****What would a kid under eighteen make of the title? Something about a car parker? If you are over eighteen, you are welcome to enter this strange world of servant and master and emerge still whole and healthy. Kids under eighteen, click off and go to the game area.
I admit that looking for a valet was strange in this modern world, but I needed one. I guess you could call me an orphan, if a twenty two year old who lost both his parents in one terrible car wreck. In two short weeks after the funeral I began to miss them terribly. You might say that it was natural, but I am an unnatural boi. I missed them because they tended to my every need and organized my life.
Dad was not around much. His presidency at the bank...and his girl friends, kept him busy. Mummy, with all that time on her hands lavished care and love on me. She bought my clothes. Straightened my room, cooked what I liked and doted on me. I loved being called "my handsome boy" and other endearments. I think I deserved them. I was, actually, a paragon of male beauty. My straight, thick brown hair was worn in a comb forward manner and my golden brown eyes were accented as was my perfectly shaped nose and full lips. From the neck down, I was no Green statue, but a daily session at the gym produced a fairly muscular body.
My looks may have been my best feature. I did poorly in school. As for social accomplishments, I never learned to dance. I was a dot with girls and not too interested in them. My sexual nature was very strong but expressed mostly in very creative masturbation.
I returned to the town house on West Seventy First Street, after the funeral. It echoed its emptiness. Within two weeks the kitchen was a mess and my room piled with clothes, dropped on the floor after one wearing. I was a slob, but a rich one. The will had left me with a handsome income from a trust.
My Aunt Wallace, not really an aunt, but a family friend, suggested I get a man servant to tend to me. The idea appealed, and I immediately phoned Webster Agency. They were the agency to go to. They specialized in servants for the wealthy, butlers, valets and upstairs and downstairs maids. When I outlined my requirements to the woman on the phone who spoke with a crisp British accent, she assured me that they will be able to eminently fulfill my needs from a graduate of their training school. I never thought there was such an educational institution. I spent four years at Princeton, learned nothing except how to hold my liquor and avoid the advances of some of the aggressive homosexuals there.
I received a call from the agency that they had selected three candidates for the job. One thing surprised me, the expected salary was large, about one thousand per week, but this was not for ordinary servants, these trained persons were experts on every facet of living, from furniture to wine and of course clothing styles.
I had to reject the first two candidates. The first was a dried up older man who, I think, disapproved of my young age and wealth. The second of was very experienced, but older, rather unattractive, used to serving in very wealthy home. I think he thought I would be a come down for him.
But the third applicant, of the three bears, was just a perfect fit. He announced immediately that he was not a "stuffy" man servant, but that he could mold himself to a young man's requirements. His background was not as sound as the others and I suspected his references were self written, but all doubt evaporated by virtue of his appearance. I must confess that I developed a crush on him by the end of the interview.
How can I describe him...the obvious was his appearance, thick curly blond hair that resembled those Greek statues at the Metropolitan. The face was also classic, but yet humorous and appealing. Though he was dressed in a severe black suit and black tie with a perfectly ironed shirt, his body triumphed over its formality and hinted of litheness and muscles. But it was his way of talking, soft and thickly mellow and the way his tongue moved as he spoke. He smiled easily, displaying perfect even pure white teeth.
I barely heard him as he spoke of his skills, massage, shaving, organizing the bath and his orderliness and awards for culinary skills. I knew he would change my life, bring order, feed me well and attend to my needs.
"James, you are hired."
He broke into a charming broad smile. "I have my bags in the hall. It may have been presumptuous, but I hoped. What is your preference for the way I should addressed you?"
"My name is George Nameford, but Sir will do fine."
"Yes sir."
It sounded wonderful, so respectful. I was delighted, especially when he said that he would spend the first few hours straightening up the house, then "pop" over to the fancy store on the corner and pickup some goodies for dinner.
I felt tired from interviewing and went into the sun room to nap on the chez. I awoke someone groggy. The afternoon light was dying. I must have slept two hours. I might have slept the night away but for a soft hand on my shoulder. I gazed into James's dazzling blue eyes. "Sir, do you wish to have a bath before supper, or perhaps a drink?"
I shook my head to clear it. "Yes a stiff Martini, omit the Vermouth. Bath later, I think. What's for dinner? I'm starved."
He describes the "simple" menu, "Lemon chicken, Indian flavored rice, peas, a small salad and my special parfait of coffee ice cream for dessert." Then, he looked at me up and down. "Sir, do you intend to eat dressed as you are?" His hand swept down my body like a searchlight, exposing my ripped jeans and tee shirt from a Grateful Dead concert.
"Well, perhaps tomorrow I'll dress appropriately for your cuisine, but for tonight, I'll stay as I am." I thought it clever of me to establish the boundaries of servant and master. I couldn't help noticing that James had changed into a black bow tie and a white mess jacket.
"In the dining room he had set a perfect table. It seemed lonely, even ridiculous sitting alone at the large table for twenty four. "Do you wish to join me, James?"
