Date: Thu, 18 Nov 2004 13:18:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Four The  Same, Part Ten

FOUR THE SAME    by Pete Brown    petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part Ten

My host kindly agreed to continue to look after Darren
on my behalf, and we agreed a further meeting in three
months time.  I was extremely reluctant to fly back to
London the next day, as my experience with Darren had
excited me - I had many plans for erotic
entertainments in my mind, using the four big slaves
and the still relatively slight boy, and it would have
been good to stay and bring some of them to fruition.
However, as you know, I'm a very hard worker, very
conscious of my responsibilities, and so instead of
taking a day or two of vacation and staying on to
amuse myself, I headed for home.

Those three months were such hard work, as I continued
to reshape the Bank and its management to my needs,
and in addition there was trouble with my wife!
Normally we never quarrelled, and I've told you how we
lived basically separate lives.  But her passion for
her garden was all consuming, and in my new position
as Chairman, she reasoned that more could now be spent
on landscaping a further vast area of the land we
owned (I'd taken the precaution when acquiring my
country house of buying the farm land that surrounded
it so that our privacy could be maintained and no
developer could ever build there).  Her plans were
totally unreasonable, as she wanted to turn a further
ten acres of the farm land into landscaped gardens,
with terraces, walls, pools, pathways and so on,
leading down to the sea from our house on top of the
cliffs.  It was a vast - and expensive - undertaking,
as I explained to her, and although I was now earning
even more than before, such a vast increase in the
gardens simply could not be financed:  even if we
could afford to get contractors in to do the necessary
initial construction, we would require several
additional gardeners to maintain it, and that was just
not possible.  With our taxation rates, there was no
way I could pay the salary, welfare and pension costs
of four employees, even though I was Chairman!  She
simply refused to see the financial logic of my case,
and said that I was merely hoarding money for its own
sake.

Several weekends went by in the country with this
argument simmering on, and at one point she was even
suggesting that she might "strike" and not come up to
London for the annual Directors' dinner party.  The
issue was only resolved - and not then to the complete
satisfaction of either of us - when I agreed to pay
the capital cost of cutting one path and stairway down
from our cliff to our private beach, so that we could
then better scope the work in doing all she wanted.

I could have done without this domestic bickering,
with my incredible workload at the office, but there
at least I had the pleasure of seeing my protégé
Andrew start to truly show his capabilities.  Our
Internet bank had been rather moribund and considered
rather a sad case by customers and city analysts both,
but it was incredible to see how, with his dynamic
approach, supported by my authority and the bank's
money, it was rapidly transformed into one of the
business success stories of the year.  At the same
time, there were plenty of opportunities for me to
require to meet him, and to enjoy the sight of his
gym-toned body in the office.  In my role as his
executive mentor, I also contrived a dinner with him
in a private room at an expensive restaurant, and we
had a conversation about his sexuality and its effect
on his work that was, shall we say, "interesting".  He
was terrified of causing a scandal, and lived what
seemed to me to be a lonely and mostly celibate life -
not for him the exciting forays into gay bars, or even
onto the Internet, to find some muscular stud for an
evening's entertainment!  I smiled inwardly as he kept
assuring me that the Bank was not at risk by his
actions - if only he had known that the previous
evening I had fucked a muscular Irish labourer fresh
from one of the many building sites near my apartment,
and later had watched via video link my very own slave
training away.

It came almost as shock, and then a delight, when my
secretary reminded me that I was off to see the Sheikh
for my scheduled meeting in only three days time.
Actually the thought of Darren and the four slaves had
been one of the best incentives I'd ever had for
working hard at the Bank, as now I was determined to
keep the Chairmanship so that I could continue to
visit the Sheikh and my slave - ordinary directors and
employees had to retire at 62, but the Chairman's
tenure was "indefinite".  I intended to keep my poll
position for many years, so I could continue to enjoy
the privileges that travel to meet the Sheikh would
entail.  On a more prosaic note, several colleagues
commented on how much more tolerant I was becoming in
meetings now that I was Chairman - whereas I might had
"driven" the meeting to early conclusions and close, I
was now prepared to sit and listen to all arguments
before reaching a decision.  Little did they know that
this was only because now, as the fools droned on,
long after I had made up my mind, I could turn my
thoughts inward and play out in my head the many
scenarios I was busily constructing for the four
identical slaves and my slave boy.

