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The Candyman's Education	By : Shaduan Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 6454 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Willy approached breakfast the next morning with every fiber of his being hoping that Pondicherry would not inquire about the tutorial the previous night. What could he tell him? He wasn’t sure how much he’d managed to learn, since he’d admittedly been rather distracted by the naked concubine… He had Parvati’s pin in his pocket, on the off-chance that he might see her on his way to the dining room, and he fingered it idly as he walked.
Almost as though the gesture had summoned her, Parvati emerged from an archway, stopping short when she noticed Willy. Their eyes locked for a few moments, and then she surprised him by hurrying forward and kneeling at his feet, her face near the floor. He took a few astonished steps back, wondering what on earth was going on.
“Um… Parvati?” he asked uncertainly.
“I offended you last night,” she said humbly, “Please forgive me.”
Willy blinked in confusion. “What? What makes you think you offended me?”
“You turned me out of your room. You were unsatisfied with my appearance. I must make amends.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… hold it right there, okay?” He looked down at the top of her lowered head. “Um, could you please get up? I have a hard time talking to people who are groveling at me.” She glanced up cautiously. “Please? I’m not mad at you. Really.”
“But last night…”
He took a deep breath. “Let’s just say that in my line of work I don’t get many women coming into my room and undressing within the first five minutes.” Or ever, he added to himself. “You surprised me, is all… I mean, how am I supposed to react?”
She lifted her head, sitting back on her heels. “How are you supposed to react?” she echoed, baffled. “Did your father not even introduce you to the topic?”
Willy imagined his father – Dr. Wilbur Wonka, D.D.S., the most feared dentist in the city.
“I… don’t think he’d ever go around doing anything like this.”
She tilted her head. “Like what?”
“You know… sex. He’d probably tell me it gave me cavities and tell me to drop it.”
Her mouth curved in a small smile. “Are you quite certain about that?”
“Considering his attitudes on candy, yeah.” He looked at the way she was smiling, and decided that there was something about it that he didn’t quite trust. “…why?”
“You will understand in time. For now, I would rather not ruin your breakfast.” She rose to her feet with a smooth unfolding of her legs. “Are you interested in starting your lessons afresh?”
“Only if you’re not planning on taking all your clothes off right now. Which reminds me—” He fished the pin from his pocket and offered it to her. She closed her hands over it, but elected not to take it right away, holding his hand for a few seconds. Her fingers were warm, the skin smooth from a pampered life.
“You have the most graceful hands I have seen in some time,” she observed, “And a gentle disposition. Given time, I expect I will be able to teach you many interesting things.” She brushed her fingertips across his cheek, and the hair at the back of his neck stood up. She finally took her pin and drifted away down the hallway, but he found himself unable to move for several heartbeats.
*****
“Good morning!” Pondicherry decreed as Willy entered the dining room, still trying to figure out what Parvati meant about his father. He glanced up, smiled, and inclined his head politely at Pondicherry’s greeting, curling up by the breakfast table before the tableau of fresh cut fruits.
Pondicherry chattered all through breakfast, reminding Willy of the static noise of a television set tuned between stations. He knew Pondicherry was probably talking about the chocolate palace, but his mind kept slipsliding across the subject like the time in the Factory when there was a small spill of slicktaffy, leaving a sheen across the floor like pink ice.
“… and how was Parvati?”
Willy glanced up, startled by the question, a sugar-covered strawberry still between his teeth.
“Fhee waff nife,” he said, then finished taking a bite of the strawberry.
“Pardon?”
Willy swallowed. “I said, she was nice. She seems like a kind tutor, anyway.”
“Brilliant!” Pondicherry beamed, though Willy suspected he would have reacted thus even if Willy had reported that Parvati was infested with pygmy firebreathing scalp weasels (a rare enough animal, to be honest, but horrible to get rid of). “I know she might be different from the women you might be used to in England, but rest assured, she’s a capable tutor, and a gentle teacher. By the time you finish my chocolate palace you’ll know everything you would ever want to know about the carnal arts…”
And that, of course, was the *problem*. He’d never wanted to know about sex. It had never interested him. At the same time, though, he had to concede that Parvati made the idea sound very interesting. He glanced at his hands, remembering what she had said about them in the hallway. They might not be so smooth after he was done with the palace. He hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.
He also hoped she wouldn’t be around to distract him too badly from the build. He wanted the palace to be perfect, because Prince Pondicherry wanted this structure so badly. He was paying well – a king’s ransom, in fact – but the money wasn’t the issue at all. If he made a mistake, even if Pondicherry didn’t know, *he* would know.
So it was that after breakfast and all through the day, Willy was in constant motion, overseeing the mixing of the different formulas of chocolate that would be variously molded into bricks, sculpted into statues, or blended into mortar. He left the digging of the foundation to Pondicherry’s workers for the time being, because although he knew enough of architecture to have a fair idea how deep it should ultimately be, it wouldn’t even be close to done for some time, and the chocolate was the key to the whole project.
