The Embarrassment of Riches

The Embarrassment of Riches Chapter Three: The Long Stand

The people, places and events of this story exist only in my (and now your) imagination; therefore, any resembelences to real people, real places or real events would be really cool.

Martin had no interest in football. He didn't like watching it and he had no interest in playing it; but he was fast, athletic and tall and had been above average in each of these qualities for several years. So when the Earl of Lennox Boys School asked him to join the school's football team two years ago, he had politely declined. As a result, he was then not so much been asked as emotionally blackmailed into joining.

It was ok really – Martin like running about and looking at nice boys in shorts was right up his alley. Martin's disinterest in the game was, initially, mistaken for antipathy but in reality he just didn't give a fuck. Rangers vs. Celtic, Man U vs. Man C., the Earl of Lennox Boys School vs. Lord Gower Grammar School; these were rivalries Martin couldn't invest himself in.

Having said that, he did want to beat the boys from Glasgow; if only because the Lord Gower lads had beaten them last time and because his own peers were unbearable when they lost. The moaning, the bitching, the shouting and the huffy-puffy anger was mind-numbingly tedious to Martin. Best just win the game and avoid the whole thing.

The game ended three-one to the home team, with two of their goals being scored by Martin. One thing Martin did like about the beautiful game was the celebration. Boys hugging, pressing against each other, jumping up and down... kissing. This was a bigger motivator than pride.

Ten boys had hugged, patted and cheered him when the game ended – only boys on his own team, but that was to be expected, the Lord Gower boys left the pitch scowling.

The under-eighteen's matches generally pitted schools against each other at periods throughout the year. Most of the boys were seventeen or eighteen, but the odd younger boy would be recruited too. Martin had only been fifteen when he joined the Earl of Lennox's team.

Today's match had been held at the Symposium Athletics Club near Stirling. It wasn't that Martin's school could not have hosted the match – their amenities being a guarantee given the cost of schooling there – rather the boys themselves preferred to get away from school grounds from time to time. For some boys, like Martin, the Symposium had the added allure of being frequented predominately by gay men and half the boys on the football team had had or were interested in homosexual intercourse.

Martin and his peers had heard stories about shenanigans that had occurred in the Glasgow club but the stories were so outlandish they were hard to believe. It would not be long before Martin's disbelief would be tempered slightly.

The opposing team had taken their loss with impressive equanimity and while their team captain (Nicholas) shook hands and chatted to Connor, Martin's team captain, the rest of his team trudged off inside to shower and change. Nicholas was not as tall as Martin but he was broader and weighed a bit more – all of it in muscle. Nicholas had short dark hair and an Australian accent, his parents having moved from down under because the Scottish climate is so attractive. Nicholas's deep voice and throaty laugh almost echoed across the emptying pitch so whatever Connor had just said must have tickled the big boy's funny bone.

Connor's entourage had made it practically impossible for Martin to dismiss himself. Matt, Sean and Kazuo were elated after their win and engaged Martin in team talk that he would sooner have avoided. Martin didn't have any particularly close friends at the school, though he was popular and well-liked. Many fancied the arse off him after discovering how conventionally attractive he was – mostly through seeing him in the showers. The entourage were among those that fancied Martin shamelessly and Martin, for the most part seemed oblivious. They liked that about him, his naiveté blinding him to the fact they didn't want him going in too soon because they liked to watch him in the shower.

Martin, resigned to staying until the final five lads were ready to head in, pulled off his t-shirt and downed a bottle of tepid water. For a day late in September it was surprisingly warm – or at least, surprisingly not-cold – autumn was yet to bite. Martin's chest was shiny with sweat and he allowed careless glugs of water to spill down his body when he failed to swallow fast enough.

Martin's chest was lean and covered sparely with wiry hair in the centre of his chest and descending to the bush of pubes above his dick. After more than an hour and a half of activity, Martin was warm all over and his balls were so sweaty they were starting to chaff. So it was with some relief that they were finally headed inside.

"Martin," called Connor over the noise being made by his friends. "Nicholas said you played a good game."

Martin smiled gratefully but also because Connor's Fife accent was quite lovely.

"If you ever wanna ditch these losers, just let me know," Nicholas said with a wide grin that exposed a row of perfect white teeth.

"Will do," Martin replied. "Except these losers couldn't do without me."

