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.
PLEASE READ. After the
last couple of chapters, I need a disclaimer here. I've been getting lots of fan mail for this series, which I love. I'm
grateful that the private stories circulating in my head are so resonant with
so many of you. However, I have had messages from some readers expressing an
interest to me in having a house boy like Adrian, who is legally underage – and
I have had more than one reader ask me if I knew how to go about finding one.
I would like to be
clear: this is fiction. I do not condone or endorse the arrangement
that takes place in this series. Additionally, at the risk of killing the
mood, I feel the need to remind my readers that despite the care and compassion
Scott feels for Adrian, the circumstances, structures, and power dynamics at
play in this scenario are inherently unbalanced, unhealthy, and potentially
abusive. There is a reason that this material is not publicized beyond the
Nifty archive.
The notion of this
story giving my readers ideas is one that makes me extremely uncomfortable.
This is fantasy and escapism only. I love hearing from you, and I love
that this story is meaningful for so many of you, but if you plan to write to
me, please and thank you...
If Scott and Adrian
inspire you to seek another consenting adult to enjoy this kind of partnership
with, awesome. By all means, please continue to share your thoughts and
comments on the story, because I have read some truly lovely fan mail and have
been thoroughly flattered and gratified reading it. But please – please
– be aware of the line between fantasy and reality if you choose to write to
me.
Minor note: there
will be peaks and valleys on the updates to this work. I don't adhere to a
schedule, and life gets busy. If the story goes a long time without an update,
I respect that it might suck, but please also recognize that this is a hobby
for me, and enjoy what's there for what it is. :)
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The House Boy
Part 6
After our first
night together, Sunday felt like a very different day, and passed by in a
blink. And I'm not even sure I can put a finger on what changed, but there was
a weight lifted from Adrian that I hadn't even noticed was there. It probably
happened to me, too, but if so, I didn't really notice.
Most of his habits
and mannerisms were the same, to be fair. He was still choosing his words
carefully, he stood and moved in an efficient, dignified way. He kept himself a
step ahead of my needs, learning to anticipate what I was going to want, and
when. In fact, the change wasn't overly obvious...just subtle, little things I
noticed as the day went on.
For one thing, he
was smiling more. It wasn't that his usual, guarded poker face was gone,
exactly, but when he felt like smiling, he did. For another, there were no
objections to the odd `please' and `thank you' anymore when I gave him an
order. And though he still preferred to come kneel by me and wait for my
attention, if it was something quick he wanted, he'd simply come and stand near
me, looking relaxed and content.
I still wanted to
talk with him more about the previous night, what he meant when he said he was
`right about me,' but for the time being, I decided to let it be. I'd been the
first to awaken that morning, and discovered that he'd remained on my lap, and
in my arms, the entire night. I watched him sleep for a while, unwilling to
wake him and, honestly, unable to part with him, curled up so beautifully as he
was. When he eventually blinked himself blearily awake, he looked up at me with
a serene smile, wished me a good morning, and turned his head to latch on to my
nipple again. He spent the first few minutes of the day like that, nursing on
me, just like he had before. I was surprised—and relieved—that he didn't feel
the need to ask. He suckled on me in the morning light filtering in from my
window, gently rousing us both from the last dregs of our slumber, and it was
perfect.
It would take a
heart of stone to ruin a moment like that with a serious and potentially
difficult talk. What was I, a monster?
So, I thought, I'd
wait for a better time. I had that thought several times as the day went on,
but that `better time' wasn't really in a hurry to get to us. Given the drama
of the day before, I figured we could both use a full day of just existing
together, working out the kinks in our new day-to-day. Not big ones, mind you,
just little hiccups that come with the territory.
Up first: the
morning routine. I was the type to putter around the place—have some coffee,
eat breakfast, check my phone—before I washed up and got dressed. As such, when
I heard Adrian turn on the shower as I shuffled out of the bedroom, I had a
moment of inner conflict: should I suck it up, shower first, and tell him for
next time, or should correct him now?
