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This story and its
characters are fictional and not based on any real people or situations. If you
enjoy it, let me know at AuthorMB@protonmail.com.
The House Boy
I watched her car
pull out of the parking lot, leaning on the balcony railing with a sigh.
Moments ago she'd put the cardboard box with the last
of her things into the trunk, and now, as my eyes followed her leaving my life
for good, I felt numb. A year of high school, four years of college, three
years of living together, all for...nothing. All for a bird's eye view of a
retreating Toyota Camry.
I crossed my arms
on the railing. I knew it had been hard for Lisa. I even knew she'd been
thinking about leaving. I guess I didn't think she'd actually
do it. We'd even talked about marriage a couple of times, forever ago.
Before things changed, before she found out.
I couldn't really
blame her. I'd just hoped maybe it would work out anyway.
I stood back up,
rolling my shoulders, and went back into the apartment, closing the glass
sliding door behind me. It felt bigger without her, without her things. Nothing
much left on the walls, little knick-knacks and pictures gone from the
surfaces, even some of the furniture. It looked...sterile, now. A couch and armchair across from the TV stand
in the living room; a second-hand wooden table with three good chairs and one
mismatched crappy one; half pots, pans, and dishes in the kitchen. I knew I'd
feel similarly depressed looking at the state of the bedroom.
I turned to look
out at the balcony again and caught my reflection in the glass. I really did
look like shit. My black hair was getting long and was
unkempt, as was the matching scruff along my jaw. My brown eyes had bags under
them from lack of sleep. My t-shirt was dirty, and not hiding the dad bod very
well – and, facing facts, "dad bod" was being generous. I was graduating to
full-on beer belly, or at least damn close.
I shuffled over to
the couch and slumped into it, leaning my chin on my fist. It could have been
worse...I still had my job, which meant I could still afford the rent, and
neither of those were guarantees a week ago.
I glanced at the
kitchen and sighed again. No clue what the fuck
to make for dinner.
I was working up
the energy to get up and see what I could cobble together into a meal when
there was a knock at the door. My heart lurched a little, and I rubbed my
temples. She forgot something, I told myself, reluctantly getting to my
feet. She's not coming back. She just forgot something. Just get it over
with. I trudged over to the door, unlocking and
opening it. "What did you—"
My words died
halfway out of my mouth. It wasn't her.
Instead, a boy no
older than 14 stood in the hallway, a backpack on one shoulder, only one big,
blue eye visible behind a head of straight, auburn hair that fell to his
shoulders. He was short, skinny, and pale. He looked at me with a calm, curious
expression on his face.
"Hi, Master Scott,"
he said.
* * * * *
It was six months
before the day Lisa left, almost to the day. My apartment complex had a pool
and a sauna, and I was a regular. I'd go in the evening, close to the closing
time of 11 p.m., enjoying the peace and solitude. The pool was an indoor thing
with one wall that was all window, overlooking the escarpment. I'd take a dip
in the pool for a while, every so often looking out at the city lights below,
and then hang out in the sauna for a while, basking in the heat.
Very few people
ever came to the pool or sauna at that time of night, so I'd take advantage of
the relative privacy and leave my suit hanging out on the hook when I went into
the sauna. The first few times I went, I left my towel modestly wrapped around
me, but by this point I wasn't bothering to cover myself at all. Once or twice,
this had led to miniature moments of risqué excitement when someone did come
in. Mostly I just enjoyed hanging out nude, something Lisa didn't particularly
enjoy me doing up in the apartment.
That's how I met
Adrian.
That one night six
months previously, about ten minutes into my sauna visit, he walked in, alone,
a towel wrapped around his own waist. He stood by the door for a second,
looking at me with that same expression of polite curiosity, and said, "hi."
I remember hastily
covering myself up, figuring his dad or whoever would be joining him
momentarily. "Hey," I said, awkwardly.
He tilted his head
at me before walking to the bench, sitting down a few feet away from me. "You
don't need to do that," he said matter-of-factly, shifting himself backward to
lean against the wall, his feet straight out in front of him.
