European Boys Series by Alan Atbright

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David had led a fantasy life.

He had made his first million dollars in Australia before tackling the big smoke, Europe. And now he had made mega millions by selling the English computer company that followed, to a raider from Silicon Valley.

Deciding to reside permanently in London rather than return to Sydney, he had purchased a Mews house in Mayfair, one that was actually two places combined. He was to live in the lower two-level apartment that had a garage, small rear garden and an even smaller swimming pool. A swimming pool of any size was an absolute rarity in London. Upstairs was a tenanted space occupied by the ‘Major’ and his wife, who were happily paying enough rent to almost cover David’s extravagant lifestyle costs.

With no intention of ever returning to the workforce again, David was leading a life of leisure, and enjoying it. Only 34years old and happily gay, life was a breeze. Whilst not actively seeking a relationship he did miss having someone special to wake up with in the mornings andshare the good things in life that he so loved.

I am on the Underground, the Victoria Line and in fact, that is where I am headed for, Victoria station. Destined for either the Cinema or the Sauna, both of which were considered to be Gay although neither was 100% so, which only added to the excitement for me.

office workers getting an early start to their weekend. I was seated at the end of the carriage where the seats were along the wall, with the center area being reserved for the strap-hangers, of which there were many.

seemed to have a bit of class, or style, about him, and a ready smile which was very attractive. His trousers were not exactly skin tight but they did stretch rather taut across his crutch, displaying an interesting mound that I would have loved to stroke.

As the train lurched through a bend in the tunnel he was caught unawares and that nice mound was almost in my face. He smiles apologetically and I smile back at him, with a shrug, as if to say no problem.

In fact, he can do it again as many times as he likes. I fantasized about putting my tongue out if it happened again, but I would never do such an overt thing, I preferred to be as discreet as possible, which was another way of saying that I lead a pretend life.

Alighting at Victoria, I proceeded to the eastern side of the station and crossed the street in front of the Sauna. However, I decided that it was a bit too early for the Sauna as the office boys would not be there yet. So, I walked 50 meters further down the street to the dirty old cinema, paid my money and I entered by the side door, folding back the heavy curtain and entering the dark space, halfway down the left-hand side. I turned right at the center and walked towards the rear of the cinema, ducking under the light stream from the projectionist box. There were scattered heads in the darkness, ones, and twos with gaps in between. At the rear, it was the left side back row that attracted me. At the aisle seats were two old and boring men, then a few gaps and an all alone, what seemed to be young, guy sitting one seat from the wall. I disturbed the old duo, much to their disgust, by struggling past them. I did not want to take either of the two seats before the young guy, as that would have been too close to the old fogies, so I also then maneuvered past him to the seat against the wall.

I had not looked directly at him but I could tell that the young man was just that, maybe a regular or maybe just a casual interloper checking out the rumors about the place. Well, he was just about to find out!

Settling down into the seat I sat as low as possible, with my knees hard up against the back of the seat in front. Pretending to find it necessary to adjust my trousers, I ran my left hand down my thigh, did the adjustment but then left it there, so that after a short delay it was ever so lightly touching the right leg of the boy, step 1!

No adverse reaction so a little more pressure, then those magic, or not, minutes of expectation, before a slight pressure was returned. as his hand was now also on his leg and lightly touching mine. That was all I needed to begin the dance. I placed my hand on his for a moment, squeezed it, and slowly pulled it up into my lap. Again there was no bad reaction so my hand also then found its way onto his lap and the groping started. The center arm-rest between us conveniently lifted up to sit flush between the seat-backs, so with a better position, sitting in the very dark corner of the cinema we started to get serious, as zippers were unzipped.

Now with my back to the sidewall I lent forward and gave him what he had no doubt come for, with my head nestled in his lap.

Very turned on by all this action the boy was soon finished, so I zipped him back up and returned to a more normal seating position. I did not expect him to return the favour, and in fact, did not really want it as I still intended to spend an hour or two in the Sauna up the road and knew that it would happen there as a matter of course.

I got up to leave and this time really upset the two old queens at the end of the row who quickly shuffled flashes of flaccid flesh back into trousers as they made way for me to get past. A smart-arse muffled whisper said; ‘picked the wrong one, did you?’ I ignored them knowing full well that just as they got into it again the boy would leave and they would be fucked up again…haha!

It is time for the sauna. Even without the promise of any naughty action, I really enjoy both a sauna and ever more, a steam room. Here at the Victoria Sauna, both usually happened, although discretion is always necessary if you do not wish to be asked to leave, and to never return.

After stripping off at the lockers, whilst checking out the others who were all doing the same, and being checked out in return, I followed my normal routine. Sitting in the sauna, all prim and proper, well covered by the sauna-issued towel [one of two, the other for the final dry-off], I stayed just long enough for the sweat to begin forming. Then to a quick cold shower and that dark cave of potential delights, the steam room. This time it was rather uneventful as the only one that even faintly interested me was not interested in me, so be it! I stayed long enough to enjoy a good sweat and when it began to get oppresive, I left for another, this time longer, cold shower. Drying off completely I headed to the rest area, a series of small alcoves off a central access aisle, each one containing 2, 3 or 4 small beds where you can rest before returning to the heat. No action was ever allowed here but often assignations were arranged, with just a flick of an eye, to be carried out back in the steam room. I searched and found an alcove that was completely deserted with just two beds in it. I took the furthest one and stretched out in total relax mode. I amused myself by watching the endless parade of towel-clad males, of various ages and sizes, and of various degrees of beauty or ugliness, on a constant inspection of possible talent. I glared at most of them, daring them not to take the vacant bed beside me, and was successful in so doing. A young man emerged, looking completely lost, obviously a first-timer. I gave him a friendly smile and it worked.

“Sure, sit down and relax.” I replied with a smile, trying not to scare him away. I could see that his towel was still completely dry so he had not plucked up the courage to venture anywhere yet. I wondered what he expected, what he knew of this place, and why he had come to visit.

After a few minutes and some inane chat I offered t do just that. He nodded in agreement and we both stood up, adjusting our towels tightly around us. I explained my usual routine to him and suggested we follow same, he acquiesced. So we sat side by side in the sauna, our bodies just lightly touching. I sprinkled a little water onto the red hot make-believe coals to hurry up our progress to the next stage. As soon as Andy began to sweat I could see that he was becoming uncomfortable, so I suggested a quick shower to cool down. The prospect of finally seeing his whole naked body intrigued me. The showers were very communal, just four side-by-side shower heads on either side of the room, the floor awash with soap foam, no doubt on its way to the Thames. I ushered him to the far corner of the room, suggesting he take the position closest to the wall, removed my towel, hanging it on the peg provided, and entered the next shower. I waited for a few minutes of soaping up before turning to check on Andy. At first he was facing the wall with nothing to show but when I spoke to him he turned towards me to answer and I got the full frontal. What I saw made me want to get him into the steam room as soon as possible. I turned off my taps, and he did the same. As we grabbed our towels I said. “Just dry your face, leave your body wet and we will go to the steam room.” He did so, and as we walked towards it, I felt I had to prepare him, warn him and also check on his intentions and knowedge of the place.

“I must warn you that it can get a little naughty in a steam room, anywhere in the world.” He showed no visible reaction and proferred no comment in reply, so I hoped for the best but knew that slowly, slowly, was the best way possible. The doorway to the room was a pair of heavy overlapping plastic sheets. Once through them and we were engulfed in swirling steam. I manouvered him towards a deserted corner where we could hopefully stand, without being molested. People were on the move constantly, never clearly defined, just dark shapes in the steam. I stood almost in front of him, slightly to his left, trying to hide him from prying eyes, as any overt actions now may scare him away. As I moved slightly whilst talking to him I casually let the back of my right hand lightly touch the front bulge in his towel. There was no reaction, so I passed my hand across his front again, just a little bit firmer. I decided to take the plunge, now or never.

“Always.” he said. So, with that I gave it a decent squeeze, it responded by stiffening immediately. Contact! From here everything went like clockwork. My hand went inside his towel for a few moments of heavy fondling before I eased his towel off him and draped it around his neck and shoulders. I ran my hands down his wet and well for formed chest and flat stomach, before crouching down to take him in my mouth. As I did so, I felt his body tremble, and a few sounds escaped from his mouth. After a few well worked minutes I stood back up and placed my hands on the back of his neck to check out just how far he would go. Either he was not as innocent as I had thought, or he was a good copier and did not want to spoil the moment, but the next minute he was crouched in front of me replicating what I had just been doing to him. No complaints from me, thank you. We continued to take it in turns, until we had both passed the point of no return, when it was shower time once more. When we returned back to our original resting places, Andy was much more relaxed, and talkative. I suggested that we go for a drink ot two, after, but he said he had to get home as he still lived with his parents, a one hour train ride from Victoria station, and was due home for dinner. So we made those usual lose arrangements to meet up at the Sauna another day. Maybe yes, maybe no!

It was obvious that he had got what he came for and that was it. OK, not an unusual meeting, rather the norm in the gay world of anonymous rendezvous and couplings. I understood it well and made no further attempt to keep in touch, although I would have found that prospect very interesting.

The West End is busy all day long but at night it comes alive! Most nights I headed there; to theatre, restaurant, or to one or more of the beckoning gay bars, or a combination of all three. Tonight, it was first to my favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s, located surprisingly in the center of London’s Chinatown, although it hardly deserves such a grand name compared to those of my hometown, Sydney, which now has 4 distinct Chinatowns, the smallest one maybe four times the size of this London one.

I am greeted effusively by Antonio and ushered upstairs to my usual table, a small one at the front left corner, overlooking Gerrard Street below. Whilst I love company with my dining, I am also very happy to dine alone as I was doing this evening. Not overly hungry, just a bite and a nice glass of vino then out on the town to see what tonight brings. A perfect starter, more International rather than traditional Italian, was their Ravioli stuffed with prawn and butternut pumpkin, large perfect soft sachets with a split fully-shelled king prawn immersed in that smooth pumpkin, the ravioli drizzled with sage butter. A glass of cold Sauvignon Blanc only added to the taste sensation. Following was just as simple, Scallopini Limone and a glass of classic [not commercial] Chianti.

Refreshed. I strode down Gerrard Street to a little doorway that led to one of London’s many private clubs, The Toucan. Upstairs the small room was almost filled by just the bar, around which were10 comfortable bar stools, two at each end and six along the front, more than enough to accommodate the usual straggle of select drinkers, a few minute tables along the wall, and at the windows at front available for any unexpected rush or for those not in a communal state of mind. The place attracted well-known current and forgotten stars of stage, screen, and music, mostly ones that did not make it or were well past their ‘use-by date’, and an amazing cast of characters from almost all walks of life. Dominant, in more ways than one, behind the bar was Don Sparks, manager, barman, father confessor, and fellow appreciator of the occasional flow of new teens [affectionately known as chickens] who seemed to find this place as if on radar, direct from the East End with their distinctive cockney sense of humor and football slang, cheeky persona and a willingness to spend the night being entertained by the punters of the night.

The bar was often lively but never rowdy, a ‘round for the bar’ including Don, of course, was a refrain heard repeatedly throughout any night.

This prompted Don’s response, an attempt at a wolf howl, tossing his head and his imaginary, long distant, hair locks, whilst raising his eyes to the heavens. I settled in the middle of the empty seats and a glass of my usual [Whiskey, drained from the overhead optics, with a dash of soda, and plenty of ice] was placed in front of me by Don, I responded with the usual thanks and offered him a drink as well which, of course, he accepted.

“Well, he is so out there, you two are so different it is strange that you are such good friends”

“Yes, he sometimes embarrasses me to be with him but he is a very good and true friend. Quite an amazing guy actually, I have no idea how he pulls what he does, the chickens just flock to him.”

Don holds his hand up rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, suggesting that money is the only reason.

“Yes, that obviously helps but it is more than just that. He is way too much sometimes but he is so genuine that people just accept him, perhaps that is why; his honesty?”

“A follow on from public school, where that was his nickname, and it has stuck ever since, but his friends call him just Staff. He hates his real name Bertram Stafferly”

“Yes, I was invited down to their estate last year, quite impressive, both the vast estate and the life there.”

“You would not believe how they flock to him. At the local Pub, Staff has his own little nook, it even has a small brass plate with his name engraved on it embedded into the bar. He has a rule with the boys; if they approach him, and they all do, one by one during the night, they get a pint of beer and a grope. I am not sure which they enjoy the most. He says that he has been off with most of them, they all certainly have no doubt about his sexuality, but they still come over to say hello in full view of all their mates, who often cheer when they see their friend getting groped. He is the star of the show. Of course, that his father owns almost all the town and most of their fathers either work for him and/or rent their properties from the estate probably helps.”

I looked to my right and saw a tall figure, cowboy hat pushed down on his head, almost asleep at the small end of the bar, a well-known figure known as Long John, England’s leading country and western star, and ex-rocker. I looked at him and then to Don, who just gave his usual head toss and a shrug of his shoulders as if to say ‘not doing any harm, and he pays well’.

“No doubt I will catch up with Staff at the Apollo, with chickens in tow. I might even get a cast-off, as he never seems to take the same boy home twice. He always greets the previous ones friendly enough, and buys them a drink but then leaves with someone else.”

“By the way, you must come and have lunch with me at my new local Pub, they do great lunches, and you will love the name, Cock in Hand.”

