Date: Wed, 22 Aug 2018 19:46:58 +0100
From: J. Forrester <niftyencomiums@gmail.com>
Subject: Do As You're Told - Chapter Three

Do As You're Told
Chapter Three: The French Disconnection

If you need permission to read this story (from a master, husband, partner,
lodger, boss, next door neighbour, gardener) please obtain it first.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and
events is unintentional. This story is exclusively for entertainment
purposes so please enjoy in safe and legal manner.


FRIDAY 28TH SEPTEMBER 2018

Adam Mansouri stood under the warm water as he rubbed his hands over his
chest and then into the dark hair nestled in the pit of his arms. He didn't
take defeat well and losing to the boys from North Forth Academy had put
him in a foul mood.

Coalwater High School, Adam's school, hadn't lost to them in several years
– not even in a friendly match like today's game was. The North Forth
Academy was in the same school district as Coalwater High School and they
had enjoyed a long rivalry. All the schools in the district were
competitive when it came to "the beautiful game" and all they all competed
fiercely. The Earl of Lennox Boys School was the most consistent champion -
but it was private boy's school. Adam's father - being rather wealthier
than Adam usually let on - had suggested sending Adam there but he hadn't
wanted to be parted from his best friend Arthur no loss his high status.

North Forth was so named because it was just north of the River Forth,
similarly Coalwater was so called because of its proximity to Coalwater
River. Both rivers flow easterly through the central belt of Scotland -
almost parallel to one another - with the town of Coalwater sandwiched in
the miles between the two rivers.

While the River Forth is nearly thirty miles long with three extensive
bridges, Coalwater River was less than half that length; neither was it as
wide and has only one substantial bridge. Coalwater Bridge was under a mile
long - though over a kilometre - and not as well known as the bridges that
cross the River Forth.

The Queensferry Crossing, the Fourth (Rail) Bridge and the Forth Road
Bridge that span the River Forth were each around a mile and a half long
and impressive in scale - among the longest bridges in the world. But even
with all this geographical insight, there was no bridging the rivalry
between North Forth Academy and Coalwater High School which was why Adam
hated losing to the bastard team.





Adam didn't take defeat well and he spat angrily into drain at his feet
even as he worked his soapy hands over the globes of his arse. After the
game, he had pulled of his number "3" shirt in disgust and was the first
one into the showers, even standing under the cold water until it heated
up. His distracted mood ended as he registered the use of his name.

"What!?" he asked, whipping his head around as if daring the comment to be
repeated.

Tommy Lampkin, the captain of the North Forth Academy's team, was smiling
earnestly. Adam looked Tommy up and down with a practiced sneer of haughty
derision - but in reality he was checking the boy out. From head to toe
Tommy was a beautiful thing; seventeen, sporty, naked, wet and smiling.

"I just said, better luck next time Adam," Tommy spoke without sarcasm or
conceit.

"Yea, next fucking time I'll cream you're arse," replied Adam.

Beside Tommy, Cameron sniggered; "And people call me gay."

The shower filled with cautious laughter – they all knew how foul Adam
could be. The showers were busy with the naked bodies of nine sixteen or
seventeen year old boys; the entire five aside team from both schools,
except for Robin whose ubiquitous bashfulness meant he was waiting for
Cameron in the locker room.

No-one knew Adam was gay and he had no intention of ever telling anyone at
school. He was well known for his persistent hostility towards the gays, a
hostility that had always been an efficient mask. He found just the right
balance between protest and misquotation: methinks thou dost protest too
much. So Cameron's comment was grating, irritating and just the excuse he
needed to take attention away from himself.

"I don't know what you're laughing at," Adam replied scornfully. "Do you
and Tiffany even know where midfield is?"

Adam continued his mean - and immature - habit of calling Robin by girl's
names as a way of demeaning him. As for the dig about midfield...

"I was out of position because you," Cameron started to point out but Adam
didn't brook criticism about his prowess.

"Blah blah, fucking blah," interrupted Adam as he stormed past them.

Adam reached the main locker room without his towel, his skin glistening
under the lights of the locker room, his cock soft but long, having been
warmed up by the hot shower. Adam looked up to see Robin looking at him,
not staring – just registering Adam's arrival to the room.

Then Robin registered the full-frontal nudity and blushed, looked away and
shuffled awkwardly. Adam strode towards Robin and stood on his right
side. Then Adam lifted his left leg and put his foot on the bench; his big
foot was just an inch from Robin's thigh and his soapy groin just inches
from Robin's face. Adam leaned in, lunging, his cock swinging towards
Robin.





"You never take a shower, you mangy poof. But this is what a cock looks
like," Adam said.

Robin looked up, stung by the comment. The sneer dropped from Adam's face
and he left without further comment. It was Adam's traditional mode of
attack – strike then leave. It was almost as if he didn't have the
stomach to stay and see the damage he had caused.

Adam felt a bite in the pit of his stomach. The hurt on Robin's face... why
had it made him retreat so quickly. Adam ground his teeth, a habit when he
felt angry. But it wasn't Robin he was angry at, even though it was Robin
that Adam had taken his anger out on.