Connor smiled at that, it was true and uncharacteristically forward and perceptive of Martin McGuigan. Connor was a handsome lad: five foot ten or eleven, with hair shaved as short as the barber could make it at the beginning of term. It was now growing back in as a black fuzz that seemed to emphasise his dark chocolaty eyes. Of course his name wasn't actually Connor – that was his last name: O'Connor, actually. Connor had always hated his given name so everyone who knew him called him by his surname. Those who did not know him learned quickly to call him by his last name.

"Now, now Martin, don't be like that," Connor replied.

"Sorry, Connor."

The chat continued amiably on the way to the changing rooms, the six lads were all seventeen and shared moments like this when they weren't being bothered by teachers or family about `what their plans were for the future' – as if they knew!?

Inside the Symposium, the air conditioning was warmer than the September air. In the locker room, most of the boys were already showered and getting dressed. Underpants and socks covered every bench they passed. Shirts and trousers, school ties and blazers – all for as far as the eye could see.

Connor and the others observed other gym users had moved over to make room for the rabble of school boys but many gave glances as subtle as they could make time in their general direction. Martin did not especially notice, he was away in his own innocent world.

In fact, it was with child like obliviousness that as soon as Martin reached the bench in front of his locker, he whipped the t-shirt from where he had been carrying over his shoulder and dropped it onto the bench and then pushed down his shorts and underwear. Boys and men alike could not help but notice him. Martin was six foot three, with long legs and blond locks on his head and he stood obtrusive yet oblivious to all around him.

Martin's flaccid penis stood at six inches when soft and most looking at it swing as he headed for the shower wondered how big it got when it was hard. Connor, Nicholas, Kazuo and the twins Matt and Sean certainly imagined how big it was hard, which made it hard (difficult) to follow him into the shower without boning up.

Connor had had a good camaraderie with Nicholas for a couple of years and knew he was bisexual and going with a girl called Cheryl. But that didn't stop him window shopping, so to speak. Connor, Kazuo, the twins (Sean and Matt) and Nicholas undressed slightly less conspicuously and wrapped towels around their waists as they headed for the showers. Martin just grabbed his towel and carried it with him, as care free and thoughtlessly as a child would.

Under the water, Martin closed his eyes and tilted his head back until his face was pummelled by the water. The boys watched the water cascade down Martin's long frame, pooling around his big feet before draining away. Martin's skin glowed under the light and he kept his eyes shut as he lathered up his hair and then face with body wash; his soapy hands running all over his head, exposing his arm pits and putting everything on show.

Martin's hands, in turn, rubbed soap under each arm and then the money shot came.

Martin liberally applied soap over his cock and balls, pulling on the flaccid shaft that, even soft was a reasonable length. It didn't harden – Martin was not that naive, soft in the head or daft. Though he did enjoy wanking and he'd be thinking about this shower later.

While he had no idea how other people saw him, his own observations went largely unnoticed also. The other five boys showering with him had taken up positions opposite to watch him, but so too could they be watched. Martin felt lucky to be able to watch five naked boys covered in soap and water but rationed his watching out of fear of being caught and fear of getting a hard on. A six inch softie was one thing but an eight inch erection would be even harder to miss. Never the less, Martin liked the swimmer-smooth bodies of his team mates.

That was why he kept his eyes closed so often in the showers.

Martin turned to face the wall of the shower, offering the other boys a view of his peachy arse – soft and yummy. Water flowed over the two lovely globes and cascade down his calves until the soapy water puddle around his toes. Martin rubbed body wash around his neck and rubbed his big hands down his spine and then over his arse. The other boys just watched and could barely keep from getting erections.

It was almost a relief when Martin turned off the shower head and the water stopped flowing. Martin turned back and took one last look at the five boys opposite; they were all casting their eyes elsewhere but keeping sideways glances on Martin's dripping penis.

Clean as a whistle, Martin rinsed and grabbed his towel as he left the shower.

Once out of earshot, Sean said aloud what everyone else had been thinking; "Did you see the size of his cock? Fuck!"

"Nah, we didn't notice," said Connor.

"Fucking massive dong!" Sean carried on. Everyone looked at him curiously, "Sorry, that was too loud. Obscene," he added almost to himself and everyone just laughed because secretly they had been thinking the same thing.

Making his way back to the locker room, the other school lads were gone – probably to get lunch or munchies. Martin threw the towel over his head and rubbed vigorously, thus his arms were again above his head and his whole body could be seen.