“Sorry, only old fogies at lunchtime. The only chicken is on the food menu, I believe it is a bit better after work but I am never there then, Prefer it up here in the West End at that time of the day. In any case, that is too close to home, and my tenant, the Major and his army pals, drink there occasionally”

Another round of drinks and it was time for me to check out The Apollo in Wardour Street, one of London’s oldest and busiest gay West End bars. I like to get there early enough to grab one of the few bar-stools so I can sit and watch those entering, checking out the talent, so to speak. I walk to the end of Chinatown, take a left on Wardour Street, cross over and walk down towards Piccadilly Circus till I get to the magic doorway, just a small plate that says APOLLO, climb the stairs to where the cashier sits later at night when there is a cover charge and walk into the almost deserted bar. There are a few hopeful boys at the front of the lounge area but I head straight to the bar at the rear corner where only one of the 6 bar stools was occupied, Tom, one of the weekday regulars was sitting there at the end stool. We nodded greetings and I sat two stools away, leaving plenty of space for any boys to join either of us. Tom was a man of means, I had been told that he was a director of one of England’s top football clubs, which is why he was rarely at the Apollo on weekends, in the football season. No doubt he was waiting for his seemingly regular friend, Rusty. Rusty was just outside of my preferred age range but still attractive enough to generate some interest. However, according to the boys, who should know, they both took boys home and wanted them to piss on them. Too disgusting for me to even imagine.

In Australia, I had never come across or even heard of some of the fetishes that seemed to happily exist here in England and across the Channel in Europe, particularly in Germany and Holland. Good old-fashioned sex was more than enough for me. The thought of taking drugs, any drugs, was also equally repulsive to me.

Rory, the Irish barman, served me my third Whiskey of the night, fittingly an Irish Jamieson. I had no longer taken my first sip and the stool between me and Tom was taken by Ivan, a very attractive Russian boy who I had seen here a few times before but he had always been in a small group and I had never been able to engage in conversation. He nodded to me but greeted Tom by name which was reciprocated, whereby Tom ordered a Vodka for him and affectionally patted his bum in a way that suggested that they were more than just good friends, although frequent personal touching was the norm here. Ivan almost had his back to me but I studied his reflection in the bar mirror behind the line-up of spirit and cognac bottles. His high cheekbones and Slavic features, white skin, and ruby red lips made a very attractive combination. I found him to be very sexy and alluring; but knew of no one who had been home with him, so even more mystery. He was certainly always friendly enough and after all, he was in a gay bar, full of rent boys. I had one eye on his reflected features in the mirror and one on Tom’s dancing fingers on Ivan’s backside. I felt like stroking the other cheek, in fact, I was getting quite turned on when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Staff, just getting worked up over the Russian next door.” I half-whispered.

Whereupon Staff in his usual extrovert way came back off the stool next to me and took a pace to the right so he could get a good close-up look at Ivan, nodding his approval as he returned to the stool.

“Built like a Russian tank I believe, evidently he is an exchange student at my old Cambridge, smart as hell I believe.”

“You mean to say that there is one boy here who you have never been off with?”

“Afraid so, although quite stunning he is not exactly my type, maybe too intelligent?”

“Good luck, then. Actually, as I am not going down to the farm this weekend so I wondered if you would like to join me tomorrow night at the Café de Paris for dinner?”

“No need for that, old chum, Daddy pays quite a nice allowance, and anyway it will probably go on one of his credit cards.”

What can you say? So, I bought him a drink instead. He never minded who bought him a drink, although to be fair he still bought most of them.

“Think I will go and check out the talent,” Staff said, as he picked up his drink and wandered towards the front of the room where most of it congregated. Suddenly there was, once again, just Tom and me at the bar as Ivan had obviously also gone elsewhere.

Then Rusty arrived and sat between us whilst I just sat, sipped my whisky, and relaxed. Lost in thought I suddenly realized that someone had taken the stool next to me. Expecting it to be Staff again, back from his safari, I was surprised to find that it was the Russian enigma, Ivan. I was suddenly struck dumb, and could; only offer rather a lame conversation.

“No, they are all here but the conversation is so boring, so childish, I escaped.

“He shrugged. “Nothing yet,” and then with a cheeky smile, “Open to offers, I guess.”

I thought to correct him on the pronunciation of my name but it sounded so nice with his accent, even sexy, so I said nothing.

Then I noticed that Staff had returned to the bar and was standing behind Ivan, obviously looking for his seat back, but instead, he just caught my eye in the backing mirror, raised his glass as to say ‘good luck’ and wandered away again, obviously still on the prowl.

“Just 5 minutes, it is a small select and very private club bar for members only, would you like to come there with me for a drink?”

With that, we finished the last of our drinks, stood up and I ushered Ivan to the door, down the steps, and back up Wardour Street.

Arriving at the Toucan, even before I could introduce Ivan to Don, he had murmured “I see the wolf is back!” but, this time, without the howl. It was obvious that he was impressed at first sight, by the constant rolling of eyes and the attention he gave to us.

After the necessary intros, we settled at the bar for a round of drinks. At the end of the bar now was an elderly ‘punter’ seemingly having problems in having a serious conversation with Kevin, a regular cockney chicken and fanatical fan of the West Ham football team. Kevin was not really on the game but after a couple of drinks, he would go home with anyone. He was a nice boy but a bit tiresome with his limited conversational skills.

“A man of leisure these days, so very lazy I am afraid. Almost 20 years of working day and night and I am now reaping the rewards with quality living and enjoying the company of nice people.”

“I apologize Ivan for being so direct but I find you not only nice but very fucking sexy!”

After that little interchange, we sat in a companionable silence sipping our drinks, catching each other’s eye from time to time, and smiling.

The second round of drinks followed as Don made small talk with Ivan, obviously enchanted with his Slavic charm. I knew that he would expect a detailed report the next time I visited.

Whilst I did not want to rush him, I could not wait to see this incredibly beautiful boy in less clothing. It was obvious that he was also ready to leave so we said our goodbyes to Don, went back to the street, and hailed a London taxi for the ride up Shaftesbury Avenue to Mayfair.

Ivan tried to pay for the taxi, which I, of course, did not allow, but at the same time, it reinforced the impression that I already had that Ivan was not yet another boy on the game, but rather one who carefully selected with whom he made friends. I was impressed.

We climbed the few steps in front of my upper door, explaining “I actually have two front doors, that is another one down the stairs below, but I usually use this one”

I opened the door and ushered him inside, explaining the layout on the way, explaining that on the right of the hall was my office and library/den. Straight ahead was my bedroom and as we entered that I pointed to my walk-in robe to the right and the en suite to the other side of that.

“You have a beautiful house Darvid, and a very comfortable looking bed,” he said with a small chuckle.

We could not contain ourselves as at this stage we came together in an embrace, that then developed into a full bear hug. The feeling was electric, this promised to be far more than the usual physical sex routine that normally follows pick-ups from gay bars. Before anything else developed I said “Come downstairs first and I will show you the rest of my little house.’’

So, we went back to the hall and down the stairs, and I explained. “The room under my office is the living room and straight ahead is my kitchen and dining area. Out through those glass doors is a small patio where the BBQ is and beyond that is the swimming pool though I usually call it my bathtub as it is not very big.”

We did so, and I pointed to a chair for Ivan to drape his clothes over, soon we were both down to our jocks, his were a pretty sky blue and mine, black and yellow. Our bear hug was resumed, but this time with roving hands from both of us. At first touch, we were both fully erect and we tumbled onto the bed. What followed was one of those nights when wild lust took over. Our jocks were kicked off as was the doona, as our two bodies thrashed around, skin to skin. Every touch was electric, the boy had a mind of his own and continually took control. As I started to move my mouth downwards on his chest towards his stomach, he pushed me back onto the bed and covered my chest with his mouth, kissing everywhere. He then ventured to the area that I had been heading to with him and I did nothing to stop him. My body trembled as his mouth found its mark and I was enveloped in warm wetness that caused me to moan uncontrollably. I tried to stop him by grabbing his head but he refused until the inevitable volcanic eruption just about shattered my whole body.

After a few minutes, my recovery was complete so I rolled onto my left side, my right hand gently running all over his perfect body, as I began to pay him back in kind, but slowly and tenderly. It must have been hours later that I awoke to find us still locked in a hug where we had fallen asleep. I extricated myself and dragged the doona back from the floor and covered us under it.

The next time I woke the sun was shining in through the ceiling to floor windows as I had forgotten to draw the curtains. Ivan looked even more perfect as he slept, sprawled face down on the bed, so I cradled his body against mine and lay there totally contented, just slowly running my fingers and hand across his lean, perfectly toned, body.

I must have dozed off again as Ivan was patting my chest and whispering, “Darvid, I must go home soon.”

I gave him a hug and said “I think I could just stay here like this forever.”

With that, I leaned over and gave him a light kiss, “Let’s get up and have some breakfast?”

We both wandered in and out of the bathroom, free with each other despite our nakedness, although every time I passed him, I could not resist giving his backside a friendly pat which caused him to squeal and giggle.

Downstairs it was breakfast time. Ivan noticed the small cocktail bar at the rear of the dining area. “I did not see that last night, very nice!”

“You can even bring one of your friends if you wish, to make it a social occasion?”

“Very much.” was his eager reply. ”But, I must tell you something, my name is not Ivan, that is just what they call me at the Apollo, I suppose because I am Russian, I don’t mind, so I say nothing”.

I had already made up my mind that he was not a rent boy or looking for any financial reward for the evening but to make certain not to ruin a perfect night in any way I started fishing for info.

“It must be difficult for you as a student, living in England without a job?”

“No, it is easy, my father is very rich and he sends over money every month. At Cambridge, I live on campus, and when I am in London, I use his house in St. Johns Wood and his car. He only stays there when he comes over for business.”

So, he is another Russian ogilarch. But it also explains why Sasha has so much class, coming from such a background obviously always having the best of everything. So very different to the usual boys at the Apollo.

“No, he would kill me. Anyway, I am not yet certain that I am gay. I just love sex,”

So, it was fruit juice, toast, sausages, bacon, and eggs, which we enjoyed at the breakfast nook.

Then it was time for our farewell, after one more cuddle and a couple of little kisses plus one farewell grope of the Russian monster. I said goodbye to Sasha at the front door.

Saturday was shopping day, so after a late arrival downstairs at my breakfast nook, a half healthy breakfast, and it was time for the supermarket.

On my way to Berkley Square and the rather upmarket, read expensive, local supermarket I tended to use, I noticed a youth walking towards me, constantly stopping and gazing at the houses that he was passing. Definitely not from the area he was wearing the almost standard skinhead gear, a tailored tight-fitting green Ben Sherman shirt, light brown Staypress trousers held up with red braces, and black Doc Martins on his feet. However, he did not have the skinhead ‘shaved head’ haircut, instead rather attractive, almost shoulder-length hair, rather more David Bowie style. With his trousers pulled up tight into his groin with the braces his goodies were well and truly on display

As we approached each other I could see that he was lost so said. “Are you looking for something?”

We both looked at the house we were in front of, it was no. 72, but the one next to it was no. 66.

“Many of these terraces have been combined into one larger one so maybe they just took one of the numbers/” I reasoned.

“Then a bit stupid for them to use the wrong one in a job advert, isn’t it?”

The short conversation and his seemingly friendly relaxed disposition had registered with me, to say nothing of the very attractive bulge in his tight pants, and I could not help but investigate further.

“Not really but it can’t be too difficult, can it? I could always learn.”

Then I was hit with a blood rush to the brain, and maybe to other regions as well, not for the first time in my life, but I had been reacting to hunches all my life so why stop now?

“Then this may be your lucky day, I could do with a part-time gardener too?

The boy immediately smiled, an open smile that lit up his face, and I was smitten.

“I will tell you what, I guess that you have plenty of spare time now, I am on my way to the supermarket, come with me and help me carry the shopping back to my place and we can then talk about that possible job. OK?”

And this is what we did, chatting all the way about football after discovering that he was an avid West Ham fan and me Chelsea, traditional hated cross-town rivals.

The more we talked the more I warmed to him, an obvious East Ender he had that cheeky sense of humor the ‘cockneys’ are so well known for, although he assured me that he was not a cockney, as he was raised in East Ham, a long way from Bow Bells. Evidently, you must be born within the sounds of the Bow Bells to be called a true cockney. Although he certainly had the accent, and slang, right.

We returned from shopping, both laden with many plastic shopping bags. I was pleased to have him there to help me as it would have been difficult alone.

Back at the house I pointed to the two entrances, used the top one, but took him straight down to the kitchen and larder to store all the shopping.

Sliding the large glass ceiling to window panels open we moved to the outside terrace. I pointed out the BBQ on the right, which had to be cleaned if it had been used, and discussed the swimming pool, all 10 x 5 metres of it, and how it had to be serviced. The grass and bush strips beside the pool and beyond it needed to be kept clean and tidy as did the patio we were standing on, and the only other chore was the washing of all the windows back and front as well as the cleaning of my Audi in the garage.

All very simple tasks that I really should do myself but if you have the money why not pay someone else to do them for you, particularly when that someone was this very cute East Ender, great eye candy at any time.

Tim was not fazed by any of the tasks that I had enumerated and did not even ask me how much I would pay him, which I had not even considered, so just as well. I grabbed two cold beers from the refrigerator, handed one to him and we sat down at one of the outside tables to enjoy.

Used to making snap decisions, I answered. “How about on Monday? Perhaps just two or three days a week, I will give you cash each day so if you are on any benefits that is not a problem for me.”

Tim again broke into that amazing smile, the one that had obviously melted the hearts of many girls. I think 3 days is best, how about Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?”

“You are a hard bargainer, but why not?” I extended my hand and we shook. His hand was amazingly soft and warm, and I would have happily held it but knew not to do so, instead I just clapped him on the shoulder to prolong the body contact. However, I would have preferred to have given him a big hug. I also was well aware that it would be stupid to do anything to scare him away and ruin the happy and free relationship that we had seemed to be developing, as, after all, he was now staff, and certainly not a pick-up, but dreams are made of this.

I took out my wallet and slipped a $50 note into his hand saying. ”Thanks for helping me with the shopping. Take your girlfriend out tonight on me”

“No way Timmy, My Mum calls me Timothy but all my friends call me just Tim.”

“Daaarliing!” he drawled in a forced high-pitched voice, again with that cheeky smile.”

“Get away with you; see you on Monday around 10.00? And best if you bring an old T-shirt and pair of shorts for working in.”