It's much better to go by private jet, of course, even
better than first class.  Absolutely no queues, and
the chauffeur can drive you right to the steps of the
plane.  I was in a state of high arousal throughout
the journey, and after we had exchanged the protracted
pleasantries that any meeting in that country demands,
I was eager to discuss with my host the Sheikh the
sexual activities that we could indulge in that night.


Imagine my shock, therefore, to learn that the four
slaves, around whom so many of my thoughts had
revolved, were no longer at the palace.  I listened
almost in horror as the Sheikh described his reasoning
for getting rid of them - how my tale of Darren being
able to detect the differences between them by smell
alone had alerted him to the possibility of his cousin
carrying out further investigations, possibly
involving getting DNA samples from them, and thus
proving conclusively that they were not quads.

"So have they been sold already, Highness?  Is there
some chance that I might even be able to buy a pair of
them at least at a forthcoming auction?"

"No, my friend.  As a foreigner, you are of course not
allowed to make purchases in our slave market.   You
only own that slave Darren in the sense that,
formally, he belongs to your subsidiary of your bank
that is 'domiciled' in our country.  I suppose that if
you did want further purchases, that could be arranged
by the same route, though."

I made a mental note to ensure that when the auditors
next visited our subsidiary here they must not find
that one of the assets on the books was a slave:  the
international firm that we use for all our business
might take a very unenlightened view of this use of
the bank's resources.  Then I pressed him "So when are
they to be auctioned?  I'm sure that attending such an
auction would in itself be an experience....?"

"Quite so, my friend.  Slave auctions, especially
those on the days when bucks are being offered, are
most stimulating.  The stock is always offered
entirely naked, as you would expect, so that
prospective purchasers can make a full inspection, and
even if you are only marginally interested in buying,
it makes for a pleasant morning's stroll as you look
at what the dealers have on offer.  However in this
instance you would be disappointed, as the four slaves
have not been sent for auction - I had them assigned
to my mines."

"Bu surely, highness, that was a waste?  I have heard
that the mines are the 'last resort' for old, tired
slaves, as there is no future for them after that.
For men with such bodies, that seems a poor use of
resources....."

"Ordinarily, that would be so, my friend.  But bear in
mind that the mines are also completely escape proof,
and ,as such, they are also impossible to break in to.
 Nothing comes and goes into the mines except bags of
slave chow, and the opals which are their product.  No
other contact with the outside world is allowed, and
so my cousin, or rather his spies, would have no
opportunity to attempt to get samples of the slaves'
fluids for examination.  It was a waste, I know, as
they would have been worth far more at auction, but it
had to be:  the risk of my cousin discovering my
deception and invalidating our old bet, with the
subsequent deep embarrassment to me, was simply not
worth it."

So saying, he indicated that he did not want to
discuss this matter further, and we moved on to the
business which was the ostensible purpose for our
meeting.

It was only in the early afternoon that I was able to
at last check into my guest suite, and as I had hoped,
Darren was already there, in the 'salaam' position.  I
told him to get up, and he stood in front of me in his
short tunic, his developing body tantalisingly
revealed to me.  Those months since my last visit had
certainly made a difference - he was now more
developed, and, it seemed to me, more self assured.
Gone was the snivelling youth, ashamed of his body and
unwilling to share the joys of the male form with
others, and in its place was this proud, almost
arrogant, creature who knew that he was a desirable
man, one whom many others would lust after.

