Who doesn’t want this in their kitchen?
Sixteen months ago:
"Mr. O’Malley, you are making the right choice by investing in us to find you a houseboy for your lifestyle. The Kennington’s School of Service produces the best butlers, servants, houseboys, housegirls, and fine dining waiters in the world. Our graduates go on to work at five star restaurants, top hotels, for CEOs, celebrities, business firms, cruise liners… Like military boot camp, students here faced rigorous training and drop out rates spike in the first week, but those who succeed enjoy a 99% employment rate. And that doesn’t include our graduates working at Starbucks, I mean actual employment. We can’t keep up with the demand from China right now."
Mr. O’Malley glanced at the interpreter briefly although he was able to read most of that from Mr. Kennington’s lips. He uncrossed and recrossed his long legs and nodded. “Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Kennington the Third. Do you have a boy that currently fits my requirements or do we wait until one comes along?” He spoke slowly and intentionally.
"An excellent question. Currently we do not have any students who are familiar with deaf culture. However, our Personalized program allows you to essentially invest and sculpt your model boy. Like Samantha our interpreter here, we have on-call, contracted teachers in everything from large animal husbandry to Tamil to SCUBA certification. We can teach your boy not only American sign language, but British sign language and any other you might desire."
"Oh absolutely. And it won’t end there. We will assure he receives training that is simultaneously-"
Mr. O’Malley glanced at the sign language interpreter to see what that long word was, then nodded.
"-identical to our coursework but slanted to a deaf perspective. Focused not only verbal cues, but physical ones as well. Thanks to technology, there are now a wide range of vibrating jewelry and electric call devices so you can summon him without a sound."
"I’m getting the feeling you’ve done this before."
The older man nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, about six years ago, for a deaf woman from Australia. Famous in the art world…an auction house, I believe.”
"And the student you procured for her, he or she is still in her employ?"
"She is, yes. She was an art history major we found at a local college. Great leadership skills; she made a hell of an executive assistant."
"That reminds me, Mr. Kennington, if I may be so bold to ask, how do you locate students on demand?"
Mr. Kennington the Third chuckles, “If you think we kidnap them from their homes or pilfer them from orphanages in third world countries, you’d be incorrect. I have scouts, but we also put up ads. We host interviews. It’s like a job offer; our clients invest in their training and the student gets a job after training is complete. Once we have it down to three potentials, you’ll receive the paperwork to approve one for training.”
Mr. O’Malley nodded. “And what happens if the student goes through all that and there is incompatibility between the sponsor and the student when it comes time for the job?”
"That has only happened once, but generally we refund 50% of the training investment money and put it into a savings account for student to live on until he or she is hired by another applicant. Any remaining money from that gets refunded to the client."
"It discourages flakiness," Mr. Kennington explained, "At Kennington’s School of Service, the student always comes first."
I just moved into the house yesterday ago, and most of the kitchen things haven’t been unpacked yet besides the pantry and fridge staples. Too much else going on, including repainting the walls, waxing the wooden floors, and rearranging the furniture. It was about lunch time, and I found my new houseboy peering into the half empty cupboards trying to figure out what to do.
I didn’t need to say anything; he saw motion out of the corner of his eye and turned to me. When he saw his new Master, he assumed a standard position and waited for command. I didn’t even really need to be in here - he could handle lunch on his own - but was just so excited he was home I just looked for any reason to check in on him since I couldn’t hear him moving around.
I fell in love with him at first sight when I saw his photo in the dossier. Dimitri wasn’t deaf, but he was hard of hearing. Kennington had produced him out of thin air. He could read lips and translate for me here in New York or London, as well as do everything a houseboy is expected to do. He’d graduated with honors at Kennington after weeks of courses like cooking, accounting, gardening, and executive assisting. He also took a course in pleasure and intimacy, entirely on his own choosing. No doubt his ass helped with the judge’s decision, it was a fine piece of meat.
DImitri was an expense justified a thousand times over. I run a talent and modeling agency specializing in placing unique people with disabilities, amputations, and other restrictions in film, television, commercials, and photo shoots. I often work 50 hours a week, and can not keep a house up at the same time. The fact that he’s also an interpreter makes me giddy - he’s completely perfect. I couldn’t wait to start entertaining in my new house. So much to do!
DImitri was watching me, wondering what I was thinking about. I shook my head, snapping out of my thoughts. I signed to him: I bought you a present.
Dimitri signed back, hesitantly: I have barely been in service two days, I could not have earned a reward so soon.
No, boy, it is not a reward. It is a present to help you serve me better.
I took a small box out of my back pocket, opened it, and produced a bracelet. I knelt and secured it around Dimitri’s ankle. It was made out of a rubbery latex, more of a glorified rubberband than anything. Before my houseboy could ask what it was for, I put the box back into my pocket and let my hands explain: I have a clicker in my pocket. When I press the button, the item vibrates, summoning you. You won’t have to strain to hear me call. I fished out the tool and pressed the button.
Dimitri’s face alights as the vibration radiates up his leg. He kneels to inspect it, then bows his head and raises his hands. Thank you for the amazing gift Sir.
I bend over and cup his cheek. “I am so excited that you’re home.”
He nuzzles my hand. “Happy to be in your service,” he says back. Dimitri glances up at me and signs. I’m already on my knees Sir…permission to pleasure you?
I raise an eyebrow. I hadn’t expected him to be so comfortable around me already. “You want to suck me Dimitri?” I say.
He nods. I consider pinching myself and wondering if I’ve gone to heaven.
And good Lord, I thought he was clever with his hands but Dimitri had one talented mouth. Oh I a keeping him. He will be mine and only mine, mine forever and ever.
Text is fictional. I’m pretty sure this photo is a composite of two other photos.