glanced at the address written on the card in his hand, and up at the sign over
the door of the palatial country house. Yeah, this was the place. “Strange name
for a retirement community,” he mumbled to himself as he tugged on the cord
beside the door, hearing a pleasingly musical bell set off ringing somewhere
It had been during a follow-up visit to his doctor, after the
recent bout of severe fanfic flu that he and Jim had suffered, that Blair had
found out about this place. When he’d mentioned in passing that he was hoping to
find a part-time job to tide him over until term started up again, the doctor
had been most helpful. “The residential home my aunt manages are advertising for
a pool boy,” she’d said. She looked Blair up and down measuringly. “I think
you’d be perfect for the job!”
So here he was, at Fanfic
The door opened, and Blair blinked at the sight that met his eyes.
A tall, muscular young man, stripped to the waist, wearing figure-hugging jeans.
Blair’s gaze was drawn, almost against his will, down to the man’s clearly
defined and rather impressive bulge.
“Can I help you?” Honeyed tones
snapped Blair’s gaze back to eye-level.
Blushing, Blair stammered, “Uh,
I’m here for an interview.” Gathering his composure he held out a hand. “Blair
Sandburg,” he said. “I believe I’m expected?”
The man shook Blair’s hand
in return, his grip firm and slightly slippery. “You can call me Butch,” he
said, holding on just a little bit longer than Blair felt was necessary. He
looked Blair over in a disconcertingly direct way. “Ah, you must be the new pool
boy,” he said. “Come inside.”
Butch moved back to let Blair pass, his
musky, masculine aroma ambushing Blair’s olfactory senses and making him
somewhat disturbingly hyper-aware of the man. He screwed up his nose in reaction
– jeez, was the guy just sweating a lot, or was that some kind of oil that was
glistening all over his torso?
Blair was ushered into a large, airy
dayroom, and he blinked in amazement at what he found there. He’d done some work
in a couple of retirement homes in the past, trying to earn a few bucks back
when he was an undergrad, but he had to admit that this was not like any other
such place he’d ever visited.
On one wall was a massive
television screen, a state-of-the-art surround-sound system broadcasting a
high-definition soundtrack of some sci-fi drama that was showing. Lounging on
comfortable looking couches of all shapes and sizes in front of the screen were
about a dozen elderly ladies, each of them with a laptop on their
As if that wasn’t odd enough, the staff taking care of the
residents were unusual by any definition of the word. Young, incredibly
attractive men, all of them stripped to the waist and one or two of them
wearing, instead of the tight jeans which seemed to be the regular uniform,
very-brief shorts which barely covered their muscular, shapely asses.
couple of the guys were giving neck massages to the ladies in their care, while
one knelt in front of another woman, expertly stroking long, elegant fingers
over her bare feet as she sighed in hedonistic pleasure. As Blair watched a
further young man moved amongst the residents, serving olives, grapes and some
rather runny looking cheese to each of them in turn.
In the next moment Blair felt a
cat twine sinuously past his ankle, and he noticed then that there were several
of the creatures around, some of them draped over the residents who were
lavishing them with attention when not focused on their laptops. Wow, Blair
thought. It seemed that this place had bought into the well-documented
stress-reducing properties of pet ownership. What a forward-looking
“Well, well, well, you must be Blair.” Blair had been so
engrossed in the strange sights within that he hadn’t heard the woman approach.
“Welcome to Fanfic House.”
“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Blair confirmed. “You
must be the manager.” The family resemblance to this woman’s niece - Blair’s
doctor - was clear. She was clearly several decades older, with hair that was
gray instead of red, but the familiar long-legged, slim frame and attractive
green eyes were unmistakable.
She smiled in a motherly way, and patted
Blair on the arm. “Don’t feel nervous, dear. We’re very informal here, as you
can see, so I’m not going to give you a proper interview. In fact,” she walked
around him, scrutinizing him from several angles, “I can tell you now that
you’ll do nicely. Yes,” she rubbed her hands together. “Very nicely
“Wow, that’s great!” Blair said, flattered by her approval. “So,
when do you want me to start?”
“No time like the present!” the manager
said brightly. “Butch will get you kitted out in a uniform, and show you
beckoned over, and immediately took charge of outfitting and orienting Blair.
First up was his uniform, which Blair was a little dismayed to discover to be a
pair of skimpy shorts like those he’d seen some of the others wearing. Even
worse, Butch told him that he would need to go commando underneath, “For health
and safety reasons.” That seemed a little strange to Blair, but he had to admit
that the shorts were so snug-fitting that he probably would have had trouble
getting them on if he hadn’t taken off his boxers first.
Blair was also
instructed to remove his shirt. “Let me guess, for health and safety reasons,
right?” he joked.
Butch shrugged. “You are the pool boy,” he said. “Better that,
than get it wet!”
Butch gave him a quick tour of the house after that,
then took Blair outside to show him the pool. The residents had all gone to sit
out in the sun, and Blair didn’t relish having an audience the first time he
carried out his duties, but the encouraging smiles several of them gave him put
him at ease. Man, those little old ladies were sweet, in a really grandmotherly
Blair was about to get on with the job, when the manager hastened
over. “Wait one moment, Blair,” she said. “We take the well-being of our
employees here very seriously, so you’ll need to be covered with this sun-block.
