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Ahead of His Time by Rick Beck Part Two - Welcome to the Jungle Chapter Fourteen "Biltmore Boy" Back to Chapter Thirteen "Going to Los Angeles" On to Chapter Fifteen "Marty" Chapter Index Rick Beck Home Page  Click on the picture for a larger view Teen & Young Adult This Chapter Rated Explicit Adventure Proudly presented by The Tarheel Writer - On the Web since 24 February 2003. Celebrating 21 Years on the Internet! Tarheel Home Page |
Andrew watched me a few minutes before I finished showering.
As I dried my head, once I smiled and nodded his way, he came closer to stand.
"You will be popular, Joshua. You've got everything a Biltmore Boy needs," he said, running his hand down my chest and on to my dick and balls. "Very nice. You'll be staying with me tonight. We'll see if you know how to use all that dick."
"Biltmore boy?" I asked.
I wasn't convinced I wanted to sleep with Andrew. He wasn't unattractive, but he wasn't really someone I'd pick out to sleep with. Saying no could upset my applecart and end with me selling the apples on a corner somewhere. He wasn't bad looking. He was young.
Once he got me erect and approved, he let my dick go.
I put on my underwear.
"Our guests need company. Let's say you'll be popular. They expect boys who cooperate and don't cause them any difficulty. Believe me, they make it worthwhile for a good Biltmore boy. They often will ask for you as soon as they return on their next visit."
I didn't say anything. What could I say? I didn't know what we were talking about. It sounded okay, if that's what I needed to do to eat and to have a bed to sleep in. If I didn't like it, I could leave.
Andrew came for me around midnight. He took me to his room, and there I did an interview to see if I could be a Biltmore Boy. After we went around the world a couple of times, according to him, he rolled on to his back.
"You certainly did pass your entrance exam. Now, let's get something straight. You never mention that you are a Biltmore Boy to Cecil. This is not an official service provided by the Biltmore. This is a service that Jonathan and I, along with two other men, provide guests, when they ask where they can have a good time while here."
"I've never thought of doing sex for a living."
"Not sex. Maybe sex. Always companionship. You are there to give our guests what ever they ask for. You can turn down a guest if a request is out of order, but word gets around, and if you refuse the offer of men who are accustomed to getting what they want, you might not be doing anything for anyone. We service our guests. That is the motto of Biltmore Boys."
Where I'd gotten to in short order was far beyond any thing I could have imagined. I came to Los Angeles to see the Biltmore, and now I worked there. I hadn't been in LA a full day yet.
I left Andy before noon and got in with the race car driving cop, before I rode with The Tool to the outskirts of Los Angeles. It didn't take long to arrive at the Biltmore Los Angeles. Late in the afternoon I was mistaken for someone who was supposed to show up to go to work in the Biltmore's kitchen. I didn't hesitate in taking the job that was offered. I didn't know what happened to the guy that was supposed to get that job, but if he wanted it all that bad, he'd have been there on time.
Now, I sat in Andrew's two room apartment at the back of the hotel. I was being offered a job as a Biltmore Boy. I'd come a long way in a few days. A few hours before, I was worried about Jack the Ripper on wheels, and being arrested for coming here.
Life moved slow in Eagle Point. It moved very fast, almost flashing in front of my face the last few rides here. I'd seen the Biltmore, I'd been hired in the kitchen for prep, and after eating one of the most delicious meals of my life, and after two hours of rolling in the hay, I'm being offered a job as a call boy.
Andrew was polite and went straight to the point, once he was satisfied with my performance. There seemed to be no question on his mind that I'd do as a Biltmore Boy.
"Thirsty?" he asked.
"I could drink a ginger ale," I said, and he got up to mix himself a drink and to get me what I asked for.
The rest of the conversation was about the men who might enjoy my services, and they arrived all hours of the night and day, so I could be called at almost any time to be a man's companion, and all other duties assigned, apparently.
While the offer might have spooked me to back to where I came from, it didn't. I would give it a try and see what it was like. I had nowhere in mind to go and I had plenty of time to get there.