A man had just entered the locker room and stood transfixed by the naked beauty before his eyes. If he had known who the boy was, that he was only seventeen, he might have saved himself a lot of bother. If he had been a few minutes earlier and seen the school lads changing he might have associated Martin with them; but at this moment all he saw was the most attractive man he had ever seen.

The man himself was also attractive, an inch shorter but also blonde haired and when the towel finally dropped and the man saw Martin's face he saw so much of himself, a likeness of sorts and he wondered if it was true that people were attracted to people with similar features. Martin reminded the man of himself from ten years ago, though he did not look his age of thirty.

Martin saw him and also looked struck.

For Martin's part, he also took in the likeness in the shape of the man's face and the curve of his chin, the colour of his eyes and the blonde hair – though that was longer than his. He was a few years older too, Martin reckoned – perhaps mid-twenties he guessed. Martin could tell the strapping man was also physically fit beneath his shirt and tie and formal trousers.

The man could not stop looking at the naked boy, who was now wrapping a towel around his waist so it sat just below a row of tight and muscled abs. He estimated the lad must be in his early twenties.

"Hi," the man said at last, "I'm E.J."

"Martin."

"Nice to meet you," said E.J. "Have you been using the club for long?"

E.J. did not think so – he knew most of the frequent members well.

"No, er, not really. I'm not a regular anyway," Martin replied, stumbling over his words.

E.J. nodded and searched for something else to say. Meanwhile, Martin was reluctant to mention he only came to the Symposium when his school playing football. Looking at E.J., Martin might start coming more often in his spare time.

"Well, eh... did you enjoy your work out?" E.J. asked.

"Yea, great," Martin replied as he pulled on socks and exposed his dick again while he pulled on black boxer briefs, followed by grey jogging shorts and a t-shirt. He was finished school for the day, his timetable affording him the whole afternoon off.

Again, if only he'd put on that school uniform maybe things would have happened differently.

"If you ever want to try out some of the other facilities, just ask for me at the desk and I'll set you up." E.J. smiled as he spoke, feeling the buzz one feels when they meet someone they think is special.

"Set me up?" asked Martin, standing now and tilting his head as he asked the question – making him look like a cute puppy who didn't understand his master's instruction to fetch.

"Yea, well, I'm deputy manager here." Said E.J. who seemed quite pleased with himself as he said it.

"Really?" asked Martin, surprise creeping into his voice. "You don't look old enough to be a manager."

"How old do I look?" E.J. asked as he stepped closer to Martin.

As attractive and stunning as he thought Martin was, E.J. had been reluctant to step too close while the lad as naked – if only in case he scared him off.

"I dunno," Martin replied, thinking for a moment before adding: "Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-six," E.J. lied – he was actually thirty but they'd get to that if things went well. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," Martin lied – he was actually seventeen but they'd get to that if things went well.

Both felt pangs of guilt at having lied.

Neither was exactly sure why they had lied; especially Martin for whom the lie was uncharacteristically savvy.

"Cool. Well... maybe we could get a coffee or something sometime?" suggested E.J.

Martin nodded and then heard Connor and the others making noises that signalled the end of their shower and their imminent return. He didn't need them blowing his cover.

"I'd love to," Martin replied. "I'll be back in a couple of days... I'll be sure to ask for you and we can set something up."

Martin smiled broadly as he practically skipped past E.J. and left the locker room. E.J. clocked the naked teenagers returning from the showers but he had other things on his mind now.

Martin wasn't ready to go home. He had homework that could wait and it was only one o'clock in the afternoon. He bought lunch and took a seat at a bus stop, though he had no intention of getting a bus anywhere. He ate a sandwich and followed it with a black forest profiterole desert that was yummy. He washed them down with diet coke.

His hunger sated, Martin hoisted his backpack and set off for town. Martin's feet took him back to the shopping centre he had visited last Saturday; it was Friday now and in the middle of a working day so he knew the place would be quiet, at least until the schools let out in a few hours.

Martin wasn't sure he was doing the right thing as he bypassed each and every shop on his ascent through the building. He found himself on the fifth floor and looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on him but there was no-one looking his way. From the top of the escalator, Martin could not see into the drycleaners or the photo studio but there was enough activity inside his destination that he did not need to see inside to know it was busy.

Martin may not have been looked at immediately but a handsome stranger in a lion's den did not go unnoticed for long so by the time he reached the door of the Pothos Emporium, several men had checked out Martin's pretty bare legs and perfect bottom.