We don’t want you getting sunburn, now, do we?”
“No, Ma’am,” Blair
agreed. He held out a hand to take the bottle of lotion.
But she pulled
it out of his reach. “Oh no, that would never do,” she said. “Butch will apply
it for you – it’s one of our rules. We have to ensure that every bit of your
exposed skin is covered properly.”
“Let me guess,” Blair mumbled
to himself as Butch duly came over to take the bottle from the manager. “Health
and safety again, right?”
Blair had to admit, however, that Butch was
very thorough, and was most definitely able to reach the places that Blair could
not. Butch’s hands roamed methodically and insistently over every inch of
Blair’s skin. And there was a lot of that on show, since he was only wearing the
skimpy shorts, and for some reason they seemed to be getting tighter by the
It took quite a while, as Butch seemed intent on putting on two
or three layers of the lotion, focusing a lot of his attention on Blair’s inner
thighs, and even smearing a considerable amount right up under the material of
the shorts themselves. Maybe, Blair mused, those parts were particularly
vulnerable, since he’d be bending over a lot to scoop leaves out of the
By the end of it
Blair was feeling a little faint – it seemed the sun had gone to his head, or
perhaps the shorts tightening to an almost painful degree as Butch inserted his
fingers right under them to apply the lotion had restricted blood flow to his
brain somehow. So he didn’t protest when Butch led him to a lounger and urged
him to lie down for a moment or two.
The soothing sensation of gentle
fingers stroking through his hair – and wow, Butch was such a friendly guy! –
soon had Blair feeling a little better. Though he seemed to be hallucinating a
bit, as he could have sworn he heard a collective sigh of extreme happiness rise
up from the watching residents.
After a few minutes rest, Blair was at
last ready to get to work. As he bent down to pick up the pool scoop, he noticed
that his skin was gleaming all over as though oiled. Man, the sun-block they
used here at Fanfic House seemed to have some quite unusual
Soon he was getting into the swing of it, bending over and
squatting down to reach the farthest debris in the pool, and feeling the tight
material of the shorts sliding up his ass crack as he did so. After he’d been at
it for a while his concentration was interrupted, however, by a slight commotion
behind him. It seemed that one of the elderly residents had been taken briefly
unwell with palpitations.
After an hour or so he was
done, and since it was already late in the day the manager told him he could
finish up for now. Before he left they agreed a schedule for the next week,
during which he would come back to mow the lawn and do a few odd jobs, in
addition to his pool duties.
The residents were all sipping
margaritas now, apart from the one sweet old lady with a grey cat on her knee
who was drinking cream soda, and another who was sipping tea out of a fine china
cup. Blair was happy to see that their comfort was being well taken care of – a
couple of the scantily clad young care workers were busy keeping them all
pleasantly cool by wafting them with huge palm-fronds, and a third was handing
Blair stayed to chat with the residents awhile; it would have
been rude to leave straight away, in any case, especially as they seemed so
eager to get to know the ‘nice young man’. After bidding them all a fond
farewell, during which more than a few of them patted him affectionately on the
rump, Blair took his leave.
Blair was passing through the dayroom on his
way to get changed when, to his surprise, he bumped into Jim. “Hey!” he
exclaimed, taking in at an astonished glance the odd attire (or lack thereof)
that Jim was wearing: a flowery apron, not unlike the one he had at home, white
socks and nothing else.
“What are you doing here, man?”
“Shh, not so loud, Sandburg!” Jim urged.
“I’m working here undercover as part of a big operation in retirement homes in
the area. Rafe is working the one just up the street.”
Concerned for the
safety of the elderly residents, whom Blair was already feeling rather fond of,
he asked, “There’s no danger, is there? I mean Jim, these sweet old ladies
wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jim looked grave. “We’ve had reports of gratuitous
and possibly fraudulent self-promotion in the area. It’s pretty serious, and the
corruption goes right to the top. There have even been,” and here Jim dropped to
a whisper, “unconfirmed sightings of footwear being worn on inappropriate
appendages, as part of a multiple identity scam.”
“Oh my god!” Blair
looked around worriedly. “You don’t think these people at Fanfic House are
involved, do you?”
“I’ve seen no evidence of it so far,” Jim said, to
Blair’s relief. “But I can’t say the same for the place that Rafe is
investigating – he should have checked in twenty minutes ago, but he missed the
rendezvous. Simon’s sending him some backup.” Jim’s voice faltered. “If his
cover’s been blown, Chief, those people are really dangerous. They might even…”
Jim tailed off hopelessly.
Blair clutched his arm in shock. “You mean, he
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Jim confirmed Blair’s worst fear. “He
might have been written out!”
The thought was almost too terrible to
contemplate, but at least Simon had the situation in hand, so Blair took some
comfort from that. He peered curiously at Jim. “So, what are you undercover as,
man? The cook?”
Jim shook his head. “Security guard. This is the regular
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