I escorted him to the front door where we waved at each other as he departed. As he did so I enjoyed the view; the rear end view was just as an exciting view as the frontal, with his braces causing the trousers to pull up very firmly over his so cute shapely buttocks. As he walked away, he turned around and gave me a big wave, and another wonderful view of his dental work.

I was on a high, the adrenaline rush was even more than a sexual encounter usually produced, I was looking forward to having Tim around the place three days a week. I just hoped that the euphoria would last.

As soon as I met Staff for the pre-arranged early pre-dinner drink at The Toucan, I had to tell him about my new gardener. Don was all ears, with knowing winks.

“Long time before anything like that, he is a very straight teen from East Ham.”

Don scoffed. “Straight? From the East End? Show him one of your pornos and he will drop his dacks in an instant, saying please Mister, suck my thing?”

We all laughed but I knew that my Tim was a cut above the rest, and at this stage, I will just be very happy to have him as a friend.

“Staff has very generously invited me to have dinner with him at Café Royal tonight, very special indeed.”

“No, but if it is the right day then maybe you may get a glimpse of his bare torso whilst working in my garden.”

“The crumbs we workers have to live with.” All it needed was for the violins to begin playing.

Staff and I both finished our Martini, said ‘see you later’ to Don, and departed. Back towards Wardour Street and Staff surprisingly took a right-hand turn.

“Just a short deviation, I have something to give to Stephen, won’t take a minute.”

I had met Stephen before, many times. In fact, he was by far the nicest of all of Staff’s boys and probably the only one that I had ever seen him actually arrive with at The Apollo, not that that stopped him from leaving with a different boy later in the night. I think Staff had said they had been friends for three years or so, what had probably started as sex seemed to have materialized into ‘just good friends’.

“Is Steve coming with us for dinner?” I asked rather hopefully, as I really enjoyed his company. He had been home with me a few times and I had always looked forward to the next time, now well and truly overdue.

No, his mother is rather seriously ill and with only Stephen and his brother bringing in any money to the house, they do not have enough for her treatment.

I knew from previous conversations that Stephen’s father was a useless unemployed drunk who just sponged on his two sons. They only stayed at home because of their mother. Stephen worked at a printers in the West End, and I had been with Staff before when he was meeting him after work on a Friday night to accompany us to the Apollo. I, myself, had loitered a few times at the ‘knock off’ time to meet up with him as well, accidentally on purpose. As this is Saturday he must be doing some overtime to earn extra money for his mother.

“Yes, it would not be so necessary if the skinflint he works for paid him a real

wage. He operates an offset machine all day just like the men, but he still only pays him a boy’s wages. And he only gets normal time for today, and not penalty rate overtime as he should.”

By now we were standing outside the entrance to the building where Stephen worked. and we only waited for about 5 minutes and he arrived. Looking ravishingly fresh coming from his after-work shower, he hugged Staff and then did the same to me. I gave him an extra squeeze, which I am sure that he was aware of, and we started walking back towards the Dilly, as we did so Staff slipped an envelope into Stephen’s hand which earned Staff another big hug, big enough for some of the passers-by to stop and look for a second or two.

As I was behind them, I slipped out my wallet to extract a couple of 50’s and screwed them up into a small ball. When the two separated I was able to maneuver myself into a position beside Stephen and slip the small ball of notes into his hand. He looked embarrassed at my action but thankful, never the less, I smiled at him and nodded, which he returned with a mouthed ‘thanks’.

At the entrance to Piccadilly underground station, Stephen left us and we turned up Regent Street towards Café Royal. Then the theatre of a ‘night out with Staff’ was to begin.

As we entered the restaurant we were met by a balding elderly waiter, obviously, the maitre d’, who approached Staff with his hand held out..

“Andre, as I have told you before, no Lord, my father is still alive and well with his full book of mistresses. Have you reserved a nice table for us in your best section?” Staff said as he shook hands with Andre.

“Most definitely sir, I am sure that young Jason will look after you.” He said, with a cheesy, almost snide, grin. Andre obviously was well aware of Staff’s preference for cute young waiters, and as in all fine dining restaurants around the world, the customer is always right, and satisfying him usually results in the biggest tips, although I had already observed Staff slipping something into Andre’s hand at the entrance.

Approaching the table, I noticed a delightful and eager young waiter tagging along beside Andre, holding two large menus. I was impressed.

“No doubt Staff was also impressed as when the boy placed one of the menus in front of him and spread the serviette across his legs, he said. “What nice hands you have.”

Jason, obviously trained in the fine dining restaurant school and determined to give his important and probably rich customer nothing to complain about, answered. “Thank you, sir.” Even though the comment had been, a rather stupid, and very mundane, one.

As Jason performed the same tasks with me, I rather hoped that he had left his hands in my lap a little longer and maybe have pressed down a bit.

“What do you suggest, Jason?” asked Staff as he opened his menu and commenced to read, thus immediately elevating Jason’s importance to that of a senior waiter, despite his tender years.

“No sir, I am afraid not, I was probably still in bed asleep this morning when the fisherman caught it.”

“No doubt still in bed with the girlfriend, recovering from the evening’s excess?”

“Too young for sex? How ridiculous, I think I was about 12 when it all started for me, 1^st year high school, but then that was with a boy as I recall.”

Typical Staff, spelling it out, but Jason just smiled politely, no doubt noting the comment, however.

“How about you David, I think I feel like a rather fishy night, what do you think?”

“That would also be perfect for me, I rarely have seafood in London, though back in Sydney it was a regular occurrence.”

Then turning to face Jason with a beaming smile he ordered.” Coquille St. Jacques followed by the Dover Sole with snow peas and just a few boiled baby new potatoes, David?”

“And are you also our sommelier, Jason?” Staff asked. “I think a bottle of your Reisling would be perfect, do you have by chance an Australian one, I like it because it is a bit drier than the German original.

“Boy you are impressive, know your wine do you? Not just a pretty face? That would be perfect.”

When the smiling Jason retreated to execute our orders, the table conversation was all about him. Both Staff and I were immensely impressed, with him as a waiter and with the boy himself, quite stunning! We could not agree on the possibility of his availability but both thought it would be a turn-on to try sometime. I had already considered a return visit to the Café Royal, alone, sometime soon.

Every time I go anywhere with you I seem to meet a Jason, which reminds me have you seen my Jason back in your village lately?”

“Often, and the first question is always the same; ‘when is David coming down again?’ so you really must do so soon.”

The Café Royal Jason soon returned with a bottle and small ice-bucket, he expertly opened the wine, and poured a sample for Staff to taste.

“There is only one thing wrong.” Staff said to Jason’s obvious consternation. “Where is the glass for you”

He recovered his smile and poured the wine for me and then back to Staff.” Not allowed I am afraid, sir”

What was not expected was the serving of the Sole, which Jason expertly de-boned for each of us, at the table, despite his tender years. The boy just continued to impress, in more ways than ten.

Neither of us could handle dessert, so it was coffee and Cognac, a Remy for me and a Cuvoisseur for Staff.

Two very contented gents then strolled back around to The Apollo to survey the scene.

On the way, I commented. ’It seems that you and Andre are well acquainted?”

“Been going there for years old boy, in fact, I had my 21^st there, and quite a night it was too.”

“I vaguely remember at my 21^st insisting on delivering the tips to the young staff at the end of the night by way of my hands down the front and inside of their pants.”

Outrageous, but I could imagine Staff doing just that, and pulling it off, as yet another public-school boy prank!

Staff had obviously left a lasting impression on Jason judging by his over-friendly farewell, though it had no doubt been fueled by a generous tip as well. My turn would come later, and very soon I thought.

Sunday night I retired early, knowing what awaited me the following morning, set my alarm for 9.30, and joined the land of dreams, and fantasies.

I awoke to the sound of the doorbell chimes, jumped out of bed dressed only in my briefs. and headed to the front door. Peering through the spy hole I saw what looked like a nervous boy in jeans and T-shirt, carrying a small rucksack, Tim!

I opened the door just enough for him to enter, not wishing to be seen by any passersby in my semi-naked condition.

“Sorry, I did not want to be late, and was not sure how long it would take for me to get here.”

“No problems, you will just have to wait a little bit whilst I shower and dress.

I led him into my bedroom, smoothed a corner of the unmade bed, and motioned for him to sit down, whilst I stripped off and headed through the dressing room to the bathroom, leaving all the doors wide open to let him know we should be totally relaxed together, or so I hoped.

Returning from my shower and shave, still naked and just loosely holding the wet towel in front but making no effort to hide my nudity, I carefully watched his eyes. Whilst we locked eyes when talking I noticed that his flicked up and down to and from my swinging genitals.

‘First, we will go down and have a morning coffee, I can not come alive till then every morning. By the way, have you had breakfast?”

“Mothers do that sort of thing.” Tim just smiled and nodded, again gazing at my body as I slowly dressed. Now it was my turn.

“Well, you may as well change into them now, you can leave your bag and your good clothes on that chair there.

He hesitated, but only for a minute, obviously wanting to use the bathroom to change but my earlier lack of inhibition had, as I had hoped, set the scene. Tim dropped his bag on the chair I had suggested, and took out a pair of denim shorts, obviously cut down from an old pair of jeans, and a football jumper, naturally a West Ham one.

Stripping off his shirt, he exhibited a very well-formed torso, the power of youth. Then, rather sheepishly, he slowly removed his jeans, displaying the rear end of his red jocks. A delightful wriggle to get the jeans over his hips and they were off, and folded into his bag, to be replaced with the denim shorts which also required quite a bit of wriggling to pull up over his hips. That was obviously my portion of excitement for the day, so now we were both dressed for the day, I led him downstairs to the kitchen.

Even though I did not know him yet, and knew full well the dangers of making a wrong assessment, I said. “I will get you a front door key later today so you can let yourself in and I do not have to get up early every morning.”

“Your first task when you arrive will to make me a cup of coffee and bring it up to me. The rule is, if my bedroom door is open, then just walk in, anytime. However, if it is closed then knock first and wait for me to answer. Hate to have you walk in and see a naked girl spread all over the bed, it might upset you.”

Tim’s face broke out on a wicked smile, obviously relishing the thought of just that happening. He was not to know, yet, that it was an impossibility for that to ever happen, and no way would I have a boy sleepover on the nights before his working days. I had just set the scene for the morning after a stupid night when lust had overpowered me.

“Now watch carefully and I will show you how to use the espresso machine, its very easy, all you have to remember is to press the right buttons.” I then showed him how to load, and grind, the coffee beans, and add the ground beans, water and milk to the machine, making him a cappuccino and a long black for me.

Even though he said he had already eaten, I went to the freezer, removed four slices of bread, and fed the toaster. When ready I took them out and coated them with peanut butter, marmite, blueberry and strawberry jams, splitting each one in two and putting them on a serving plate.

“I know boys are always hungry, so help yourself. You can make yourself breakfast here any morning if you want, just as long as you always clean up after. There is always bacon, eggs, and sausages in the fridge if you want a fry up, don’t be shy, you can use anything you want. Now eat up, I only want a few slices.”

Tentatively at first, he reached for a slice with strawberry jam, whilst I took one with peanut butter. After the first one, he was less shy about helping himself, soon the plate was empty.

“You only have to clean that if it has been used, which usually only happens when I have a small swimming party.”

Hopefully, he would be present if that happens anyway. I then explained how he was to first sweep the terrace area after putting the metal chairs up on the table, then use the long-handled brush and hot water with detergent to brush the area. I instructed him to always put on one of the gardening gloves next and with a large plastic bag in the other hand, move around the garden strip beside, and at the end of, the swimming pool, picking up any leaves and dead twigs. Next was to go around again with the bag but this time with the glove on his other hand holding the bag and the shears in his right hand to remove any dead branches or twigs from the bushes, a gently pruning.

Then it was the turn of the swimming pool, first to skim off any leaves, etc., with the long-handled net, then check the level of the chlorine and PH bottles, reminding him to tell me whenever the reserve bottles were getting empty. Also, the windows had to be cleaned, both the large rear ones and the smaller ones at the front of the house.

In the afternoon he could vacuum and wash my Audi, which I would back out of the garage for him. I explained that the garage was once an entrance-way for the original owners, back in the 19^th century, to bring in the horses and carriages from their romp around Hyde Park, to what would have been the stables in the rear; the area that was now my little swimming pool and terrace.

As it was now 12.30, I said “Come on, I will take you to the Pub for lunch.”

He could not go to the Pub in his work clothes, as after all, it was in Mayfair, he had to dress, once more, in his street clothes, so I had another short audience of the boy stripping, this time with no trace of embarrassment.

“First, I will take you upstairs to meet the Major and his wife, and explain what you are doing here as they will no doubt see you from time to time, and would otherwise wonder who you were.

We went back out the front door on my top level and I took the opportunity of showing how the alarm worked, setting it as we left. Then we went down my front stairs and back up via the adjoining ones to the Major’s apartment.

After the short press on their buzzer, the Major’s wife answered and we were ushered inside. I introduced Tim and explained, “Lady Mabel, Tim is going to be doing my garden and general outside cleaning three days a week and I wanted to introduce him in case you see him and wonder what he is doing. He will have much spare time so I am sure he will be happy to do any chores for you, such as carrying your shopping, etc., Please, don’t be afraid to ask “

“How kind of you.” She replied giving Tim a good look over and shaking his hand. “I am afraid the Major is not here just now, he has gone out with a few of his chums.”

“Then, if you can explain about Tim to him later, so he will not worry if he sees a stranger hanging around”

“I will do that and thank you for bringing Tim up to meet me.” She added with a big smile for Tim, although obviously not yet quite sure about him.

We took our leave and as we walked along the footpath on the way to the Cock in Hand, I said to Tim, just to make idle conversation.” I think you now have another girlfriend, I think the old girl is quite excited at the thought of having such a young spunk hanging around”>

“I have a way with all the girls.” The young spunk replied, with his usual cheeky grin. I just jostled him with my shoulder as we walked along, side by side.

At the Pub, we went out to the garden at the rear, where you were allowed to smoke as there was no table service.