Martin pushed inside the shop and looked around for a member of staff. He was in luck too because Graham had spotted him and when Martin smiled and raised his hand, the manager made his way over.

"Good afternoon," Graham said warmly. "Can I help you find something today?"

There was something teasing in the man's voice that even Martin picked up on. Martin smiled, his lips stretching into a broad grin.

"I wondered if you ever found the things I lost?" Martin asked cheekily.

Graham shrugged, "I'm afraid not. I would be happy to compensate you with a gift card."

"How about a job?"

"How about a job interview."

They bantered back and forth with Martin finally conceding match point.

"An interview? Sure thing," Martin agreed readily.

Graham smiled adoringly at the puppy-like lad before him.

"I'm afraid I don't have the time just now, but if you are free tomorrow morning, first thing I'll see what I can do for you." Graham weighed his options – to prepare the boy now or surprise him tomorrow with his ideas.

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow."

Graham didn't have a lot of time to decide but ultimately realised it was in his interest to preface the job now than wait for tomorrow.

"I don't just need another shop boy," Graham said before Martin could turn to leave.

"What do you mean?" Martin asked.

"What I mean is anyone can stack a shelf, sort a stock room, rearrange clothing rails by size. What I need is someone whole bring in some custom, who will promote my store and who can put a pretty face on this place." Graham was loathed to undersell his shop like this – he had great customer base already and more than enough sales to pay the bills.

"I don't see how I can help," Martin replied.

He really didn't, that's what made him so cute.

"Martin," Graham said seriously. "You're a handsome lad."

Martin blushed.

"You're tall and thin, you're rocking a great body – do you work out," Graham asked rhetorically; "and you're handsome."

Graham came to Martin's side and put a friendly arm around his shoulder. Martin didn't mind this, it was nice being held and being appreciated like an old chum.

"Do you take your shirt off at the beach?" Graham asked.

"Yea," Martin replied comfortably.

"And you wear shorts," Graham prompted, looking down at the smooth curve of the boy's calves.

"Yea."

"Yea," Graham parroted. "Well what I need is someone who is attractive enough, brave enough and comfortable enough being looked at to bring in the men and the boys and to be the most attractive damn man in here."

Martin blushed again.

"Do you really think I could do that?" Martin asked.

"Well, we'll see. I'll pay you well and I'll let you have double the staff discount. But I'll need to test you," Graham paused; "At the interview tomorrow. Because you might not always be comfortable doing what I ask but it'll always be for the best and I know you'll always be capable. You'll need to get comfortable being around us, the staff and customers, in all states of undress. I want people to see a good looking man like you and want to be like you."

He kept calling Martin `man' to appease his ego. It was working too.

"Oh, like... shirtless?" Martin asked.

"Yea. You don't mind people seeing your chest, do you?"

"I guess not."

"And underwear? Vests and boxers?" Graham was taking a risk that he might be pushing too soon.

"Er...well... maybe," replied Martin.

Maybe was not a no, time to wrap this up.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Graham said, "Wear something comfortable and be here at noon."

"Ok."

Graham watched the big lug depart and waited until he disappeared from the store before he reached down and adjusted his throbbing cock. His mouth was dry with anticipation.

Martin avoided telling his parents that he was going for a job interview and was assisted in this obfuscation by their addiction to the local gardening centre that would occupy their attention for several hours. Martin showered and then dressed: vest and short sleeved shirt; the shirt was maroon and seemed an appropriate homage to the working attire of his prospective employer. He pulled on black briefs, his favoured underwear for keeping everything snug, and then black trousers. Socks and comfortable shoes that were a little classier than trainers but not as formal dressy shoes completed the look. He gelled his hair so his blonde curls on top became a less disordered mess.

He rode his bike into town and the roads were damp from overnight rain. The rain had brought the temperature down from the previous day and now it was bordering on cold. Martin only avoided shivering because he was pedalling; still he was glad to be wearing a long sleeved hoodie and a scarf.

Martin made his way to the top floor and felt butterflies of anticipation. He had to wait for nearly ten minutes, hovering uncomfortably at the front of the store, before Graham was ready for him. His prospective boss led Martin to the back of the store where the underwear section was located and along the back wall, a door led into a long corridor. Several doors on the left of the corridor led to rooms (mostly offices) and on the right fewer doors led into larger store rooms. Half way up the corridor, a passage led off on the right and connecting with the backrooms of the other shops on the fifth floor.