To my credit, it
didn't take long for me to figure out which would be the better choice, and I
told Adrian to turn off the shower. He left the bathroom with a respectful bow and
an apology. Remembering what his father had told me about punishment being a
sign that I cared, I had him put his hands against the wall while I swatted his
adorably perky behind five times before sending him to the kitchen to start
getting breakfast ready – fried eggs on toast this morning. He made a portion
for himself, too, but still wouldn't eat it at the table with me. He kept his
plate in the kitchen, taking bites here and there as he did his work.
Partway through
breakfast I decided that my seat at the table, the one facing away from the
kitchen, might have given me a view out the window as I ate, but it wasn't the
view I wanted. I almost picked up my plate myself to move around to, but I
caught myself at the last second and ordered Adrian over. He obediently changed
my place setting to the other side, and now when I sat down, I was looking
right at the kitchen and directly at eye level with his naked tummy. Very
appetizing.
As I was almost
done eating, he came over and said, "Master Scott, I don't want to be too
forward, but I was wondering if you made any decisions about my training."
I paused in the
middle of collecting the remaining egg yolk with my last bite of toast. "Your
training?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You mean, the
intimate stuff?"
"Intimate service.
Yes, Sir."
I wolfed down the
toast and swallowed before answering. "Remind me. If I agree to finish up your
training, what am I expected to teach you? Weren't there a whole bunch of,
uh...lessons? Topics?"
"You wouldn't need
to worry about all that, Sir," he assured me, picking up my plate and cutlery.
"You'd only be expected to show me how to meet your intimate needs."
I nursed my mug of
coffee. "And otherwise, you'd have to go back to your dad's—er, his master's
place—once a week?"
He nodded as he
reached the sink and turned on the faucet. "That's one option, sir. My dad
would teach me, and I would practice on Master Charles if he allowed it."
I may not have
known this Master Charles, but that was a decidedly unpleasant thought. "What's
the other?"
"Sir?"
"You said weekly
lessons with your dad were one option," I reminded him. "What was the other
option?"
"Oh." He scrubbed
at the plate for a second before answering the question. "The other option is
for me to teach myself, using materials and toys my dad would bring me."
"So every now and
then you'd go into the bedroom and, uh...practice?"
"Wherever and
whenever you deemed acceptable, Sir."
I studied him for a
second as I took another sip of coffee. "You really don't like either of those
other options, do you?"
He looked at me. I
knew if I'd asked that kind of question yesterday, he'd have told me it didn't
matter what he preferred if my needs were met. But today, after a moment, his
answer was, "no, Sir. I want it to be you."
I nodded. "Okay.
Next time you talk to your dad, tell him I'll take care of it."
There was that
smile again. "Thank you, Sir."
"Well, one thing at
a time. Might not start right away." I drained the last of my coffee, leaving
it on the table as I stood up to stretch. "Now once you're done with the
dishes, help me make a proper grocery list."
He tilted his head.
"Sir?"
I joined him in the
kitchen, grabbing the notepad and pen from their neatly-arranged places on the
island counter. "Let's face facts: I'm no good at shopping for food. Since you
know what you can cook, we're gonna put another list together. A better one."
He looked at me in
wonder. "You'd allow me to make suggestions, Sir?"
"Suggestions, hell.
Why don't you just put the list together?" I held out the pen for him.
He started to shake
his head. "Master Scott, I could never presume—"
"Yeah, you could."
Another round of food shopping this weekend would be pushing it, money-wise,
but I'd figure that part out later. "You want to show me what you can do? Give
yourself some stuff to work with."
"O-okay." He took
the pen and swallowed. "Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down."
"I know." I winked.
"Have it ready when I'm out of the shower, because when I'm dressed, I'm
heading to the store."
Which I did, and
came back laden with fresh fruits and veggies, meats, spices, starches, all the
kinds of stuff I really should have known what to do with as a 25-year-old. It
was clear that Adrian had a menu in mind for the week, and I wasn't about to
discourage him from showing off; judging by the items on the list, I was in for
some of the best home cooking I'd had in a long time.