I was tired after the journey and the meeting I had
had with the Sheikh, who was a tough and skilful
negotiator, and I began to undress in order to shower.
 It was good to see that the boy's training was
working, as he began to help me, taking my clothes
from me as I shed them and hanging them neatly in the
closet.  He pulled off his tunic in that single
movement for which the garment is designed, and went
into the huge tiled area to run the water for me - I
stood and watched entranced as his lithe body, now
deliciously firmed, developed and tanned, leaped
around as he tried to avoid the jets before the water
reached temperature - that alone is almost worth the
cost and effort of owning a slave, I think, as I hate
the indignity of the shock of cold water whilst the
shower warms up!

As I expect you know, there's something very special
about another man attending to your needs in the
shower.  Somehow the water makes the feel of his hands
sliding over your body very exotic, much better than
if he just carried out the same caressing and
massaging in bed.  I expect it's something to do with
deep racial memories of being sea creatures in our dim
past.  Darren had been exquisitely well trained at the
palace in this work, and I barely noticed as he sank
to his knees in order to be able to gently lift each
of my feet in turn and soap between my toes.  I could
not, of course fail to notice the attention he gave to
my cock, balls and ass, though:  he treated them with
the total devotion and respect that a slave should
exhibit for those precious parts of his owner's body.

However tired you are, I do think that you sleep
better and awake more refreshed if you indulge in sex
before sleeping.  It was therefore good for me to be
able to fuck my slave after our showering - this was
not a long drawn out thing, as I did want to sleep
before my evening with the Sheikh,  and so I simply
told the lad to lie on his belly at the end of the bed
with his feet on the ground.  It's one of the minor
pleasures, I always think, to be able to kick your
partner's legs apart or pull them closer together with
your own legs and feet to ensure that the ass is at a
good and convenient height for entry, and with him in
this position it is of course easy to spread the
buttocks and see the hole.  I did not spend a lot of
time in stimulating myself by rubbing up and down his
ass crack, though, and simply penetrated him rapidly,
then fucked him in an easy, workmanlike way.

One of the ways in which sex with my slave was so much
better than wit the casual men who I picked up in
London was that he came to bed prepared - no need for
tiresome lubrication and stretching of the ass, as
Darren was ready.  And afterwards, when I pulled out,
there wasn't the reek of his shit all over my cock as
he had thoroughly cleansed himself internally
beforehand.  I could simply lie on the bed therefore
and allow him to use his mouth and tongue to clean my
cock, then I ordered him to lie beside me, spooned
myself close to his delightful muscled back, and
prepared to sleep.

THE SLAVE'S STORY.

I didn't get to hear what Marc wanted to say, because
a that moment the van jerked to a halt an the doors
were thrown open.  Guards uncuffed us and told us to
get down, and we saw we were outside a small building
- a very small building - in the middle of the desert.
 I guess when you think of "mines" you imagine large
pits in the ground, like open-cast mining;  or big
winding wheels, factory-like buildings and spoil
heaps, like old-time underground coal mines.  But this
was nothing like either of those - just this small
building, with a loading bay, and that was about it.
We began to cheer up as we thought this was not a
mine, after all.

We were herded into the building, and inside there
were just some boxes stacked around, and in one corner
a huge pile of sacks of slave chow.  We couldn't
understand why they needed all that chow, when there
didn't seem to be any slaves around.

"Right, you new recruits...", a voice said, and we saw
an overseer glaring at us.  "Now, pay attention!"

"In a minute you're going down the mine.  This is the
last time you'll ever come to the surface, as you'll
never leave there.  You'll work away for as long as
you are able, and when you finally die, you're just
left down there."

"There are no guards, no supervisors, no overseers
down the mine, as we have a simple method of ensuring
that you work:  once a day you bring the materials you
have mined to the bottom of the shaft, and if they are
sufficient, and satisfactory, we give you food, and
water.  If they are not, then we do not.  Your
survival depends on your continuing ability to work."

