Chapter 18

Arthur’s request, though not entirely surprising, did present a bit of a challenge. Going out of an evening to meet up with my so-called friend and his imaginary sister, was the new norm for me and my parents. But having to take my uniform with me was a bit of a problem. My rucksack was barely big enough for a few books and laptop. Getting a blazer in there would be a bit of a squeeze.

However, on the appointed evening, that Wednesday, I managed to cram the blazer and my school tie in the bag. The little side pockets contained the lubricant gel and condoms. My grey trousers and white shirt were generic and so I already had them on. Just what else Arthur was expecting a schoolboy to look like, I didn’t know. A satchel?

And so, the Uber driver texted me to say that he was waiting at the point specified and I said my goodbyes to my unsuspecting folks and made my way to the end of the street.

Once comfortably in the car, I put on my tie and blazer. My jacket went in the rucksack. I think I would have passed for a genuine schoolboy under any scrutiny. A tall, dark, slim and stunningly pretty schoolboy. Any gay man would pay good money to fuck me, and Arthur had already agreed to pay me £160 to do just that.

The taxi ride only took a little over fifteen minutes and I was outside Arthur’s house staring up at the most opulent home I had ever seen. Of all the grand residences in this street, Arthurs’s appeared to be one of the most imposing. There were tall metal gates in front of a long, tree-lined gravel drive, giving way to a huge house that would not have looked out of place in Hollywood.

Beside the metal gates was an intercom. I pressed the button.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh hello, this is Carlo.’

‘Ah, dear boy. Thank you for being so punctual, a rare quality these days. Do come in please.’

There was a loud buzzing noise and the gates swung open. I walked up the drive feeling as though I was being watched. I was sure that there were cameras trained on me, observing my every step.

I reached the portico covering the huge ornate front door. I rang the doorbell.

Moments later, the door opened and there stood the man I took to be Arthur.

He was a huge man, obese and at least fifty years old. His fat, ruddy, jowly face was topped with few tufts of thin grey hair. He was the least appealing client I had encountered. Suddenly, £160 didn’t seem nearly enough.

But he seemed absolutely delighted to see me. But then, of course he would, wouldn’t he?

‘Ah, splendid, splendid. Do come in Carlo. You look absolutely divine. Good enough to eat, but that comes later.’

A shiver ran down my spine. What if Arthur was like a black widow spider, he eats his mate after sex. Or maybe he was a Hannibal Lecter wannabe. I had to get the “security photo” out of the way quickly. He didn’t mind having his picture taken. But the idea of him taking “eating my arse” to extremes still worried me.

Arthur felt that it was entirely appropriate to greet me just wearing a

bathrobe. It was a luxurious, robe at that, more like a sheepskin coat, pure white and very fluffy. The belt was wrapped tightly around his huge girth. The robe had a gold monogram, a letter A intertwined with a letter D. I got the impression that he was completely naked under it. I still had no idea who he was.

‘I must say Carlo, your pictures, magnificent as they are, do not do you justice. You are quite exquisite.’ His eyes roamed hungrily over me, even though I was fully dressed. What was he going to be like when I was naked?

‘Please follow me, I’d like to show my boudoir.’

My nerves had calmed down, as he led me from the large open entrance hall up a massive carved wooden staircase. I was slightly surprised that there was not a suit of armour anywhere to be seen. Now, Dracula’s castle sprang to mind. I needed to stop with the horror film scenarios and concentrate on earning my money.