Unfortunately, the different formulas were being mixed in areas of the main palace that were far divorced from each other, to prevent cross-contamination, so much of his supervision was spent on the run, his wingtipped shoes (bought new just before he left England) skidding across the marble tiles on the corners just as he discovered how little traction new shoes would give him in the palace. It was only a miracle that allowed him to catch a priceless Ming vase moments after he’d crashed into the marble column that had supported it, sending the fragile item teetering over oblivion.
Shortly thereafter he started going barefoot in the palace, enjoying the feel of the cool tiles on his feet during those intervals wherein he was not pelting back and forth between mixing stations. He ate on the run, mainly fruits or the occasional Wonka bar for energy, and Pondicherry lauded his singleminded devotion to his work, while in the same breath lamenting the fact that he could not relax and allow the servants to do their work without worrying so much.
Willy knew what the problem was, of course. Most people didn’t share his love of chocolate, and they might get bored. If they got bored, they might not pay proper attention to the mix, which might lead to changes, and *that*, boys and girls, could lead to disaster. He wasn’t going to have his project collapse because of an oversight.
He just wished the palace wasn’t so darned BIG…
*****
By the time Willy called an end to work for the day (acknowledging the work that the servants had done thus far but reminding them how much more they had ahead of them), it was only a shade past nine, but the young chocolatier was exhausted. He stumbled into his palace apartment, ready to go to sleep but still alert enough to notice the lavender scented steam that lightly tinged the air. He’d almost forgotten about the bathroom adjoining his bedroom, and was grateful to whichever mindful servant had thought to draw him a hot bath.
He set his shoes and socks on the floor beside his bed, and then ventured over and poked his head into the bathroom, finding not only the hot bath but the draw-er of it – Parvati had anticipated the effects of his busy day and was even now testing the temperature of the water in the huge marble bath set into the floor, roughly the diameter of a child’s wading pool but, he estimated, quite a bit deeper. She glanced up with a smile.
“Hello, Mr. Wonka,” she greeted him as she stood up and bowed.
“Parvati,” he replied, inclining his head to her, “Please, I’m exhausted – no lessons tonight?”
“As you wish,” she replied, “Instead, I will assist you with your bath and help you to relax before you retire for the evening.”
“… assist me?” He wasn’t entirely sure he heard her correctly.
“Of course. That’s one of the tasks that Pondicherry assigned me to do for you.”
His mouth quirked in a nervous smile. “Okay, but only if you promise not to take all your clothes off again.”
“No lessons today, remember?” She made a “cross-my-heart” gesture above her left breast. “I promise.”
“Okay…” He unbuttoned his frockcoat and went to take it off.
“Wait.” Parvati put up a hand, and then circled around the bath, closing the distance between them. “Let me.”
He frowned. “I’m perfectly capable of…” She put a finger on his lips, silencing his protest.
“It is my duty to pamper you while you are here.” She circled around behind him and slid his frockcoat off his shoulders. He turned as she slid it off entirely, and saw her fold the garment into a tidy bundle and set it carefully on the floor. She returned just as he finished turning around, and she began unfastening the buttons on his frockcoat.
It was such a mundane activity – he’d done it himself so many times in the past, and he’d managed just fine without servants or helpers, and he supposed she dressed and undressed herself without incident – but something about the way she worked gave him that strange feeling again, that feeling he couldn’t quite define but which he had decided was best described by “itchy”.
She paused about two-thirds of the way down, glancing down at the pockets between which a chain would be strung if he owned a pocketwatch. She lightly traced the curve of the nonexistent watch chain across his stomach with her fingertip, and Willy inhaled sharply at the ticklish sensation. Oh, this was going to be *interesting* if she kept up like this. He wanted to… what? He wasn’t sure. His palms were all sweaty now, but that could be from the humidity in the bathroom. It was so very, very warm in there…
She finished unbuttoning his frockcoat and slid it off him, folding it up as she had done with his frockcoat, and adding it to the pile.
“Parvati?” he asked.
She straightened up and glanced over at him. “Yes?”
“I do have one teeny tiny little request.”
“Of course, Mr. Wonka.”
“Okay, two requests. First, call me Willy. Whenever I hear Mr. Wonka I think they’re talking to someone else.”
“Very well. And the other?”
He bit his lip. “When we get to my shorts, could you close your eyes?”
She tilted her head. “Close my eyes?” Then she saw him flushing and she understood. She was probably the first woman to help him with a bath since his mother. And considering the line of education she was to offer him during his stay… “I won’t peek. Trust me.”
The look of relief on his face was almost comical. “Thank you, Parvati. That means so much right now.”
“Do I have permission to see what else is hidden under that bright wrapping?”
He swallowed, smiled, and nodded. A gentle, simmering heat was building in the pit of his stomach. What was she doing, and how was she doing it? The young ladies who’d thrown themselves at him in the past never had this effect on him – in fact, he’d done everything in his power to get away from them when they… what was the word? Glomped. Yes. When they glomped him. It was such a descriptive word, almost onomatopoeia. It was his favorite word for a week about a year back, following “mocha” and eventually superceded by “rutabaga”.