He'd also taken the
liberty of adding a few cleaning products for me to buy, and the minute he'd
finished putting away the rest of the groceries, he made a beeline for the
bathroom, as if determined to make up for the previous day's incomplete to-do
list. After about an hour (most of which I spent sitting at the kitchen table,
perusing old photos of Lisa and I and failing to delete any of them) he
emerged, a little sweaty, and asked me to inspect his work. I almost told him I
didn't need to, but the look on his face...I couldn't help it. It reminded me of
kids cannonballing into the pool and yelling `Dad, look what I can do!' How do
you resist that?
Needless to say, I
don't think I'd ever seen the bathroom look that good. Pristine mirrors,
gleaming counter, inviting toilet, he'd even got the gunk off the grout between
the tiles. I praised the excellent work and asked what he'd like as a reward
for a job so well done.
He looked so
horrified that I almost started laughing. "Reward?" he repeated. "Oh, no. Sir,
I'm simply doing my duty. I don't deserve anything for that."
"C'mon, sure you do."
I glanced around once more. "I can practically see my reflection in the tub."
"Serving you is its
own reward, Sir," he insisted, bowing low. "I don't need anything else."
So stubborn. I sighed and said, "all right. But at least take a nice bath to clean
off and relax after all that work. You've earned that."
He accepted this
compromise with only a touch of reluctance, and as he started running his bath
I headed back out to the table, determined that I would find a way to reward
him properly. Maybe I'd talk to Anthony about it one of these days.
That night, we ate
salmon baked in garlic butter, with roast potatoes and asparagus, and I
wondered how I ever could have been satisfied with frozen pizza. The salmon was
perfectly cooked: juicy, flaky, and absolutely delicious. The potatoes had just
the right amount of crisp before giving way to a soft, almost
melt-in-your-mouth splendour on the inside. The asparagus was perfectly salted
and had a satisfying crunch. Adrian waited on me through the entire meal while
simultaneously ensuring everything was cleaned up, eating his own small portion
while he worked. The whole affair was topped off with a delectable homemade
chocolate lava cake for dessert, which I was almost too full to finish.
When I went to bed,
he fetched me a glass of water for my bedside, brought my phone from the living
room, and knelt contentedly at my bedside while I vacantly perused things I
don't remember, absently stroking his hair with my right hand. When I began to
nod off, he turned off my lap and climbed into the bed beside me. I opened my
arm to him, and again, no words were needed to share in what was becoming our
little ritual. He curled up in my lap and locked his lips onto my nipple,
sucking gently in our joint moment of bonding and comfort. I wrapped my arms
around him tightly, feeling the purest adoration for this little miracle who'd
wandered into my life.
And again, I
decided my questions could wait. The day had been free of heavy conversations.
There was no sense spoiling that now.
* * * * *
Mondays always
sucked (yeah, yeah, call me Garfield), but the prospect of spending eight hours
of the day away from my newest companion made it that much more difficult to
lug myself to work. Adrian sent me on my way with a hearty breakfast, a full
thermos of coffee, and a "have a nice day at work, Master!"
Something about the
way he said it made me remember something he'd said over the weekend about his
kissing lessons, and before I walked out the door I leaned down and stuck out
my cheek. "Where's my goodbye kiss?" He blushed a little but smiled and
delivered an affectionate peck before shooing me out so I wouldn't be late.
The subway wasn't
as crowded as usual, which was weird, but I wasn't about to complain. After
Lisa left and we stopped carpooling, I realized it made a lot more sense to
take public transit to get to work rather than fight traffic every day. The
only downside was having to change when I got there, because I wasn't about to
slog through the subway in my scrubs. Since the route I took to work only
started running at six (and since we were `heavily encouraged' to be ready at
least 15 minutes before the start of the seven-a.m. shift, catching anything
but the first or second train meant a mad rush once I got in the door.
I got to the
station early enough to catch the first train, so I figured I'd be breezing
into work with plenty of time to spare. And as punishment for my hubris, the
gods decided to cause a nearly fifteen-minute delay about two stops away from
work. As such, I found myself making a mad dash to the finish line, nearly
breaking into a full run as I neared the nursing home.