Half way up the corridor, Martin briefly wondered if the lost property room was behind one of these doors and perhaps he could get his things back if he looked for himself.

"I'm afraid I'll need you to wait a little longer," Graham said.

They had exchanged pleasantries as they passed through his store and Graham had complemented Martin's smart appearance and punctuality.

"I'm running behind on staff appraisals and Mr Rosenberg, the photo studio owner, made an appointment with me today that he can't delay. I hope I don't hold you back, did you have plans for today?" Graham asked.

"Nope. Just this," Martin replied obligingly.

"The boys will be in and out of here so if you need anything you can ask them if you can't get my attention," Graham said.

Martin looked back the way they'd came – the door back to the shop was still open and Martin could see a few people hovering about. One shopper was looking at a bright red thong that, even from this distance, Martin could tell was an overly ambitious and optimistic size given the girth of the man's waistline.

"If you just wait here, please?" Graham implored.

They were two thirds of the way up the corridor, at the far end of which appeared to be Graham's office. Martin dutifully leaned against the wall to wait.

"What size of shoe do you wear?" Graham asked as he was about to leave.

"Umm... size fourteen's," Martin admitted. He was a little embarrassed because he knew his feet were big for a lad his age. Actually, for a person of any age.

"Could you pop your shoes and socks off?" Graham requested, "I'd love to see your feet and let you try on some footwear later."

Martin briefly hesitated but Graham had told him the day before that he might be asked to do some things that might make him uncomfortable. He was prepared to show off his physique, knew it was something Graham was interest in. Martin's mind would never articulate the word `exploit' but that's what Graham wanted – he wanted to exploit Martin's aesthetic assets.

To that end, Graham told Martin, "How can I put this? You're very aesthetically pleasing. I'd just like to explore how comfortable you would be with showing that off. Hence why I want you to start by taking your shoes and socks off. That's not asking too much, is it?"

"I guess not," Martin replied.

He bent down to unlace the shoes and slipped them off, placing the socks inside the shoes and wriggling his toes against the cool floor. Graham couldn't help but notice the long feet, veins visible and tracing around the ankle and the way Martin's fair hair started at the slope of his foot where it met the ankle, disappearing inside the leg of his trousers.

"I'd better keep these safe in my office this time," Graham said and took the items with him.

Martin didn't have enough time to get bored as every few minutes or five one of the boys from the shop would pass to collect an item of stock or deliver an invoice to an office just to the left and opposite where he stood.

From the second corridor he and Graham had passed ten minutes ago a handsome man of about thirty emerged. He smiled at Martin and unlocked one of the closed office doors. As he came back out he caught Sandy, one of the lads Martin had met last week in the changing room.

"Are you on your way to see Graham?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr Rosenberg." Sandy said with a hitch in his voice – the ginger haired boy appeared quite taken with the older dark haired man.

"Just pass along the message that I'll be along to see him in half an hour. I won't keep him long," Mr Rosenberg – the presumed photographer at the photo studio Graham had already mentioned.

As Mr Rosenberg departed back to his shop with whatever he had retrieved from the office, Sandy was happy to oblige him and was headed for his boss's office anyway. Martin assumed Sandy was about to get the `staff appraisal' Graham had mentioned ten minutes ago. Sandy left the door open but Martin, although he could hear their voices, could make out none of the words they were actually saying. Less than ten minutes later and Sandy was on his feet.

Sandy smiled as he got closer to Martin, who returned the smile.

"I'm Sandy, I saw you here last week. Mr Cauldwell asked me to ask for your shirt?" Sandy said, having the good grace to blush to a shade a tad redder than his hair.

Martin nodded, unbuttoned the shirt and handed it over. Sandy admired Martin's clearly defined chest and abs that were hidden beneath his vest. Martin's arms bulging with muscle, highlighted by the sleeveless top. Sandy returned to Graham to hand over the shirt and then walked past Martin again to return to the shop.

The next boy to come along was in his early twenties, his name badge identified him as Joe and he walked with the slightest of limps. A laugh signalled the end of his meeting with Graham Cauldwell and he stopped in front of Martin with a friendly smile.

"I'm Joe, it's nice to meet you," the young man spoke with a voice that was polite and a neutral accent that made it hard to identify where he was from; Scottish native, certainly.

"Martin," the younger man replied and extended a hand to shake.