"Escape is impossible, as the mine is deep, and there
is only a single shaft down.  We control that, and at
the exchange time each day, armed guards oversee the
process.  Do not try to rush them and escape - they
will simply shoot you.  Even if you succeed in gaining
entry to the lift cage, it will do you no good, as it
is monitored and controlled by CCTV from here on the
surface, and the winding engine will not be started."

"I think that is all you need to know, except to
understand that the Sheikh, your owner, is concerned
to keep the desert ecology here intact.  That's why
there are no spoil heaps, and little sign of activity
on the surface:   we only bring up the opals from the
mine, and all the spoil is left below.  You therefore
pack the material you excavate in behind you, so that
you make only the smallest tunnels to gain access to
the face you are working on.  We provide you with a
digging tool now, but guard it well as it will not be
replaced, and without a digging tool, you will be
unable to work;  if you are unable to work you will
not be fed, and then you will die."

I could see Marc next to me begin to shudder as we
listened to all of this.  What on earth was wrong with
him?

"Finally, before you enter the cage to go down, there
is one comfort we can offer you.  This is the last
choice you will ever make for yourselves.  Do you want
to be docked?"

"Sir, please, what's that?"  It was Matt who had dared
to speak, but he had tried to be properly servile, to
avoid attracting punishment to us.

"Oh, so no one has explained.  Well, think about it:
you are going to be working in very small, cramped
tunnels.  You need to follow the strata of the
opal-bearing shale through the layers of the
surrounding granite rocks.  The strata can be just
wide enough for your body - especially bodies of big
husky slaves like you.  You need to work on your
backs, or on your bellies, as you dig your way
forwards.  It's really important to your continuing
life that you are able to work, and many slaves find
that they are uncomfortable, and unable to make proper
progress in very confined places, as their dicks and
balls are dragging along."

"Think about it", he went on. "Imagine crawling across
this room now, on your bellies - your dicks and balls
would drag, wouldn't they, and impede your progress
and cause you pain?  Well, imagine doing it in rough,
rocky narrow tunnels - many slaves simply can't focus
on working as they are constantly worrying about the
pain from their balls.  Consequently your owner, who
is always interested in the welfare of his slaves,
gives you the option to have your dicks and balls
surgically removed now, by a qualified doctor, before
you descend."

"Personally, I'd just have you all done, as routine,
as it does mean you can work better.  But your owner
has decided that in order to make life worth living
for you, you should have the choice as he knows that
the only remaining pleasure left to you is sex.
Consequently he allows you to choose whether to be
'docked', as we call it, or to remain whole.  A
continuing sex life, or perhaps a longer life as you
can work harder and get more food.  The choice is
yours."

"But how do we piss...?"  It was Matt again.  The
overseer looked at him menacingly, and replied "The
removal site is simply cauterised, to stop the
bleeding.  The urethra just opens out in the front of
you once your dicks have gone, and you piss through
that - just as normal, except that there's no long
dick on the surface.  Your dicks play no part in
pissing, after all, as it's the muscles at the base of
your bladder that control the urine flow.  So you can
still piss, and, of course, there's no need of your
dick for that other activity, as we take the testicles
at the same time.  Now, do you want the operation?"

We all looked at each other, completely stunned.  How
could they even think about doing this to men?  I
mean, in some weird kind of way it had logic behind
it, as I know how painful it can be to have my dick
and balls scraping along the ground:  one of the
things some of the clients liked to do was to see us
wrestling in the nude, and you have to be really
careful then to avoid seriously hurting your balls if
you're pulled along the floor.  But there was no way I
was going to be turned into a dick-less eunuch, even
if it did mean I might be able to work harder, to
"buy" more food.

I could see my fellows all shaking their heads, except
for Marc, who seemed to be really trembling now.  He
seemed to be having problems in even standing up
straight, as the rest of us were.

