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 THE UBER-LORD IS ILL! (By: Marie)

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Posts : 5152
Join date : 2008-12-13
Age : 61
Location : Urs Buhler, The man of my dreams!!
Humor : I found it and as always the joke is on me!!

PostSubject: THE UBER-LORD IS ILL! (By: Marie)    Tue Dec 21, 2010 4:56 pm

HE UBER-LORD IS ILL!

The message flooded the forum and circumnavigated the globe! PMs, e-mails, phone calls, instant messages and faxes flew! The Ubers could not allow their lord to languish alone and improperly cared for. The poor darling must have the proper attention! Immediate action was called for.

Being an organizational fanatic (something she was sure she and the lord had in common) Marie was convinced she should be in charge of a rescue mission. (Besides she was the oldest!) The others agreed she could oversee the project (because, after all, she was the oldest!) Even though she sighed and cheered as often and as loudly as the others, the darling boy was sick and her motherly instincts had taken over. (Right!)

They clandestinely invaded the hotel in small groups and gathered outside the door to the suite. They conveniently found it to have been left unlocked by a maid beating a hasty retreat while ducking a thrown pillow. Urs had thrown the pillow because he said she had walked across the floor too heavily while taking fresh towels to the bathroom. (She had actually been tiptoeing across thick carpeting but Urs was a man—a sick man—and they are all unreasonable babies. They all really ought to have to endure childbirth just once—that should take care of the overpopulation problem!)

They slipped inside, hung the “do not disturb” sign out, turned and viewed the sick man and the sickroom. They had their work cut out for them. The fastidious Mr. Buhler had given up all hopes of hitting the trash can with the used tissues and clothing that had been discarded lay in heaps.

Hearing the door lock click, Urs raised his head, saw the rather large gathering, sat up holding the covers to himself and began, “What the…”

Marie quickly stepped forward and “shushed” him, informing him that they were his Ubers and they were here to care for him. He reached for the bedside phone but she was too quick for him and clutched the newly unplugged appliance to be put out of his reach. Being a sensible man (as much as possible, being a sick one, —see reference above) he realized that there was to be no escape and since they were his declared women, who only wanted to care for him, what harm could they do? (Oh, you sweet innocent man!)

Joss and Ali had definitely been given the cutest outfits for the mission. They made a housekeeper’s job look quite glamorous and quickly started setting the room to order.

High Commander Siobhan Wolf stepped forward with her squad from the Den. They looked quite formidable dressed in their commando black garb and armed with rubber gloves, numerous spray bottles (many of which sported skulls and crossbones on the labels) and rolls of paper towels. She and the girls had vowed to protect their lord from would-be tongue biters and from tacky lap-climbers. (Urs had mentioned a concern for the former and Niagara Concert goers had witnessed the latter!) They certainly would take care of any damn germs that had dared to lay low the lord! Before they ceased their labors, every square inch of everything in the room (except the patient) would be disinfected! (Damn! No personal contact for them!)

The sound of running water could be heard in the bathroom. The door opened and steam came billowing out! Moe and Gill emerged from the clouds and advanced upon the invalid. “We have a hot bath run for you,” cooed Moe. “It will ease your aching muscles,” sighed Gill.

Urs looked at the two women and pulled the covers closer about him. Moe leaned forward and took his ear between her thumb and index finger, “I have sons; I know how to deal with reluctant gents!” (She never would have twisted the darling’s ear, but he didn’t have to know that!) He slid out of the bed, clutching the sheet around himself. (The ladies were all sure by now that he had not bothered to dress after stripping off the last sweat soaked clothing.)

In the bathroom, Urs was relieved to find the tub of steaming water piled high with thick bubbles, especially when he realized the two women had no intention of leaving. At least they held the edges of the sheet up so that it screened him as he stepped into the water and eased down into the bubbles. Gill almost drowned him when she reached in and brought a foot out of the water for washing. That action caused him to slide down in the tub so that his head actually went underwater. So while Gill worked from the lower end, Moe shampooed his hair and used a spray attachment to rinse it clean—giving his shoulders an extra rub each time. They did notice that he blanched at a joking comment about “meeting in the middle” of his scrubbing.