Maybe that was why he had retreated?

Adam often forgot that he had been friends with Robin - and Cameron - many
years ago.

A long time ago...

It had all changed one summer and things were never the same after that. He
didn't hate Robin or Cameron and yet he did. He had been angry five years
ago - when he had binned their friendship - and the embers of that anger
still smouldered. Adam didn't know if he could ever stop feeling that way.

And why did Robin never shower with the other boys? The thought of Robin in
the shower was a mental image Adam was unable to conjure - he had never
even seen Robin shirtless, so how could he picture...

Adam dismissed the thought suddenly as he had invoked it - he decided that
he really didn't give a fuck. Robin was recovering from the sight of Adam
naked, and so close too; close enough to smell, close enough to see the
almost smooth thighs but the delicate hair on the underside. Robin knew it
was unhealthy to fantasise about Adam in that way; Adam was a good looking
lad but his spiteful personality was forever a bitter reality check that
ruined the fantasy.

Robin didn't want the other boys at school to see his body – even though
it rivalled and probably excelled the physique that Adam was so boastful
about. Although Robin was hurt by Adam's comments, and frightened by the
aggressive (if sexually suggestive) overture, he still took the opportunity
to check out Adam's naked arse. Adam Mansouri's was of Iranian descent on
his father's side but his mum had been a pale Scottish lassie. The result
was almost olive skin and textbook dark features and wide nose; although
most of his body was hair free. Maybe he shaved? When Robin started
thinking about Adam's body hair, he decided he had thought too much about
the bastard for one day.





Adam had turned seventeen just as the school term started and had been
given a car by his dad for the achievement. It was one of the few times his
dad's wealth was unambiguously demonstrated and Adam liked to remind his
friends that he was the first in their group to pass his test and get a
car.

"Adam, it's like fifty percent rust," his best friend Arthur had gently
teased.

That was an exaggeration.

"It's the fifty percent that's not which counts the most," Adam countered
cheerfully.

It was now late September and the term was well under way. Adam was already
looking forward to the midterm break (the October week) that would be upon
them soon but in the meantime he'd just have to make do with the
weekend. Adam was glad it was Friday, even if the day had ended badly with
a defeat in the after-school football match.

The sight of naked boys in the shower always cheered him up right enough.

Adam drove home in ten minutes – what used to be a twenty minute
walk. Driving home, Adam passed The Foundries, a group of four warehouses
that had been converted into nightclubs nearly thirty years ago. They stood
with their backs to Coalwater River and were adjacent to Coalwater Bridge.

Each of the four warehouses had slightly different reputations and Adam
always demonstrated discretion when making for The Fourth. Of the four
Foundries, The Fourth was a gay club.

Adam stopped at the red lights of junction leading onto the bridge. He
wasn't turning onto the bridge but he absentmindedly watched as a cluster
of lads crossed towards it. Adam watched a running man with great legs
approach the footbridge that ran parallel to the Coalwater Bridge; even
receding into the distance, the man looked good and Adam was alerted to the
traffic lights changing by an impatient toot.

Adam already had his night planned: homework, shower, grooming and out for
the night at The Fourth. Even though he was underage, Adam knew he could
get alcohol in the nightclub - and access it's more exclusive features -
because he got on well with the owner.





The Fourth was also owned by Adam's father.

Aziz Mansouri was known in the club as Mr Aziz - in part to obfuscate his
identity from both employees and clientele and to protect Adam from being
known as the boy whose dad managed a gay nightclub. What would that say
about him? Adam was sensitive enough about his sexuality - though only at
school. Aziz knew his son as an out and proud homosexual; a boy who had
lost his virginity in a private suite - a parlour - at The Fourth; a boy
who without shame came out three years ago. Yet Aziz knew better than most
that his son was fiercely opposed to coming out at school, which was a
stark contrast to his behaviour at The Fourth he was a screaming gay boy.

Indeed, Aziz had seen to it that the facilities of the club supported Adam
as he came to terms with his sexuality. He hoped it would mellow Adam's
attitude at school too, but so far that was a work in progress. Very much
in progress.

Mr Aziz had an eye for a pretty guy - handpicking many of his handsome
employees but he was not gay himself. Nor would he agree he was bisexual
– he was just Mr Aziz. Aziz Mansouri loved his son and had always been
accepting of the way he was; he was not the kind of father who was bitterly
disappointed in his only son being gay. How could he be disappointed in
Adam for being something he could not help being?

Adam's uncle on his father's side was more ambivalent - remaining a
faithful Muslim where Aziz had left the faith - accepting Adam's sexuality
but neither approving nor disapproving. Adam was glad his dad was
supportive and wondered what his mother would have said about it - if she
was still talking to the family - but Adam would ever know if she could
have learned to accept it...





Adam: [I'm coming to the club 2nite. Anything good?]

Adam had sent the message to his dad before going into the shower. It had
been tempting to jerk off in the shower – perhaps while thinking about
the other eight boys he'd showered with after the football match – but
he resisted. Adam wanted to save up for when he got to The Fourth.

He checked his phone when he got out the shower and had a reply.

Dad: [Wait and see.]

That sounded promising.