“Sit down and look at the menu on the table whilst I get some drinks, what’s for you? ‘A pint of light and bitter, and a packet of fags?”

I went back inside to the bar and ordered two light and bitters and a pack of Players No. 6, which I knew was the current English boys’ cigarettes of choice.

Back at the table Tim had gone safe and selected the Sausages, Eggs, and Chips, whilst I Intended to have their famous Steak and Kidney Pie. We ordered, back inside at the food bar, and were almost finished with our drinks and the first smoke, Tim his No. 6 and me a Villager Kiel cigar, when the buzzer went for us to collect the food.

Half an hour later the food was gone and we were finishing our drinks and 2^nd smokes, very relaxed as if we were on holiday, which I guess I was.

We returned to the house and this time I got Tim to turn off the alarm, warning him not to mess it up otherwise the police would be calling, which was not true but good for its effect. Nervously he followed all the steps correctly, so, I then got him to set and unset the alarm once more for practice.

By doing this I accepted that Tim was now a permanent part of my household, or so I fervently hoped.

Another undressing ritual in my bedroom followed. That was something that I could most definitely get used to, wonderful eye candy if nothing else. And that is all it would ever be, as I told myself that I must never make any move on him, just to have him as a happy carefree friend was all I craved, though a hug would be a big bonus.

We went down out front again, I opened the garage doors and backed out the Audi. Showed him the mini vacuum cleaner that I had stored there for the inside, and the plastic hose for washing the outside, and the black for the tyres, chamois, and cloths, and left him to it.

Returning to my bedroom I sprawled on my still unmade bed and relaxed, soon falling into a light sleep, only to be woken by a light touch on my shoulder, to look up into Tim’s smiling face, who told me that he was finished washing the car and asking me to come and check.

I noted that it was already 4.00 and when I saw the car it was as immaculate as the day I bought it,

He gleamed with the praise and told me that he had also met the Major, as Lady Mabel had introduced them.

That was it for the day, so back to the bedroom, and I suggested that he have a shower as he was now very sweaty from washing the car. I could see the hesitation and the following thought process whilst I pretended to take no notice.

“OK.” He said and once again started the stripping, but leaving his red jocks on as he walked through the dressing room to the bathroom. I longed to find a reason to visit but held myself in check.

When he returned, even more charming with his wet hair, it was then goodbye time. I had collected a spare key during the morning, which I now presented him with, on a small key-ring [a spare one I had with the Audi logo], and took him back to the front door to go through the alarm system again, which he then tried switching on, off and on again, nervously, but OK.

I resisted the urge to hug him and just slipped a hundred into his hand. He looked at the note and then looked at me with wide-open eyes.

A London teen complaining about you giving him too much, I definitely had a very special one here.

“It is worth it to me to have someone I can trust, and enjoy their company as well.”

This time I could not resist it, and gave him a small hug, which he did not seem to mind, in fact, he almost hugged me back.

The next day I awoke mid-morning, struggled out of bed, and went downstairs for my morning wake-up coffee. I was hit with the emptiness of the place, a solitude I normally enjoyed but this morning it felt more like a wake. I was immediately aware of what was wrong today; lacking was the presence of that cheeky, cheerful East Ender.

After showering and dressing, I retired to my small office in the front room downstairs, logged on to my laptop and attended to some financial matters, and sent a few emails. I was pleased to discover that the value of my investments was now up by almost $100,000 for the year so far, however realizing that paper profits were just that. Still, that was much better than them being down.

Rather than cooking and eating breakfast alone, a process that I usually enjoy, I decided to celebrate my comparative financial success with a long slow brunch somewhere. I disliked the West End in the day time, no idea why, so decided to check somewhere local. What I really wanted was an old fashioned English Café, not something to be found in Mayfair, so I settled for the new sensation in the area, the Hard Rock Café, something more distant to an English café could not be imagined.

The queue was very small when I arrived, so it was only a few minutes before I was ushered to a small table, with the music blaring but not offensive. It may be London but this was little America, and as I studied the menu I was greeted with.

“Good afternoon sir. My name is Daniel and I am your server, can I help you with the menu?”

I cringed with the ‘Americanism’ of the greeting but when I looked up at the friendly smiling face, definitely not American, and the words had been said with a perfect London accent, I did not comment.

“Yes, I will have the Quarter Pounder with cheese, the beef medium rare, and a bottle of Carlsberg, thank you.”

Even though it was only midday and the music was very late night bar, or even disco, I was soon tapping my foot to the beat of the rhythm. I thought of Tim and decided that I must bring him here one day, I am sure he would love it. Thinking about him I realized once more just how much I missed his open smiling face, even his smart-arse comments. That boy was going to be a problem, he was growing on me like no other ever had and I have only known him for two days.

It is funny, sex had been so freely available to me ever since I discovered it, and whilst I had a few crushes on boys in the past, the word ‘love’ had never entered my head. In fact, most boys had been purely a one-time event, only a few had become friends or had the bed experiences repeated. In any city of the world you only had to walk in the street and make eye contact and a simple chat would have you going somewhere for a quiet drink, after which one thing would lead to another. Even language made little difference.

With Tim, it was all about what I could do for him, not what he could do for me, and as for sex, a nice hug would always be enough. Well, and maybe a little grope.

“Actually, I fancy doing something different, there is a restaurant I want to try in South Ken and thought I may repay your kindness of that dinner at the Cafe Royale, would you like to accompany me””

“It is called La Poppote and it is French but I think it is owned by an Aussie, I went to one of the same name back in Melbourne, Australia and the setup here sounds so similar that I am sure it is the case. All the staff there were attractive young French boys who rotated between working in the kitchen and on the floor, so all are both very knowledgeable waiters and are easy on the eye.”

“How about pre-dinner drinks at the Inn on the Park, say 6.00, we can walk around from there to the restaurant, it is beside and behind Harrods.

As usual, Staff arrived at the Inn on the Park, for our pre dinner drink, about 20 minutes late.

“Excellent, old chap. At least here they will do it right, but at a price. Tanquery and Noilly Prat, I assume?”

“So tell me, how is your East Ender coming along, and when am I going to meet him?”

“Not sure whether he is up to that sort of meeting, you may be too much of a shock for him, although something tells me that nothing would shock him that much. He is coming along just fine, in fact too much so.”

“I fear that he is becoming too much a part of my life, I enjoy him just being there and am afraid that on his days off I miss his presence very much, after all, I keep telling myself that he is just staff.”

“Boy, you do have it bad, old boy, let us go and investigate this new restaurant of yours, French boys you say?”

“It certainly was at the Melbourne restaurant, in fact, I accidentally met up with one of them on the overnight train between Melbourne and Sydney, one night, he was on his way home to France via Sydney.”

“Most definitely, I had a small cabin booked and he only had a seat, so he joined me for a pleasant night. It was one of those unexpected events that are quite a turn-on.”

“Never had much luck with French boys, always seem to wake up in the morning to discover them and something else missing.”

“Not quite appropriate in the height of passion, stopping to put the jewels in the safe sort of stops the flow so to speak.”

We walked around to La Poppotte. Upon entering it was certainly a case of subdued lighting, almost dark except for the candles burning on the tables, we were ushered to a small half circle banquette. At this early time, there was only one other table, and I was surprised that we were placed in the adjoining banquette to theirs. I was not impressed with this as I was aware that Staff and my conversation would be saucy, to say the least, and at the next table was seated what appeared to be a minister of the church, aged 40-ish, accompanied by a young Spanish looking man in his early 20’s.

“No doubt a platonic friendship.” He explained, though I was not so sure as the slightly obese bishop was all over the boy, who did not seem to mind at all. The bishop was certainly slightly effeminate and totally at ease.

We concentrated on our menus for a while, whilst the young, very attractive, waiter, who had introduced himself as Jean-Luc, waited patiently.

Staff and I decided to share a Chateaubriand for main, preceded by the house special a French Onion Soup ‘Royale’. A nice Bordeaux from Rothschilds was next to arrive, and we were soon sipping contentedly when a sudden new arrival at the front door caused quite a commotion. The young ‘stick insect’ lady, looked across in our general direction and let out a not-so-small scream, then rushed across to hug the gay bishop suggesting that they were lifelong friends.

When all the hugs and kisses were finished next door, Twiggy and her nerdy-looking boyfriend were escorted to a table on the other side of the room where they whispered sweet nothings to each other.

Our soups arrived and what a performance they were. First the ceramic bowls topped with a full-sized crouton covered with melted and slightly burnt cheese were placed in the front of our table, where Jean-Luc performed quite an operation, first lifting, and holding, the crouton with a fork in his left hand whilst pouring in a small nip of port with his right one. Then he added the yoke of an egg and whipped it around in the thick soup with another fork, before replacing the crouton and presenting the finished product to each of us. The production had only increased our appetites with expectation. The end result was even better than the theatre that had preceded it. Thick and luscious, the soup was almost a meal in itself. It was quite wonderful, and one that we both enjoyed.

The night progressed as planned and afterward, it was an early night home for me leaving Staff to venture up to the West End, alone.

What a wonderful way to be woken in the morning, a beautiful smiling, slightly nervous, face and a shaking hand holding a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee.

I would really have preferred to have my coffee downstairs but this was a role play I had almost fantasized about. To complete the dream, I swung my legs out of bed after throwing back the covers even though that meant that the shape of my early morning erection was on full show jutting out in my briefs. As had been intended I was aware of Tim taking in the scene without a flinch. All a part of the ‘getting to know you’ routine.

Tim left me to it, saying that he would start his morning chores, so I quickly drank my coffee, stripped off, showered, etc., and went downstairs to have my breakfast.

So, it was a sole breakfast for me sitting at the breakfast nook, casually observing the cute spunk in the cut-off shorts working in my back yard. From time to time he would check to see if I was looking and if I was, he would do something stupid such as a sudden strong man pose followed by that cheeky smile and a wave, before continuing on with his chores.

When he did so I said, “now you know how to use the machine make yourself a cappuccino.”

It took some time and he asked a couple of questions on the way but the finished product looked like the real thing.

“Not every night, I took you for a three times a night boy! And homework? Your girlfriend is only a schoolgirl.”

“She is in her final year at school, and she is 18, the same age as me, but much smarter. She wants to go to University next year.”

“That is OK, you are going to the ‘University of life’, sometimes that is more important.”

I smiled at that comment, dreaming about how wonderful it would be, to do such an exploration myself.

Whereupon Tim went back to the outside to continue and I went to the office for my daily rituals on the internet.

Once again, I took him to the local Pub for lunch. The day disappeared way too quickly and it was soon time for him to go home.

A day spent perving on my little friend meant that I was as horny as hell, so tonight I was off to the clubs. However, the desire was so strong that I decided to go for an exploring drive first. Some months previously I had met up with a visiting friend from Sydney at a Pub in Chelsea on the King’s Road, a few blocks further out from the famous Worlds End. It was a very strange Pub, just one very large room, with the bar against the wall furthest from the street front. After a couple of drinks, I needed to go for a piss, but could not see any bathroom doors so, I asked my friend and was told that the Gents was actually outside, behind the Pub. I followed his directions going out the side door and turning left. Maybe 10 meters further down the side street was a swing door, smaller than the doorway. I pushed it open and it was what I was looking for; a concrete urinal was along the sidewall of the narrow room. It was a very seedy-looking place, that had many obvious possible uses, particularly as I noticed that the overhead lamp had been removed. I noted all for an investigation at a later date.

So now, as dusk approached, I headed in that direction, it was just a 10-minute drive from Mayfair.

Parking opposite the mystery door, I entered into the gloom. All I could see was a few dark shapes, obviously Pub customers using the convenience. I also stood at the urinal, ready to urinate. The lack of activity was obvious as was the total silence. I then noticed that I was being observed, so I just flip-flopped a few times. Within seconds another young man entered the area through the swing door and stood beside and very close to me on my right-hand side, almost shoulder to shoulder. Now one of the others who were there when I had arrived also moved rather close to my other, left, side. Both of them were soon stroking their erections and I knew that my intuition about the place had not been misguided. Not knowing the scene, I did nothing but soon a hand was reached across and I was being stroked too. This started a competition between the two on either side both staking possession. I stood back a bit to give them free rein and the new arrival immediately dropped down to his haunches and began to use his mouth instead of his hand. Anonymous physical sex is like a drug. Once you have experienced it you want it all the time.

As there was competition for the deed it was automatic that it would be done very well, and it was. Soon he was almost choking on my explosion, and it was all over.

I quickly adjusted my dress and departed, driving back home to leave the car before going uptown for a few drinks.

As usual, my evening began with a drink with Don at The Toucan, who wanted all the latest gossip, particularly a report on ‘Ivan’ and my new gardener.

“Actually, his name is Sasha, and I think he is the son of a millionaire Russian gangster. In bed, he is the ultimate!”

Don just smiled, with a faraway look in his eyes which could be misconstrued as lust. Just then another regular customer, Jacob, arrived, and immediately ordered himself a drink and one for both Don and myself, he was celebrating he said. Jacob was freelance photographer and evidently a very successful one. He told his story.

“I was late to pick up my boy in Jermyn Street in front of a small French restaurant where we dined occasionally. I was running about 20 minutes late and apologized. Jerry said ‘no problem, I have been watching the rats in the restaurant’. As it was Sunday the restaurant was closed, so I had to go and have a look and there was one big rat eating crumbs right here on the table in the front window. I raced back to the car to get my camera gear out and luckily it was still there having a nice feed. I did a string of shots, the second one was perfect as the flash from the first shot had caught the rat’s attention and for the second one, he was looking straight at the camera. Then to Jerry’s disgust, I raced home to my studio to develop the shots. They were brilliant so I immediately sent them off to all the agencies that I use. Within 20 minutes I had already received three $500 offers and about another 30 inquiries, so I am celebrating as I am sure that this will be my biggest yet.”

“David is also celebrating, he has hired the spunkiest East End boy of all time as his personal slave.”

“Don’t listen to him, Jacob, sure he is very fucking cute but he is my part-time gardener, not my slave, and very straight.”

