gothic style gates groaned as they began to swing inward begrudgingly allowing my access.
Ravens squarked and flew overhead, I wouldn't be surprised if the place had featured in a Hammer House of Horror film, but my god it was impressive.
The young couple who followed me in their bling Range Rover are my prospective buyers, they are in rented with an obscene amount of money ready to be spent on the right property and I was sure this one ticked all the boxes.
The drive coiled around the mansion house and when it finally came into view I was hoping they would be stopped in their tracks.
Exiting the car my brown brogues crunched on the gravel drive as I neared the impressive oak front door with its elaborate gothic work iron strap hinges, looking up I scanned the Victorian red brick facade, a truly impressive country house with so much character it seemed to seep from the mullioned windows.
I turned and saw that my buyers were rooted to the spot gawping at the country pile in front of them.
"Fuck me" the husband muttered then called over "Hey David you're sure this is in our price range."
I was here to meet Crispin Fitzroy a local legend in country real estate, if it wasn't worth a few million he definitely wasn't your man.
And I was here to possibly be of a more personal service..... if I chose to.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me explain how I got to be here in the first place.
.................................................
I am David, a six foot English blond haired blue eyed sort of gentleman who tries to keep in good shape, a moderately successful property dealer and entrepreneur, now in my early fifties and single.
I live comfortably enough with a healthy rental portfolio, I have a nice car, wear classic British tailoring and enjoy a busy social life. I have "interviewed" a few ladies over the years but after a couple of messy divorces my interest has waned, basically I am happy with my lot.
The past decade have seen my sexual interactions controlled by my own hand and I have often strayed into more, lets say "unusual" porn content. Anyway enough about my sexual orientation for the time being.
A few years ago I was introduced to the world of property "finders" who have a little black book of high net worth clients looking for their dream home, they are invariably city dwellers with no free time looking to escape into the country with the wife or husband and 2.4 children, usually named Tabitha, Hugo or Mercedes for the nouveau riche.
They give me a criteria, number of bedrooms, distance to a mainline train station, a paddock for the pony perhaps, you get the drift. But the best bit is no financial outlay for yours truly and when the deal is sealed I receive a nice 0.75%, wait I hear you say that's a meagre sum, well do the maths on two million and it's a very happy day indeed.
But of course you need an inside man, someone who can get you in the door before the manor goes on the market, I have a few but none like Mr Crispin Fitzroy.
Where do I start? Eton educated, born into old money and guaranteed an easy passage through life, used to dealing with the higher echelon of society, he's probably related to most of them.
Usually pin stripe suited in town or in country greens when aiming his grandfathers Purdy shotgun at some poor unsuspecting pheasant at the weekend, like Prince Andrew you never see him sweat.
He is now late fifties tall and slim with an androgynous look, wavy raven black hair, greying at the temples and a million watt smile, effortlessly charming and witty, a must have at any social event.
Then why does C Fitzroy Esq currently use me as his finder, a local boy done well type when he is surrounded by fawning males and females.
Let's rewind a couple of months and I am at a boring society fund raiser slowly edging toward the exit when the afore mentioned Fitzroy homed in on me like a heat seeking missile.
He stuck out his arm offering a perfectly manicured hand, "David yes?"
"Yes" gobsmacked that he knew my name even that I existed, I took his hand and we shook.
Now I don't know about you but if I meet a guy for the first time the handshake is firm, not bone crushing but assertive but his was warm, almost seductive and lingered perhaps a tad too long.
He gazed into my eyes and I felt my soul kind of melting and melding into his.
He finally spoke "Lovely to meet you at last, let's go somewhere more intimate and talk business."
Intimate, I thought that a strange word but hey Mr Crispin Fucking Fitzroy knows my name and he wants to talk business, bring it on.
We wandered outside and strolled down the extensive grounds until a small gazebo came into view, it looked out over a beautiful lake, moorhens croaked and buzzards whistled overhead.
"Perfect, don't you think?", he asked, I nodded and he sat patting the seat next to him.
He pulled a silver hip flask from an inside pocket, unscrewed the chain held cap and took a long swig then offered me the flask, I sat and took a large pull, It was good single malt and warmed my body and soul.
"So Mr David I hear you have a killer black book, one that I would be very interested in."
"Mr Fitzroy" he raised his arm "Please Crispin to you no need for formalities."
We talked business and houses for a while and I began to feel at ease with his easy charm and wit. Frequently we fell about laughing recalling old acquaintances, epic deals and epic failures.
He sighed and took another hit from the flask then pulled two cigars from another pocket, lit both and handed me one. He took a deep pull from the cigar and exhaled, the smoke billowed around in the evening breeze. I studied the side of his face, the strong jawline, his elegant long neck it all smacked of nobility. He quickly turned and held my gaze and I saw perhaps a hint of sadness in his ash coloured eyes, for the first time I sensed a degree of vulnerability.
When he finally spoke it was quieter, not so self assured "David I am hoping that I see something in you that possibly could be of interest to both of us, a kindred spirit perhaps, one that could umm.....possibly get better acquainted with, perhaps occasionally grace me with some personal attention, special favour if you will."
"A special favour " the phrase spun in my head.
