Date: Sat, 3 Apr 2010 10:43:06 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "The Master Valet, Part One"  by Jay Roberts     Gay Adult

****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.-