Poor Little Rich Boy


By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2005 by Eduardo

Illustration of Poor Little Rich Boy

"Can you call again?" came the plaintive voice in the back of the limousine.

Thomas looked back in his rear-view mirror at the small form sitting in the center of the large, plush seat. The boy was looking back at him, his lips quivering He was trying not to cry, but the tears were right behind his eyes, waiting to come out. His posture was still proper for a Bennett, his chin held proudly upright, his blond hair lit from behind, it was like a sort of halo. How could he refuse an angel like this anything?

"Yes, sir." Thomas said. It felt funny calling young Jeffrey "sir," but the only other real option was "Young Master" and that didn't feel right when talking directly to him. Thomas worked for Jeffrey's father, but his sole job was to chauffeur Jeffrey about, taking him to school (a series of private tutors, actually, another reason for the need for a limousine for him), bringing him home, and most important of all, taking him between his mother's house and his father's house. The child was moved about more than a shuttlecock in a badminton game, and it wasn't because either parent seemed to want to have the boy about! Just a poor little rich boy lost in the wealth of his family in this year of 1948.

So they had hired Thomas and bought the limousine (because a Bennett simply couldn't be driven about in anything less!) and now they could foist their boy child off on each other as whim dictated. They'd had a nanny with him for the first year Thomas had come to work for them, but Jeffrey hadn't liked any of them, and he had argued successfully that he didn't need a nanny any longer now that he was able to feed and bathe himself, and the parents had given in. Thomas felt that had been a mistake, for now the nine-year-old boy had nobody to talk to when he got home.

Only the servants, and they were usually busy and not interested in befriending a small child.

Thomas had begun to spend some time with Jeffrey outside and in addition to his job driving the kid about, he was stopping in the park and playing games with the boy on the way home from school. He had several balls (baseball, basketball, tennis balls, soccer ball) in the trunk, along with a bat, racquets, gloves and their appurtenances. He'd had to buy most of it with his own money, but hey, he had to keep the kid happy if he didn't want to have problems and maybe lose his job. And Jeffrey was a nice kid, he was eager to please, even. Shame his parents hardly seemed to know who he was.

Ahead was a gas station, it would have a payphone he could use. Another symptom of their disregard for the child, his request for a telephone inside the limousine he could use to call when necessary had been dismissed as a frivolous expense.

So he was reduced to keeping a few quarters available, he took a few from the small cache in the glovebox and got out of the car. He left Jeffrey inside, he didn't like the appearance of the men standing around outside, gawking at the large automobile, and him in his steel-gray, tailored-perfect uniform.

He knew the telephone number by heart. Jeffrey's father would still be at the office, most likely. His secretary had informed him that Jeffrey's father was in a meeting the last two times he had called. This time, she put him through.

"Mr. Bennett. Thomas here." He had to call Mr. Bennett enough that no further appellation was needed. "I regret to inform you that Mrs. Bennett is not at her residence." In fact, the entire house had been closed. There was a caretaker for such extended absences, but the caretaker hadn't been around, so locked doors, closed windows and silence had been their greeting. Jeffrey had just stood there, looking at the place, as if he had expected it to happen. Thomas guessed it was inevitable that one day, the rather tenuous communication between his father and mother (separated but not divorced and had been for years) would break down. It was Jeffrey who said when they had waited for the caretaker for an hour with no luck. "Take me back to my father's house."

"She's not home?" Mr. Bennett growled. "Damn it, she knows that it's her turn to take Jeffrey! I called her a week ago and told her I was sending him over this weekend!"

Told her. Right. That was how they did it, tossing him back and forth as if he was of no real account. "I'm sorry, sir." Thomas said to the angry man at the other end of the telephone. "Her house has been closed. I am driving Jeffrey back to your home, sir."

"The hell you are!" he snarled. "You find that...you find Mrs. Bennett and tell her to come back and take Jeffrey to wherever she is now staying. I have business to take care of, and I cannot have Jeffrey about my house the next six weeks at least. Do you understand me? She must take Jeffrey for at least six weeks. Eight would be better!"

"I understand, sir." Thomas said. "But how shall I contact Mrs. Bennett? Her caretaker wasn't at the house, sir."

"Call her mother, then." was his suggestion.

"I don't have the number."

"I'll have my secretary get it for you."