"Thank you sir, but it wouldn't be proper. Do enjoy the dessert that will ready in a moment."
The meal was perfect. I am not a connoisseur of elegant food, although I have eaten with my parents at the best New York restaurants. This meal was simple and perfect. When I finished, I'm afraid I emitted a loud burp. I excused myself, then immediately regretted my apology. Why should I even acknowledge it to a servant. James was somehow oozing elegance and that probably explained it.
"Do you wish to watch TV while I clean up the kitchen and then draw your bath?"
"That sound fine." I walked into the den, passing through the livingroom. I was amazed at the way he had cleaned the rooms and removed the litter. I got into my favorite leather chair and turned on a news broadcast. Again I slipped into a light sleep. I'm afraid all the good attention to my needs was making me regress to being a baby after the bottle.
Again it was James he woke me. This time, more intimately, with a gentle stroke on the cheek. "Sir, if I may say it, seeing you asleep like that, I couldn't help think that you are a very handsome fellow."
I blushed. I should not have. After all, wasn't he just a servant? He held out both his hands in a gesture of taking mine and helping me up. It was a kind move. I softened in appreciation and together we went upstairs.
My room, sitting room and bath were transformed. I don't think it had even looked so clean and orderly. The bathroom was gleaming. He turned on the taps, shook some bath salts into the water and returned to the bedroom where I was slowly undressing in a slow lazy fashion.
"What's that smell?"
"Bath salts, sir. I took the liberty of purchasing them from the drug store and charged it on your account. They will revive you, you'll see."
By this time I was fully undressed. To my annoyance, his eyes raked up and down my naked body. "Robe!" I said sharply and he took the robe that was draped on his arm and held it for me to put on. "Would you like a gentle massage before the bath?"
I hesitated. His manner was a bit seductive, but pushed that concern aside and agreed. There was a table in the bathroom and I took off my robe and lay on my stomach. He decorously covered my arse with a towel and began working on the back of my neck. It was excellent. I might have purred with pleasure. He didn't speak for the entire, short massage, but his hands were eloquent.
He worked his way done my spine, relaxing the muscles on each side, then, to my surprise, removed the towel and began kneading my buttock cheeks. I was about to object, but it felt so good. My muscles were tense back there. I relaxed my clinching of my arse cheeks. Suddenly he lightly slapped my arse. "Turn over please."
He assisted me with one strong hand on my hip. When I was on my back, I realized that my penis had erected from the sensuousness of his lubricated hands. I decided to assume of role of the arch master and expected my servant to ignore my seven inches of flesh, pointing upward.
"What a fine organ you have, Sir. If ever you feel that it needs stimulation, I am always glad to oblige. My last master insisted on my ministrations each message."
"No need," I said with a husky voice that surprised me. Secretly I was dying for that attention but I did not want to start of precedent. After some work on my chest, then my legs, he announced that the message was finished. I snapped awake, I had fallen asleep again. He must have thought that I suffered from some disorder since I had to be awaked thrice today.
He put his hand around my naked waist and gently steered me to the bath. He lifted one of my legs and placed it in the tub. "How's the temperature?"
"Perfect," I purred. He helped me to sit in the water.
"Shall I soap you up, sir."
I supposed that this was standard for a valet, but I had lways bathed myself, still,it it was tempting to be babied. "Yes, thank you."
He soaped a natural sponge and began. He was very gentle, so gentle, that my stiff cock remained up and bobbing above the water. "Kindly kneel," he requested. In that position he was able to soap my arse crack and then handed me the sponge. "I suppose you might wish to soap your genitals yourself."
I hesitated. "Oh, I see," he said with evident satisfaction, "Yu wish me to wash them."
I nodded, feeling a bit silly, childish for asking for this attention.
He proceeded. It was not as sexual as I feared. He peeled back my foreskin and cleaned the area diligently. The shaft was soaped. When he lifted my hanging ball sac and soaped behind it and then the sac itself, I think I closed my eyes in pleasure. He took water from the tube and splashed my genitals and even shook my penis to dislodge the water. These moves by James were quite delicious. I began to look forward to the daily baths.
He helped me out of the tub and diligently wiped my body, then he set out the tooth bush and began wiping the tube. When I had finished, he brought my pajamas into the bathroom. "I took the liberty of warming them."
I was about to say that I usally slept in my underwear bottoms, but I didn't want to seem uncoth so I donned them with his help. He guided me into the bedroom and there was my bed, perfectly made and turned down. I knew it was only nine o'clock and I usually retired about eleven, but the glass of warm milk at the bed and my sleepy eyes impelled me to slip under the covers, drink my milk and slide down under the fresh sheets. He arranged the covers over me and wished me a good sleep.
As I was slipping into a profound sleep, I wondered at my compliant nature, permitting this talented valet to make me so dependent on his services.
End Part One -beware of servants bearing gifts of comfort.-