“I have already told him that no East End boy is 100% straight, but he won’t listen, there will be more to this story in time, mark my words,” added Don as he topped up all of our drinks, with a knowing wink.

Young Jerry then arrived and he and Jacob moved to one of the small tables at the front window, evidently with much business to discuss.”

I awoke this morning to what is now the norm that I look forward to. A touch on my shoulder and the smell of freshly brewed coffee as young Tim wakes me every second morning. The other days I awake feeling lost.

He now sits down on the corner of the bed without me suggesting it, ready to have an early morning chat. A little scene that I find strangely intimate, even before I crawl out of bed on the way to my shower in some level of undress, while he himself undresses ready for work in the garden.

This morning I have some news for him, as I explain about Don’s impending visit for lunch.

“So, I will go and get my lunch myself this morning?” he asks, obviously disappointed.

“A good friend of mine who operates a private drinking club in the West End. It is where I usually go for a drink when I go to the West End, at The Toucan.” Three magic words had been said; drink, and West End. Tim suddenly showed an interest.

“St. James, just down the road from Buck Palace. I will go to pick him up at about 11.30, we will come back here first so wait for us and we can all go to the Pub together.

That seemed to satisfy him for now, so he walked out into the backyard to start his morning chores, with a bit of life in his step, something new was happening today, always good.

I continued to sit at the breakfast nook, finishing my coffee after breakfast, whilst watching Tim in the backyard as usual. I don’t seem to be able to take my eyes off him, even though I am anxious to go to the office and check on the internet as to what has been happening in Australia with my investment movements, as a few decisions from me are imminent.

As I watch, he takes off his T-shirt to work bare-chested, turns around to see if I am watching and when he sees that I am he does one of his strong men Atlas poses which finishes with a wave. I smile and purr like a kitten, my boy sends nice shudders through my body every time he smiles for me.

The boy has become an obsession for me, and I love it. At the same time, I am only too aware that it is headed nowhere other than danger, but I still can not help it.

At 11.30 I back the Audi out from the garage and set off to pick up Don. When I get to the apartment block, he is waiting at the front. He gets in and looks around the car.

“Sorry, I am only well off, not filthy rich. No inherited money in my family. All earned by my own little hands”

It was an uneventful drive back to Mayfair and I park in front of the garage leaving the car across the roadway, so Tim can give it its daily shampoo later. I then take Don in for a tour of my little palace. We enter at the top level, I point out my office, the work-bench [bedroom], the en-suite, then down the stairs for the main event. Don is anxiously looking out for the boy and he is doing the same, both curious but for different reasons. I wave for Tim to come inside and introduce him. The boy struts to impress and Don preens in appreciation. I feel proud both ways.

“Now run upstairs to shower and change, we are both hungry as you must be.” He scampers upstairs and Don looks disappointed.

“Just let your imagination run riot, but not too much, lunch is coming up soon.”

10 minutes later and the boy re-emerged, freshly showered, I could smell my after-shave and talc on him. Don almost swooned, as I sent Tim off towards the front door with a gentle pat on his backside, which he wriggled as he walked. We followed as I let Tim do the honors with the alarm.

Tim walked a little ahead of us on the way to the Cock in Hand but continually looked around as he and we talked. I could see that Don was impressed. I felt as if I was showing off my most precious asset, which in a way, I was.

At the Pub we went straight through to the rear garden as we normally did and found a comfortable spot in the shade of overhanging shrubs, sitting down to study the menu. I had selected a table with larger than usual chairs as Don was a big man. He had a large head on a large body, his neck almost invisible. More strapping than obese, distinguished, and very relaxed in this place. At The Toucan, behind the bar, he had quite a presence, and even here in the Pub garden, he looks like a King, surveying his flock.

“No, silly boy, it is Hare not hair, like a large wild rabbit. What do you want, a meat pie?”

“Actually I have eaten Rat’s Legs once. It was a specialty of the house in a café in Northern Belgium, 200 pairs every Sunday lunch, late and you miss out.”

I went off to order the food, two Game Pies and one Steak and Chips, after giving Tim twenty quid to get the drinks, two pints and a gin and tonic. I was first back to the table and looked at Don for a verdict.

“Funny I do not even have any sex fantasies about him, paradise for me would be to just sleep with him all cuddled up.”

Our conversation was cut short when the topic of that conversation arrived back at the table eager to ask Don more questions about his drinking club.

“Well, there is David of course, and a host of stage stars and singers, and quite a few ex stars who don’t realize it yet. There are even a few sportsmen, including one well-known footballer who shall remain nameless. And when is Timothy going to come for a drink?”

Tim looked at me, and I said. “You are not legal yet, you are supposed to be 21 for a licensed club, maybe on your next birthday, when is that?”

That seemed to satisfy him for the time being, as we concentrated on sipping our drinks.

I explained to Don. “All the women fancy the little brat, they all want to get his clothes off.”

“I can’t help if they all fancy me, I am just so adorable, so tasty.” He said, bursting into a fit of giggles.

I gave him an imaginary swipe across his ears then our buzzer went to collect our food which he and I did. Then the serious task of eating began.

“An excellent meal David, many thanks.” Said Don. “How was your steak, Tim?”

“David says you live near to Buck Palace, do you have afternoon tea with the Queen?”

“Not recently, but I do have a few drinks with some of them at night.” The joke seemed to pass over Tim’s head, but with him, you were never quite sure.

“I suppose you should get back now if you are to finish on time, here is twenty quid to get Don and me one more drink before you go!”

“Quite a spunk.” He remarked. I just smiled in agreement, proud of the way Tim had handled the meeting now making me more confident to introduce him to Staff and other friends, knowing that he would not embarrass me, nor be embarrassed himself.

When Tim returned, he was carrying three drinks instead of two, he looked very uneasy.

“I did not even have time to order any drinks, she just poured the same round as before.”

“No problem, you will just have to sit down again and drink it, I will put you over my knee later.”

‘What am I going to do with you?” I said with a laugh, although I could think of many possibilities.

We continued our drinking slowly, me with a small cigar and Tim with another cigarette, Don holding his nose for effect, reacting to the smoke.

On the stroll back to the house, I felt so relaxed, wanting to spend every day of my life with my boy, just like this. I could not drive Don back, after drinking, so we hunted for a London Taxi, which suddenly appeared and Don departed with ‘see you later’ farewells, and a special smile for Tim.

I gave Tim the car keys so he could clean it and went upstairs, sprawled on the bed fully clothed, soon nodding off, to be once again woken with a tap on my shoulder. I stayed there, very relaxed, as I watched the undressing and dressing ritual once again, something I could never tire of.

“So, when are you taking me to The Toucan?” he asked before leaving. I knew that I had created something there that would have to be followed up.

“Well that must be a Saturday, you will want to go out with your mates that night so what if I take you out on the Sunday night, is that OK or is West Ham at home then?”

Tim left with a wave and I sank back on the bed, not looking forward to a blank weekend, another three days before I see my boy again. Just have to get drunk instead.

It was 7.00 when I mounted the stairs to The Toucan, Don only had two customers who were seated at the left of the bar, one in his late 20’s whom I had seen there before, a former child star from a famous musical, now a ‘wardrobe mistress’ working in a film project on The Algarve, in Portugal. He was one of the very few effeminate types who ever frequented the Toucan as it was mostly well-to-do mature men who fancied chickens.

Don immediately thanked me again for the lunch experience and placed a free-of-charge Jamieson and soda in front of me.

“He is probably having a drink with his mates, or nude wrestling with the girlfriend.”

There was no Staff tonight as he had told me he was ‘down on the farm’ this weekend, back Sunday afternoon.

We were soon joined by a few more customers, sadly boring, and after another couple of drinks, I departed across the road to my old favorite haunt, Mario’s, for a simple Italian dinner.

After a pleasant dinner I inspected the Apollo, but was not impressed with the company there, and still feeling naked without my boy companion I decided on an early night.

A stroll through the Dilly, as Piccadilly was usually referred to, was always an experience. Many cute boys attempted to make eye contact, obviously with dollar signs in their eyes. As they say, why buy when you have a better one at home. Just, sadly, right now he was not at home, but I was not interested, amazingly for me!

A late ‘out of bed’ followed by a leisurely breakfast at the nook. As always just gazing out at my rear view, swimming pool lined with walkways and shrubs. The scene was just missing the major element; the bare-chested boy, doing his chores.

I began planning his birthday special, in my head, which would begin with a shopping trip on Friday afternoon, followed by a ‘no expense spared’ night for him to remember on Sunday.

I had already arranged to meet up with Staff tonight, in the evening after his return from the farm, as he called the estate. We were going Chinese at London’s best, Lee Ho Fook, just a few doors down from The Toucan, in Gerrard Street, in what London called it’s Chinatown’. Always a laugh for me as it only comprised maybe a dozen restaurants and compared to the Chinatown that I knew back in Sydney which spread for maybe 10 blocks and contained many Chinese businesses as well as restaurants, it bared no comparison. In fact Sydney had maybe four different locations that called themselves Chinatown, each one far larger than London’s.

Back when Michelin published its first-ever restaurant guide for London, after a 12 months study, the local establishment was shocked to discover that only 10 restaurants had earned one single star, of which only one was an English restaurant, plus 8 French and one ‘shock horror’ Chinese, Lee Ho Fook. Although instant fame had done little to improve the service level there, which was still the same and as brusque as ever. Still, the Cantonese fare was excellent and as long as you understood the cuisine and knew what to order, it was still a great meal. However definitely no cute young waiters to chat up!

We met at The Toucan, as always. Staff again asked me as to when I was going down for a visit again.

“You really must, young Jason is driving me mad. I have no idea what you did to him last time, but before he was always too shy to even come across for a drink let alone visit for any of our Saturday night drinking parties, although I often invited him, Then, you come down, invite him and he comes and I do believe stays over with you after the party. Now every time I arrive at the Pub I get quizzed ‘Is David coming this weekend?’ I keep promising soon, soon, but you must come, he pines for you.”

“Afraid they don’t exist there, they seem to have a staff requirement; to be over 40, and never to smile!” I explained.

We did so, after the usual mix of wonderful dumplings to start followed by steamed fish and a lobster from the wok. Then it was time for our essential visit to the flesh market that was The Apollo, although it was only Staff who was buying tonight. It was almost as if I had gone off sex, not really the case but anyway I would never take anyone back the night before a Tim day. Whilst he had never found me in bed with a girl when he arrived in the mornings, which he had probably looked forward to, also he had never found me in bed with a boy and I could not do that to him. No idea how he would react to that but I also had no wish to find out. My life was revolving around him, more and more, and whilst it left me feeling slightly constrained, overall I loved it.

Monday morning and the ritual that I had become to love, a little cautious tap on the shoulder followed by a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

As he took his usual spot on the corner of my bed whilst I sipped the coffee, I could sense that he wanted to tell me something, no doubt about some outrageous behavior of his over the weekend.

“No, my mate Toby always goes there and I went with him. It was scary but great. He knows everyone up there so we went to a strip club for free, all the girls fancied me.”

Probably a few guys as well I thought, but knew he would never have noticed.

Tim smiled, one that split his face and made his little dimple appear on his left cheek. Once again, I was captivated with this boy, his very English ‘peaches and cream’ complexion, ruby red lips, and shoulder-length fair hair that was almost becoming sun-bleached by his work for me being in the sun most of the day.

“Yeah, unreal! Toby knows everyone up there so we were able to see one for free.”

“What, you went to The Apollo in Wardour Street? Up the stairs from just a door at street level?”

“No, they were great. Toby knew many of them and they all wanted to buy drinks or us. We spent nothing!”

“No fucking way, they were all cool, I was talking to an old geezer at the bar who really knew his football, even said he knew Bobby Moore.”

“He certainly knows his football he is a director of a club in the Midlands.”

“He also likes spunky teen boys, but all he wants is for you to piss on him!”

“Always, he is just about the only mate of mine who always has cash in his pocket, he never tries to bludge on anyone.”

“Well, it sounds like it to me, how do you think he gets his money then, does he work?”

“Well, his money must come from somewhere. It sounds like the logical solution to me, he gets regular head jobs, maybe a little more, and always has cash as well”

“For the money, and probably enjoys it as well. That is one thing about sucking cocks, that boys usually do it better than girls anyway!”

Tim just looked at me strangely, trying to digest all this info. I knew I was on dangerous grounds but at no stage did he say the dreaded, ‘how do you know/”

He went off to start his chores, no doubt deep in thought. I was afraid that I had overdone it with too much heavy info but was relieved to see him do his look back and cheeky wave when he saw I was watching him about 15 minutes later, so all was OK.

“Then do it in a roundabout way, like say ‘I hear that guys up the West End pay boys to let them suck their cocks, is it true?”

“Whilst we are talking about money, what are you doing with all the money that you are now earning?”

“I give fifty quid to my Mum every week, the rest is in a jar in my bedroom.”

“Well, it is about time that you started to save seriously for your future, so take the money in that jar to the Post Office and open a savings account. What say I only give you cash twice a week and pay the third amount directly to your account?”

“Then bring the book on Wednesday so I can record the number to do the transfers. If you add to it from time to time and just let the balance grow then I may even add a bit extra sometimes on special occasions.”

He obviously liked the idea as he looked rather pleased with himself, a sign of growing up.

Wednesday morning, the same ritual but this time I was presented with Post Office Savings Book, showing a balance of three hundred pounds.

After my morning tumescence had died down, I slid out of bed, stripped off my jocks, dropped them in the laundry basket in the corner of the room, and walked past him naked as usual. It always amused me that his eyes darted down to check me out from time to time, the ever-curious boy. He himself was slowly also becoming more casual about his own nudity, yet not quite 100% as yet, although I have yet to do it, I am sure that if I now walked into the bathroom when he was showering, he would not freak out.

Down to breakfast, for me, just a cold drink for him, and then I took him into my office whilst he watched fascinated as I logged into my internet banking with Lloyds, entered the details of his account with the Post Office, and completed the transfer of 100 pounds for today’s wages, which I assured him was now already credited to his account.