Adam wore tight jeans, a skinny-fit white shirt with black highlights and a
hoodie; a black coat completed the apparel because it was cold in Scotland
in the approaching darkness of September. He could have gotten a taxi, but
Adam enjoyed the walk. He locked the house as he left and ten minutes later
he was passing Coalwater footbridge. The footbridge was well light and in
less salubrious areas it would have been a wretched hive of scum and
villainy. But Coalwater was a reasonably affluent towns and it was
perfectly safe to cross alone even in the dark night.

Adam stopped just long enough to watch the cars passing on the main bridge,
their windscreen wipers sliding intermittently against the spitting rain
that was almost like mist. Adam had pulled up his hood to guard against the
rain, identification and to keep his hair looking good.

Adam turned towards the warehouses that made up The Foundries - all had
floodlights out front to illuminate the courtyard before them. Adam walked
at the edge of the light that surrounded Once, Two Times, Three's Company
and The Fourth like a halo. Adam stepped out of the virtual darkness and
crossed the courtyard, then walked down the space between Three's Company
and The Fourth so he could go into the club by the back door.

From the card slot in his phone case, Adam pulled a pink and red card. It
was about the size of a bank card and marked with four tallies -
alternating white and black, across its centre - representing The
Fourth. The club had a healthy clientele who attended to dance and drink
and hook up and probably puke at some point, but it also had rather more
exclusive features.





It was for these special features that the card was necessary - though he
barely needed it as the bouncer at the door knew him to be Mr Aziz
son. Once admitted he returned it to his phone case, hidden behind his bank
card.

The low, coloured, strobing lights offered Adam the cover he needed to
finally pull down his hood. He checked in his jacket and hoodie and made
his way to the `Performance Area'. Although The Fourth was officially a gay
night club, it was much more than that; the performance area was separated
from the main night club and cost extra to access given the nature of the
performances that took place there. The membership card was for an even
more exclusive feature...

Inside the performance area, Adam found a vacant nook with a good view of
the stage where the most gorgeous of men would soon strut and strip. His
seat was off to the left hand side when facing the stage, rather than dead
centre, which Adam thought afforded much better view. Not just full frontal
shots as performers moved around the stage, but also profile shots that
showed off the size of their everything.

Adam had drunk a double vodka and was working on his second as he listened
to the loud music. Technically he was not old enough to drink - technically
in the sense that he was seventeen and one cannot purchase alcohol until
eighteen - but the staff studiously avoided checking his ID. The perks of
Mr Aziz paying the bills, Adam supposed.

The double vodka relaxed him without making him anatomically unable to
enjoy the show. Adam smiled as he watched sexy videos on the massive screen
at the rear of the stage but then he caught sight of a familiar
face. Sitting in the nook directly in front of the stage was a very
familiar face.

Three familiar faces.

Mr (Vincent) Wilson, Mr (Andy) Crane and Mr (Rhys) Jones – his teachers
– were in the company of another man. Andy was very close to a handsome
black man and when the two shared a familiar kiss, it seemed obvious they
were a couple and causing Adam to recall a rumour that Andy was dating a
doctor.





Andy and Vincent had gone up to the bar, leaving Malcolm and Rhys
alone. Rhys slid closer to Malcolm and put his right hand on Malcolm's
thigh. Malcolm did not change his expression, did not look down, did not
register in any visible way that Rhys was making an advance.

"My boyfriend is right over there," Malcolm said conversationally as he
watched the video screens of an interracial couple creampie at the climax
of the scene.

Rhys rolled his eyes and removed his hand.

"I didn't say stop," Malcolm admonished with an abbreviated sideways glance
at Rhys.

"How about a kiss?" Rhys proposed as he put his hand back on Malcolm's
meaty thigh and slid it up until his fingers could feel Malcolm's
testicles.

Malcolm's eyes were on Andy and Vincent who were still waiting. It was a
particularly busy time as the schedule advanced towards performance
time. Malcolm turned his head towards Rhys and gripped his face with both
hands and they kissed on the lips.

Their lips parted and Malcolm grinned as he looked back to the bar where
his boyfriend and Vincent were still being served with their backs to the
infidelity. He hadn't seen Vincent all week and when they had met outside
the club he had seen Vincent's cheeks redden:

"Malcolm has been very coy about what happened at the male clinic," said
Andy.

Andy had been unable to ask Vincent during the school week about what had
happened - the staff room being rather too crowded for a discreet
conversation.

"Didn't seem right for me to tell him," Malcolm commented.

So Malcolm was giving Vincent the option to keep his humiliation secret or
to share it with Andy. It seemed unfair for Andy to know something had
happened without saying a little bit more.

"Malcolm made me stand in the reception in just my underwear," Vincent
admitted.

"Ohh, that sounds good," Andy said joyfully imagining the scene of his
friend being humiliated.

"Then he had a young guy," Vincent avoided the word "boy" and also avoided
the word "seventeen" because Andy would think he was a pervert; "...come in
and help examine me."

"You were naked?" Andy asked.

"Yes."

"And? Tell him more," Malcolm said authoritatively.