I watched him get
comfortable, trying not to be obvious about it. His skin was smooth and
completely hairless. He had tiny nipples and prominent collarbones, and maybe
just a hint of ribs visible. It's a couple of moments before I realized he said
something, and I averted my eyes. "Do what?"
"Cover up, Sir," he
said. "If you're more comfortable without the towel, I don't mind."
"Uh...you don't have
to call me `Sir'. My name's Scott." I leaned a little to the side, trying to
see out the window of the sauna door. "Is your dad or anyone here? He probably
wouldn't like it if I, uh...if I didn't have my towel on."
He turned to look
at me, no smile, but the look felt warm and friendly all the same. "Hi, Scott.
My name is Adrian." He looked away again, facing the door. "My dad isn't here.
I came alone, if that's what you're worried about."
I shifted a little,
uncomfortably, and willed myself not to get hard. He was a damned attractive
boy, but I'd left that kind of thing behind. I wasn't going to risk everything
now. "Well, um...still. I probably shouldn't."
He nodded wisely.
"I understand your situation. But, Sir, I would like to take my towel off. May
I?"
I was momentarily
speechless. "Uh..." I swallowed, trying to subtly adjust myself; there was no
talking my erection down now. And why did he keep calling me `Sir'? "I, uh...I
guess so."
"Thank you, Sir."
He shifted forward again, standing up and casually removing the towel. I tried
not to stare, and probably failed. He turned, trading my view of his pale
bubble butt for his small, hairless privates, with no sign of shame or
bashfulness. He expertly folded his towel in half and laid it out where he'd
been sitting on the bench, and shifted back into position, sitting quietly and breathing the hot air.
We sat like that
for at least half an hour, him with more quiet dignity in his naked body than
me and my shameful hard-on. My eyes wandered
frequently along his body as it covered with beads of sweat, but with the exception of the rising and falling of his chest,
he didn't move.
Then, abruptly, he
shifted forward again, picking up his towel and folding it over his arm. He
turned to me and gave me a respectful nod, saying "goodnight, Scott." Then he
walked out.
Suffice it to say I
jerked off almost immediately, and then felt completely ashamed of myself as I
wiped myself off with my towel. But I dismissed it all as a freak event, albeit
an exciting one that I'd remember for a good long time. I showered, changed,
and went upstairs to sleep.
By the time I next
went to the pool three days later, I'd forgotten about the strange, oddly
confident boy. I had my swim, popped in the sauna, and set myself up as usual.
And then once again, in he came, about ten minutes into my visit. He looked at
me and repeated the little dignified nod he'd given me when he'd left. "Hi,
Scott," he said.
I privately said a
little curse in my head as I covered myself up again, but Adrian seemed to be
paying me no mind. He walked to his spot, took off his towel, folded it
precisely, and laid it on the bench as he sat down, his whole body and package
again fully on display. No shame, no modesty, seemingly completely unbothered.
Again, I was rock hard, and I kept my arms in my lap, hoping he wouldn't
notice.
Just like last
time, he sat there for about half an hour before getting up and folding his
towel primly on his arm, and he gave me that little respectful nod, but this
time he said, "it's okay that you have an erection, Sir. It doesn't make me
uncomfortable. Goodnight, Scott." And he walked out, just like that.
I began wondering,
every time I went for my evening dip, whether he'd be there. I didn't see him
the next night, and I tried not to feel disappointed. But the next time I was
there, the following week, he came into the sauna again. This time he wasn't
even wearing his towel. He carried it over his arm, again giving me that little
nod and a greeting of "hi, Scott." I couldn't explain it, but it was like he
knew I was going to be there.
I started to cover
myself again, but for whatever reason, I stopped. Maybe because I'd had a drink
before I came down to the pool that night, or maybe it was something else. But
I left my towel off, allowing myself to stay there, naked, my penis steadily
hardening until it was at its full length – a not-overly-impressive 5.5
uncircumcised inches. It rested against my belly, begging me to touch it, but I
couldn't. I wasn't going to cross that line.