"Cecil is to never hear the words Biltmore Boy come from your lips. Cecil manages the hotel. He doesn't know there are Biltmore Boys. There are things I don't want him to know. This is Jonathan's and my brainchild. I was asked often enough where a guest could find companionship, and apparently it is the kind of thing offered at a lot of your finer hotels and I saw a need. With Jonathan, we came up with Biltmore Boys. It pays quite handsomely, and you'll make a bundle if you play ball with the men who will ask for you to be their Biltmore Boy while they're in town."
"I won't bore you with detail tonight. I'll need to send you to the stylist and then the spa. We'll want to dress you up a bit to suit a client's needs. Your skin needs a bit of pampering. Your hair will make you look like a million, once Raul finishes with you. Professionals in the finish men's clothing store in Beverly Hills will dress you.
Jonathan will cover for you while we remake you into a Biltmore Boy. He'll handle Cecil. You'll need to be in the kitchen at times. Cecil doesn't know much, but he'll remember he turned you over to me. He'll make one trip to the kitchen to make sure everything is in order. Once he does that, you'll rarely see him, and Jonathan will take care of him should he show up in the kitchen."
"Tonight you'll sleep here. Tomorrow they'll do a deep cleaning of Todd's room. He was a Biltmore Boy who ran off with a client. It does happen. Most men want a short term companion and sex partner, but you never know which guy might fall in love with you. That's not my affair. It's yours, but I do need to keep my stock of Biltmore Boys furnished with enough boys to service all the clients."
"It's not hard work and there are benefits that come with the job besides pay that will make every day Christmas for you. You'll see what I mean about benefits. They come in different forms for different boys, but they're always worth what you do for them. You'll catch on once you've been out a few times. You'll come to regard the day you came here a lucky break for you."
I heard his words as my head kept nodding forward. I did my best to stay awake for dessert, but dessert never came and I woke up in Andrew's bed, without him in it. Light flooded through the window.
What time was it, I wondered. Just in case I jumped up before Andrew could come back in wanting more favors from me. Everything I had to put on was in the living room, and when I left the bedroom, I walked into the next room to find a cart full of covered dishes had been rolled into the middle of the floor.
Two steaming hot cups of coffee sat on either side of the cart. I immediately dumped sugar and cream into one, and gulped it down. My god, it was glorious. I poured another cup and treated it the same way as the first, drinking half of it just to savor the flavor. The first cover I lifted hid bacon, sausage, and thick pieces of country ham. I immediately took to munching the crispiest bacon in the world. It too was to die for.
"Oh, you're up," Andrew said, coming in the door to give me the once over a couple of times.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"It's after two. This is the day Cecil will check on you, while you still look like the boy he met yesterday. You'll need to be in the kitchen at three. No telling what time he might wander in. He keeps himself occupied for most of the day, but certain things he always does and checking on you is one. You have time to eat. Didn't know what you like. There's French toast, eggs over easy, eggs scrambled, ham, sausage, bacon. Rye and white toast, biscuits, and plenty of coffee. The food here is top notch. You'll see. I'll be sure you get well fed, but not so well fed you'll add fat to that hot bod of yours."
The happiest moment of my life definitely wasn't the minute when I approached the prep cook's table and saw piles of veggies and herbs and spices. My hands were still sore before I began chopping. After a few minutes, it felt like I'd never stopped chopping.
I yawned and slowed my pace. As I started on a new bunch of carrots, I noticed a man standing a few feet away.
"You've done this before?" he said.
I immediately recognized the carnation.
"Yes, Sir. Uncle Apollo had a restaurant. I was always in the kitchen," I said, giving him as much truth as I had handy.
"Glad to see you fitting in. Jonathan says you're fine. Keep up the good work. I'm Cecil. If you have any problems, come to me."
He turned and left without me having anything else to say.
"Big day tomorrow. Hair, spa, and wardrobe," Jonathan said, taking the knife out of my hand.
"You did fine. He won't be back to check on you. He does that one time. I told him what he wanted to hear, but he likes to see for himself, and you impressed him. Not easy to do. Cecil is about the least likely man to leave an impression on anyone," he said.
I laughed.