“Any time you also make a cash deposit your book will also be updated with any direct transactions. Bring your book with you when we go into the West End, there is a Post Office just off Gerrard Street with many ATM’s, deposit machines and book update machines and I will show you how you can even do your banking at night.”

He nodded, but looked as if he did not understand. He went off to work whilst I stayed on the internet checking emails, balances, buying/selling orders, etc.

During the morning I called him in for a break and coffee, informing him that he was to meet Staff today at lunchtime. I had finally agreed to let Staff meet my wonder boy and he had promised to be on his best behavior, but I still had to prepare Tim for meeting someone so different from his life’s experiences so far.

“No, we often jokingly call him one but it is his father who is the Lord, Staff only becomes one when his father dies and the title passes to him. Then he also inherits all the lands of the estate as well, but he will then also inherit much responsibility for the people on the estate as well as sitting in the House of Lords. But don’t ask him any questions about that as it is all very personal.”

I think Tim was in awe of Staff even before meeting him. It was not long now and I expected him to arrive, I was even more nervous about that than Tim was.

Before he went back to work, I could see that he had something to say, he did.

“I am very confused, I asked Toby what you said and he agreed. He said he could introduce me to some guys in the West End who would give me fifty or maybe even one hundred quid to suck my cock. But I still do not believe what you said about Toby, it is just that he knows so many people up there.”

That solved the question for me, his friend Toby was definitely ‘on the game’.

“Just promise me that you will not go back there alone or with anyone else till I take you there in two weeks, OK?”

Tim was back skimming the dead leaves off the surface of the swimming pool with the long-handled net when I heard the doorbell chimes, the man had arrived.

A 5-minute house tour preceded our arrival on the rear patio where I waved to Tim to join us.

Staff grabbed Tim’s hand in an extravagant two-handed shake which was more of an excuse just to hold his hand. He looked him over from head to foot, honing in on the delightful bulge in the front of his cutoff denims.

It took Tim a few minutes to take this in until he recovered and replied cheekily. “You first, then David and I will follow!”

He ran off, Staff’s eye glued to his cute bubble butt in his tight shorts as he weaved between the chairs.

“Oh dear.” Was all he could say. “How do you keep your hands off that?”

The three of us went off to the usual location, the Cock in Hand, for another great lunch in the garden. There was a Toad in the Hole on today’s menu which both Staff and I ordered, Tim stuck to his simple fare with Fish & Chips, plus two pints and a Pink Gin for Staff.

“It is magic!” but Staff could not get away with that as Tim screwed up his face as if to say ‘don’t bullshit me.’

“No, they swirl a little Angostura Bitters around the glass before adding the gin.“

That seemed to satisfy him although he still obviously did not understand, perhaps when he sees them preparing the drink.”

We ate in comparative silence, the companionable silence often shared by friends who have nothing to prove to each other.

After lunch, we strolled back home. Staff was not impressed that he could not watch the undressing/dressing operation which was made worse by my comments about having watched it many times. He shook his head.

“That boy is just screaming out for a serious head job and you are depriving him of his moral rights.”

I just smiled as the boy in question returned downstairs in his tight cutoffs, grabbed the car keys, and went off to wash the car, his afternoon chore.

Staff and I enjoyed another quiet couple of drinks on the rear patio, When Tim finished his work, and reversed the dressing procedure, he joined us for a cool beer before setting off.

I agreed with Staff to go down to his ‘farm’ the next weekend, Tim looked as if he would have come as well if invited but that was not very convenient on this occasion as my weekend was already promised to Jason, which I already almost felt guilty about.

As we were going down to the estate on Friday, I had decided to drive down separately after spending the day with my working boy When he left, I had to promise to ‘tell him all about it’ on Monday. Well, I am afraid that it will not be a complete total story, no lies but much withheld.

As it was now after 4.00 that meant that I would not arrive in the village until early evening so I had arranged to meet Staff at the village Pub, where we could have a simple Pub meal with our drinks, during the evening.

I parked in the ample car park beside the Pub and had only just got inside the entrance doors when I was met by a smiling Jason.

“Yes, sorry but I have been very busy settling into my new house in London.” I could see Staff at his usual corner to the right of the bar, and a gaggle of boys on the far left near the dartboard. I dragged Jason to the middle of the bar section and bought a drink for him and me, not wanting him to have to go through the usual procedure at Staff’s corner, although at the same time I was not sure that Staff would do that with Jason knowing his connection with me. When we had our drinks, I motioned towards Staff’s corner but Jason just said ‘later’ and with a smile and a nod of thanks went back to the boys’ corner.

I joined Staff at his special spot, still amazed at the little brass plate embedded into the bar, ‘Staff’s Corner’. But as his father probably owns the property like most of the village perhaps it was not that surprising. \

Shepherd’s Pie was on the blackboard and both Staff and I ordered a portion. I had been standing with him for less than 2 minutes when one of the boys wandered across for the ritual grope and a beer. The quite attractive but rugged boy raised his glass as in triumph as he saluted his mates across the room, obviously the process was a ‘rite of passage’ among the boys.

Our snacks arrived and we sat on a pair of bar stools to enjoy it, and very tasty it was too. Just as we finished eating another boy approached. However. this one was very different, whilst he had a young face it was also hardened beyond his years, his demeanor was rather rough and threatening. This time Staff just grabbed a pint from the bar and put it in his hands, zero groping. The only greeting was a small nod and ‘Danny’. The boy accepted the beer with a nod, said nothing before returning to the other side.

“Beware of that one David, a real nasty piece of work, the town thug. In fact, his whole family is dysfunctional, without them the village police would have nothing to do. The old man is the only decent one, he is our village ‘blackie’ but even he can not control his rages when drunk, which is most Saturday nights.

Eventually, Jason wondered over to us but I noticed that he kept me between him and Staff. I bought him another drink and one for me and Staff.

“Not much, just working. Father became very sick and I had to leave school to start working. Life has not been easy.”

“I hope that you are going to join us for a drink later at the guest cottage?”

“For sure.” He replied with a grin as if thinking of what happened last time when he slept over afterward.

The evening soon passed, a continual parade of boys coming over for the ritual, most but not all of them cute, it seemed to make no difference to Staff, as all were treated the same. He knew every name, which was quite impressive, no doubt necessary for when he became lord of the manor. Soon it was time for the procession to the guest cottages. I noticed that there were no lights on in mine but the other one was well lit up, and it was towards that one we went after I had stowed my small bag in the first one. It was just a drop and run.

“I have decided to stay put here tonight as well, but in this one so as not to disturb you.”

. I just nodded and as we entered what was to be Staff’s cottage of the night and the party venue I was surprised to see a long table covered with a variety of food, hot and cold as well as the usual drinks table. Soon the boys began to arrive via a variety of transport, mostly motor-bikes some of which were definitely not road worthy and would not pass any inspection, more suited to use on the local paddocks. I also noticed that the thug Danny was among the arrivals and he seemed to have his share of hangers-on. I suppose most would be polite to the village tough, very wise.

Jason and I found a quiet corner and sat down with our drinks and a plate of food which we shared.

“So. what do you want to do with your life? I thought you had other plans from being just another farm boy?”

“I had big plans, always dreamed of becoming an architect but it was not to be.”

“That was never a problem, I was always near the top in my class, but when my father stopped working there was no money coming in and no money is no food, so it was my duty to start working and help.”

“See you are set for a good fucking night, Jase” with the accent on the ‘f’ word. I tensed but said and did nothing as Jason placed a restraining hand on my arm. Danny walked on by,

“He is a total arsehole, used to beat me up regularly at school, he is the village trash.” Jason explained.

“He got expelled from school for his bullying, now he just beats up little kids for their pocket money.” Jason added. ‘But he would never start anything here, too many farm boys with long memories and a few scores to settle.”

I needed a smoke to calm down so suggested that we go outside. Jason readily agreed, but when we went outside instead, I went to my own cottage where I could smoke if I so wanted to. Jason followed me without any hesitation. Inside we sat at the window on the other side away from the party, opened the windows, and lit up.

I placed my hand on his thigh and said “I hope you don’t have to go home tonight?’

After I replenished our drinks once, I pretended that I was tired from the drive down and suggested we ‘sleep’. Jason just nodded, we stood and crossed to the open bedroom door. Once inside we did not bother to turn on any lights, I started to unbutton his shirt and he followed suit with mine. The gentle undressing became quite frantic as clothes were just dropped to the floor and we rolled into the large bed. Much laughter and singing came from the cottage next door, but we had other entertainment in mind. The previous night we had spent together a few months earlier had taken the common format of a gay man and straight boy, with me doing almost all of the work. So, I was surprised when I kissed him lightly on the lips and he returned that with a wild passion, almost eating me. I slowly began to work my way down his chest with lips and tongue on my way to the usual target when he grabbed me and pulled me back up to the pillow. I had no idea what was wrong then he shocked me by himself sliding down under the sheets and using his mouth everywhere, Perhaps, he had been practicing with someone else or was just trying to copy what I had done last time. Either way, he needed a bit more practice, so after a few minutes it was my turn to pull him back up to the pillows, whereupon the kissing began again.

This time when I again moved down his body there was no complaints from Jason, just body twitches and little moans. We continued to alternate till we both exploded, then just remained cuddled up in a warm embrace, soon falling asleep with the party in the background.

During the night I awoke and we were still entwined, there was total silence, the party had expired, the only sounds now were the country ones of crickets, frogs, and mooing cattle. Moonlight lit the room as I had not had time to even close the curtains and could not be bothered to get up and do that now. As I thought of what bad luck had befallen this nice boy. I felt sad that his life dreams had been shattered, and decided to do something about that in the morning.

Sleep returned and it was almost eight o’clock when I next awoke. This time I played with his chest, running my fingers all over his taut country body. He blinked awake then closed his eyes again.

“Mmmmm,” was all I got in reply, which was probably more in response to my fingers walking all over his body.

“If you went back to school now after missing two months what are the chances of you passing you’re A Levels with enough marks to get into college?”

“It would take a bit of work but should not be a problem, but it is impossible anyway as the family still needs my wages, as little as they are.”

“Not charity, I was thinking of setting up a trust, maybe involving the estate and Lord Staffley and his office staff. We could pay all of your school fees this year and college next year as well as pay you a living wage. You would be the first recipient, with others in years to come”

‘That sounds incredible but I would have to talk about it with my father. How would it work?”

“No idea, I am still developing the idea in my mind, I will have to talk to Staff about it after breakfast. You can go home and discuss with your father, bring him back here if you want?”

That suggestion brought on another round of kissing but not so frantic as last night, just best friend style, although our hands were both exploring each other’s lower regions, so it was shower time, preferably together as that would solve everything.

Freshly showered and dressed we strolled next door where the front door was wide open. Inside was Staff only in his boxers surveying the wreckage.

“Perfect.” I replied, curious to see who the fourth member was. He soon emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Not bad, but a bit too rugged for me, definitely a farm boy. I was more than happy with my Jason.

By the time that the butler arrived wheeling a trolley covered with plates and warming covers, Staff was almost respectably dressed and we four sat down to enjoy country eggs, bacon, and beans with much crusty bread which we toasted on a toaster on a long extension from the nearest power-point. Even the butter and jams tasted of the country. A few inquisitive Angus calves came near to explore then ran away as if in a game,

After the two boys departed, I discussed my idea of starting a small trust with Staff. He thought it was a great idea and was sure his father would welcome and help with the admin. His father joined us later and was very much in favor of my suggestion, even to the extent of offering to match however much I was going to put in with his own contribution.

“We will always need the bulk of the local boys to stay behind in the village otherwise we will have to import labor for the farms, but there should always be an escape for those few who are capable of better. My lawyers can fix up the trust for you as a charitable one and then at least whatever we put in will be a tax reduction which I am sure you can use as can I.”

“Many thanks, Lord Stafferly, I very much appreciate your advice and help.”

Even after almost 4 years living in England, I still felt quite inadequate when speaking with the aristocracy. It always amazed me how the English public school system was so effective in turning out these pompous but very generous people, almost as if from a factory line. I had attended quality schools in Sydney, but my education and confidence levels were no match for theirs.

It was midday when Jason returned, his father in tow, but it was obvious that the son was in charge and would do most of the talking.

I explained briefly what I had in mind, and assured them both that all would be in place before the end of the coming week. I could see the hesitation with both father and son when I suggested that Jason return immediately to school, I guessed that financial woes were the main thing behind this and quickly stated that I was about to give Jason an advance to tide them over till all the mechanics were completed and guaranteed them that they would not be left without support no matter what. A very happy Jason, with a bunch of banknotes now in his pocket, and father departed. I could sense that Jason’s father was as little at ease in my presence as I had been in Lord Stafferly’s. Though no doubt he had no idea that his son and I had just slept together, and would be shocked if he were to discover the same.

Asked Tim, a weird question whilst giving me my early morning coffee and shoulder tap.

“Good morning Tim, and no they are all beef cattle not dairy, so no milking….careful or I will milk you.” That brought a frown that queried hidden meanings, but as is normal with Tim soon forgotten, or at least apparently so.

“And what did you get up to at the weekend, fighting after the football, deflowering more innocent maidens in East Ham.”

“I am not stupid, I never get in fights after the football and no, there are no innocent maidens left in East Ham anyway.”

That just created a self-satisfied smirk that suggested ‘probably yes’. After some more thought, he answered the original question.

“Saturday night was the Pub with me mates and last night just watching TV with my girl, her oldies, and little brother.”

Then it was time once again for our undressing rituals, me first, as I climbed out of bed and dropped my undies in the laundry basket and walked back past Tim, naked, on the way to my morning shower. Back in the room, I dressed and Tim started his showtime. Now as he is more relaxed with our habits, he actually faces me as he undresses, though not when removing his briefs. But it is enough time for me to perv on the perfect bulge in the front of them, for a minute or two.

Tim faces me and with a very serious face asks a question that totally floors me.”