Adrian, meanwhile,
sat naked in his usual spot. For a long while, we were silent together as
usual. Then he turned his head toward me, and said, "My mom lives in the
building. I'm going back to my dad's next week. I won't be coming here for a
while. I hope that's okay, Sir."
I blinked, not
really knowing what to say. "I, uh...why wouldn't it be okay?"
"Because you like
it when I come here," he stated, calmly sure of himself.
He wasn't being
cocky; he just knew he was right. I was taken aback for a moment. "It...it's
okay."
He rested his head
once more against the wall and said, "I'm glad, Sir."
Now that we were talking,
I couldn't hold back my curiosity any longer. I asked him, "why do you keep
calling me Sir? I told you, you don't have to."
"Because I want you
to know I respect you," he said, without even hesitating.
And that was it.
That was the only answer he gave me, and it left me too intrigued and lost in
thought to ask anything else. We enjoyed another, more companionable silence
this time, and I found myself openly staring at his body and the absolute
perfection in it. He must have noticed, because he shifted his towel to the
nearest corner, and sat on an angle that let me see more of him, with his hands
behind his back and his legs spread a little further apart. He looked at me,
that same innocent, curious eye, but strangely, it didn't make me uncomfortable.
I understood that I had his permission to stare. When he left that evening and
he said "goodnight, Scott," I responded, "goodnight, Adrian."
We had one more
night in the sauna before the week ended. He showed up almost the same time I
did, and we settled in together, both of us naked, my hard-on
against my gut, and him nestled in the corner openly showing himself to me.
Tonight, though, he
asked about me. Kind, innocuous questions. He asked me what my favourite colour
was; I told him it was green. He asked me if I lived alone; I told him about
Lisa, my high school sweetheart, who lived with me. He asked what kind of job I
had; I told him I worked at a nursing home, taking care of the elderly. He
asked me all kinds of things about the people I took care of, and delighted in
the stories and anecdotes, the funny jokes they'd tell, the deeply engaging
stories and memories they'd share. He never openly smiled, but his eyes gleamed
and he listened raptly, hanging on every word I told him. I didn't even notice,
nor care, when my penis softened, though when he stood up to leave, and I was
no longer distracted by the stories I was telling, it rose to attention again,
reminded of the beauty in front of me.
He didn't leave
right away this time. He stopped by the door and turned to me as usual, but
instead of saying goodnight, he folded his hands in front of himself and looked
at the floor. "May I ask you a question, Sir?" he said.
"Of course," I told
him, frowning slightly.
His eyes rose to
meet mine again...such beautiful, big eyes. "If I could ever be of service to
you, or help you, or make your life easier in any way, would you accept me?"
I adjusted myself,
sitting forward a little. "What do you mean?"
He didn't sound
nervous, or apprehensive, and yet...there was a touch of something in his voice I
hadn't heard before. As if he believed what he was saying was important. "I've
been learning to be a good servant, to one day run my master's home. My dad did
it when he was young, and so did my grandpa. I've learned so much, and my dad
says I'm almost ready. When I am, if there's a place for me, would you accept
me to take care of your home?"
The question was so
unusual, so bizarre, that for a moment I couldn't even begin to think of a way
to answer it. I had just learned far more about this kid in a about four
sentences than I had in the two weeks since we'd met, and some of that was
deeply concerning. But looking at the one eye I could see from behind his
bangs, something inside me melted, just for that moment, and I realized I
didn't have the heart to say no. Nor, honestly, did I want to.
So I told him, "yes. I'd accept you."
Thinking, of
course, that it would never happen, that it was such an outlandish, crazy
scenario that there was no conceivable way it could ever be a reality.
But I remember the
look on his face. For the very first time, a hint of a genuine smile appeared
on his lips, before he bowed low to me and said, "thank you, Master Scott."
After that, things
began to fall apart with Lisa, and I was consumed in my efforts to save my
failing relationship, protect my career and livelihood, and generally keep my
life together. Adrian faded gradually from my mind, and I didn't see him again.
Until today.
* * * * *
"Hi, Master Scott."
I stood in my
doorway, dumbfounded. I almost didn't recognize him wearing clothes – I might
not have, if he hadn't been the only person in my life
ever to have called me "Master." I stammered for a couple of seconds, before I
cleared my throat and said, "A-Adrian? What are you doing here?"