"Andrew is in his rooms. You can go there. We have a real problem getting all the rooms cleaned of our guests over the weekends, and they'll get to your room in the morning. It'll be ready for you to put your clothes in when you return tomorrow afternoon. Jesse will be driving you. He's a good Joe. Let your hair down and he'll talk to you honestly. Some people think he's not to be spoken to, because he's a chauffeur, but you'll see, Jesse's good people."
At nine the next morning the driver of the limo held the rear door open for me. Being half asleep, I wasn't ready to talk to anyone. When he stopped in front of the stylist, he leaned over the backseat to address me.
"I'll return for you in two hours. Raul handles all our Biltmore Boys. He's top notch. You're in good hands."
"Thanks," I said, as I went in the front door of the shop. Raul was the only one there. First, he walked around me.
"Good lines. You'll be a different man once I'm done with you."
"Can you give me a hint who I'll be so I can be ready?" I said.
Raul looked at me a minute and said nothing.
"Sit."
I sat. He walked around the chair twice. He stood in front of me looking at my face with his hand in his chin. He walked around me two more times, and I heard the scissors before he reached the chair, and it was like they never stopped. I waited to hear the buzz of the barber's tool, but this wasn't like a trip to the barber.
Raul moved the chair around and he snipped with the scissors, and he turned the chair, walking around it, using the scissors even more. It seemed like I'd been there all day, and I'd eaten breakfast, but I was getting hungry.
Finally, I saw Jesse pull up out front. He said two hours. That was plenty for any haircut, and I'd tell him we were done if he didn't show some sign of being done soon.
He pointed the chair away from the mirror, and I'd been afraid to look at myself. Raul looked at me, which wasn't the same. His chin was in his hand again as he stood still. I sat still.
Raul smiled.
"Meet the new you," Raul said.
He gave the chair twirl. It stopped with me looking in the mirror. I didn't expect a haircut to make me look different, but it did. I know they said it was styled, but I wasn't sure I liked it. It was different. Somehow my face looked fuller. My ears didn't look as large.
Maybe I did like it.
As soon as Jesse saw me he got out to open the door for me.
"Hold your horses," I said like Stanley use to say.
I got in the front seat.
"You sure you're the same dude?" Jesse asked, once he sat down in the car.
"I'm not sure. I don't know if I like it. What do you think?"
"I'm not that good with judging stuff. It's different. You look like you're better proportioned. I don't know how. You're more symmetric. Neater looking. Does that make sense. Andrew swears by Raul."
"I suppose it does, turning the rear view mirror to see myself.
"I can take you back to get lunch. Spa at one and it's eleven fifteen. The spa is ten minutes in the other direction. Plenty of time. Once they finish with you at the spa, there's a men's clothing store where Andrew has all the Biltmore Boys dressed."
"Dressed. What does that mean?"
"They pick out clothes that are the colors that go with your look. I can honestly say, when a new guy comes out of that place, I don't always recognize them. Most stuff is tailored, but some stuff isn't, and they will send you home in something that makes you look terrific."
"What's a Biltmore Boy do?" I asked, looking Jesse in the eye.
"I drive. As you can plainly see, no one is going to ask me to be a Biltmore Boy. I'm a slug when it comes to looks. I've got the manners of a lumberjack, and the disposition of a porcupine."
"You do not. You're nice," I said, looking him over.
"And no one has asked me to be a Biltmore Boy. You're nice and you're about to look a lot nicer. It's what I know about Biltmore Boys."
Jesse and I sat in the kitchen and Jonathan brought us oysters on the half shell, clam chowder, and some fish he told me the name of but I don't remember. Neither of us left a crumb.
"You look like two peas in a pod. Told you Jesse was regular."
"I feel at home with him. He's honest, like you said."
"You look like a regular guy, in spite of your looks. I don't think anyone has ever told you how handsome you are. Jesse won't tell you, but Andrew and I will. I have a feeling you won't last long, Josh."
"Why would you say that?" I asked.
"Someone is going to snatch you up and never let you get away," Jonathan told me.
"I'm just a twenty-year-old kid. No one's going to do that."
"You'll see," Jonathan said. "You'll see."
At the spa I was baked, basted, scrubbed, tickled, packed in mud, rinsed by two Chinese ladies, and pounded like a piece of clay by a woman the size of Mr T. When she was ready to turn me over, she literally picked me up and flipped me over.