They stepped back and held out a large towel and discretely turned their heads. He stepped out to the towel and quickly wrapped it around his waist. Gill indicated a stool where he should sit while she used another of the thick towels to dry his chest and back while Moe toweled his hair. She ran her fingers through it and was pleased with the way it lay in a curly halo around his head.

Marie came in and held out a pair of silk pajamas toward him. His reaction—“Hell no!” Her firm reply, “Yes, dear, they will feel very good against your skin and no one will ever know that you wore silk jammies. After all, we would never spoil your image.”

He emerged from the bathroom in the silk pajamas. All teams stopped work to admire their idol. He looked so much better! Joss and Ali had made his bed with wonderful smelling fresh clean sheets. Before he could slip under the covers, Laura and Nikki converged upon him declaring that a fever dries the skin so horribly that it needed moisturizing. They proceeded to rub lotion on every inch of skin they were allowed to access. (He was very vigilant, remembering the “meet in the middle” comment made by the last two women who were rubbing his body!) Laura smiled, pleased that they had used every drop of lotion from the huge bottle.

There was a prearranged tapping signal at the door. Marie opened it and Cheryl and Shawn came in carrying a large tray. They had gone directly to the kitchen, bullied the chef and said they didn’t care who that chicken and wonderfully crusty bread was to have been served to—it now sat on their tray as a delicious smelling soup (chicken soup really does have healing properties) to be eaten with said crusty bread by their beloved patient. The tray also held a salad of delectable fresh fruits. The ladies had prepared it with their own hands and they now proceeded to feed it to him personally!

When he had finished every bite, they declared they had something wonderful for him—(strictly for medicinal purposes, you understand.) They opened a thermos and poured steaming liquid into a mug. He took a sip (it wouldn’t have done any good to resist—they were standing there holding it out to him—none of these women understood the concept of “NO!”) He took a sip—he took a gulp—he threw it back and held out the mug for more. After the second cup he had a decidedly silly but endearing grin on his face. The entire team was now gathered around looking at him—hot toddy—a wonderful concoction of honey and whiskey in a little hot water (actually lots of whiskey—so you may still have the cold but you really don’t give a damn!) Having finished his third cup, he slid down under the covers.

Their work here was done. The ladies smiled and began filing out of the room. Marie was last to leave—there was one more task in the care of a sick man—she smoothed back his hair and placed a light kiss on his forehead, “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Akshul—aschull—really—, he was feeling much better right now—as he drifted to sleep he realized—it was good to be the Uber-Lord!!!


SECOND VISIT



They stood quietly around his bed watching him sleep. His was the face of an angel surrounded by a dark halo of curls against the pillow. His eyelashes fanned in majestic sweeps across the tops of those cheekbones that must have been sculpted by Phidias himself. His aquiline nose had lost its redness and his perfect, full lips no longer looked dry—he was getting better.

No one had made a sound, but Urs began to stir. They remained rooted to their spots, a magical forest around the sleeping prince. One muscular arm slid from under the cover, exposing one broad shoulder—and a small glimpse of chest with its perfect sprinkling of hair. (Thankfully he had ditched the pajama top.) Someone sighed. No one pointed fingers or tried to affix blame, but pink creeping into cheeks denounced the perpetrator.

Urs eyes flew open. He saw a wall of women surrounding him and looking at him with concern on their faces. With a startled cry he slid up against the headboard of the bed and clutched the covers around him—up to his chin.

There were more of them this time! His recollection of last night was a bit hazy but he was absolutely sure they had multiplied overnight! “What the….” That was exactly the way he had begun last night and at precisely the same place, Marie once again stepped forward and “shushed” him.

“Honey, I’m sure you remember that we are your Ubers and that we took good care of you last night. We are here to follow up with your care and as you can see, once word of our Mission of Mercy spread, volunteers just popped up all over the place.”

Urs sat in stunned silence listening. Who the hell was this woman and how did they get in here again? As if reading his mind, Marie informed him that she merely organized the group and that she had just happened to pinch his room key when they were here last night.

They could see the resignation in his eyes so the experienced group set to work.

Siobhan and her crew made quick work of any germs that had escaped last night’s massacre.

Rob had whined to Marie (even hinting at bribery—for shame—though totally understandable) about not getting any personal contact and Joss, though she never would have complained, had adored the Uber Lord for so long she deserved a ‘hands on’ job too. So now Sue and Stephanie wore the darling little (the operative word being little) housekeeping outfits and quickly tidied the room again.