"Have you got nice legs, Martin?" he asked.

After a moment, Martin smiled, "Yes. I suppose Graham wants to see them?"

"You'd suppose right."

It didn't ever occur to Martin to argue, he unzipped his black trousers and slipped them down his long sexy legs.

"So, are they nice legs?" Martin asked, a little insecure and also reciprocating the original question.

Joe leaned over and put his hand on the top of Martin's right thigh, just a few inches below his briefs. Joe's hand slid down the length of Martin's thigh, over the knee and he had to lean even closer as his hand continued down, slipping around the back to stroke Martin's calve. He brought it back up in one quick motion, giving the back of Martin's thigh a squeeze right at the cleft of his buttock.

"Very nice," Joe agreed.

Joe gave the trousers to Graham and went back to the shop. Martin should have watched him go, if he had he might have noticed the door from the corridor back into the shop was still open and the number of boys and men interested in browsing the underwear department was significantly higher than usual; they were all vying for a peek at the boy in his vest and pants.

The next to come along was Sam, whose blonde fringe was so long it hid one of his eyes. The young lad, in his early twenties, had a pierced lip, eyebrow, both ears, a nose stud... Martin wondered what else was pierced.

Sam had a certain prancing quality in his gait and that was how he approached; "Martin, right? I'm Sam."

The lad's voice was surprisingly deep and Martin had perhaps been expecting something a little more effeminate but in his inimitable fashion, the value judgement was amended in an instant. Sam's hand landed on Martin's chest – a little more forward than Martin had been expecting and, being innocent for his age, he was taken aback.

"Sorry," Sam said. "Maybe you could take that vest off and Mr Cauldell, Graham," Sam corrected himself in a tone that denoted he often had to correct himself; "Graham will see you soon."

Martin was, by now, a little more reticent. But he was also a naive coward who didn't know how to stand up to Graham. He also didn't want to stand up to Graham because he wanted a job. Martin wanted to be liked and to impress people and maybe this was how?

So Martin peeled the vest up over his head and it took all of Sam's strength to not bury his face in Martin's clean armpit or to nibble his nipple.

"You're a beautiful man," Sam said as he took the vest.

Martin blushed and crossed his arms across his chest. Not form the cold, more just a defence mechanism. He was now standing in a corridor in just his underwear; a pair of black briefs that contained a penis that was five inches even though soft.

Martin didn't seem to realise how respectable the bulge in his briefs was. What he did notice, at last, was the crowd who had been watching him strip for twenty minutes.

Even though the guys were busted – caught watching the sexy seventeen year old, they didn't stop looking. They didn't know he was seventeen but they did know he was young, supple and sexy.

As the last of the shop boys arrived to see Graham, Nate was happy to take his time passing Martin. He was even happier when Graham asked him to stay for the big moment.

Nate approached Martin and extended a hand, "I'm Nate. It's nice to see you. I mean to meet you;" Nate laughed nervously, but secretly he was just dying to see what was coming. "Graham asked me to show you into his office."

Nate tipped his hand towards Graham's office door and Martin started walking. Nate followed one pace behind, just far enough to look at Martin's brief-clad bum. He looked up wide-eyed at Graham and mouthed `oh-my-god!' and Graham could barely suppress the smile.

As Martin entered the office, the door was closed for the first time, Graham had of course wanted to watch Martin but now he knew he needed to use caution. Graham accepted that Martin was naive – but while the boy might be daft, he wasn't stupid.

"Martin," Graham announced by way of friendly greeting. "I'm sorry to have kept you."

"That's ok," Martin replied in a quiet voice.

Graham could tell the boy was cowed slightly.

"You look fantastic, Martin."

Martin looked up, his eyes bright and a smile creeping into his face.

"Yea, great is underselling it a bit. Amazing, I'd say." Nate added; a touch of hyperbole that went unnoticed by Martin.

"Thanks," Martin replied, his confidence buoyed.

"You would be a wonderful model for my shop. It's just..." Graham word searched for long enough that Martin felt the need to fill the gap.

"Just, what?" There was an edge of anxiety in Martin's tone.

Was he worried he wouldn't get the job or that he had somehow done something wrong? Graham knew he had his chance.

"I hate to ask but, well, I'd feel irresponsible if I didn't check to make sure?" Graham said.

Nate's cock twitched with anticipation.

"Make sure of what?" Martin asked.

"That you were truly comfortable modelling for me and for my customers."