"Right then", the overseer continued.  He handed us
small entrenching tools, and continued "Over to the
cage to drop you down the shaft.  Two at a time - it's
very narrow. Say goodbye to the light!"

Marc clung to me as we were pushed into the tiny cage,
barely the size of a telephone booth, and it started
to drop down the shaft.

"Marc, mate, what's the problem?"

"Steve, I can't do this... I can't..."

"Marc, there's no choice, we're slaves..."

"Steve, I'm claustrophobic.  Severely claustrophobic.
I can't stand this cage.... I won't be able to live
deep down in the earth, in those narrow tunnels he
told us about..."

Marc's body, pressed against mine in the close
confines of the cage, was trembling uncontrollably
now.  Just past the bars I could see the smooth rock
face of the shaft sliding past.  We must be going
hundreds of feet down, I thought.  It was close and
confined in the cage and shaft, but I hoped it would
be better at the bottom - surely Marc would be OK
then. I hugged hi m close to me, as we'd done so many
times before in bed, and told him that everything was
going to be OK as he still had the three of us to help
him.

But it wasn't OK.  When we got to the bottom there was
only a very small space, dimly lit by a fluorescent
tube.  The guard gave us a bag of food and a bottle of
water, and told us to get working, as we'd need to
spend all the time we could if we were ever to earn
enough.  As the cage went back to the surface for Matt
and Ray,  I asked him where we should dig.

"Look, slaves, it's all around you!  We're in a rocky
cavern here, but you take any of the 'exits' from here
- those cracks in the rock - and make your way until
you come to a shale bed.  Then you dig, feeling every
bit of spoil to see if it's a nice, smooth opal.  Most
of the beds near the shaft base here have been worked
out, so you'll need to go several hundred metres -
it's easy.  Just be back here when you think you've
mined enough to buy more food, and press the button to
call the cage.

As he spoke we could hear the cage descending again,
then Ray and Matt got out.  The guard got in and the
cage went back up to the surface, leaving us there in
the gloom.  I told the others what Id been told, and
Matt said we'd better get on with it, then.  I know it
seemed hopeless, but there's always some hope, isn't
there? We had only two choices now, after all:  just
give up, and certainly die;  or start to work in the
hope, the tiny, possibly vain hope, that one day, in
some way, we might be released.  Faced with that kind
of choice, what option did we have really?

The only problem was Marc.  As I greeted Matt and Ray
I'd lost sight of him, and now saw he was sitting on
the floor, his knees drawn up to his chin, and is arms
clasped around his head.  He looked the picture of
misery.

"Hey, Marc, come on....  You heard Matt.... It is the
only thing we can do now... Let's move out and get
started..."

He didn't react at all, just sat there.  I dropped
down beside him and tried to move his arms, but they
were kind of locked rigid.   I called to the others
who came over as well, as we saw that Mac was in
terror - I've never seen anyone look so dreadful.  His
face was stuck in a dreadful rictus of agony, and his
body was shaking uncontrollably.

"He said he suffered from acute claustrophobia...", I
said aloud.

"Well, we've got to work", Matt pointed out.  "Whether
he likes it or not, we'd better get started, or we'll
surely die.  Let's carry him, or something...."

So we picked up Marc, and went to one of the exits
from the chamber.  We had terrible problems then - the
space between the rock walls was only just wide enough
for our bodies, and it was nearly impossible to drag
Marc's protesting form through.  The further we got
from the chamber the narrower it got and the more the
ceiling pressed close to the floor - soon we were bent
double in the confined space, and Marc was just
whimpering in a low, agonising way, denoting his sheer
terror of being there.

Even I found it awful when the worm hole we were
following went into a kind of "U" bend, like in a
lavatory, and we had to wriggle our bodies around:
I'm not usually concerned about small spaces, but this
was almost too much for me.  I could only imagine what
it was like for Marc.