Moe and Gill did not even have to motion when they opened the door to the steam filled bathroom. He sighed, plodded to them and climbed into the tub but did insist they give him a nice large sponge and a washcloth—just in case.

Rob was standing by with toothbrush, toothpaste, floss and mouthwash. Urs quickly grabbed them afraid she might want to play ‘dental assistant.’ However, after he finished, Rob did wipe a bit of toothpaste left at the corner of his lip and leaned close to ascertain that the mouthwash had done its job—those lips—so close! (the new job description allowed touching but definitely no kissing!)

Once again, under fresh covers (and in fresh satin jammies) Urs found there were new items added to his care. His eyes grew large and he opened his mouth—mercifully the thermometer Martha was bearing down on him with was slipped into it—he shuddered to think of the alternative!

“What is that infernal jingling?” Marie finally asked. She didn’t know that Judy was being so literal with her ‘bells on’ offer. Judy had brought a lovely little silver bell for Urs to ring should he require anything. (Oh God, did this mean some of them were going to be staying to hear it? And was it necessary for her to take his hand and show him how to ring it just so?)

Laura had volunteered the information that she gave wonderful massages so assisted by Joss, the invalid was pummeled until all of his muscles were well tended. Nikki and Cheryl applied the lotion this time, slathering so much on he was in danger of either sticking to or sliding off of the bed.

Lillian had experience in many areas so she accompanied Shawn to the kitchen and once again the best ingredients were purloined to make a delectable meal for the darling—then fed to him by their own hands, of course.

After finishing the food, he looked at them expectantly—remembering the hot toddy of the previous evening. They shook their heads from sided to side. His face fell—no hot toddy!

Seeing his disappointment, Marie stepped to his bedside. “Darlin,’ Moe and I have something even better for you today, don’t we, Moe?” “Oh yes, we invented it ourselves,” Moe quickly added.

“Reesie, would you hand me my bag please?” Marie turned to the last member of the group. She did not know if Reesie was an Uber or not, but she had expressed concern for the lord (and she was kind enough to post on Marie’s little story) so she had received an invitation to join the group. She picked up a glass from the table and held it out while Marie filled it with a rich dark liquid poured from a flask carried in her bag. “Reesie, why don’t you give the glass to our patient.” He took it but looked doubtful. “It’s better than toddy,” cooed Marie. “It’s called Swiss Bliss.” Urs drained the glass.

The women left; their mission once more accomplished. Marie and Moe lingered a bit outside the door. From inside they heard slightly slurred speaking and then some merry singing. “It’s good to be the Uber-Lord. King of Everything! Oh where oh where have my Ubers all gone? Oh where oh where can they be? Cheeky bunch.” Then lots of----giggles? “Swiss Bliss—I’m drinking Swiss Bliss----wait—I am Swiss Bliss.” Hysterical giggling!! “Swiss Blisssssssssssssss”----silence.

Moe looked at Marie and asked, “You put the tape recorder under his bed?”

“Oh yeah!”




THIRD VISIT

Marie motioned for silence from the crowd following her. It had grown to a small army and she looked around, truly hoping that she had not forgotten any Uber who had offered her service in the care of the Swiss Rock God.

They approached the door to his hotel room with much exaggerated tiptoeing and fingers to lips to signal others to be quiet. There was almost a toppling, domino style, when Marie stopped in front of the door. She hoped that Urs had not done anything foolish, like have the key card changed. Time would be wasted on finagling a new one. The group was quite compressed, noses to backs following the sudden stop.

Eyes flew open and ears pricked up and Judy smiled when from within the room, they heard a distinctive sound—a little silver bell jangling! The key was inserted, the door opened, the army marched through and stood looking at Urs leaning against a pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Arms folded across his muscular chest did not hide the fact that the top three buttons of his pajama top had not been done up.

“Where have you all been? I’ve been jangling this damned thing for twenty minutes. I thought you would at least have someone posted outside the door.” His voice was stern, but his eyes twinkled. The women momentarily froze in surprise but quickly offered smiling apologies and hellos and began to mobilize to attack their tasks.

“You two, Moe and Gill, don’t even think about it!” The women stopped in their tracks (they had claimed permanent bathing rights but had only taken two steps toward the bathroom.) “I am bathed and shampooed and managed quite well, thank you.” Their little faces fell.