"And I got hard," Vincent confessed; "And then showed off my hole and got
jerked off."

"Fucking hell, Malcolm!" Andy said and Vincent wasn't sure if the couple
were about to have a fight or not.





"I only have eyes for you, my love," Malcolm said as he kissed Andy with
tender loving care; "And Michael B. Jordan."

"You're not funny, you know," Andy said with a laugh.

"Guys, listen, Rhys is coming and I don't want anyone else knowing,"
Vincent said hurriedly.

The happy couple agreed.

"And from now on our friendship is a strictly clothes-on relationship,"
Vincent added to Malcolm.

"Of course," Malcolm agreed.

Seeing Vincent naked again was off the table but as Malcolm now watched the
man waiting to be served at the bar, he fondly recalled Vincent being
fondled by the boy and cumming. Malcolm wanted to keep his agreement not to
share the misadventure with anyone but he was tempted to tell Rhys who
would be full of ideas and suggestions.

Malcolm preferred being the senior partner in a relationship – which was
why he loved Andy so much, despite what the cheating might suggest. That
being said, his tryst with Rhys was no passing affair - it had lasted in a
way that was unexpected to Malcolm. Perhaps their similarity had bonded
them and Malcolm considered revising his value judgement that he preferred
being the dominant partner.

Rhys was stroking a semi-hard cock through Malcolm's trousers when he said;
"I've been watching those two and Andy had a great ass but Vincent looks
like he's got more up front. If you know what I mean?"





"I always know what you mean," Malcolm replied. "It's funny that you're
imagining what Vincent has up front. If you're interested, I think Vincent
might be... suggestible," Malcolm said tactfully.

"Ah, he's a good boy is he?" Rhys asked distractedly - he was quite content
with jus Malcolm's affections for now.

He had eyes for others of course...

 "Maybe," Malcolm replied.

Malcolm watched Vincent and Andy laugh with each other, a playful push and
then lifting the drinks to return to the table.

"Malcolm, Andy says you know the guy who runs this place?" asked Vincent
after a gulp of Bacardi, leaning over to be heard.

Rhys had removed his hand from Malcolm's thigh and crotch.

"Mr Aziz runs this place. He's a mutual friend of Andy and me," Malcolm
replied.

Rhys rolled his eyes at the mention of Mr Aziz.

Malcolm was stretching the truth – they were more acquaintances than
friends but good enough for Mr Aziz to offer Andy and Malcolm access to the
exclusive features of the club; given their (supposedly) committed
relationship, they agreed the renown parlours were off limits.

Just then, Malcolm's phone vibrated a notification and it became obvious
that others around the room had received the same notification because
dozens seemed to retrieve their phones all at once. Malcolm grinned and
looked at the others...





Adam had watched with fascination. Firstly, it was strange to realise his
teachers were like normal people – gay, clubbing, alcohol. Secondly, Mr
Jones totally touching up Mr Crane's boyfriend! He had figured Mr Crane was
gay, hoped Mr Wilson was gay and fantasised about Mr Jones being gay but
what he had seen was almost too much to take in.

Adam was safely shrouded in the darkness of a nook, a semi-circular recess
in the wall with a table and lined with leather seats. This one was
reserved for him alone. His phone had alerted him at the same time as other
members.

IIII: [The show is about to begin. Please take your seats.]

Appearing on stage over the next hour was a parade of hot men who danced
and stripped for the audience. Closer to the stage, patrons could slip
money into the dancer's waistbands but everyone was warned when they
entered the performance area not to get too touchy.

There was a dancer for every predilection – younger, older; skinny,
muscular; black, Asian, white; smooth, hairy. Most of them wore masks, at
least on the stage, each one bespoke and varying in the extent to which
they concealed identity.

Some were simple eye masks, other's full leather gimp masks that zipped up
the back. And they all had nom de plumes too which included: Hot Rod,
Romeo, Jack Hammer, Angelus, Dallas Cowboy, Troy, Tricky Dicky and Karl
Hung (Adam thought his father was a genius for thinking of that one, the
lad under that mask being a Psychology student).

The stage was set for another pair of strippers to arrive but this time
only one stepped out. Adam knew most of the guys but this one was not
familiar: he was tall, taller than Adam and he was a few inches over six
feet, and wearing a mask he had never seen before. Adam consulted the
schedule and was introduced to Teen Titan.

Teen Titan was the most beautiful man Adam had ever seen.





Quite how Adam had missed Teen Titan until now was beyond him. Teen Titan
was the most stunning man Adam had ever seen; whoever he was had only been
working at the Fourth for four months, but still Adam wished he'd seen the
man sooner.

Teen Titan's mask was yellow and red with a few green features; it fitted
like a tight hood over his head, with firm fixtures that mimicked pointy
ears and a strap under the chin to help hold the mask on. Arthur had tried
to get Adam to watch The Flash and it looked a little like that. The mask
covered the top half of the performers face, leaving only his mouth and
cheeks exposed; with the strap under the jaw, it helped to emphasis Teen
Titan's long neck.

