Disclaimer: I'm not making money off this, so please leave me alone, lawyers.

Chapter 1

I was engrossed in the task of ironing Mr. Wooster's freshly-washed pajamas, when I heard the door to the flat open and close, indicating his return from his gentlemens' club.

I was more than a little relieved, as I'd been looking out the window over the course of my day's labor, and I had ascertained that the clouds had become heavy and treacherous. Mr. Wooster had been looking especially trim and polished in his new cream colored suit, which would have been quite ruined by the rain, and I hated the thought of him caught in a deluge in the cool spring afternoon.

I set aside my task and went to meet him in the foyer. He looked pleased to see me, as he most often does, and handed me his hat and walking cane with a warm, pleasant smile.

"What ho, Jeeves!" he cried, hovering in the foyer as I placed his personal effects in the closet.

"Good afternoon, Sir. I trust your outing was pleasurable?"

"Quite, Jeeves! I've made a remarkable acquaintance just now, over at The Drones." He walked cheerfully to the couch and sat, as is his habit, in a languid, semi-recumbent sprawl that never fails to warm me slightly.

"Indeed, Sir?" I asked, mixing his brandy and soda.

"An academic of some sort. A... psychologism, or something along those lines. Studies the mechanisms of the mind, that sort of thing. Right along your alley, Jeeves!"

I handed him his drink, "I have often expressed my interest in the study of psychology. It is kind of you to recall, Sir."

"A strange sort of fellow, this one, though," he ruminated, swirling his beverage, "almost puts me in mind of a rather more severe Father Christmas!" He indicated a lengthy beard, with his free hand, "Do all psychologolistics look that way, Jeeves?"

"I am informed that a number of professional academics, focused as they are on their studies, often allow their personal grooming habits to lapse, Sir."

"Well! He was a dashed fascinating fellow, nonetheless. Says he's doing a study of some sort, and has offered psychoanalysee, free of charge, to each of the members of the Drones!"

"Indeed, Sir? That is generous" I began to sort the day's mail.

"I think I'll take this doctor chap up on his offer. Never let it be said that B. Wooster isn't willing to take a gander around the hollowy space between his ears!"

I paused in my sorting, intrigued. "I am glad to hear you're taking an interest in the doctor's scientific expertise, Sir. I am led to believe that psychoanalysis from a trained professional can be very revealing, and often enjoyable."

"Enjoyable, Jeeves? Well marvelous! I was sort of curious, is all, and, well, he did ask very politely whether we might join in."

"Very good, Sir."

"Jeeves, would you call him up right away and set the appointment, please? I think I'll have a bit of a read," he tapped his finger against 'Crime Capers of Cape Crime,' and reached into his jacket pocket, proffering a small, embossed business card, "Here's the number of his office."

"Certainly, Sir," I said, taking the card as Mr. Wooster took up the mystery novel and settled further into the couch. I had picked up the telephone to phone the number on the card, when, in shock, the receiver slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.

I cleared my throat, "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt your literary pursuits," I began, glancing over the card for a second and third time to be absolutely sure, "But am I to understand that the gentleman who is taking a study of your club, is none other than Dr. Havelock Ellis, the well-known psychologist and author?"

"I wasn't aware he was such a fat cat in the biz, Jeeves, but I suppose so. Seemed quite well-off and official-seeming. Is your Dr. Ellis a gent in his golden years, with a hint of an Aussie twang and a severe, calculating gaze?"

I was more than a little off-balance, but I kept my composure level. "He spent time, in his youth, in Australia, according to his writings. I would imagine that he is one and the same." I retrieved the phone from where it had landed on the carpet, and held it, poised in my slightly shaking hand.

"You seem a bit pipped, Jeeves, if you don't mind my saying so. Big fan of this fellow's work, are you?"

"Dr. Ellis has long been of great interest to me. I find his theories, perhaps excluding those he favors in the field of eugenics, to be extremely interesting and enlightened."

"Ah! Then you'll have to meet the chap, being such a fan of his. You can toddle along with me, and I'll introduce you before my appointment!"

"That is most kind of you, Sir," I said, for lack of anything else to add to the matter. Mr. Wooster returned to his reading, and I phoned in the appointment, scheduling his visit for the following afternoon.

I had, for the past few months, noticed a certain, developing warmth in Mr. Wooster's regard for me. At first I had thought I had been imagining it, as my employer had always been kind and slightly awe-struck by my proficient work. I was, at first, quite sure that I'd begun to imagine things, but his subtle alteration had continued. I had begun to suspect that Mr. Wooster was teetering on a signifigant realization in the matter of his feelings towards myself. This chance meeting with Dr. Havelock Ellis... Well, this would certainly bring to light any previously unacknowledged tendencies in my employer's psyche, especially concerning my suspicions. It was the chance I'd been hoping for, as I'd been unwilling to provoke his realization, myself, lest it be mistaken for coercion.

The rain had begun to fall by then, and Mr. Wooster chose to dine in, insisting I join him for the evening meal (a kind-hearted habit he has begun to favor with increasing frequency). We passed a quiet, pleasant night, and after a congenial nightcap, we each retired to our respective rooms.

Late that evening, I perused my bookshelf and selected one of the volumes to re-examine from the comfort of my bed.

The book was entitled "Studies in the Psychology of Sex, Vol. 2; Sexual Inversion," by Dr. Havelock Ellis.

Glancing through the pages, which were marked with the occasional slip of paper to recall a particularly salient point, I fondly regarded the worn pages, recalling how it had allowed me to claim a deeper peace of mind, in my youth.

I greatly anticipated my opportunity to meet Dr. Ellis in the course of the following day's events. Due to his publicized theories on the acceptable and natural presence of homosexuality within society, his life had been a constant struggle to share his studies with the world. His observations were, perhaps, too suggestive for current science, but I was glad to finally have the opportunity to pay him some much-deserved commendations.

Ellis often called forth in example the scientific study of animals, recording the frequent instances of homosexual behavior in birds and mammals. He had also, circumspectly, attempted to record the behaviors in the slightly less scientific arena of human sexuality, to set forth his theory that homosexuality was neither unnatural or amoral. I was especially touched by his interviews with men, similar to myself, who were forced to repress their sexual appetites, for fear of penal or social recrimination.

I had realized, years ago upon reading this book, that, though secretive, my peers were all around me. I was not alone in my silent yearning, and my hastily tamped desires.

Ellis argued for the decriminalization of sodomy, and the importance of recognizing the presence and harmlessness of sexual inversion in Britain.

Why, then, was he taking a study of the Drones members?

I was weighted with thoughts of Mr. Wooster's appointment. I'd long-ago reached the conclusion that while I would never again seek companionship from anyone other than my employer, it was unlikely that he would ever examine his feelings for me to an extent that would provoke his similar realization. I was content, for the most part, to be near him, and accept our chaste domesticity as the nearest thing to my fondest imaginings.

If I longed for him, I longed more to remain in his joyful presence. If I desired him, I desired, deeper, his contentedness.

I'd had times when I'd suspected that Mr. Wooster was not indifferent towards me, but eight years together had come to nothing more than the deepening of our friendship, and the comfortable intimacy between trusted employer and employee.

His meeting with Dr. Ellis, though... Ellis was a scientist who both understood and actively sought-out the sort of tendencies that I suspected lay dormant in Mr. Wooster...

I placed the book on my bedside table, nervous and slightly inflamed at the hope that Mr. Wooster might, just tomorrow, discover the secrets of his own heart.

Author's Note: Havelock Ellis was a real dude! Look him up.