I realized I was on
a collision course with Teri far too late to do anything about it.
Wham. She fell to the sidewalk, winded, and I immediately knelt to help
her. "Oh, my God. Teri, I'm so sorry. I should have been watching where I was
going. Are you okay?"
She panted a little
but waved a hand as she accepted my help. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Nothing bruised
but my pride." She spent a moment fixing up the chestnut hair that had been
knocked loose from behind her head. "Well, now I'm officially awake. You should
advertise yourself as a substitute for coffee."
"I'm sorry, I'm
just running a little late." I straightened my own clothes, giving her a sheepish
smile.
Stupidly early in
the morning, by all accounts, but she looked more awake and alert than I felt
most mornings. One of the visiting family members I ran into more often than
others, Teri had a good decade on me, maybe a little more, but she wore it
well. She favoured me with a warm smile over her light, colourful scarf, her
hands stuffed into the pockets of her denim jacket.
It occurred to me
that I didn't usually see her at this hour. "You're here really early. Is your
dad okay?"
"Dad-in-law," she
corrected.
I nodded. "Right,
sorry."
"Don't worry about
it." She hugged herself and looked at the doors. "Honestly, I've been trying to
work up the nerve to go in."
My eyes widened.
"What happened?"
"Oh, he had a fall
last night, but he's all right."
I winced. "I'm
sorry I wasn't here."
She smiled, patting
my arm. "Don't be, Scott. He loves you enough to know how unfair it'd be to
have you wiping his ass seven days a week."
"Him and about a dozen
other residents. But I don't mind." I glanced at the doors, then back to her.
"So if he's fine, what's got you so nervous?"
She looked down at
the sidewalk and laughed. "I'm here because Tony insisted I check up on his dad
after the fall—and I mean, of course I'm happy to do it," she quickly added,
"but you know how Walt is. He resents it. Gets all cranky."
"Yeah, he's touchy
when he thinks we're making a fuss." I nodded. "I know what you mean. Want me
to go with ya? Smooth the way?"
Relief spread across
her face. "Oh, Scott, would you? I mean, I don't want to take you away from the
other residents..."
"Don't sweat it," I
said, leading the way inside. "I'll make sure everyone's taken care of and meet
you at his room."
"Seriously, thank
you," she said, parting from me to check in at the front desk. I gave her a
little wave and headed back into the staff area, picking up the pace as I
glanced at the clock.
I was in luck,
because another PSW who'd originally booked the day off had unexpectedly come
in and splitting the twenty-eight residents four ways instead of three meant I
had two less on my rotation today. That would free up plenty of time for Teri
and her grouchy father-in-law. I mean, I say that (because it's true), but
honestly, Walt was among my favourite residents, and I couldn't quite pin down
why. Something about the gracious way he allowed me to tend to his personal
needs, I guess. He never acted shy or embarrassed, and he never lost his
dignity. Or rather, he didn't seem to think anything would threaten his dignity
at all.
Except on days like
today when something out of the ordinary happened.
As soon as I could,
I went to meet Teri outside Walt's room, third door down the east hallway.
She'd taken off her jacket and held it over her crossed arms, leaning patiently
against the wall. She grinned and shook her head as I walked up. "Boy, you must
think I'm such a coward."
I waved off the
notion. "God, no. There are times I feel the same way. Come on." I knocked
gently on the door as I cracked it open, raising my voice a little. "Good
morning, Walt. Up and at `em."
There was a weary
grunt, and then, "that you, Scott? Is it Monday already?"