I'm sure I left there bruised and ready to go into the lobster pot. My entire body tingled as I dropped into the front seat of the Cadillac.
"Damn," Jesse said. "Now I don't recognize you. You're pink. It's a pretty pink. You look like one healthy dude, dude. You look splendid and I don't do boys."
"Thank you, Jess. I feel splendid, I think. There's a woman in there who picked me up off the table and tossed me back down."
"Helga. I've heard about Helga. Couldn't get me in there with a team of wild horses," Jesse said.
He made me laugh.
"I'll be taking you shopping tomorrow, Josh," Jesse said. "It's too late to go today. They close at five and you'll need two to three hours by the time the tailor measures you, and there will be a lot of clothes they'll have to show you."
"This is all new to me, Jesse. I feel like I'm dreaming this."
"I'm quite real, and I'm right here. I'm not dreaming so you can't be dreaming," he assured me.
"No, I suppose not. It's becoming a little scary. I don't know what I've gotten myself into," I said.
"You're fine. You're getting better all the time. Go with the flow."
I knew what it meant and it was the right answer, but was I getting in over my head. I had a fifty dollar haircut according to the prices on Raul's mirror, and I don't know how much it cost to spend a few hours at that spa. Now, I was going to be given tailored clothes.
Jesse dropped me off in front of a men's clothing store and he told me I'd be a while, and he'd be back in two hours.
Once again people walked around me like they were doing a survey. They stopped and then started moving again, making noises like someone deep in thought.
The tailor came out with a yellow tape measure over his shoulder. He made more noise, and he measured me from stem to stern. When his hand went up to my crotch, I was sure he was making a pass at me, but he moved it away as quickly as he put it there, and he jotted notes on a pad of paper he had.
After an hour of being shown shirts in brown and green, slip overs, button up, and with different length sleeves, I was sat down and several pair of brown shoes were set in front of me. A man knelt in front of me and untied my athletic shoes. He gently slipped my foot into something that felt like a remarkable glove on my feet.
"Stand. Walk. Do you like these? I have darker brown and lighter. I think this is you, though. They're my best pair and I can wholeheartedly recommend these for comfort and style."
"These are fine," I said, feeling like I was walking on a cloud.
He left me sitting alone for the first time since I arrived almost two hours before. He came back with silk socks, underwear I might expect to find on a store bought woman.
When I went to the door with my shoe box and the other incidentals, Jesse took them from me and put them in the trunk before driving me back to the Biltmore.
"Josh, I'll have these things taken up to your room for you."
"They showed me all kinds of shirts and slacks. I thought there would be more," I said, calculating there was something I didn't know.
"It's all being tailored to fit. You've never worn tailored clothes."
That was easy enough to answer.
"No. Never."
"They'll be along Wednesday. When you put them on, you'll feel like a million bucks, Josh. Once more, you look like a million bucks. I'll put them in your room for you when they come."
"Thanks, Jesse. I'm glad one of us knows what's going on."
Jesse laughed.
If I got any busier chopping veggies, I'd need a vacation. Jonathan needed me again and I worked non stop. When Jonathan brought me dinner at eleven, I nearly fell asleep in the broccoli soup. I managed to get through the lamb chops. The mashed potatoes with garlic and parsley were incredible. I could understand why people who weren't staying at the Biltmore ate there.
My room was ready for me a few days before, and on Wednesday they filled my closet with shirts, sweaters, slacks, and two suits. There was a light tan suit, and a dark brown suit for all occasions.
The tan suit was me and it fit like a glove. I tried on the shirts that were all combinations of greens and browns. They did look good on me. I don't know if I looked like a million bucks, but I no longer looked like the hayseed that left Eagle Point the week before.
It was still difficult to believe where I was. I hadn't done anything yet, and I was being treated like royalty. I actually didn't know how royalty was treated, but this treatment worked fine for me.
I was generally in the kitchen at five each day. Some days I worked from three to six, and then, Jonathan let me go. A television had been rolled into my room, so I did have some entertainment while working less and less.
One afternoon, later that week, Jonathan came over to watch me chopping celery for a dish he was going to prepare.
