Benny Goes Bust: Part Seventeen

This is the seventeenth part of a fiction serial, in 1421 words.

Nan and the newly-named Aunt Sophie were having a high old time. They had emerged from the bedroom looking like two late 1950s glamour models who had been left to ‘go off’. Both were wearing girdles, bullet bras, and fully-fashioned stockings attached to industrial strength suspenders that dangled from the elasticated girdles. They were also wearing knickers bigger than even those favoured by Bridget Jones. Nan also had a plot of sorts, and she cleared the coffee table, before laying deck of cards out on it. “OK Benny love, what we will do is play strip poker, except we will just pretend. As each of us loses, we will take something off. Keep clicking away, and make sure you get it all. In fact, it might even be better to shoot it as a video, then you will miss nothing”.

He changed to video setting, and warned “Nan, this won’t last too long. The card is not very big for long videos”. Lilian and Sophie were already in character, so without turning, she mumbled “Stop and start it then love, but get the best bits”. It had been a long time for the two elderly friends, but Benny had to admit they slipped back into it as if they had been filming together yesterday. The supposed poker became little more than a game of Snap, as they seemed to compete with each other as to who could get their clothes off the quickest. Sophie was not remotely embarrassed to remove her bra in front of Benny, and he shook his head at the sight of her sad little paps that looked like deflated balloons. That was bad enough, but when Nan’s bra went flying across the room, Benny called a halt. “Nan! Come on, I’m your grandson. let’s not forget that”. He half-turned, so he didn’t have to take in the view. Nan’s once tantalising boobs now looked more like a couple of massive empty leather water bags, the sort you see slung around the neck of a mule, in an old Western film.

Sophie turned to speak to him. “Turn the camera off for a minute, Benny”. He pressed the switch, and she continued. “If you are going to work in this game, you have to forget all that stuff. You are filming Aunt Sophie and Betty Baxter, that’s all you need to know. Point the camera, get the good stuff that the punters want, and just forget about who you are related to, and what you are seeing. If you are going to make a go of it, you have to be detached. If you can’t do that, then get someone in to film for you. OK?” He knew she was right, but it wasn’t easy. “Carry on, Sophie, I won’t say anything”. Two minutes later, and Sophie’s knickers were round her ankles, her bum cheeks looking like a couple of under-cooked Cornish pasties. When she reached over to pull Nan’s knickers off, giggling and leering, Benny thought he might pass out. As he caught sight of what Nan called her ‘Old Glory’, he let out a long groan. “Oh, Christ Nan, did you have to?”
He didn’t sleep well that night. As well as the sofa feeling lumpy, it was all but impossible to erase those images from his mind.

The next day was the busiest day in Benny’s young life so far. After around three hour’s sleep, he had jumped in the shower to wake himself up, very pleased that he had remembered to get clean clothes out of his room the night before. He could hear snoring from both bedrooms, and guessed that the film stars were sleeping off a late night of fun and drunkenness. By two in the afternoon, he had a bag full of cash, his feet ached, and he needed something to eat and drink. Outside the last bank on the list, he was delighted to see a free cab, and he gave the driver Linda’s address. It was a long way, and a hefty fare, but he didn’t mind. He had more money than he had ever seen. Despite having a key, he didn’t use it, and when she answered the doorbell, she looked very happy to see him. To dispel any idea she might have about heading for the bedroom, he spoke very quickly. “Linda love, I was up filming half the night, and I have been out since before nine. I would love a bacon sandwich and a coffee, if it’s not taking the piss to ask”.

Over the sandwich and hot drink, he told her the full story. The website, the videos, Nan, Sophie, Noddy, the forum, the site shop, selling the underwear and photos, and how tired he was. He added the news that he was moving into Mrs Hall’s but carefully left out the bit about the two rampant sex sessions he had so far enjoyed with Beverly. Linda was suitably impressed, and jumped at the chance of earning some extra cash. She had been looking out for something to replace the lunchtime job at the cafe, and even suggested that Sylvia would be happy to help out too, for a few quid in return. They arranged that he would drop off the padded bags and envelopes once they arrived, and Linda and Sylvia would put the items into them, adding the address labels. Linda said she could use her Mum’s old shopping trolley to wheel a fair load round to the Post Office, and would make a couple of trips while Sylvia carried on stuffing the bags. He kissed her goodbye, and headed off. Still lots to do.