“I want to know what was in that drink and if you have any conception of how much just might be considered an overdose.” The guilty parties could only turn red but find no words to answer.

Laura stepped forward and replied, “If you mean the Swiss Bliss, it has equal parts of DuChalet Original Swiss Chocolate Liqueur, Disaronno Originale, and Original Willisauer Krisch. Mel has brought panadol in case your head hurts. He accepted and swallowed the tablets, first sniffing at the rim of the glass that Beverly held out to him to be sure it held only water!

“Well, Laura, it’s great stuff—just don’t kill me with it.” The gruffness was softened by the famous grin. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Martha had produced her thermometer from a bag. “Uh-uh,” the side-to-side shaking of his head made the curls dance in a way that brought sighs from Rob and Cheryl. (No matter how many times they had seen that, they still felt weak in the knees at the sight.) “Do I look feverish? Those two with the red faces look like they might need checking though.” The faces in question reddened more. His grin widened—he was obviously having a good time and had gained total control of the situation and was enjoying it immensely.



“Ok, what am I eating today?” Thinking it might not be a good idea to raid the kitchen a third time, a committee had been formed to assemble a carry-in hamper. Asa, Chic, Moira, Greta and Antoinette made up this group, saying they could provide quite an international variety of delicacies to temp the lord’s tastes. They assured him there was no sushi and proceeded to dish out a lovely array of foods on a tray for him. Each took turns offering him a special tidbit then practically swooned as he took it from them. It occurred to the onlookers that if he kept eating like this, he might not be able to do up the button on those tight cheans. (Now would that just not be a pity?)

“Uh, Sue,” Nikki cleared her throat, “weren’t you going to check for any ‘dust bunnies’ you might have left under the bed?”

“I never…” An elbow in the ribs robbed her of air and speech.

“Oh, yeah,” she finally managed to gulp.

Linda decided there must be something interesting under that bed so dived under to help Sue and Nikki look for it. “It’s gone!” Nikki’s theatrical whisper was less than subtle. The three women lowered their rears from the air and popped their heads from under the bed. Marie had confided to the group that a voice-activated tape recorder had been placed there during their last visit.

All eyes turned to Urs who might well have had feathers sticking out of his mouth, so much did he have the look of the cat that swallowed the canary! “Looking for this, ladies?” He produced the recorder from under the covers and held it aloft.

Saskia, Auds and Lily all lunged to grab it, but the invalid was indeed recovered and too quick for them. He leapt to his feet and stood on the pile of pillows and leaned his back against the wall. Linda, Mary and Stephanie, being on the other side of the bed thought they might be in a better position to reach him, but he evaded their outstretched hands as well.

Urs was quite into this scene by now. He was indeed fully recovered and when he had thought rationally about the whole situation, realized that these ladies did indeed have only his well being on their minds (Well, it won’t hurt a thing to let the boy continue to think that’s all we have on our minds!) It was actually rather touching, the lengths they had gone to for his care and comfort. He was holding the recorder up, laughing and bouncing on the bed like a kid whose parents weren’t watching. The women just stood with eyes wide open—mouths too! (That’s right—just think about it for a minute!)

But fluffy pillows stacked on a mattress do not make for solid footing. “Ooooohh…” A cry? A wail? Panic? Urs landed in a heap. There was total silence in the room. Lying on his stomach, he raised his head a bit and moved his eyes left to right, peeping from under a wayward curl, assessing his situation. Let’s see, sprawled in the middle of the bed—in his pajamas (cotton, not silk this time)—surrounded by women—God, how many of them were there anyway? He pursed his lips, thinking. He would never make it off the bed, much less reach the door.

The Ubers’ faces lost their looks of concern when they realized that Urs was uninjured. In fact, they really bore no expressions at all. They too were assessing the situation. Here was the man of their dreams, lying in the middle of the bed, his perfect body encased only in pajamas, looking totally adorable with his tousled hair and his expression somewhere between amusement and panic. What to do? Such a feeling of power. Such temptation!! Such inappropriate thoughts! But propriety and respect prevailed.

A hand reached out and turned back the corner of the covers. “Here, honey, you had better get back under the covers and rest. We wouldn’t want to tire you out.” He searched the face for any hidden meaning but saw none. (She was a damned fine actress!)