“If we are going out on Sunday night I assume that we will be drinking and probably finishing late, then I have to get up early Monday morning to come back here to work?”

I assumed that he was going to suggest giving Monday’s work a miss, no problem for me, another birthday treat.

This was followed by total silence on my part, just the cogs going around in my fogged brain. He knows full well there is only one bed, he is sitting on it now, or does he have some crazy idea about sleeping downstairs on the couch?

That was the end of the conversation, all settled, it was just that I was left with a brain that was in overdrive, was he really going to sleep with me, knowing full well that sleep really meant sleep, not anything else. That would be a birthday present for me, even if a few months early…wow!

Downstairs I took my usual position, with the morning paper which Tim now also bought for me on his way in the morning, a meager breakfast, and yet another cup of coffee. I kept stealing glances at the boy at work, and only occasionally was caught out and when he did so, I received the usual smile and wave that made my heart flutter.

I had a business meeting at Lloyds in Richmond this morning so I left some notes on the counter for Tim to get his lunch anywhere he liked, and called him in to explain. I had originally lived in Richmond when I first arrived in London and had never bothered to change the branch of my bank

“There is no parking in the city, better if I drive you there and then come back to pick you up.” The boy said, hopefully.

“Only one problem with that, you do not have a license. And in any case, my bank is in Richmond, not the city”

Richmond is almost rural and I enjoyed the place very much. I was also looking forward to having lunch at the little French café, called simply Le Café, where I used to dine regularly. I also remember many evening walks along the river bank and the occasional clandestine meetings that resulted in 5-minute frantic, mutual gropings, and the resultant physical releases that followed.

On the drive to Richmond I rehearsed what I was going to say to Bob Gateley, the bank manager. I also thought about James the young Teller that I had met on one of my evening strolls before taking him home for a pleasant sojourn that led to a drink and some level of mutual satisfaction to follow.

Arriving in Richmond I parked the Audi almost in front of the bank and went inside. The first person I saw, behind the teller’s window, was James, looking very efficient and very sexy, we waved to each other. As there were no other customers at the time I went to the window.

“Long time, no see. I am here to see Bob, what time do you knock off for lunch?

My business with the manager was very straightforward, I had no cash flow problems but with a couple of possible investment projects possible in the near future I was seeking emergency backup to which Bob readily agreed. I was offered ten thousand on call, and up to fifty with some script as security. Any more would need a full application. More than enough cash for what I had in mind with the Trust problem for Jason. I knew I had been one of Bob’s prize new customers and the sale of my business had netted the bank quite a bit of income and new business, no doubt earning merit points for Bob

As I departed from Bob’s office, I nodded to James who nodded back motioning towards the front door.

I waited on the footpath outside for James to join me and then we strolled together the 200 metres to Le Café.

The menu had not changed from the first time I ate here almost 4 years ago, so old favourites were ordered, Foie Gras followed by Duck Confit. James preferred the Smoked Duck Breast with plum sauce and I wanted the Sea Bass. Even though I was driving I chanced my arm and ordered a bottle of Sauvigon Blanc, which we shared

We sat adjacent rather than opposite each other and I found my hand regularly patting and stroking James’ thigh, and wanting to do more, Shame I no longer had my Richmond house, but we made loose arrangements about James visiting at Mayfair for a West End weekend sometime in the future.

On my way back to London, still feeling quite horny after meeting with James, I decided once again to stop for a look at that little room behind the Pub off Kings Road. But when I turned the corner to seek a convenient parking spot that side of the road was blocked with a police black maria, its rear door opened and a couple of policemen escorting a line of rather subdued looking men into the rear of it, no doubt caught with their pants down, so to speak.

I blessed my good luck and narrow escape, how embarrassing that could have been. So a drive home to Mayfair and my Tim.

It was the Friday of Tim’s birthday weekend, and the start of what I had planned. Lunch today was to be at the Hard Rock Café, followed by a shopping trip.

Mayfair, only an American could select this place for an outrageous hamburger joint. Only a five minute walk from home, just behind Park Lane and some of the snobbiest and expensive hotels in the world.

I had told Tim to wear his best jeans rather than his regular skinhead gear of Staypress, Ben Sherman and Doc Martins, and he had done so, although he said he had borrowed them from his mate, Toby. He looked so respectable and as cute as ever,

His surprise as we arrived at the jazzy entrance, with music from inside blaring was total.

“It is certainly not a Wimpy Bar.” I replied referring to England’s horrible hamburger chain.

Meat Loaf was in full cry as we entered and were shown to a table….’I’d do anything for love, but not that!’ He wailed, the mind boggling at the possibilities.

Tim was fascinated by all the guitars on the walls, supposedly having been owned and played by famous rock musicians. The same with the many Gold records displayed from great rock LP’s. ,The music kept blasting out, loud but with a quality of sound that made it quite bearable, as Tim had originally said, it was just like a high class disco,

Our ‘server’ this time was Barry, an acne-scarred teen and no great beauty. After perusing the menu it was decided.

We would share a plate of Ribs then a Cheeseburger for me and one with bacon and cheese for Tim. I talked him into having a Strawberry Iced Daquiri, for me a glass of wine. He seemed to enjoy the cocktail after the wide-eyed surprise of its arrival, but then quickly followed that with a simple beer, as simple as anything can be at the Hard Rock where they even try to sell you the glass to take home.

The ribs should have been from KFC, as they certainly were ‘finger licking good’ and received a very hearty thumbs-up from Tim. The size of his burger when it arrived also took him by surprise, even more so when I showed him how to add the relishes to it. He made a total mess of eating it as bits kept slipping out, his hands seemed to be covered by more than went in his mouth, but eventually, all had been eaten up.

Out in the warm air after the freezing air-con, and paying more than a hundred pounds for a burger lunch, we were seeking a taxi to take us shopping. I was taking him to Harrods, which he was not sure about.

“Why not Marks & Sparks or C & A?” he inquired about the working man’s stores.

They also have the most tourist shoppers, I think they outnumber the locals about ten to one. I wanted to buy him a set of quality clothes he could wear whenever I took him out anywhere, telling him that he could always leave them at my place as he would probably never wear them in East Ham. That he was happy with but was not yet sure about what I was going to dress him in, or try to.

First, some nice linen slacks, form-fitting, not overly tight but not loose or baggy either. The choice of colour was the first stumbling block. I preferred the light blue or steel grey, he was after a rather drab khaki. We settled on the steel grey. Then I got him a nice black patent leather belt, some pastel shade shirts, sky blue and lemon, a sleeveless vest to match his trousers and a pair of black leather loafers. He was not sure about the tassels on the shoes but eventually nodded OK.

So loaded with boxes and bags we returned to the front of Harrods and took a taxi even though we were only about 10 minutes from home.

Back at the Mews, once again sitting on my bed, the floor show began, as all was unpacked and the ensemble tried on. We agreed on the blue shirt for Sunday night, and all was done. I gave him one end of my hanging space and then it was time for the boy to go home, this time I gave him a little hug at the front door, which he did not seem to mind, as he thanked me for all. It had been worth it just to see his face as he surveyed himself in my full length mirror.

Friday night at the Toucan and I was reliving the afternoon’s shopping experience with Don.

There was no way I was going to tell Don about the Sunday sleeping arrangements, that was too personal, and out of place in this West End where everything was ‘quid pro quo’. However it was almost impossible for me not to be thinking about it, and what it meant.

Then Staff arrived and I went through it all again. Staff was more understanding and seemed to sense my deep feelings for Tim, or Timmy, as I thought of him. If I ever called him that he would scream.

Even the sight of Staff’s Stephen at The Apollo did not excite me, there was no way I was going to take anyone home with me tonight. Of all the boys who I had taken home from the West End over the past 4 years Stephen was the one that I loved waking up next to most, in the mornings. I had even thought that it would be possible for me, not for him, to actually live with him, so at peace I always felt. But this was Tim’s weekend and no one, or thing, was going to spoil it!

An early night and then Saturday night I went to the cinema to keep myself out of mischief.

As arranged Tim arrived mid Sunday afternoon. I had offered to come to pick him up in the Audi, but after some consideration he declined. After a cold beer downstairs at the nook, I suggested a swim, eventually he agreed but not to skinny dipping. He wore his undies as I had also bought him a pack of hipster briefs so he could wear one of them tonight. So, me in my Speedos and Tim in his red jocks, were soon splashing each other in the pool. A wrestle in the corner resulted in his briefs being pulled down and after a long look upstairs to make sure that the Major and his wife could not see anything he removed them then attacked my Speedos, which came off without a fuss. A few bare assed laps were completed and we were done, draped in large towels poolside, where another cold beer was consumed.

Ah, the simple joys of life, I was in heaven. I had the money to be anywhere in the world at that moment but I was exactly where I wanted to be, sitting beside my wet shivering boy. We went upstairs to shower and dress for the night out.

By taxi to Gerrard Street and we were mounting the stairs to The Toucan for our pre-dinner drinks. After the signing-in of Tim in the Visitor’s Book we approached the bar. Being so early in the evening we were the only customers. Just as well, as Don treated Tim almost as royalty. I just stood back and smiled at the role-play being played out.

“And what would you like before your dinner, sir? A nice cocktail, a glass of champagne?”

“I think three glasses of champagne royale would be perfect.” I interjected.

Don reacted quickly, a nice bill so early in the night was rare, so a bottle of Moet was opened with much panache. Tim was goggle-eyed. Three tall champagne flutes were filled and topped with a dribble of Cassis, before the bubbles were added, we raised glasses and wished the boy a happy birthday. The bubbles went up his nose and he sneezed, we all laughed. Tim had only drunk less than half of his drink when I had finished mine and I could see he was struggling so I ordered him a beer, swiped his glass. and finished it. He pretended to look angry, then smiled a thanks.

“Keep the rest of the champers till later Don, for an after-dinner treat.” I joked, which brought a bit of a scowl to Tim’s face having thought that the champagne bit was all over, which it probably was.

Mario’s was very full, and the waiters were rushing everywhere. I was met by Antonio as usual, who looked very serious.”

‘I am afraid that upstairs has a private function tonight so I will put you downstairs.”.

I looked around and frowned, not happy in forcing Tim to sit shoulder to shoulder in such a foreign environment for him, and considered where else we could go.

“Well maybe you could use your usual table if you can completely ignore the private party.

We were led upstairs and to my small table by the window over Gerrard Street. I had expected the private party to be a large occasion but in reality it was just one long table spread across the room with ten or so men at it. However there was much raucous laughter and I was soon to find out why.

Tim took the window seat so he could watch the party, I had my back to them but could soon recognise one voice, that of famous comedian Kenneth Williams who was walking around behind the other guests making lewd comments both about them and their old waiter, Vincente. It was obviously someone else’s birthday party too.

He relaxed and put the menu down. For his sake I ordered a bottle of white wine slightly sweeter than I normally would. We started with two pasta dishes to share, a Ravioli and a Lasagna, followed by Osso Bucco for Tim and Scallopini for me. Then we settled back to enjoy the show trying not to laugh out loud.

The food came and was hungrily devoured, I explained Tim’s main by grabbing his thigh and pretending to chop through it. He loved the food though he was reluctant to dig the marrow out from the bone as I had suggested, then I ordered the luscious Zabaglioni for dessert, which completely knocked him out, licking his lips even after he was long finished.

Then it was time to pay the bill and return to Don for more drinks before my final treat for the night for the birthday boy.

When we told Don about the show at Mario’s, he exclaimed, “The queer comic. So. what is next on the boy’s birthday night?”

“What will be the star of the night, prime seats at Raymond’s Revue Bar.” I explained.

“Raymond’s is probably the best strip-tease in Europe, and nothing like the

cheap version you saw with your friend Toby. This one has the real tease aspect.”

Tim did not understand but was more than willing to go to another strip club.knew

After two drinks each, it was time to go to Raymond’s. We went back down the stairs to Gerrard Street and walked to the rear, towards Soho. As we passed the main Post Office I asked Tim if he had brought his book as I had suggested. He had and I took him up to one of the ATM machines that handled deposits. I showed him how to use his card to make a deposit and gave him a twenty pound note for the exercise, then I showed him how to update his book in another machine which printed all of his latest transactions. I glanced at it as he withdrew it and was pleased to see they were all deposits, no withdrawals, what a good boy I was very pleased!

As we approached Raymond’s I could see that Tim was becoming a bit apprehensive, more was to come when we went inside The stage was a large half moon that was surrounded by two rows of large lounge like chairs. Ours were numbers one and two on the left of the stage. We settled into them, just a few feet from the edge of the stage on which a large bed was centre piece. The 5^th act was the star of the show and the one that I had read about, a young black girl from the USA. She appeared wearing a large white ‘mink’ coat covering her skimpy dress. She slowly removed each garment using first the coat and later a white stole without actually displaying any flesh, always using the cover to hide what she was doing, a classic strip ‘tease’. Only at the very end of her act, under the ultra violet lights which showed up her black body and the white stole, did she actually stand completely naked and then only for a few seconds. Much applause greeted her finale and the show was all over.

Back outside on the street there was a bit of nip in the air and it was time for a taxi home.

As we entered and Tim reset the alarm, I was not at all sure of what to do or what was going to happen next. I knew that I was not going to do anything to spoil what had been a perfect night.

“Had enough to drink?” I asked to cover my hesitation. Tim just nodded so I led the way to my bedroom, still very uncertain. I tried to act as natural as possible, suggesting that I was very tired, and started to strip off. Tim showed no hesitation and also stripped off placing his clothes carefully over the laundry basket, so he obviously expected to share the bed. After using the bathroom I climbed into bed on the right- hand side, holding the bedclothes up to invite Tim to join me, which he did without any murmur of discontent. I knew that I must not do anything to spoil what had been a perfect night but at the same time I wanted to make contact in a friendly way, so I gently placed my arm on his chest just tapping him with my fingers.

I had left my arm lying across his chest, knowing that I should remove it, but he said or did nothing so I left it there. After a few minutes of total silence, the only noise a distant siren from Park Lane, he said. ‘Well?’

