The mansion. Gay sex With a last-second twist of the wrist as Darius had showed me.When I wasn’t serving them I was to remain off to the side, within kitchen’s perimeter. My first wife…Remember Kathy? He was, on the one hand, ostensibly carrying on an intimate conversation with my Master, while at the same time, usually over the rim of his goblet, making slit-eyed contact with me. Darius’s penis is nearly twice the length of yours, little man. Fifty dollars.”“A month?”“A week.”“I’d quadruple that,” Alan said without hesitation. Unlike my Master, who was tall and statuesque—Demi-god-like in build—Alan was rather short and, well, pudgy. “He drove you here? Psychology. I’ll call you when we’re done. “Be there but don’t be there,” Darius reminded me, with a smile and a pat on my pantied bottom.“I will,” I assured him, somewhat ambiguously.To Darius’s floor-pacing consternation, it was nearly 11:45 before Alan finally arrived. Only much later in life, looking back, would I remember him as looking a bit like the famous actor Peter Lorre.Alan looked at me, looked me up and down, and said, as he approached, “So what do we have here?”Darius told him my name.
