The gentleman highwayman polishes his pistols

Claude Du Valle remained hidden in the trees, his customary black handkerchief fastened across his face as a makeshift mask and a highly ornate flintlock pistol in his right hand. Decorated in real gold with a fleur de lys, Du Valle had been given, or rather, had purloined the gun as a set of two from his last employers, the court of King Louis in France. How he hated watching those aristocratic dogs fill their bellies and live in opulence whilst all around people starved. They had been good for one thing though, they had taught him how to be a gentlemen. And to his delight he discovered that women would swoon for a man who treated them with lots of attention, no little charm, a rapier wit and of course, some ‘un’common courtesy.

Claude surveyed the carriage. It was of an older design and with only four horses and a leather strapping suspension he knew that it could not out run his trusty steed. Checking once more that his handkerchief face mask was in place Claude geed up his horse and began his pursuit of the coach. From its ornate gold painted trim it held at least one rich merchant or aristocrat, of that he was sure and it was with a happy heart that he speculated on how much gold the occupants were carrying. In an age of no banks travellers were forced to carry cash, to Claude’s delight.

Stevenage escorts, Ware escorts and Watford escorts are proud to represent the most fun and feisty busty escorts working in the county today. Call us now – a great time is waiting for you!

The coach driver soon spotted the highwaymen and spurred his four horses on to greater effort but the heavy coach and its suspension more suited to the genteel roads of the capital struggled to make headway across the wet grass of the heath. The driver’s assistant picked up his blunderbuss and aimed it in the general direction of the outlaw, but in his heart he feared firing the inaccurate weapon for surely if he did and missed the highwayman would show him no mercy. Instead he bluffed that the gun was not working and had jammed, passing it to the driver who cursed at him in irritation. The coach driver handed over the reins to the coach and steadied himself across the top of the carriage, though it was impossible to get a stable platform for a shot. The same thought crossed his mind as had crossed his assistant and he thought better of firing – what if some posh folk got robbed, why should he die to protect their gold?

As he lowered the weapon Claude smiled. He had only been fired on once before but the sound of the great gun and the sting of tiny pellets ripping into his flesh – thankfully only three had hit him and they were easy to extract – was a painful memory that he had no wish to repeat or relive.

The lusty tale of a horny highwayman returns to Hertfordshire escorts on Tuesday, another silk stocking story of love, lust and three pointed hats.