Teen Titan's current costume continued the superhero theme: it was largely
spandex in black, yellow green and red, body armour displayed the contours
of the perfect chest and boots came up to mid-calf. The body armour was the
first thing to go, dropping to the floor while the performer gyrated. He
squatted to unzip one boot and rose, then again to unzip the other
boot. His thighs were obviously strong but his legs were tight and toned,
not skinny but not tree trunks either.

Teen Titan's height created a wealth of deception – it was hard to tell
how big his muscles were because his neck, body and legs were all so long
and svelte. The spandex of his costume clung to every contour and the bulge
in his groin also looked in proportion to the rest of him. It made the
whole audience, not just Adam, wonder how big Teen Titan's cock would be.

Adam was transfixed by the guy on stage, the costume designed to be removed
in stages and with easy movements. The costume opened at the back and Teen
Titan pulled it from the front collar until his chest was revealed and his
arms began to slip out. Once his arms were free, Teen Titan's costume
dangled around his waist like a back to front onesie or boiler suit. His
chest was magnificent: as perfect as a person can be: not overly muscular,
no jiggling pecs but he had an eight pack and a belly button that Adam
would have sucked anything out of.

Adam's heart was beating fast while he watched Teen Titan - indeed the
performer was being watched by every man in the room with rapt
attention. Adam unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and released his hard-on
from his underwear.





Adam stroked his cock carefully, not wanting to actually cum, savouring the
sensations as he stroked it while watching teen Titan reveal his long white
legs with soft furry fair hair that was virtually invisible from where Adam
was.

Teen Titan stepped out of the costume and was now wearing - apart from his
mask - only a tiny pair of white briefs or swimming trunks. The briefs
looked silky and clung to Teen Titan so tightly that they might have been
painted on. The side of the briefs was only two or three centimetres –
so narrow that only width smaller would have been string.

Teen Titan squatted to the ground and put his hands behind his head,
exposing his unshaven armpits that beckoned Adam to nuzzle and lick
them. He rose again and was clearly near the end of his act. Watching him,
Adam understood why this man would be billed alone rather than part of an
ensemble as was typical. This was not the first time Teen Titan had
stripped, that was clear. Nor was it his first time before an audience,
that too was clear. Adam lamented that he must have missed earlier
formative performances.

Adam and the entire audience were glued to the man on the stage who took
one, two, three short steps back on his bare feet before slipping his hands
to the waistband of the briefs. Teen Titan looked around the room, his eyes
skimming over Adam with his cock out under the table. Adam was still
shrouded in the dark.

Then Teen Titan pushed the briefs down and kicked out so the briefs flew,
conveniently, towards Adam. Adam reached out and caught them as they were
about to land on his table but he was still watching the sight of the naked
stripper. Teen Titan's flaccid cock was five inches long and dangled
between his legs, his pubes were tidy and cut but not bald or severely
short. He thrust his crotch out and Adam watched it swing; the things Adam
wanted to do to Teen Titan made him want to cry. Teen Titan also turned to
reveal a pert arse that was just waiting to be fleched.

The finale of the performance permitted one last cock-shot but no erection
and no on stage ejaculation. So, Adam reflected, it is still early days.





Adam put his cock away once Teen Titan left the stage then he pulled his
phone out and txt his dad.

Adam: [Who the fuck is Teen Titan?]

Dad: [Do you like him, son?]

Adam: [Who?]

Dad: [You know I won't tell you.]

That much was true. His father always chose his words carefully – it
wasn't that he could not tell Adam but that he would not. He protected his
strippers – his father preferred the word performers – but did not
prevent the performers themselves from revealing whatever they wanted. One
of Adam's favourite performers was Aesop, who told stories in the private
sessions and had told Adam – even knowing he was Mr Aziz's son – four
different stories about who he `really' was.

Strippers. It was a word Adam always used when he thought of these men but
some of them were much more than that – he could see why his father
preferred the word performer. Adam was about to meet one of them for a
private session – the rooms were tactfully called parlours – that
would remind him just how much more some of them would do.

Adam: [He's beautiful.]

Dad: [I know.]

Dad: [Wait and see.]

Adam smiled. Wait and see had been his instruction earlier when he's asked
if there was anything good at the club tonight. The surprise had made the
experience so much better. Minutes later and Adam was in a parlour he had
booked to be with a performer called Toulouse. In the parlours, the
performers were not beholden to sell their bodies, though some did. They
had the latitude to perform however they chose.

Some talked. They talked and they talked but they had no guramba.

Some did private dances. Dancers for money and any old music would do.

Some had sex. Sucked or fucked or gave you whatever you wanted.

Some performers had regular customers and those customers knew which
performers would give them what they wanted.

"Have you been waiting long?" the accent was faintly French.

Adam turned to see a man in his mid twenties with flawless black skin, a
short afro of black hair and a tight body; Adam grinned, he was delighted
to see his favourite man. Second favourite?

Teen Titan had really turned Adam's head.

"Hello Toulouse," said Adam.

Toulouse was wearing tight leather trousers and a band of white fabric
across his eyes.





"Adam, shall we get started?" Toulouse asked

The Frenchman wore a seductive smile and swayed as he approached Adam but
there must have been a look on Adam's face because he paused and put his
hands on his hips.