At this stage I was frozen, many thoughts went through my mind and all were discarded.

The little bastard had a memory like an elephant, but did he really want me to suck his cock, I still was scared that it was all a misunderstanding, so I was too scared to make any move.

Eventually, I let my hand very slowly move down across his stomach. There was no adverse reaction as my hand approached his undies. I hesitated for a moment and then let my hand move further down only to discover a very strong erection which my hand was soon wrapped around. With no scream of abuse I quickly went inside and held the hot flesh which twitched in my hand. I now knew that this is what he had planned all the time, and I knew what he wanted me to do.

After just playing for a few moments, it was time for the main event, I slithered down in the bed under the covers and positioned myself between his legs. As I leaned forward and took him in my mouth he let out a soft moan. That only egged me on and I set about giving him the ultimate head job, or as good as I was able to, using as much suction as possible. The constant murmurs of appreciation coming from Tim suggested that I was doing what I intended. His noises became louder and more insistent so I knew he was getting close. I held the head of his cock in my mouth and just played with it with my tongue then slurped all the way down to the bottom of his thick shaft. That was all it took, the eruption was major as he thrust upwards for extra effect, his cries now were almost of anguish.

Grabbing a handful of tissues from the side table, I cleaned him, his erection showing no sign of subsiding, in fact it still bucked in my hand from time to time, a very horny boy!

I knew that this time now was not the time for any words, I only hoped that in the morning things would not be awkward. I resumed my position in bed with my head just inches form his on the pillows, my right arm still draped across his chest. In the quiet I began to worry that things may change and our previous carefree friendship would be no more. Then I heard his breathing descend into a deep sleep. No self-conscious boy here, so I also let myself fall asleep, but with a smile on my face.

I awoke mid morning and immediately panicked as the bed was empty. However, his clothes were still draped over the laundry basket, so maybe he was only in the bathroom.

Minutes later the smell of coffee was in the air as he returned to the bedroom carrying a small tray, my Long Black coffee and a plate of toast, which he placed on my side table moving the tissue box that had been so handy last night. He with his usual cheeky smile on his face, just wearing his tight jockey shorts, bulging at the front. What a way to be awoken in the mornings. I think I am in love!

That seemed to satisfy him. back at the house we headed straight to the bedroom, me for a short nap and to once more watch the amazing striptease. What I really wanted to do was to just grab him when he was only down to his jocks, and hug him onto the bed, but not to be. Instead I closed my eyes and revisited the night before in every detail not even daring to hope that the finale would be repeated next Sunday. Thoughts that promised to haunt me for the next seven days.

Two hours later and he was again in the bedroom, stripping off for his after work shower. I longed to go in and join with him, but was not prepared to do anything that could spoil what we already had. He returned, toweling himself vigorously. Now not shy about his nakedness, and I tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare. Such beauty and perfection was a sight to behold. I asked him if he wanted today’s money in cash or transferred to his bank?

He tapped his back pocket where his bulging wallet was ruining the perfect lines of his cute bum and said.

When I heard the front door click shut, I rolled over and hugged the pillow, pretending it was my Timmy. I thought about my upcoming evening; both Don and Staff will be expecting a ‘ball by ball’ description. They will just have to do with a very general one, but my constant smile will give the game away.

“Only just.” I answered. “ I am afraid, Don, that I am totally and completely in love. And now I know, that is for the first time in my life.”

”Completely!” I agreed, with a smile of satisfaction that told the story, without words.

Don dropped his ‘álmost jealous’ face, replacing it his more normal ‘happy money’ one, and complied.

I laughed and joked with my friends but my heart just was not in it. What I really wanted to do was to go home. Somehow I lasted through the emptying of the Moet, and one whiskey at The Apollo before apologising to Staff and departing for home and an empty bed.

Another day and a half before I am once again would be awoken, with the smell of youth, what a drug!

Every second Sunday became a ritual. I planned them carefully so as to widen Tim’s appreciation of the many wonderful cuisines of the world, some worked, some sadly failed. Although he tried hard, he found it impossible to master the art of using chopsticks so I reluctantly left out many of my Asian favorites.

No matter where we dined it had to be followed with a visit to The Toucan, afterward. Don spoilt the kid almost as much as I did.

However, the most important thing he did was to treat him as a mature adult. Tim revelled in the attention and respect, and in return, acted like one, albeit without losing his boyish charm, smile and occasional cheekiness.

His introduction to the theatre was a night at The Rocky Horror Show at the Essoldo. Thereafter, whilst mopping the terrace he would be doing The Time Warp.

An evening at Oliver, and he was captivated with The Dodger, so it was Pick a Pocket or Two or Consider Yourself, both performed with Dodger’s little skip dance. Tim’s natural East End accent did the songs proud, all songs were sung with the mop becoming his dance partner. Actually when he sang softly he had quite a beautiful sweet voice, but when he tred to belt out a number he went off key and totally lost the tune. I told him his voice was best suited to singing love songs but he said that was too sooky!

After our evenings out we always returned home and bed. He was so relaxed that he did not even mind when I wasted the first ten minutes, just locking him in a warm cuddle. I never wanted to fall asleep. He seemed to totally accept what we did in bed, even to the extent of attempting some reciprocation, slowly at first but forever becoming more bold and affectionate.

No more trips to Staff’s country estate [poor Jason, although I received regular updates]. Sasha dropped many hints but no invitations ensued. My whole life just revolved around my Timmy. I had never been happier nor more content.

It is Monday morning. It was one of the other weekends, a football one. Tim had watched his beloved West Ham host Man United and I had gone to Stamford Bridge to see Chelsea totally destroy Leeds. I awakened and checked my bed side clock, 11.00! No morning coffee and worst still, no Tim!

Thinking that he must be sick after too much celebrating West Ham’s upset win over Man U. but still surprised that if so he had neither called nor got his mother to do so?

So, I struggled out of bed and down in the office, I called him. The phone rang for a long time, then a lady answered.

A silence then a scream and the sound of the handset being dropped, then more silence with distant chattering in the background.

I had no idea of what was going on, but I held the phone to my ear and waited. Eventually a man with a deep voice answered the phone, asking who I was?

I explained and he said. “ I am afraid I have very bad news, our Tim is dead!”

Man U supporters came in, seeking revenge for the thrashing their team had just received on the pitch. Evidently it spilt over to the outside car park. We were told that Tim was trying to distance himself from the melee but his Hammers football jumper and scarf told who he was. Some scumbag with a knife chased after him stabbing him in the back, it went straight through to his heart.

I was distraught with the shock, and only partly heard the details of the intended funeral for the coming Friday, and offering to help with the expenses. Afterward I sat at my desk in my almost naked state, and the tears flowed, and flowed. I went back to bed and sobbed into my pillow, still unable to believe that I would never see my boy again.

“You must get away from there. You are welcome to go down to the farm for a few days, or for as long as you wish?”

“Thanks Staff, but with the funeral on Friday I will stay here. I really just want to be alone for now. After that I will go away for a few weeks, somewhere such as Barcelona, which I like very much, where I will not be reminded of him everywhere I look ”

Now the terrifying thought of attending Tim’s funeral hit me. It would be impossible for me not to go, yet I dreaded making a fool of myself and doing anything to discredit his memory. Definitely a place for dark sun glasses, irrespective of the weather.

The dreaded day arrived, The man I had spoken to before had been Tim’s uncle, his mother’s brother Alex. We had talked again a few times since and I had arranged to cover all the costs, knowing full well that the family had little.

Now the moment I feared was approaching as I left in the Audi. I knew the address but I had never been there before, my many offers to drive him home had always been politely declined. I had assumed that he was not that proud of where he lived in a simple council house,

Arriving at the street, it was easy to see which house it was, due to all the people in front of it. I parked and approached. The short path between the footpath and the front door was lined with three boys on either side, dressed in football gear, West Ham of course, like a guard of honour. At the front door was another boy dressed normally in Tim’s style. When I walked down the path, between the two rows of boys, and stopped in front of him, he held out his hand.

We exchanged a warm and friendly handshake, and it was obvious that he was going to look after me. I was almost dragged inside. It appeared that the downstairs consisted of just two very small rooms, both with doors off the hallway that stretched from the front door to the small and very bare and basic kitchen. There were people in both rooms, Alex came to welcome me, whispering that Tim was in the front room. At first it did not register, then it hit me. An open coffin to pay your respects! I knew that was an impossibility for me to carry out without freaking out. I was holding onto Gary for support as we finished up in the kitchen. Gary picked up two cold beers from a large bucket and handed one to me. I looked around feeling helpless, and for an escape asked Gary if we could go out to the rear of the house where I could smoke. We did so and found a rough wooden bench on which to sit. The back yard was even smaller than mine, a rough outside toilet with a slab of concrete beside it, above a water pipe and battered shower head. No wonder Tim loved the hot shower at my place.

I had a feeling that Gary was just as shook up by the events of the day as I was. We had a job ahead to support each other.

“He was my best mate. All my life, our birthdays were only weeks apart. They say we used to go off to early day school holding hands, always crossing any road together, After school we were at either here in his house or next door at mine. I have eaten here, and slept here, as many times as he has at mine. It wasn’t till high school that anyone else joined with us. Then Tim and Toby became friends, and we had to share him. Two years later the bitch arrived and she would share him with no one.”

It dawned on me that I had not been the only person to have loved my Timmy. This Gary promised to become a soul mate, we would have to support each other.

“We are moving down to the church now. I did not ask you to be a pall bearer as with Tim’s football coach, me, and some neighbours we have the six that we need.”

Thankful for small mercies, as I could never have done it anyway, I held on to Gary as we began to re-enter the house. As we did so I could see the coffin being carried on six strong sets of shoulders, out through the front door. We passed through the boy’s guard of honour once more. No frivolity now as a few of the boys’ seemed to be on the verge of tears themselves, the enormity of the occasion finally sinking in with Tim’s body passing so close to them. The church was only on the next corner, the street was lined with neighbours and friends, some women weeping, and others; men, women, boys and girls with tear streaked faces.

I hate funerals, and this one was going to be my worst ever. The English are famous for their stiff upper lip, I am afraid mine trembles with emotion at the best of times. My only way to get through the next hour was to tune out and not listen. Gary and I took up a position on the rear-most pew, just inside the front door.

As the organ played and the service begun I grabbed Gary’s hand. He was not embarrassed by my action as he grabbed mine back with just as much pressure. We needed each other.

The service seemed to go on forever, but finally it came to an end. The eulogies almost brought me totally undone. Gary and I slipped out first and I went over to make sure that all the food snacks and booze that I had ordered had arrived for the wake. I intended to slip away as soon as it was possible to do so. I thought of the problem of leaving poor Gary behind to cope, and suggested that we escape together. He readily agreed, looking very relieved with my offer. I had not thought it out, I was just aware that he was suffering as much as I was and alone. For him, after I left, it would be much worse. After all he was Tim’s life-long best friend.

I had nothing planned, just that I wanted it all over and to be out of there, doing it as nicely as I possibly could. I also knew it would be cruel to leave poor Gary there alone after we had been supporting each other.

After saying goodbye to Tim’s mum and uncle Alex, I slipped away with Gary right behind me. I am sure that no one else was even aware that we were gone. We both got into the Audi, and I was at a loss of what to do next. All I wanted to do was t go home, so I headed in that direction telling Gary I would show him where I lived. He was so happy to be out of that funeral atmosphere that he would happily have gone anywhere.

I left the car in front if my garage as I knew that I had t take Gary back home, later. I had not thought it through. Gary was knocked out by my place, particularly the bar downstairs and the swimming pool. Even when he started asking me what had Tim’s job consisted of, I did not twig. He said.

“Eventually.” I replied. “Tomorrow I go to Spain for 3 weeks or so and when I get back I will think about it.”

Trying to think on my feet, I replied.”That is a possibility, let’s catch up when

This was not the time to think about replacing Tim with anyone, but I also knew that in a very short time Gary and I had been very good for each other. He was quite a cute kid and whilst he was certainly no replacement, he would make a pleasant substitute.

We settled down on the terrace, with cold drinks, cigs and cigars, and tried to relax for the first time that day. I sat so that I was facing indoors, leaving the swimming pool view to Gary, as I knew that if I looked that way, the image of my lost baby would soon appear.

As the sun went down, I realised that it was only fair to feed the boy. I was not in the mood to cook and taking him to a restaurant seem inappropiate, so I settled on the Cock in Hand for my first ever evening visit.

I was not that hungry so just ordered a Ploughman’s Lunch, even though it was dinner time. I was surprised that Gary seemed very open to suggestions and had questions about many of the dishes, settling for the Steak& Kidney Pie, which he devoured in quick time. A couple of drinks with the food and it was back home again. This time we sat at the bar, Gary being mesmorized by the lit-up swimming pool. When I offered a swim he admitted that he could not swim, an amazing fact for me as in Australia everyone can swim as it is compulsory to learn in school.

It could be fun to teach him one day, certainly not now when half drunk. I also realised that I was in no fit condition to drive him home and in any case the thought of going back there was not pleasant.

“Can’t I stay here?”he pleaded with a look of almost terror on his face. No doubt the thought of returning was as bad for him as it was for me. But Gary staying here, sleeping with me, was not what I had in mind, as pleasant as it may be.

How could I say no after what we two had endured that day, so I reluctantly agreed.

Another drink and we had both had enough. I could put it off no longer so I led him upstairs. I felt guilty sharing a bed with Tim’s best mate, even though nothing was going to happen. We both undressed a little shyly, and crawled into bed. I gave him a small hug and he returned same with a firm grip, almost as if he was scared of the dark

“Tim and I used to often sleep together too, but it all stopped about two years ago, when Daisy came on the scene. She hated me, I think she knew that Tim and I shared many secrets that she knew nothing about.”

In the morning it hit me; I had just slept with a very cute teenage boy all night, and had done nothing, even though I had sensed that he my have liked to. Definitely a first in my life!