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Prologue
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.
1. Normal Life
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.
The train fills rapidly as we stop at each station, obviously many
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.
Directly in front of me was a young man in a smartly tailored suit. To me, he
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.
I think I was born ‘cockeyed’.
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.
“Is this bed free?”
“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.
“Your first time here?”
“Yes, not really sure what to do, or where to go”
I leaned across to him and held out my hand.”My name is David.”
“Andy, pleased to meet you.”
“Just relax and I will show you around later, and explain everything”
The boy visibly relaxed.”Many thanks, that will be great.”
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.
I turned my hand around and gave his bulge a little squeeze.
“I bet this thing gets much work?” An inane comment, but what can you say?
“I wish. Very little.” Was the whispered answer.
“So, it must be very horny?”
“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.
2.0 The West End
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.
“Evening Don!”
“David, alone tonight?”
“So far, let’s just say I am on the prowl.”
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.
“Where is the poofter tonight?”
“You mean Staff? You should not call him that.”
“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?”
“What a strange name, Staffers?”
“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”
“Is it true his father is a Lord?”
“Yes, I was invited down to their estate last year, quite impressive, both the vast estate and the life there.”
“Farm boys, yum.”
“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.”
“A cockfight pit in the backyard? Lunch in Mayfair, how grand?”
“No, just a small garden area where you can eat, drink, and even smoke.
“Any chickens?”
“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.
“David, how are you?”
“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?”
“He is most definitely my type, tonight or any other night!”
“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?”
“That would be wonderful, but this time you must let me pay?”
“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.
“Not with your usual friends tonight?”
“No, they are all here but the conversation is so boring, so childish, I escaped.
“What wild plans do you have for the evening?”
“He shrugged. “Nothing yet,” and then with a cheeky smile, “Open to offers, I guess.”
“Sounds good, by the way, my name is David.”
“Ivan, pleased to meet you Darvid”.
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.
‘Would you like another drink?” I asked Ivan.
“That would be nice.” He replied.
Then I had an idea. “Have you ever been to the Toucan?”
“I don’t think so, is it far from here?”
“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?”
“That sounds very interesting, I am always eager to find new places.”
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.
“What do you do for a living, Darvid?”
“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.”
With the ‘nice people,” I raised my glass to him.
“You think I am nice?”
“I apologize Ivan for being so direct but I find you not only nice but very fucking sexy!”
“Does that mean that you would like for me to come with you?”
“It would make my night complete.”
“I also think that would be very enjoyable, Darvid. I think I like you.”
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.
3.0 - Ivan
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.”
“How wonderful, I love it!”
“Do you want anything further to drink or something to eat?”
“Can I eat you?”
“What a great idea, lets go back upstairs.”
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.
All I could say was “wow!”
We lay side by side, but I was still breathing heavily.
“You like?”
“I love!”
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.”
“You mean that I can come here again sometime?”
“That is a yes, a very big yes!”
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!”
“Next time I will have a swim in your pool.”
“Then you will have to come over one afternoon and we can have a BBQ.”
“Fantastic.”
“You can even bring one of your friends if you wish, to make it a social occasion?”
Ivan looked serious and said “but then we could not play upstairs.”
I just laughed, and swotted his backside one more time.
“Sorry I can not do Russian breakfast, do you like English breakfast?”
“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”.
“So, what is your name?”
“Sasha.”
“How beautiful, it suits you, I love it.”
“You can call me whatever you like.”
“I like Sasha.”
“OK”
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.”
“What does your father do?”
“His business is oil and steel.”
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.
“Does your father know that you are gay?”
“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.
4.0 - Timothy
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.
What a day it would turn out to be?
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?”
“Yes, no 68?”
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.
“Are you looking for a job then?”
“Yes, they said they wanted a part-time gardener.”
“Are you a gardener, then?”
“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.
“My name is Tim.” He offered.
“David” I replied.
“So where do you live, Mr. David?”
“Just up around the corner, and just plain David will do.”
“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?”
“Sounds cool.”
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.
“So, when do I start?” He asked, with that cheeky grin.
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”
“That is too much just for carrying your shopping. You are very kind.”
“No problems, Timothy, so what do you prefer, Tim, Timothy or Timmy?”
“No way Timmy, My Mum calls me Timothy but all my friends call me just Tim.”
“OK just Tim, but what does your girlfriend call you?”
“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.
5.0 – Dinner with Staff
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.
“So, when is this Greek God of a boy coming into the Toucan?”
“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.
“So where are you two off to tonight?”
“Staff has very generously invited me to have dinner with him at Café Royal tonight, very special indeed.”
“Good to have friends!” So said a ‘sulking‘ Don.
“I have invited you to a lunch in Mayfair?”
“Will the new boy be there?”
“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.
“Unusual for Stephen to be working on a Saturday?”
“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..
“Lord Stafferly, how wonderful that you are dining with us tonight!”
“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.
“I think that the Dover Sole is rather good, sir”
“And tell me, did you catch it yourself this morning?”
“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?”
“I am still young, sir, no girlfriend yet.”
“Too young for sex? How ridiculous, I think I was about 12 when it all started for me, 1st 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?”
“That sounds perfect, the same for me Staff.”
“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.
“Would the Leuwin Estate from the Margaret River be satisfactory, sir?”
“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”
“Then at another time at a different venue, perhaps?”
“That would be nice, sir.”
I raised my glass to Staff in homage, the bastard had done it again.
The scallops arrived, on their shell, and were perfect as expected.
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 21st there, and quite a night it was too.”
“Were you as naughty them, as you are now?” I asked, as a tease.
“Compared to then, now I am an angel.”
“I dare not even think of what you must have been like.”
“I vaguely remember at my 21st 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.
6.0 – Tim’s 1st day.
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.
“You are early, sorry for my state of dress.”
“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?”
“My Mum made it for me. She would not let me leave till I ate it.”
“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.
“Did you bring some old clothes as I suggested?”
“Yes.” He replied, pointing to his small bag.
“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.
“That is disgusting, I will have to get you a Chelsea one.” I joked.
“No fucking way.” He replied with a big smile, the cheeky boy was back.
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.
We went out onto the terrace and I pointed out the BBQ.
“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 19th 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.
Tim now started to do the chores as I had set out.
*******
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?”
Tim just smiled and said “Great!”
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.
“You collect the food and I will get another round of drinks.”
Half an hour later the food was gone and we were finishing our drinks and 2nd smokes, very relaxed as if we were on holiday, which I guess I was.
“Good?” I asked.
“Fantastic.” He replied.
“Then back to work.”
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,
“Excellent Tim, it is almost like new.”
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.
“This much and lunch and drinks, that is too much!”
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.
Day one with Tim was over, I could not wait for Day two, and three, etc.
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David in Barcelona