"Are you ready?"

"Who's the new guy, Toulouse? Teen Titan... who is he?" asked Adam.

Toulouse gave Adam a patronising look, "You know I can't tell you that."

Adam nodded slowly; his father had no rules against his staff revealing
their own identity but no-one else was allowed to expose another. Adam was
of course assuming Toulouse knew.

"You can tell me something though?" Adam made it sound half like a question
and half like a statement.

"Oh, my boy, you are besotted aren't you? But I thought you liked me to be
the one in charge in this room," Toulouse retorted. He didn't wait for Adam
to reply to that, just added; "Mr Aziz discovered him about perhaps four
months ago... summer time I think and he's been on stage for two months. He
is very popular and I'm not even a little jealous that the boy whose cherry
I popped last year is asking about another man."

"Sorry, Toulouse," Adam answered; "I do still want to get started... but I
guess I am a little bit smitten with Teen Titan. I don't know how I've
missed him for two months."

"He's only here Friday and Saturday, sometimes only one or the other. Maybe
he fights crime the rest of the time," Toulouse joked though Adam didn't
get the joke.

Adam was lost in thought and Toulouse was growing impatient. They weren't
here to chat after all - Toulouse wasn't that kind of guy - and Toulouse
enjoyed his sessions with Adam just as much as Adam did. The age of consent
in Scotland is sixteen - in his homeland of France it is fifteen - but Adam
was the only client under eighteen that Toulouse entertained.

"Take off your shirt," commanded Toulouse.





Adam's daydreaming ended with the arrival of the commanding voice. Adam,
aside from keeping his sexuality secret, kept his penchant for obedience a
secret too. He felt more like himself at The Fourth – a place where he
surrender control and drop his faηade of confidence.

"You seem disconnected from me today," the Frenchman said when Adam didn't
respond fast enough. "Take your shirt off now."

Adam hastily unbuttoned the form-fitting shirt until it peeled open and he
slipped it off his silky-skinned shoulders. Toulouse came forward and
kissed the shoulder, working along to kiss Adam's collar bone and then his
neck.

"Put your hands up," Toulouse told him.

The instant Adam's arms were in their air, Toulouse pushed him back until
he was about a metre from the back wall. Above them was a hoist with cuffs
attached – yes, they happened to be leather – which Toulouse slipped
over Adam's hands and secured to his wrists. Toulouse turned a crank and
the cuffs moved higher so Adam had to stand on his tiptoes.

Toulouse liked this part. Not just having clients come in here to have sex,
not just having clients who would allow themselves to be under his control
but specifically having Adam. This boy was Mr Aziz's son and there was
something deeply satisfying about knowing that this powerful, influential,
confident, veritable bully of a boy was now under his command.

Toulouse had agonised over whether to use the cuffs – on the plus side
he could do what he wanted, on the downside he liked telling the boy to
take off his clothes. Toulouse got a real kick out of presiding over Adam
stripping own clothes piece by piece.





Toulouse stooped to unlace Adam's shoes and then removed them and his socks
too. Adam partially dangled, his armpits and chest exposed. It was exciting
and Adam wondered what it was about this surrender that he found so
appealing and frightening in equal measure. Perhaps because he enjoyed
power and influence at school – and even here where his father ran The
Fourth – and to give that power to someone else was...

Toulouse kissed him, "Are you paying attention?" the Frenchman asked.

It wasn't total surrender, obviously. Adam and Toulouse had terms -an
agreement - about their sessions together. Adam's power was not gone, just
postponed; he chose to give that power away - would it feel the same if his
power was taken from him.

"Yes," Adam panted in reply.

Toulouse tilted his head to consume Adam's nipple, licking and sucking it
with Adam unable to do anything but sway and moan. Toulouse moved onto the
other nipple and similarly titillated it. Toulouse could feel Adam quiver
and when he stopped sucking on the second nipple he could see beads of
sweat on the boy's chest. Toulouse licked it up while his hands got busy
with the belt, button and zipper of Adam's trousers.

Toulouse stepped back enough to grip the trousers and pulled them roughly
down; Adam's boxers slipped a little at the same time and his legs flailed
as Toulouse removed the trousers completely. Adam's bare legs and feet were
still stretched out so he could barely touch the floor.

All that was left was his boxers and they were already tented in
anticipation.





Toulouse's hand gripped Adam's cock through the material of the
boxers. Once it was fully hard, the swollen sensitive cock head rubbing
inside the boxers, Toulouse tugged the boxers down a bit. Adam's pubes were
exposed and Toulouse reached down to tug them more prominently though the
waistband of the boxers.

"Look at yourself," Toulouse said, his accent mocking him
wistfully. "Look. What if someone you knew saw you like this? Your father?
Your friends at school? Your enemies even? How would you like that?"

"No, please no," Adam said – it was all part of the game, he was safe
here but the answer was real enough.

"Perhaps you'd rather I told them you like to fuck men?" Toulouse
suggested.

That was even worse – he'd take his exquisite body being exposed before
coming out any day.

"Please no," Adam replied but Toulouse was stroking his cock again and he
was finding it hard to concentrate.

