You can thank shopmom and Grands Fonds for inspiring this bit of fun. :)

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In the lamplight on deck as the wind blew her Grand Fonds scarf in midnight blue tantalizingly across her bare shoulder, Captain Jacques -- a luxury tanner by day, dashing pirate and smuggler of luxury French leather goods by night -- raked over her ladies riding gear with a his emerald gaze. His eyes rested thoughtfully on the new Hermes riding crop resting on her firm thigh. "Would you," he asked, lowering his smoky lids, "care to see my special Birkin? Many women find it most impressive..." His meaning was unmistakeable, and without thought, she gasped, "Thundering Jesus!"

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Later, the flame on the candle nearly spent, Captain Jacques collapsed against the silken H-embroidered 500 count Egyptian cotton sheets (with the Georges V Hotel stamp discreetly removed) and wrapped one of his sumptuously thick cashmere throws around his naked waist. She sighed contentedly as its fluffy fronds fluttered across his muscular torso, firm as porosus croc. "Oh, my darling!" she pleaded -- and Miss Riding Crop was not normally one to beg. "Please! Just once more! I need to see it again, if only to ensure that this is no dream and it really is as large as a girl hears." Jacques sank against the sheets and sighed. He had received that request from each and every woman -- and there had been many, he mused, ever since he grew those dreadlocks and started wearing black eyeliner -- whom he admitted into his private chambers. They simply could not get enough. He had spent his adolescent years attempting in vain to acquire the characteristics that would make him desirable to young, nubile, riding-crop wielding women, such as the insatiable vixen before him. And he had discovered that if there was one thing that could hold a woman's interest and drive her to untold peaks of desire, it was the Big Birkin. Who was he to deny her heart's desire? "All right, luv," he said, sitting up abruptly. " If I do as you ask, you promise to settle all my debts with your father, the magistrate, and have my execution orders cancelled, and have him yield to my possession his fleet of forty-gunners?" "Yes! YES! YES!!" she cried. Jacques knew she'd have given him more if he'd only had the imagination to demand it. "Madam," he said, taking her hand into his sensuous grasp. "We have an accord." Then, swooping from the bed, he opened the cupboard doors once more. And suddenly, the room filled again with the glittering light from scales of exotic croc Birkins in all the colors of the rainbow. The delight of the world's largest collection of crocodile Birkin bags was too much for his young companion, who fell backwards in a daze before closing her eyes with a blissful smile. Captain Jacques looked at her sleeping form and sighed. He crooked an eyebrow at the watchful parrot perched silently at the porthole. "Think she'll respect me in the morning?" " Thundering Jesus!" cawed the parrot. "Thundering Jesus!" Mostly we figure that means yes.

With the morning light she was gone.

Or at least, no longer in his arms. Jacques languidly slid a well-muscled arm, smooth as box calf, across the expanse of the empty bed bedside him and pondered. Kelly la Plume had been the only woman he had ever known who had given herself with such wild abandon, unheard of in a leather goods virgin. The only one who, he was delighted to discover, matched his own ecstatic pleasure as he showed her Birkin after Birkin. He rubbed a sleepy eye and let out a soft growl of pleasure, recalling how her bleu sapphire eyes lit up at the sight of his most precious asset -- a noir porosus croc Birkin with diamonds and palladium hardware with a gasp-inducing measurement of 40cm! But such a treasure warranted safe keeping on shore.

Oh yes, he thought with delight, he couldn't wait to see her face when he introduced her to the size of his tannery. The restored Georgian plantation tucked away in Vermilion Bay allowed him to play the wealthy bourgeois craftsman, known to his neighbors only as Herr Mez. Little did they suspect that beneath his arable acres, the estate boasted an array of secret tunnels, a web of artfully dusty passages leading to hidden coves where he kept safe his jewel, the 40 Black Croc Birkin with diamonds. And not only that: trunks and trunks brimming with silk twill scarves, carefully arranged by size, color, design and date of purchase (I mean, er, pilfering). He thought of the shelves piled high with the glistening skins of newly minted ostrich, lizard and of course crocodile bags, and--

An urgent knock on the door resumed the pounding in his head. The knocking persisted.

"Captain, open up!" The agitated voice of his first mate, Ray Tourne, echoed dully into the chamber.

Jacques sighed lazily, reaching for his breeches. "What is it, Ray?"

"They're gone, sir."

The captain flung open the door and eyed the young man in the corridor, his faithful companion these many years, and handsome enough to be a brother to Jacques but for the distinct lack of eye makeup and interest in Hermes leather items. Well, no one's perfect, thought Jacques.

"What is it?" he repeated, wrapping his red Feu du Ciel silk scarf around his head. "What's gone?"

"The bags, Jacques. The entire hold's empty! She took everything," said Ray.

Jacques tilted his head in surprise and disbelief. "She?"

"I'm sorry, Jacques. Hers was as clever a disguise as there was," said Ray mournfully. "That Miss Kelly la Plume from Royal Harbor was no daughter of a magistrate. The crew and I spotted a ship sailing away at full speed, but close enough to see that she was a pirate ship -- Plum Kelly's ship that's been preying on the privateers in the Siren Sound, targeting anyone possessing anything by Herr Mez."

Heart racing, Jacques turned back to his Croc Birkin cupboard and threw open the doors.

Empty.

Jacques heart fell like a stone, landing squarely in the sinking pit of his stomach.

"Bloody pirates!" he hissed. "Where was she headed?"

"Far as we could tell," said Ray, "Vermilion Bay."

"Thundering Jesus, Ray!" spat Jacques, racing for the door. "We've got to head Plum Kelly off! I want my Birkins back!"

"Wonderful writing style evocative of Jane Austen. This is a writer to watch!!!!"-Hermesgroupie, LeMonde Magazine

More, more!!!

Is that it!!!

omg... What a way to start my morning! LMAO, Gina!


......thundering jesus.....what have we unleashed, Grands?

^ LOLOLOL!!!! This is pure genius! MORE!!!

Gina, that was great, absolutely loved it. I was thinking Johnny Depp (right Baggs?) who could play the girl? Catherine Zeta Jones?

Here's a bit of trivia for you...back when men were men and wore breeches, the little cup thingy up front covering the family jewels was called a Merkin.In the last 100-200 years the word has evolved to mean a pubic wig. Hmmm, funny how it rhymes with Birkin The vest they wore back then was called a Jerkin. Hmmm, describes some guys

hee hee hee

Thanks ladies. This is fun! Stay tuned to see if Jacques catches up with his beloved (but is that the girl? or the Birkin?)

Originally Posted by gracekelly

Here's a bit of trivia for you...back when men were men and wore breeches, the little cup thingy up front covering the family jewels was called a Merkin.In the last 100-200 years the word has evolved to mean a pubic wig. Hmmm, funny how it rhymes with Birkin The vest they wore back then was called a Jerkin. Hmmm, describes some guys

What a cool little piece of info, grace! Thanks!

Lol

Can't wait for the next chapter!

This is GOOD~~ More please!

Wonderful writing!!! I can't wait to read more!!!