Urs laughed—the women laughed. Covers safely pulled to his waist, he looked at the group and patted the mattress on either side of him. For a moment there was no movement, but when the women realized that he meant for them to sit next to him they moved and sat, timidly at first then with gentle shoving, jockeying for position.

Urs spent the next half hour finding out who each lady was and thanking her for her kindness and attention. Every woman felt special and appreciated. His interest reaffirmed their belief in how uniquely special he is. It was agreed by all present that he would require no further care at this time but he knew that they would be there should he need them and they knew that their concern would be welcome should it be required.

Reluctantly they gathered their things and left the room. Marie was just closing the door when his voice called her back, “Marie, don’t you want to take this with you?” He was holding up the tape recorder.

“Well, I don’t suppose there is anything on it,” she replied, a bit disappointed.

“I didn’t erase a thing. I know I can count on your discretion.” His eyes and gentle smile told her that he spoke the truth.

She walked over and reached for the recorder. As she took it from him, he reached out his other hand and patted hers. She smiled—she walked quite steadily to the door. After she closed it behind her, she stood perfectly still for several second before doing a delirious ‘happy dance’ down the hallway—rather undignified for a woman her age!



WHAT WAS ON THE TAPE RECORDER

Even an over-indulgence in Swiss Bliss could not mar the beauty of that voice—though it was slurring quite a bit.

“It’s good to be the Uber-Lord. King of Everything!” This part sounded rather boastful and unlike Urs. (Swiss Bliss to blame again!)

“Oh where oh where have my Ubers all gone? Oh where oh where can they be?” And this to the tune of ‘Where Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?’ Not really very flattering to the lovely Ubers who had cared for him so lovingly, however he probably was limited in tunes that would fit his words at this moment.

“Cheeky bunch!” Next came giggles (yes giggles) running up and down scales.

“Swiss Bliss—I’m drinking Swiss Bliss—wait—I am Swiss Bliss.” Hysterical giggling!! “Swiss Blisssssssssssssss”-------silence.

The voice-activated tape recorder began fluttering on and off in response to frail groans, which finally built to prolonged wailing moans. Then came the mumblings of the not quite sober Divo trying to reconcile his condition and the cause of it.

“I ‘member now—they gave me something to drink—wha’d they call it—Swiss Bliss?” Just the sound of those syllables strung together made his head hurt worse.

His eyes suddenly opened wide at the next thought; a terrible mistake because now his eyeballs felt like those joke ones on springs that looked like they were popping in and out of your head—the ‘thought’—there had been hundreds of women surrounding his bed! Well, maybe not hundreds (he was definitely thinking more than double!) And they had been bathing him and feeding him and…….Through all of this the tape recorder was picking up mutterings that gave the gist of his thoughts but they did require some careful consideration and translating.

These efforts had been too much—the machine went silent again.

When the recording started again there were sounds of slow movement to get out of bed, walking gingerly to the bathroom, flushing, running water, slow footfalls returning. Mutterings about finding a watch, careful rummaging and then—“What the h*ll?!”

“Well, well, well, ladies—someone’s being a really naughty girl! Isn’t it against the law to secretly record people?” Busted! There was a final sounding click of the recorder being turned off.
Surprisingly enough, it was restarted. Urs had obviously recovered somewhat and was sounding close to normal. “Marie, I know you did it—you planted that recorder! Now you have to do something to make up for it. I remember talking to all those lovely ladies who did such a wonderful job taking care of me but I can’t remember all of their names. So to make up for getting me drunk—twice—and bugging my room, you have to make a list of every Uber who helped and which concerts they’ll be attending and where they’re sitting. I can imagine you starting to protest—don’t—you can find out anything—you are one persistent woman! I want that list! Those ladies are all special and they all deserve some special attention!”
And then he thought to himself, ‘I’ll sing to some, I’ll give a special nod to some, I’ll wave to some, extra big smiles for some and then I can always do my squinchy, scrunchy eye thing—what is it they call it—blinky-winks or winky-blinks (here he blushed because he remembered the implications in a conversation some of the ladies had on the Forum about what those were called!)
“Oh, and another thing—don’t go telling them about this—I want to surprise them!”
And then he began singing and Marie mentally began working on the list.


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