Toulouse pulled down Adam's boxers to mid-thigh. Adam's circumcised cock
bobbed and throbbed now that it was free.

"Move your legs until those pathetic panties of yours fall to your
feet. Now!" Toulouse commanded.

Adam complied and in half a minute his only remaining clothes were around
his ankles.

"Kick them off completely. Be naked for me," Toulouse said gently,
whispering in Adam's ear.

Adam slipped one foot out and then kicked with the other so they flew
across the room.

Toulouse took Adam's cock in his mouth and gripped both arse cheeks with
his hands. He took Adam's cock, all six and a half inches of it, deep into
his mouth.





Adam moaned while Toulouse sucked him; the mouth was hot and wet and Adam's
cock swelled and pulsed against the back of the Frenchman's throat. Adam
was brought to the brink twice before Toulouse stood up again and kissed
him. Adam could taste his own cock on Toulouse's lips. Next, Toulouse
stepped to the side and spun the crank to lower Adam back to the ground and
then reached up and unfastened the cuffs; hand by had was released and Adam
realised his arms were aching but was given little time for
reprieve. Toulouse put his hands on Adam's shoulders - his dark-brown hands
contrasted against the light-brown of Adam's skin - and pushed him to his
knees.

"Take my trousers off," Toulouse told him.

Adam complied, taking little time to pull them down and off – Toulouse
remained wearing only a white thong.

"Suck," Toulouse told Adam.

Adam knew from past occasions with Toulouse that he was to suck through the
thong. His first time, he had reached to remove Toulouse's dick from its
confines and he was chastised for not listening properly.

"I said suck. I did not tell you to take my thong away."

This time, Adam wet his tongue and began to slobber away at the cock
growing inside Toulouse's thong. The stripper had a cock about seven inches
long – some performers had bigger cocks and Adam wondered how big Teen
Titan was in the trouser snake department.

Adam was thinking about Teen Titan again as he sucked on Toulouse's dick
and still thinking about him when given permission to pull the cock
out. Toulouse was good at giving men what they wanted but he was only
playing a part. Toulouse would be equally happy with Adam as an equal
partner in their exchange.

Adam's lips touched the bare skin of Toulouse's cock and the boy got to
wondering about how excited he was the first time he'd ever sucked a cock -
it had been in The Fourth of course. Adam should have been concentrating on
Toulouse's hard-on but he started to think about his father's penchant for
whimsical names.





Toulouse was chosen for the simple reason that he was French, his real name
was Jean. Jean had told Adam this on their third meeting and he had no
qualms that Adam might learn his real identity. What would he do if he did
find out, tell people? So what, Jean was out and proud. Besides, boys like
Adam would fear reciprocity. Only once had a client harassed Toulouse
outside of the club and it quickly became apparent the man didn't want his
wife or family to know - or his friends, colleagues or employers.

"You're heart isn't in this tonight Adam," Toulouse said; "Pay attention."

Adam took Toulouse's cock out his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

"That's more like it. Use that tongue to make me happy, boy."

Adam complied; licking the head of Toulouse's cock like it was a melting
ice cream. Adam liked when the creamy part of cock sucking arrived.

Other performers at The Fourth had gotten their stage names in similar
fashions to Toulouse – oblique references to their nationality or
traits. Dallas Cowboy was a Texan lad; Karl Hung had a big floppy dick that
was seven inches soft and eight inches rigid. Why Teen Titan, Adam
pondered? Weren't the Titan's were a generation of divine beings in Greek
mythology, descended from the primordial deities? If that was it then Teen
Titan was well chosen for he was divine and as perfect a specimen as Adam
could imagine.

"Let me cream in your face," Toulouse said.

Adam stopped his blowjob and finished the Frenchman off by stoking his cock
until it erupted in three projectile spurts all over Adam's face.

"Good, lad. Now leave that cum on your pathetic face and lie on your
back. Finish yourself off while I watch. Imagine I'm Teen Titan, who is
totally out of your league," Toulouse said.





Adam chuckled at the last barb and looked to check Toulouse was joking -
the beautiful black man was smiling at him. Toulouse was right though -
Adam had been disconnected today, distracted by the new boy. Adam realised
his preoccupation throughout their session had obviously been palpable but
not there was no resentment from him.

Adam lay back on the floor and saw Toulouse looming over him. There was
something embarrassing about him being naked, watched too by a naked man
towering over him. Adam thought about this as he stoked faster and he was
already so close – being seventeen he was never far away from an
orgasm. At the last moment, Toulouse stepped to Adam's feet, gripped his
ankles levered his legs up until Adam was bent in two; Adam's cock was
pointed into his face as he came and added his own cum to that of the
Frenchman's.

Spent, Adam took the time to relax his heart and breathing. When he opened
his eyes, Toulouse was handing him a towel to wipe the cum off.

"Thanks," Adam said.

Toulouse knelt down and out a hand behind Adam's head, pulling it forward
so he could kiss the boy's forehead.

"Always a pleasure. Romeo was asking for you, he said it had been too long
since you and he met," Toulouse's accent sounded so sexy and Adam had to
take a second to think about what he'd said.