She took her time unbuttoning his shirt, exploring him with some interest but resisting the urge to rush. If she rushed, she might scare him – and she didn’t want to do that. He was such a nice young man – and decently built, she decided as she removed his shirt. While he was not very muscular like many of the guards at the Palace (and few men were built like the guards, to be honest), he was not flabby at all, and his face and hands were lightly tanned from his time spent in other exotic locales.
He watched her closely as she crouched in front of him, undoing his pants and sliding them down his long legs. He was wearing his purple shorts with the little top hats all over them – a gift from one of his admirers that he’d accepted as a very nice practical gift.
“Right foot,” she said, and he balanced on his left as she threaded the right trouser leg off his foot. “Now the left.” He balanced again, and watched his pants leave him entirely. She straightened up, folding the garment over her arm. “I’ll just be in the next room, getting your clothes ready to be washed and laying out your pajamas. Just call me when you’re ready for me to bathe you.”
He bit his lip nervously, but nodded. Parvati bowed, gathered up the rest of his clothing, and vanished through the door to his bedroom. He hurried to the doorway to make sure she didn’t peek, and once he was satisfied he darted back to the tub, wiggled out of his shorts, and stepped into the steaming, lavender-scented water, sitting on a low seat built into the side of the tub so that he was submerged up to his nipples. The water was so relaxing that he wanted to fall asleep right there.
No. He as much as promised that he would let her help him.
“Parvati? You can come back now.”
She reappeared almost at once, and he saw that she came bearing a gift, a silver tray bearing a sponge and a bottle of what he supposed was soap. He craned his neck and then half-turned to follow her as she took up a position behind him and set down the tray. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she put her bare feet and lower legs in the water, hitching up the hem of her gauzy skirt so it wouldn’t get wet.
In his confusion he was on the verge of standing up to give her more room by the seat – but remembered his state of undress and the depth of the water (hip-deep, by his estimation) just in time and settled for a half-crouch, turning pink and shielding himself with his hands.
“It’s okay,” she said, beckoning with a hand, “I promised no lessons tonight, remember?”
Willy looked uncertainly at her, biting his lip. She seemed harmless enough, and she had kept her promises so far. After a few moments, he ventured closer.
“Very good, Willy. Now just have a seat and relax. I’ll do all the work for you.”
After a few more moments’ hesitation, he finally resumed his seat, feeling the unyielding marble under his backside and a soft touch on his bare shoulder.
“Go ahead and sit back if you like.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and did so. He felt her feet by his waist and her shins behind his shoulders.
“Okay?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“Comfortable?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
The sponge brushed over his skin, rough and soft at the same time, leaving in its wake a wet, ticklish snail’s trail of soapy foam that smelled of vanilla. She washed his chest, shoulders, arms, and back, enveloping him in the aroma until he thought he would die of olfactory bliss. He felt his tired muscles relaxing further under her tender ministrations, to the point that he felt his mind drifting off, to a delightful place the color of strawberry liquor, where chocolates and marshmallows danced and sang all d—
His eyes snapped open as he felt the sponge caress his abdomen under the water. It danced perilously close to the line below which he had decided it would not yet be proper for her to go. She still sat behind him, but as she leant forward he felt her breasts pressing gently into the back of his head.
It was, he decided, a very, very strange situation to wake up in, even if you were near enough to it when you fell asleep fifteen seconds ago.
“Are you okay?”
“Y… y…” He swallowed. “Yes.”
“If you’re sure.”
He nodded, noticing the bounciness this gesture seemed to inspire in her bosom. “I’m sure,” he squeaked.
She sat back, and part of him was disappointed by the loss of the bounciness.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?” she asked, “You were running around all day, so it might have gotten a bit sweaty.”
“No, that’s okay. It’ll keep.” Suddenly he wanted very much to get out of the bath, to the point that he stood up without thinking – and froze as he realized that he had slightly over-estimated the depth of the water, by about six inches. He paled, then flushed, then submerged to his chin with a splash. It was too late, he knew – she’d already had a plain enough view of his naked backside. He slowly glanced back, and saw her place a folded towel at the edge of the tub.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked as she straightened up.
“No. Fine. Thanks. Bye?” He raised a hand from the water and waved wetly at her, hoping she would go away.
“As you wish,” she said with a bow, and then departed.
He blew frustrated bubbles in the lavender-scented water. Why did he keep chasing her away? Why did he spook so easily? She was so kind, and she was trying to help him, so why did he keep doing this? He resolved that he would do better during the next lesson, as he stepped out of the water and dried off.
She was soft in interesting places, too, he conceded as he wrapped the towel around his waist.
He exited the bathroom to find her gone, but she’d left a book on the nightstand. "Kama Sutra", read the cover. He wasn’t sure what that meant, as his command of Hindi wasn’t the best, but if she wanted him to read it he would do his best. The least he could do was read the first chapter or so…
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The Candyman's Education