"You betcha," I
said, grinning as I opened the door and stepped inside. In terms of layout, all
the rooms in the home were identical, but the décor in Walt's was a tad sparse
compared to the other residents – didn't have much that mattered, he told me
once. There was a chair next to a dresser that doubled as a TV stand along the
left wall, and across from me the curtains were drawn across the bay window, a
sliver of early morning sunlight peeking through. The little beam fell on the
cushioned bench in the window's alcove, just shy of the antique wooden
chessboard that had been one of the very few possessions Walt had brought with
him when he moved in. To the right, against the wall, the hospital bed and
plain, two-drawered end table were just barely visible in the darkness, along
with Walt's prone form on the mattress. His wheeled walker was up against the
wall, a couple of feet from the bed's far side.
I motioned for Teri
to hang out by the door for the moment and crossed the room toward the window.
"Heads up, incoming daylight."
"Yeah, yeah," Walt
muttered through a yawn.
I threw the
curtains open, which brightened the room as much metaphorically as it did
literally, and moved to his bedside, leaning down to help him sit up and brace
himself against a pillow. He was one of the few residents in this place that
still had a full head of hair, ghostly white though it was. He was almost
cartoonishly skinny, though the doctors always assured us he was perfectly
healthy. "How'd you sleep, friend?"
"Bah." He waved a
bony arm. "Sleep is for the weak."
"That good, huh?"
He grunted. "Hasn't
been coming as easily lately."
"Pain?"
"No, it's all up
here," he said, tapping his forehead and stifling another yawn. "Happens from
time to time. Spend a few weeks reliving old regrets."
"Well, buck up.
You've got a visitor this morning."
He looked up at me,
then toward the door, his wizened face breaking into a smile. "Teri!"
She ambled in a few
steps, smiling back. "Hi, Walt."
"What a lovely
surp—" He cut himself off after a second, then turned sour. "Oh, wait. This is
one of those visits, isn't it?"
"Well, mah stars,"
I chirped, in a terrible parody of a southern accent, as I lowered the bed
rails. "Someone's bristly today. You don't think she might have just come by to
have breakfast?"
He snorted. "You're
in on it, too, are you? Lousy traitor."
"Yep, that's me." I
gently moved the bedcovers off him.
Teri sighed, went
to the chair, and pulled it over to the bed. "All right, yes, Tony wanted me to
come check in."
"I knew it," he
growled, putting a hand on my shoulder as I helped him swing his legs to the side
of the bed. "I don't need a pity party, Teri. I'm fine. And you can tell him
that. Why does he insist on making such a fuss over nothing?"
"Because he's your
son, and he loves you for some reason," Teri said dryly. "Plus, he feels guilty
he can't be here as often as he wants."
"I don't want
anyone's guilt!" Walt barked.
"You'll have to
take that up with him," Teri replied calmly, pulling her chair to the foot of
the bed so she could stay in his line of sight. "Meanwhile, tell me what
happened so I can get him off both our backs."
He sighed, glancing
up at me. "You're gonna ask me all that anyway, aren't you?"
I shrugged,
stepping over to the window bench and sitting gently so as not to disturb the
chessboard. "I can always talk to Leanne."
He made a face.
"Christ, no. The way she was acting, you'd think I was on death's door."
"Then..." I opened my
hands. "Give us the scoop and get it out of the way."
"Yeah, yeah." He
leaned on his knees, glancing sideways at Teri. "It was nothing to worry about,
Teri. I just fell. It happens. I didn't break anything."
She tilted her
head. "They said you were dizzy. Disoriented."
He shrugged. "I
might have had a bit of a dizzy spell."
"The attending—er,
the doctor, I mean, gave him a check-up after the fall," I interjected, having
been brought up to speed already. "They want to keep an eye on him, but he
didn't eat much at dinner so it could have been low blood sugar."
"Okay." She looked
at Walt again, who was rolling his eyes. "So I shouldn't ask why you didn't eat
dinner, I guess."
"Because I wasn't
hungry."
"How about now?"
"Eh?"
"Are you hungry
now?"
He hung his head
for a moment, then chuckled slightly. "Starved."
She smiled
slightly. "Then why don't we have some breakfast together?"
"All right, all
right." Walt gave her a nod, then glanced at me. "Would you give me a moment? You
know how I like to—"
"Enjoy the view in
the morning. I know." I got up, as did Teri, and we walked back to the door. "I'll
be right outside," I told him as we stepped out into the hall.