"You needed me," he
replied.
"Needed you?" I
repeated.
He nodded calmly,
as if he was expecting my reaction. "You've just lost your special someone.
You're hurting and confused. And you told me that if there was a place for me,
I could come to serve you, Master. May I come in, please, Sir?"
I suddenly became
very aware that if any of my neighbours saw this, there would be uncomfortable
questions to answer. I stepped back hurriedly, and he walked inside past me,
carefully removing his shoes and setting them neatly
to the side. He walked in a few paces, taking in the room, before turning to me
and taking his backpack from his shoulder, holding it with both hands in front
of him.
I ran a hand
through my hair, trying to process exactly what was going on, and coming up
with nothing. "Okay..." I said. "You're gonna need to
run this by me again. How did you know my, uh...'special someone' left?"
"When you became my
Master," he answered, "it became my duty to know when I would be needed."
I put my hands on
my hips. "So you've been watching me."
"Respectfully,
Sir," he replied, "I've only come to observe once in a while,
when I was visiting my mom. A week ago I saw you and
your special someone arguing while her things were being put in a truck. When I
told my dad, he said it was time. I haven't completely
finished my training, but he said it was time, Sir. So
I came." He looked down slightly. "Did I get it wrong, Sir?"
Well, fuck.
There were so many
reasons not to even begin entertaining this. It was inappropriate on
innumerable levels. I was a grown adult, and inviting this teenager into my
home to, what, be my servant? It was insane. If anyone found out, I'd lose my
job, I'd probably go to prison.
But then, this kid
was clearly coming to me from insane, probably abusive circumstances. It
sounded like he'd been groomed into this for a long time. It sounded like it
was a cycle going back at least to the kid's grandfather, if not further. I
wasn't sure if he'd be any better off if I sent him back.
He wasn't my
problem. I shouldn't make him my problem.
But right then, I
felt vulnerable, lost, and confused...and the boy was very appealing company.
It was a moment of
weakness for me, no doubt about it.
"I...I need time
to...process...this." I leaned against the wall. "I just...this is really unexpected.
But while I, um. While I think about it..." I sighed. "You can stay until I
figure out what to do. Okay?"
The one eye I could
see rose to meet mine again, gaining a little gleam. "I'm here to serve you,
Master Scott. For however much, or little, time you want me."
"Okay. Yeah. Okay."
I blew out a breath, and became aware of my smell.
"Um. I need to go take a shower. Are you gonna be...like can you just hang out
for a minute while I...?"
He gave me his
usual deferential nod. "Yes, Sir. Would you like me to prepare the shower for
you and warm your towel?"
"No, uh...no. You
just...relax a bit. Hang out." I turned to head for my bathroom, my head
spinning.
"Master Scott?"
I turned to him
again. He hadn't moved. "Would you like me to be in uniform when you're done?"
I frowned,
confused. "Uniform? What uniform?"
"Naked, Sir," he
said, as if it was obvious. He tilted his head. "I remember that you enjoyed
seeing me that way, so I didn't bring anything else, but I'm sure my dad would
bring some things if you wanted me to ask him."
"Uh...no. Not...not
right now. You can just..." I waved a hand. "You can just stay in...that...for now.
We'll talk about the rest after."
He nodded again.
"Yes, Master. I will wait for you."
"Okay." I turned
back toward the bathroom.
"Master Scott?"
Sigh. I turned
back. "Yes?"
He looked briefly
at the floor, then back up at me. "I'm happy to see you again, Sir. I know it's
not...my place...but I missed you."
I looked at him,
standing there, in the home of someone who was practically a stranger, but so
trusting, putting his fate right here, in my hands. He looked very small.
Something in me
melted again. "I missed you, too."
He nodded,
returning to his usual dignified, courteous state. "Enjoy your shower, Master."
"Thanks. I will." I
went into the bathroom, ran the water, and let the heat and steam course over
me as I wondered over and over again what I'd gotten
myself into.
* * * To Be Continued * * *