When he had said that he would send a car for me, I knew that it wouldn't be a rust bucket, but I hadn't expected a Rolls-Royce. And what was just as impressive, was what the chauffeur was wearing. A full uniform, including a peaked cap. When he got out of the car, and opened the door for me, I nearly saluted him.
In a formal tone, he said, "Mr. Henderson, I am Mr. Grant's chauffeur."
It was blatantly obvious who he was, and I wanted to laugh, but with some difficulty, I managed not to.
I was now inside the car, and I was trying to act as if this was my normal mode of transport. Playing it cool. But what I really wanted to do, was to press every button, and open every compartment.
Two days ago, I had received a call.
"James, I'm Rupert Grant. You don't know me, but I understand that you are looking for a part time job. I have one that you might be interested in."
He wouldn't give me any details over the phone, and that had made me suspicious. But he had got my number from Margaret Vardy, so it should be OK meeting him. With hindsight, my brief relationship with Margaret had been a mistake, and it had ended with lots of tears from her. However, I knew that she wouldn't give my number to somebody that she didn't trust.
And that's why I was on my way to see him now.
It took us forty minutes to get there, but I wish that it had been longer. I had enjoyed all the envious looks, when we were stopped at traffic lights. One day, I would have a car like this. In my dreams!
When we turned into the drive, and I could see his large mansion in the distance, I lost my composure.
"Fuck me!"
That didn't get any reaction from my driver, and that impressed me. He was a professional.
We were met by a young maid, in an equally impressive uniform, who showed me into the drawing room.
"Mr. Grant will be with you in a few minutes."
She then left me alone. A few, ended up being fifteen, but I didn't mind. In the room were a large collection of books, many of them first editions. I could have happily spent all day there.
"Hello James, I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"Hi Mr. Grant."
As we shook hands, he said, "Please call me Rupert."
Half an hour later, I was back in the Roller. And I now had a job. A very unusual one, and I had got it because of Margaret's recommendation.
When I got home, I was bursting to tell someone about it, but it couldn't be my parents. It would have to be Ryan. We have been best friends since we were five years old. I knew all his secrets, and he knew mine. He could be trusted.
I called him from my bedroom, with the door closed. This was a conversation that I didn't want any of my family to overhear.
When I had finished telling him, he responded how I expected him to, with one of his favourite expressions.
"No fucking way!"
"It's true, every word of it."
I was now waiting for him to speak again, and I was smiling, because I knew what he was going to say.
"Will he give me a job?"
I was right. However, I was going to have to disappoint him.
"Sorry, he was only hiring one person."
Mr. Grant hadn't told me that, but even if he had more vacancies, the answer would still be no. He was old enough, but he didn't meet the criteria. Telling him the truth, would be embarrassing for both of us.
When I woke the next day, I groaned. It must have been a dream. The job was too good to be true. But it was real, and on my phone, I had a text confirming my start date.
I was now working for Mr. Grant, as an 'Entertainer', at his Saturday Night Club.
I had thought that he would interview me, but he hadn't.
He started with, "The job is yours if you want it."
Then he told me about it.
"On the first Saturday of each month, I wine and dine my friends here. For obvious reasons, we call it the Saturday Night Club."
So he wanted a waiter. No problem, I've done that before.
"The club is strictly for adults. All the guests, and all my staff, must be over eighteen, because after we have eaten, we fuck. Mostly among ourselves, but I provide men and women, who are twenty one or older, for those who want something different."
Then, to make it clear what my duties were, he said, "I want you to have sex with the women guests."
He had surprised me, even shocked me, but I could still manage a witty riposte.
"All of them?"
I thought he would laugh, but all I got was a weak smile. Making a joke of it, had been a mistake.
"Yes or no?"
I gave him a quick yes, even though he hadn't told me what the pay was. I was twenty one years old, being paid to fuck, even if it wasn't much, was my ideal job.
When he did tell me, I nearly hugged him. It was only one day a month, but it paid as much as full time bar work, including tips.
And I had Margaret to thank for recommending me. I had met her six months ago. She was twenty years older than me, and married, but that didn't stop us having a passionate affair. It was very good at first, but after a couple of months, it started spiralling out of control. She wanted to leave her Husband for me. I just wanted some fun. Nothing serious. When we split up, she was heartbroken.
From what he had said about her, sometime after we had parted, Margaret had joined the club. And she had talked about me, or more specifically, about my big cock.
Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to have nine inches, but I don't like it defining me. I'm in my final year at university, studying Physics. Quantum Mechanics is my speciality. However, it wasn't my high IQ that had got me the job.
"James, I've given you the job because you meet two important criteria. You have a very big cock, and you know how to use it."
And that's why I had to say no to Ryan. His five inches was never going to pass the audition!
On Thursday, I met up with him.
"When's the big day?"
"This Saturday."
"So, you just turn up, and then the fucking starts."
I laughed.
"It's a bit more subtle than that. I drive there myself, before the guests arrive, and then I park at the rear of the building. I will be met at the back entrance by a member of staff, who shows me to a bedroom. That's where I stay until the party is over."