Nate hadn't quite expected that. He'd expected Martin pants to be around his ankles by now.

"Oh, I am. I think," Martin said. "I mean standing out in that corridor I noticed guys looking at me and that was ok. No problem really."

"Good. Good," Graham said and then added: "I need to make sure of something else, Martin."

Martin didn't ask what, a second later Graham was answering the unasked question anyway.

"I feel obliged to take a look at your body... your whole body. That way if anything happens to you, if your ever injured or your body changes – you are a growing boy – I know about it and I can continue to meet your needs."

"Yes?" Martin said by way of reply.

"I want you to take off your underwear."

Martin was stunned. He should have expected this but was still taken aback. Was it that big a deal? He knew real models had to strip and be naked and change in front of dozens of people sometimes and be photographed and lots of things like that. Graham just wanted to make sure he was ok. Graham suggested that if, `god' forbid, anyone tried to hurt him, mark him, slap his bum or anything like that – Graham would know for himself that Martin had been unblemished before the event.

"Ok," Martin agreed.

Graham got to his feet and moved around his desk, perching his bottom on the edge of it.

"Go ahead and take off your pants, then," Graham said – it made him smile to call them pants, to lower the tone of his instruction to a level of innocence.

Martin was nervous but resigned to it. His hands rested on his hips and he pushed the briefs down. His penis came into view and Graham lost a lot of blood from his brain to another organ lower down. The underwear slipped down Martin's long legs and he flipped his feet out so they came off completely.

"Let me pick them up for you," offered Nate, who was still watching everything.

Nate deliberately came closer before bending down to pick them up. He could almost smell Martin's balls and penis and Martin could feel Nate's breath on his genitals. Nate picked them up and deposited them in a box with all of Martin's other things on the other side of the room. It gave Nate the opportunity to turn back and look at the whole picture.

Graham liked looking at the whole picture too.

"How old are you, Martin?" Graham asked, he knew the answer it was just exciting to hear it.

"Seventeen," replied Martin who, now he was naked, didn't know what to do.

Martin didn't know where to put his hands or even where to look.

Graham took in the sight of the naked boy and asked him to turn. Beautiful bottom too, it looked like it hadn't been popped yet.

There was a knock at the door as Martin turned back to face Graham again.

"Enter," Graham called.

Martin went tense again as the first thing whoever entered saw was his arse.

"Wow!"

Martin looked over his shoulder and saw Mr Rosenberg.

"I'm Alec," he introduced himself and Martin felt he had no choice but to turn and shake the proffered hand.

Martin introduced himself and blushed again.

"Well, I'm afraid I need to have a private chat with Alec for five minutes. So if you boys don't mind stepping outside, please?" Graham said.

Martin whipped around to face him, "Like this?"

"Oh yes, I won't be long. Come now," Graham said.

Nate stepped back out into the corridor first and Graham put an arm around Martin, his hand resting on the opposite hip from where he stood. Martin was gently hustled from the room and the door closed. Graham had enjoyed touching Martin, standing so close he could smell the boy's aftershave.

In the corridor, Nate didn't know what to say so he said nothing. It wasn't until Nate's gaze dropped back to Martin's crotch that he felt self-conscious and self-aware enough to cup his cock and balls. Too late – the men and boys in the shop had been waiting to see what happened next and the half dozen still standing there looking down the corridor had got the first glimpses of a cock they would start to see more and more of.

Martin stood against the wall where he had first been asked to stand. It would have occurred to most people to ask to step into one of the offices or to have something to wear from lost property while he waited but it didn't occur to Martin.

While he was a sight to behold, his observers eventually moved on; occasionally replaced by other shoppers who could hardly believe their wyes. It caused Martin some humiliation to be naked and watched but there as a little excitement to it too.

Martin did become aware that the "five minutes" Graham had asked for was going on for an awfully long time. He didn't have a watch and he knew that a watched pot never boils; he had nothing else to do and the more attention allocated to the perception of time passing, the longer the duration is experienced.

The worst thing was that Joe, Sam, Nate and Sandy kept coming past and going in and out of offices and the store room – it made Martin feel self-conscious. Graham and Alec of course were deliberately keeping Martin waiting. Fifteen minutes seemed like enough.

Martin had given up covering up, self-conscious and exposed though he felt there was only so long his arms and hands could stand before cramping. He'd let go of his penis and testicles and had his hands clasped behind his back when the door opened and both men emerged from the office. Seeing the naked lad leaning against the wall and seeing his penis was a very nice treat.