We did eventually get to a space where there was what
we guessed to be the shale, and we started to hack
away at it with our tools: all except Marc who now lay
on his side curled up into the foetal position, his
hands and arms covering his face.  In the darkness, as
we thought we ought to conserve the lamps we'd also
been given, we hacked away at the walls, and fumbled
through the material, desperately searching for the
smooth glass-like pieces that were our only hoipe of
continuing life.

THE BANKER

I only had the one night of pleasure with Darren as I
had to return to London early the following morning.
Even though the sex was, by any standards, excellent,
I had that dreadful feeling of disappointment as my
limousine sped towards the airport:  when you have
looked forward to something for months, when almost
your every waking moment has been planning and
scheming what you're going to do, and how you're going
to do it, then if there's a major disruption you feel
blighted, don't you?  I had been living in a state of
almost supercharged sexual arousal for weeks, thinking
of the four strong men and Darren, and all had come to
nothing.  So a night of "ordinary" sex, something that
most men of my age would have relished, was simply a
very poor second prize for me.    And, I have to say,
Darren's attitude that morning when I had commanded
him to suck me dry before the journey had been less
than pleasing:  he had asked me to get the four slaves
back, and when I had explained that it was impossible,
he had started to sulk!

My colleagues at the bank had often complained about
their teenage children, saying how moody and irascible
they could become if they did not get their own way,
and I had always listened to these conversations with
absolutely no interest.  I could never understand how
a parent would be unable to control a child. Now,
faced with what I perceived to be the start of such an
attitude in Darren, I was angry.  A slave, after all,
should have no moods, no feelings:  a slave exists to
serve his owner, and to please him in whatever way
possible.  A sulking slave, or one who is less than
enthusiastic about tending to his owner's desires, has
no place in the scheme of things, in my view.
Consequently I had given Darren a stern warning that
his attitude had better have improved before my next
visit, and instead of apologising and returning to his
servicing of my cock with renewed vigour and
enthusiasm, he'd actually dared to shrug his shoulders
as if to say "do what you like!", and simply worked me
in a very ordinary way.   In retrospect it's easy to
see now that  I should have taken the matter in hand
immediately, and  either caned him there and then or
scheduled for it to be done after I had left, as I was
on a tight schedule.  But I naively assumed that
Darren was suffering from the same disappointment as I
was, and that all would be back to normal by next
time.

My week ended badly, too.  At the weekend I inspected
the work that had been done at vast expense by the
contractors, and whilst I had to agree wit my wife
that it was now most agreeable to be able to make our
way down to the sea in our private cove, there was
absolutely no way that I was going to pay their
grossly inflated prices in order to be able to fashion
the whole ravine into a garden, as my wife wanted.
Yes, it would be a quite extraordinarily beautiful
thing, I had to agree.  But the contractors we had
used had explained that they were unable to bring in
heavy equipment, the equipment on which the
construction industry now depends, and the whole of
the works had to be done by hand.  Labour rates are,
of course, horrendous, and the ambitious plans that my
wife had would have cost me millions.  I simply had to
refuse her, and I could see that she was then
suffering that same disappointment that I had been
earlier in the week:  she had her head full of her
plans and schemes, and now, even though we might
realise a lesser scheme, this was in no way as
desirable or satisfying.

To make mattes worse, she had, without consulting me,
already commissioned another major capital project:
the  extension of the cable that controls our dog, to
the perimeter of the new land:  this was in itself
several tens of thousands of pounds, and I simply did
not think that the expenditure was justified.  We had
for some years used that excellent system of
controlling the dog whereby there is a cable buried
around the perimeter of the garden.  A small sensor on
the beast's collar then gives it a warning shock if it
attempts to cross, and it's a most humane and simple
way of allowing the animal freedom to roam, without us
being concerned about it escaping.  Living as we did
in the depths of the country it was practically
impossible to adequately fence our land, and without
this cable system we'd have needed to keep the dog
tethered almost all the time.  My wife said that the
beast had to be able to roam with her over all our new
land as well, and hence the extension to the cable,
but many harsh words were nevertheless exchanged
between us as I contrasted the huge expenditure with
what I perceived to be the very small benefit to me:
it seemed to me that the animal could perfectly well
have been confined in our original garden with the
existing cable.  There was no going back, though, as
my wife had craftily got the contractors to start on
laying the cable before my visit, but it left me
feeling cross and frustrated at the start of the new
week on my return to London, rather than calm and
refreshed.

