I’ve recently researched French castles for a book I’m tampering with and found a website where you can rent several dozen châteaus in all sizes and all over France.
One of them, Château de Farville near Paris, caught my eye. It has all the amenities you’d expect from a place like this. 12 bedroom suites, 2 master suites, all with en-suite bathroom of course, indoor swimming pool, helipad, 420 ha surrounding parks, hunting grounds and whatnot, library (actually, it has two libraries), chapel, theatre, spa, hammam, tennis court, billiard room … you know, the works.
They don’t say anything about a dungeon, but we all know that those castles always have a dungeon.
Last, but definitely not least, it’s got a moat. I mean, it actually has A FRIGGIN’ MOAT!!! Not that a moat is a very useful feature, but … but … well, it’s just beyond cool.
Imagine rolling towards that castle in your Bentley (ok, a rented Bentley, but still a Bentley), then across the moat and through the gates, where the chauffeur opens the door for you. Fan-fucking-tastic, is all I can say.
|Château de Farville and it's friggin' moat.|
However, the best thing isn’t all those features and amenities or the moat and frankly I could do without a golf course (but I’d like to make use of the helipad, as long as there’s a Bentley bringing me from the helipad across the moat to the castle, that is).
No, the best thing is the price. 75’000 € a week for the whole château. Per week. Plus expenses. Plus taxes.
That sounds expensive but I think it’s a bargain. The castle has room for 40 people, after all.
I told my dear master about it and asked whether he thought we’d have a hundred thousand Swiss francs to spare and would it be ok if I reserved le Château de Farville in July for a week so we could celebrate his birthday there with a couple of friends?
Quite to my surprise, he didn’t jump at the idea. Not immediately. Ahem. Actually, he didn’t jump at it at all. Instead he gave me a look I interpreted as a “you’re totally crazy but at least it’s a good kind of crazy, a kind of crazy I know how to deal with”-look, reinforced it with a stinging slap on my ass and sent me to bed.
Where I lay awake, thinking about all that. Of course the focus of my fantasizing pretty quickly shifted from birthday celebrations to other, more explicit scenarios. Would be cool to not just party, but actually indulge in debaucheries and depravities in such a place. But the ‘what’ doesn’t really matter.
What matters is that I know that if I ever have 75’000 Euros I don’t know what to do with I’m gonna rent this place, invite a few dozen friends and people I like to spend time with and then I’m gonna party for 168 consecutive hours.
In the meantime, I’m content with writing possible (although not very probable) scenarios, predominantly explicit ones.