Once the door was
shut, Teri turned anxious eyes my way. "Give it to me straight, Scott. Should I
be worried?"
I held up my hands.
"Teri, I'm not a doctor, and I wasn't here at the time. I can't really—"
"I know, I know," she
interrupted. "I don't mean the medical side of it."
"You mean, is he
hiding something?"
"Yeah."
I shrugged,
glancing at the door for a second. "Hard to say, but I don't think so. And even
if he is, well...we'll figure it out."
She sighed, nodded.
"All right. But that was weird. He was weird."
"Weird?" I crossed
my arms. "How so?"
"Scott, you know him.
Last time I showed up for something like this, he practically kicked me out of
the room. Compared to that, he was downright pleasant today."
I bobbed my head
once, conceding the point. "Well, after yesterday we'll be keeping an extra eye
open for warning signs. Don't worry, we won't let him sabotage himself."
"I appreciate that."
She put her hands in her pockets, a soft smile crossing her face as she looked
at the closed door. "It's a shame you don't work weekends. My son came with me
to visit him last Sunday."
"Oh, yeah?" I smiled,
too. "Sorry I missed it."
"You wouldn't have
recognized him. Walt, I mean. He's an entirely different person around his
grandson." Her eyes lingered on the door for a moment, as if she were staring through
instead of at it. After a moment she cleared her throat. "I'll go wait
in the lobby. Thank you again, Scott."
I waved a hand. "No
need. See you in a bit."
As she wandered off
and I waited for Walt to call for me, my thoughts wandered to Adrian. I
wondered what he was up to. What does a house boy do behind closed doors when his
master's away? Of course, I knew my friends would call me insane for leaving some
kid I basically just met alone in my apartment for the entire day.
Although they'd already
have called me a number of other things before getting that far.
I contemplated what
Teri had said about Walt and his grandson. I wondered if Adrian ever saw his grandfather.
Whether the two of them would have a bond like that. I remembered him telling
me that one of his grandparents – his dad's former master – had passed away. Where
was the other one now? Was he still serving as a house `boy' somewhere? Do
house boys retire?
I was pulled from
my musings by a muffled "I'm ready," and I went back in to find Walt watching
over his shoulder as he waited patiently. "Thank you," he said.
"For what?" I
grinned, rounding the bed to push his walker to him. "It's the same routine as
every other morning."
"I meant Teri," he
said, grasping the handles as I set the brakes. "I know she and my son mean
well. I'm glad she has someone to talk to."
I arched an eyebrow
as I helped him to his feet. "They mean well? Boy, you're a softie this
morning."
He let out a low,
barking laugh. "Yeah, I suppose I am a little out of character."
"No complaints
here," I assured him, staying nearby as he shuffled around the bed toward the
bathroom. I shifted a little to avoid bumping the chessboard on the window
bench, noticing the pieces had been in the same places all week. "Haven't been
playing lately?"
"Eh?" He saw where
I was looking and shook his head. "Oh, that was from last Sunday."
"Your grandson."
"Teri told you, eh?"
"I'm surprised you
didn't," I replied, taking a couple of steps ahead to open the bathroom door. "I
didn't even know you had a grandson."
He shrugged. "It's
nothing personal. I've just never been one to talk about myself."
"Well, I'd love to
hear about him one of these days." I said, giving him a gentle pat on the back.
"Now let's get you ready for breakfast."
He sighed
dramatically. "Yes, might as well." He paused then, just looking at me.
I waited a moment, thinking
he was going to say something. When he didn't, I said, "Walt? What is it?"
He blinked. "Oh,
nothing. Just...you're a good man, Scott. I hope you know that."
I blushed a bit, a
gratified smile finding its way onto my face. "Well...thank you, sir. I
appreciate that."
"Hey, now." He
waggled a finger. "Told you not to call me that."
"I know, I know. Walt,"
I corrected myself. "Come on. Let's not keep Teri waiting."
* * * To Be Continued * * *