The approached him together, exchanging pleasantries, before Alec said for Martin's benefit: "I'd be happy to take your staff photo sometime."

Martin thought he saw a wink, at the very least a twinkle, in the photographer's eye.

"Not just yet, Alec," said Graham. "Let's get Martin settled into the job first," Graham rested his hand on Martin's bare shoulder and added; "Between us, there's a grace period involved in this job and I won't take your staff photo until we're both satisfied you intend to stay."

"That seems reasonable," Martin agreed.

"Why we go back to my office now?" Graham directed Martin back to where they'd been a quarter of an hour ago.

Graham prompted Martin to sit and then started going over some details. While the shop owner had seen fit to discuss Martin behind closed doors, he was happy to have the door open now the naked boy was inside. Graham's desk faced down the corridor, thus Martin's chair faced him – there was really nothing for anyone looking in to see now. But it was the chatter of activity at the end of the corridor, the constant reminder of people out there, that Graham enjoyed.

As for Martin, he barely noticed that he was being kept stark naked for no real reason as his boss discussed pay rate, working hours, fire safety and anything else he could think of to keep the hunky guy sat in front of him. Graham could see Martin's big soft cock and hairy balls spilling onto his chair; the lad had fit muscular thighs, a tight waist and belly button that Graham would like to eat out of.

"Oh, shoot, look at the time," Graham said at last. "Let me give you a flying tour of the shop and then you can get off," pun intended, "for the day."

Graham grabbed Martin's jogging bottoms – sweat pants as they're called in America and a term he rather liked. Sweatpants, men in sweat pants – it just rolls off the tongue like a mouthful of cum. Graham could hardly be blamed for having horney thoughts after an hour watching the handsome young man.

As Graham handed over Martin's sweat pants and trainers – deliberately omitting his underwear, socks and top – Graham paused.

"You know," he said. "You really are a very handsome man."

Martin had stood to receive his clothes and at the end of the corridor, Sandy was lucky enough to see the curvy globes of Martin's arse. Graham wanted something more than that and decided to go farther than he had initially intended. Martin had become desensitised to his nudity so fast that Graham knew he had a wonderful opportunity.

Graham reached forward and cupped Martin's balls. The boy tensed and his eyes filled with... Graham was not sure what. Shock certainly but no fear, no aversion, no disgust. Martin was after all a horney teen who was as interested in sex as any other horney teen – unlike some of the other lads at the all-boys school he attended, Martin didn't have any friends with whom he had any benefits.

"Sorry," Graham said, apologising for the fondle but not stopping. "I bet you have a really big..."

Martin's cock was growing in Graham's hand – engorging to six, seven, seven and a half inches. Not quite full hard, Martin stepped back and his balls slipped from Grahams caress.

"Get dressed and I'll show you around," Graham said.

Martin was happy just to have his sweat pants and trainers back on that he did not argue about still being topless. The patrons of the shop enjoyed a close up view of the topless lad who's sweat pants sat low and who's penis could be seen flopping against the inside of the garment.

Sufficiently paraded, Graham brought Martin back to his office and let him get dressed. Rather, watched him get dressed so as not to waist one moment with the sexy boy.

"You can start next Saturday?" Graham asked.

"Yea, sure," Martin answered; "I've made a list of my availability: Saturday, Sunday, Friday afternoon. My number is there too if you need me."

Graham thought he saw Martin blush at the idea of giving a man his number and at the same time Martin thought about E.J. – the sexy man at the Symposium whom Martin wished he had given his number too. He thought about the lie he had told about his age but naiveté omitted the insight that would have told him the inevitable – that the lie would be found out.

As Martin finally left the Pothos Emporium, Graham started making a list of all the things he'd like to see Martin do: exotic working attire, `helping out' in the fitting rooms, perhaps some modelling in the window display...

Please consider making a donation to Nifty to cover their running costs. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Also, the only gratuities authors recieve are the responses of our readers, so if you enjoyed this story copy and paste my email and send me a message. niftyencomiums@gmail.com

I'd also like to thank all the people who have taken the time to write to me about the story so far, please keep your feedback and comments coming.

If you are enjoying this story, I have also written:

School Exhitionism - see the High School section: July 14 2007.

The Symposium - see the Authoritarian or Athletics section: Sept 15 2015.