Almost the only pleasure during the  week was a
further "mentoring" meeting with Andrew.  This time I
invited him back to my apartment, rather than going to
a restaurant, and had the pleasure of seeing his body
moving around my own space.  I had deliberately left
the air conditioning at a high temperature before
leaving that morning, and so when we arrived there was
a perfect reason for taking his suit jacket off as
well as his topcoat.   As I listened to his plans for
the future, which he expounded whilst prowling up and
down, looking out of the floor-length windows at the
city below, I could "step back" and let my thoughts
drift into more carnal areas:  he really was a most
pleasing piece of male flesh, for someone who spent
most of his life behind a desk.  He was reasonably
tall, and the cut of his suit trousers showed me
muscular thighs and a very tight, high-riding, ass.
It was clear that there was no fat around his waist as
there was no flesh hanging over his belt line, and as
he turned and moved, I could not but help notice that
he appeared to have nothing to be ashamed of with
respect to his genitals, as the front of his trousers
was most agreeably full and rounded.

Finally, I interrupted him.  "You know, don't you,
Andrew, that I have a high regard for you.  There are
several other directors who are planning their careers
so that they "peak" in three years time, when I am
expected to retire, and will thus be very well placed
to assume control.  However I will reveal to you now
something that they do not know:  it is not my
intention to retire, then, as has been the custom.
The Chairman has no defined retirement age, and I
intend to work for many more years.  You should
therefore plan your carer so that it reaches its
climax in perhaps ten to twelve years."

"So, sir, what do you advise?"

"You have plenty of time to do two or three different
jobs in the Bank, jobs that you might not ordinarily
take, and which others may see as a demotion compared
to your position as head of the Internet bank.  But
your current experience would not fit you for the job
as Chairman, and you need to round yourself out with
more practical  'conventional' banking experience.
You have time to do three such jobs, each for about
tree years.  And in a couple of months time, after we
are certain that your progress on the Internet bank is
soundly based, we can let someone else take it on
whilst you take over the running of our branch in the
Sheikh's state."

"But sir, I'm not a banker, I have no experience..."

"Quite!  And how much better that those in the bank
should say that now, rather than when you are in
contention for my job!  As I said, it will be seen as
a demotion - but  I can assure you that it is not.
Not only will you gain practical experience of running
all aspects of a bank, as our subsidiary there
operates semi-autonomously, but you will be in direct,
perhaps I should say intimate, contact with a most
important client and shareholder.  We cannot afford to
upset the Sheikh in any way, and there are few men who
I could confidently appoint  to this post."

"Sir, I don't think..."

"That's why I'm your mentor, Andrew.  Believe me, it
will substantially enhance your career.  Of course,
there will be some loss of salary as I cannot afford
to pay you as much to run a small subsidiary as I pay
you to run the Internet bank, but there will be other
compensations.  And you do need to think to the
future, to where you want to be in ten years time,
when you will still be a young man..."

"Other compensations?"

"You have never made a secret of the fact that you
prefer sexual relations with men.   You may find that
there are opportunities there that will particularly
amuse you.....  You have, to your credit, been most
discrete here in London.  But a man needs to exercise
all his body, not just those parts of it that he can
in a conventional gym, as I can see you do.

"Sir, what are you implying..?"

"Well, Andrew, perhaps you should wait and see.
Suffice it to say that the Sheikh himself has an
enthusiastic attitude to the complete fulfilment of
his sexual passions, and that this enlightened
attitude permeates the whole of society there...."

End Of Part 10