At Noddy’s place, there was no reply. Noddy never came down to answer the door, so he guessed Beverly must be out. Benny decided to hang around. No point walking back to Nan’s, then having to turn around and come back. Twenty minutes later, Beverly appeared on the landing. She was looking very smart, wearing a sharp two-piece suit that made her look like a real businesswoman. Not caring about the public display, she kissed him with unexpected passion, before opening the door to go in. Once inside, she opened the shoulder bag she was carrying, and showed him wads of cash, all new notes. “I have been out and about withdrawing money too, Benny love. We have to get out as much as we can, before it starts to get noticed. You had better go up and have a chat with Darren. He’s got some exciting news”.

Noddy was at his usual spot, looking as if he hadn’t moved in days. When Benny walked into the room, he started talking non-stop. “The demand for the photos is not as high as we expected, but quite a lot of them want to buy signed ones. You will have to get a decent pen, and get your Nan to sign them. I have put all the details in an email and copied it to you. My Mum’s pages are very popular too, and over ninety people have signed up to Velma’s private section already”. Benny presumed that ‘Velma’ was the name Beverly had chosen for herself. He wasn’t even sure that was a name, but that hardly mattered. He remembered the filming session last night, and placed the memory card on the desk. “This is Nan and her friend. She’s going to be called Aunt Sophie. It’s all video, but you can edit it, and use some screenshots for stills”. His friend slid the card to one side, then turned to face him.

“You have to get onto Zafir, the video guy. The pre-orders for your Nan’s videos are huge, and we need them sooner, rather than later. I have already accepted payment for a lot of the one thousand we ordered, so we need to get them posted out. Quite a few of those forum blokes have ordered the full set, twenty films at fifty quid each. This new video of your Nan and Sophie will be just as popular, I’m sure”. Benny smiled. “We have sold quite a few then?” Noddy took off his blue hat, rubbed his head, and put it back on. “Over eight hundred copies, Benny. That’s eight-zero-zero. Do you realise how much that comes to?” Benny could quote the poetry of William Blake, but had never been fast with sums. As he hesitated with the answer, Noddy raised his voice.


To be continued…

33 thoughts on “Benny Goes Bust: Part Seventeen

        1. The way I reasoned it, they had a large number of sign-ups for monthly payments by Paypal. Then they sold a lot of films at Β£50 each, plus postage fees. They were also selling a fair amount of photos and worn underwear, at around Β£30 each. I did my sums on the corner of a piece of paper, but I think they’re about right (800 films X Β£50 = Β£40,000, and so on). The annual total of Β£238,000 equates to something like Β£19,000 a week, which ties in with the initial couple of weeks of some Β£50,000 I know it wouldn’t stand up to a full accounting scrutiny, but it’s only a story on my blog. πŸ™‚
          Best wishes, Pete.

          Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m happy to tell you, Eddy. It’s not as bad as you think!

      When I was around fourteen, (1966) one of my older cousins ran a secondhand bookshop in south London. It was part of a chain, called the Popular Book Centre. They sold all sorts of books, as well as comics, magazines, and collections. If you took them back after reading them, you got a 50% refund, credited against the next purchases. They stocked a lot of quite ‘innocent’ glamour magazines from the 50s too, mostly containing average-looking ladies posing in underwear, either solo, or in groups.
      My cousin used to let me take as many comics and magazines as I wanted, free of charge. One day, he told me that a woman in her early fifties had been in the shop. She had pointed to a photo on the cover of one girlie mag, and told him “That’s me. That was taken not long after the war”. She went on to tell him how she had started out doing clothes model photos, but had soon been seduced into the seedier stuff by the lure of the money. She had a child to support at the time, so was happy to earn more. He had an idea to revitalise her career, and she told him that she still knew some others who might be interested. He got really excited about the possibilities, until he found out the cost of a professional photographer, and hiring studio space, was beyond his means.

      I thought about that over the years, and he mentioned it to me again,not long before he died. I said I would write his story one day, but I changed it to suit the 21st century, and of course make the whole idea somewhat bigger. πŸ™‚ I also wanted to set something in Camden, which rarely gets a mention, and I know the area well. Everyone is based on people I have seen or met in the past. Especially Beverly.
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Great story so far πŸ™‚ I do not know If you ever wrote anything of this caliber before, but have you ever thought of writing a story that was similar to the Ealing comedies of the 1940’s and 50’s because you have a gift for their kind of wit πŸ™‚ Anyway, keep up the great work as always πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, John. I did start a serial with a similar theme, but realised it was too close to ‘School For Scoundrels’, and ditched it. πŸ™‚
      Glad you are getting the (intentional) humour.
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

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