Romeo was another stripper and another Frenchman too. Adam's father was a
multi-cultural employer, recruiting to satisfy the tastes of just about
every man. Adam did not have a particular thing for Frenchmen - he sampled
many of the men who worked at The Fourth. He was keen to sample Teen Titan
and made a mental note to make sure his father arranged it A.S.A.P.

"Tell him I've been thinking about him," Adam replied and winked.

Toulouse laughed.

Adam stood up and began retrieving his clothes so he could get dressed.

"Teen Titan... Do you really not know who he is?" Adam asked.

Toulouse smiled knowingly which didn't necessarily mean he knew anything.

"He's the hot new milkshake around here. Very popular, like I said. Your
father likes him, I think," Toulouse confided.

"Thank you, Toulouse," Adam said.





MONDAY 8TH OCTOBER 2018

"Adam, are you paying attention?" asked Mr Jones.

It was the first class of the day on Monday morning, so no... Not really.

"Sorry sir," Adam replied unconvincingly.

Adam was thinking about having seen the teacher at The Fourth on Friday
night and for the briefest of moments when he had stepped into Mr Jones'
class that morning he feared there would have been a sign. A great big, "so
Adam, why were you at a gay club?" sign. But there was nothing - Adam was
confident it was too dark for his teachers to have seen him but every time
Adam went to the Fourth he feared somebody would recognise him.

But all was well - the class started like any other, with Adam not paying
attention. History was a subject he usually enjoyed – indeed, it was
from Mr Jones that Adam had learned about Titans.

"Don't be sorry, Adam. Just pay attention. We were talking about the
weaknesses of Robert Bruce's opponents during the civil war..." Mr Jones
said.

Adam looked around the room to see if he was the only one who couldn't give
a fuck first thing on Monday morning. He spotted Cameron whispering
something to Robin and laughing, though Robin didn't laugh. Robin wasn't in
a laughing mood because...

Since Cameron and Robin frequented five-aside football, Adam had their
numbers so he pulled out his phone and goaded Cameron with a text...

Adam: [Are you paying lovers attention?]

Cameron didn't get the chance to read it before Mr Jones' voice cut through
the room; "Adam, don't make me confiscate your phone again."

The teacher stressed the word "again" and looked exasperated. It almost
made Adam smile to know he wasn't the only one who couldn't give a fuck
first thing on Monday morning; Mr Jones couldn't be arsed either. Adam had
had his phone taken away twice this term already and three times would also
earn him detention, so he put it away.

The school's policy on mobile phone use during class was as clear as it was
ignored: patently. Mr Jones had already confiscated Micah's phone at the
start of the class; sitting directly behind Cameron and Robin, Micah
usually knew better.





The rest of the class went by without any incident and when the bell went
to signal the end of the period, Micah went to the front to reacquire his
phone.

"Can I have my phone back...?" Micah asked. To sweeten the deal, he added:
"Please."

Mr Jones had had to wait for the etiquette to kick in and appreciated it
when it came.

"Of course you can," Mr Jones replied.

As the classroom emptied, Adam stormed off and pushed though the congestion
of students waiting their turn to leave. He was almost at his next class
when he checked his phone and saw he had a message. Two messages from an
unknown number.

Unknown: [Did you enjoy your nite on Friday?]

Unknown: [Big naked men, float your boat, do they?]

Adam didn't know what to do. The sender was unknown: who were they, how had
they seen him, what did they really know? Adam looked around as if the
culprit would be standing around advertising himself. No-one was seemed to
be paying him any special attention. Everyone in the corridor had their
phones in their hands: texting, updating Facebook, checking Instagram,
blogging...

Adam: [Don't know what you're on about.]

Unknown: [Sure you do. Gay nightclub, watching naked men, fucking them in
the parlour after the show. You dirty boy.]

Who was this person? How did they know... what did they know? There were
people all around:

Boys from the football team.

Mr Wilson was standing outside his classroom.

Mr Crane was passing in the opposite direction.

Cameron, the frustratingly witty former friend.

Micah, the loner.

Ben McDonald, the budding school photographer.

Stephen Wyle, the psycho-bully.

Robin... was it that little git?

A little panicked Adam typed a reply.

Adam: [What do you want from me?]

Unknown: [I want you to do what you're told.]





Don't freak out.

Don't freak out.

Don't freak out.

Don't freak out...

Robin was practically hyperventilating as he walked through the school
corridors.

It was really hard to not FREAK OUT!

Robin had never been so glad to get out of Mr Jones' History class. It
wasn't that Robin didn't like history, he did, but every time he looked at
Mr Jones he recalled Friday night. The teacher had been hard to miss –
sitting straight ahead of the stage at The Fourth - and in the company of
Mr Wilson and Mr Crane too. Robin had feared they would have seen him at
the club but there was no apparent recognition all throughout Mr Jones'
class and Robin had watched very carefully for any possible sign.

How could Mr Jones recognise him? He'd been wearing a mask!

Robin was not going to freak out.

It was fine.

Everything was good.

It was going to be ok.

No-one knew he was Teen Titan.



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The Embarrassment of Riches -
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/the-embarrassment-of-riches/