"Andrew wants you. I can take it from here. You'll need to shower. Go to your room and pick out something that you think makes you look at your best. You'll be meeting a gentlemen once you clean up and dress. We want you at your best."
I was nervous. After days of preparing me to look my best, I was about to go to work. I knew what I thought I'd be doing. I didn't know anything about anything. What would he look like? Would he like me?"
"This will be an hour. The man is straight to the point. You simply comply with his wishes. Are you going to be okay? Are you ready."
As I stood talking to Andrew, I looked down at a pile of hundred dollar bills on the table next to him.
"Yes, I'm well paid for the service I offer. Don't you worry about what I make. He'll give you what he thinks you are worth. It's up to you to make him happy with your service. You'll be well paid. Mr Stewart is a regular and he likes a variety of boys."
"He was tall and rather rugged looking. There was a table in the middle of the room. He dropped his Biltmore robe on the floor and he stood naked. His eyes were on me. I didn't react. It was what it was.
"I need a good rub. You do know what to do?"
"Yes, Mr Stewart. I know," I said, figuring I'd make it up as I went along.
I thought of Helga and I imagined her tossing this guy around. I almost laughed, but I got control of myself. This was business and I needed to conduct myself accordingly.
I went to the head of the table and put my hands on his shoulders, as he lay his face on his hands.
"Nude. I like the boy rubbing me to be nude."
I was careful to fold each piece of clothing as I laid it to one side. Mr Stewart didn't so much as glance my way. It certainly wasn't what I expected so far. I moved back to the head of the table.
I stood naked and I began rubbing his shoulders, his back and I leaned over him as one of his hands felt my flaccid dick. It took about a minute for it to salute him and his mouth gave me a thrill, once I realized he was going to blow me. I made sure where I rubbed him required me to lean to get all I had in his throat, and he was jolly good fellow, taking it all and still being able to lick and suck me in such a wonderful way that I nearly lost my mind. I did lose my load and he stayed with me until the last drop.
I was almost sorry when he turned over and his mouth was nowhere near my dick, but he was standing at attention and as I worked on his legs and between them, and I felt his balls, and then his dick, he moaned as soon as I touched it. He wasn't long but was fairly thick and as dicks went, it was fine. I wasn't going down on him if he didn't make it clear it was the way I would get out of his room.
I was a Biltmore Boy, and I'd do what he wanted me to do.
I was surprised when he started cumming, and it didn't last long. He breathed hard and he sucked a lot of air. He wasn't heavy but he wasn't in shape either. He gasped and needed more air.
When I went back to the head of the table while he recovered, he once more reached for my goodies, and we did a repeat of the activity we engaged in when I first started giving him a rub. I massaged his shoulders as he sucked and sucked until I was as deep as I was going to go into his throat. He had definitely done this before, and he had talent in that throat as I reached the end of the line. I all but collapsed on to him as my cum shot, ran, and pumped out of me.
As orgasms went, it was a good one, and Mr Stewart was done with me.
Once he gave up my dick, he told me, "My wallet on the table. What's under it is for you. Thank you. What is your name?"
"Josh. I'm Josh. Thank you, Sir."
I picked up his wallet and took two one hundred dollar bills that were on the table under it.
I dressed and he stayed prone on the table. I let myself out. I went back to my room and I tossed the two one hundred dollar bills in the top drawer of the night stand. I took a shower. I'd showered before going to Mr Stewart's room, but I needed another shower.
It was nine fifteen when I got out of the shower. I didn't know how I felt about what I did. I didn't do anything but pretend I was rubbing him down while he took what he wanted. He paid for it and I gave it to him, but I still didn't know how I felt.
I was a Biltmore Boy now. I'd serviced a client, and I was a Biltmore Boy. It was a good way to break the ice. Everyone wasn't going to be as easy as Mr Stewart, but some men wanted little more than to be held by a good looking boy. Others wanted full service.
A few men were older than I should like, but they weren't hard to service. Anyone touching them gave them a thrill and made them feel alive in a way they no longer felt very often. The older men were the most generous, and some older men asked for me when they came back to the Biltmore.
Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com
On to Chapter Fifteen
"Marty"
Back to Chapter Thirteen
"Going to Los Angeles"
Chapter Index
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