Date: Fri, 5 Jun 2015 16:39:24 +0100
From: tpickles <tpickles2@gmail.com>
Subject: Boy - Chapter 1

This is an erotic fantasy novel focusing around an adult-youth relationship
and written for my own entertainment. It's purely fictional. I'm not
endorsing or encouraging any of the activities that take place in this
story. As the reader, please be responsible for your own thoughts, actions
and activities.  This first chapter is relatively short and sets the scene
for the story that will follow in the next few chapters, several of which
have been written and will be submitted shortly. Please be patient: this is
an evolving story. Not everything happens immediately, nor quite in the way
you might expect ... but it will get there in time ... with some interesting
diversions along the way. If descriptions of male-male sex or adult/youth
relationships offend you, please leave now.

Enjoy the story. I'd love to hear your feedback, and suggestions for future
storylines. You can contact me by email at tpickles2@gmail.com. If you want
to see this kind of publishing continued, please support Nifty financially
with a donation to http://donate.nifty.org/.


CHAPTER 1

We were having coffee one morning in my sixth floor apartment in the city –
my friend Jo, and I.  It was one of those leisurely days when neither of us
had much to do, the sun was hot, we were probably going to have a swim a
little later in the pool, and maybe a beer with lunch.

"What this apartment needs is a maid to help look after it," I said.

"No, what you need is a male-maid to help look after the apartment and take
care of you," replied Jo in a way that only your best female friend who
knows you so well can do.

And that's how it all began.

---

I'd been living in this fairly laid-back south-east Asian city for two
years. Life was comfortable and relaxed. I loved the even, sunny
temperatures every day throughout the year. I loved the food and the street
life. I loved my escapes to the beaches and islands from time-to-time when
I needed some diversion. And I thrived on the local eye-candy, and the way
this gave me pleasure and the periodic opportunity for some horny fun.
Although I only admitted it to my close friends, I loved the appearance of
the local brown-skinned, young men and the tolerant, erotic, sexual charge
that seemed to permeate several aspects of the city life.

I'd moved into a great apartment on the sixth floor, at the top of the
building. There were two main bedrooms, and a third smaller room that could
also serve as another guest bedroom when needed. There were more bathrooms
than I could use on my own. Most rooms had large floor-to-ceiling windows
that I'd fitted with blinds, even though the apartment was not over-looked
and no-one could see in; still, the sun could get a bit intense in the
summer and the UV blinds gave some extra protection. I'd chosen this
apartment because its location gave me plenty of privacy. I'm not an
exhibitionist, though I do like to walk around without having to think too
much about clothes when I'm at home. The living room and master bedroom
both had balconies with outdoor spaces large enough for chairs, a table and
some screening plants. There's a rooftop pool and gym for when I need some
exercise. And there's discrete security that keeps the building quiet and
doesn't ask too many questions. All-in-all, I'm very pleased with my home.

A maid is not essential. Although some friends employ a daily maid, most of
the other apartments don't bother with one, or if they do, it's just for a
couple of cleans each week. What I had in mind was someone who could keep
the place clean and tidy, do the laundry, perhaps get in some shopping, and
sometimes prepare and cook some food for me and my guests. I definitely
don't want anyone who is in any way loud, messy, troublesome, or addicted
to their headset or their phone screen. A little bit of English would be
great – and the willingness to learn more. And a good smile. Well, maybe a
little more, since we're going to be spending plenty of time in each
other's proximity.

Jo and I made several attempts to draft a recruitment ad which we decided
to post on the local bulletin boards, and push around in shops and markets
in the neighbourhood. After quite a lot of joking, re-writing, and
laughter, we settled on:-

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maid required – male or female – by Englishman living in local apartment
Cleaning, laundry, shopping, some cooking
Own bedroom available
Must be clean, tidy, smart and responsible
Suit someone keen to improve their English
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

We distributed the card around several local shops and tied it to various
street poles and other places where it would catch attention. Over the
following week, we received around a dozen enquiries which Jo offered to
sort through. Some were simply impossible – school kids looking for money,
women wanting any free place to stay, a couple of students with limited
availability – and in the end Jo chose three applicants to bring to the
apartment for an interview.

The first man was in his thirties, nicely presented, reasonable English,
and very polite. He'd worked in upper-end hotels and restaurants. He'd just
lost his last job. He said he could drive and chauffeur as well as the
other roles we were looking for. He seemed quite formal. I wondered what it
would be like to have this man sharing my living space. It seemed more
likely that he would prefer to return quite quickly to the greater
opportunities offered by hotel work with a larger employer. He seemed
possible, but unlikely to stay.

The second person was a middle-aged woman who had clearly done a lot of
maid work for foreigners in the past. She talked about the different houses
where she'd worked, their guests and dinner parties, and some of the people
she'd met. She dressed in a way that seemed designed to appeal to men, and
her manner was somewhat over-friendly for a first encounter. She also
brought along her teenage daughter who didn't have much experience but
seemed to be on offer to us as well.  It was like covering two options – if
you don't like me, how about my daughter. The daughter was dressed in a
somewhat provocative and revealing way with a high skirt and cut-away top
revealing her small, young breasts. Although nothing was said directly, it
felt like this was a double proposition: me, my daughter, or both. No, not
at all suitable!

Finally, Jo said: "Well I have one more person on my list. No great
experience, but seems very willing to learn and fit in." She went to the
door and invited this casually dressed young male to enter. He was quiet,
respectful and demure. To begin with, I couldn't be certain of his age.
He'd finished school, but didn't seem to have really become a man yet. His
young-looking face and features were too fresh. He spoke quietly in a
simple English. He'd been living with his mother whilst he finished
schooling; he came from what he called a `good family'. He was very willing
to do all that we were asking, but he might need to be shown some things to
begin with. He was very happy to learn and wanted to improve his English
because this would help him in the future.

My eye was drawn down his body.  His clean white tee-shirt seemed to be
covering a slim brown-skinned chest; his black trousers were held up by a
neat belt, below which there was an attractive little bulge. I imagined his
genitals being kept in place by a pair of standard boy's briefs.  He said
he "would be no trouble" and "wouldn't be a problem" in the apartment and
he would "try to keep out of the way as much as possible". He said his
nickname was Boy and that's what everyone called him. As he turned to
leave, I couldn't help but notice the way his formal trousers stretched
across his cute adolescent bum.

After he left, Jo turned to me and said, "I can guess what you're
thinking". "What?" I replied, looking as blank as possible. "It's written
all over your face".

"Well, he seems a nice young man. But he doesn't really have any
experience".

"I'm sure he has some experience," she replied with a grin.

"And how does he rate compared to the other two-and-a-half?" she joked,
counting in the mother-and-daughter team.

"Well ... he might be an unknown quantity ... but I could always tell him to
go if he's no good."

"Right, so you want to ask him back then", she agreed.

And that's how Boy came to move into my apartment a few days later,
bringing with him a small case of clothes and a very old motorcycle, and
took up residence in my small third bedroom at the end of the corridor. And
that's when my imagination started to become more hyperactive.