She did and Thomas had to borrow pen and paper from the gas station attendant (the four men were frankly standing there listening to me. Worse, Jeffrey had come out and was standing, not near the men, but close enough to hear.

"Mrs. Tarkington?" Thomas said. "This is Thomas Wilkes, I'm the driver for your grandson, Jeffrey?"

"Yes, Thomas, my daughter has mentioned you."

"I was bringing Jeffrey over to Mrs. Bennett as arranged, madam." Thomas said. "But Mrs. Bennett was not at home. She has closed her house."

"Yes, of course, she's in Paris now." Mrs. Tarkington told me. "She told her husband that he'd have to keep Jeffrey the three months she would be over there. She'll be traveling about frequently, she can't keep Jeffrey in tow for that long. You'll have to take her back to Mr. Bennett, I'm afraid."

"But Mr. Bennett is also unavailable." Thomas said to her, wishing that Jeffrey wasn't listening. "He is occupied for six weeks, possibly longer. He informed Mrs. Bennett of this last week."

"Yes, my daughter told me. She told me that he had taken to doing this, and she wasn't going to put up with it any longer. She said that I was to see that he kept Jeffrey for the next three months."

"But he is not available." Thomas repeated. "Jeffrey has no home with his mother to go to. What am I to do?"

"You will have to make other arrangements." she informed me. "My daughter will not be available to care for Jeffrey for three months."

"Yes, ma'am." Thomas said. Then, hopefully, "Perhaps Jeffrey could come to stay with you?" Thomas knew she was bedridden and lived in a small hotel apartment, but still. "I would of course remain to help you with him."

"I'm afraid that's not allowed. No children at the hotel, I'm afraid."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Take him back to his father." she said, kindly enough. "He may be busy, but he can make arrangements for Jeffrey."

"Yes, madam." Thomas said and then my good-bye.

Thomas knew better than to simply show up at Mr. Bennett's house again, he next called the office again.

The secretary this time said, "But Mr. Bennett is gone, sir."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Chicago. He is going to be traveling most of the next two months. I thought he told you that."

"Yes, ma'am, he told me."

"It's why he had you take Jeffrey to Mrs. Bennett's." she told Thomas with inexorable logic.

Thomas thanked her and hung up. Looked at the men staring at him, then at Jeffrey. "Come, Young Master." he said. "It is time for us to go."

Back in the limousine, Jeffrey said, "They're both gone, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so, sir." Thomas said.

"So what are we going to do?" he asked me.

Good question. "I shall take you back to your father's house." I said.

"But if he's gone for a while, won't it be all shut down, just like mother's?" he asked me.

"Yes." Thomas admitted. "But I have a separate apartment there. I will try to reach your father and get him to open up the house again."

"And I can stay with you?" Jeffrey asked. "Just you and me, until he gets back?"

Thomas smiled at him. "I promise.

"That's good." Jeffrey said. "At least you want me." And then the tears started.

Thomas looked around, they were in a rather deserted area. He pulled the limousine over onto the shoulder and did the unthinkable for a man in his position, he got into the back of the limousine and sat beside his blubbering charge. Jeffrey grabbed him and the front of Thomas' jacket was soaked with his tears.

Thomas tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind other than, "I'm sorry, young Master. I'm sorry."

"Why don't they want me?" Jeffrey asked him through the tears. "What did I do to them?"

"You didn't do anything, young Master." Thomas said. "Each of them thinks the other is taking care of you. Their own lives are busy right now, and they see nothing wrong with sending you to the other to raise for a while." That was the kindest spin he could put on the situation, his own thoughts were a lot less kinder.

"I don't mean now." Jeffrey snuffled. "I mean all the rest of it."

Thomas sighed. "Do you know how I know how to take care of this big car?"

"How?" Jeffrey asked. His tears stopped, at least, from the sounds of it.

"They gave me an instruction manual, telling me what to do." Thomas said. "All the big, important things in life come with instruction manuals. Except children." He looked into the face, the lines of drying tears streaking down each pale, soft cheek. "There are no instruction manuals for children. Nobody knows for certain how to take care of them. You either do a good job of it, or you don't, depending on what kind of person you are. It doesn't make someone a bad person, just because they're a bad parent. They don't mean to hurt you. They don't hit you, they see that you have clothes to wear and food to eat, and a place to sleep." Thomas stopped embarrassed. Jeffrey's parents hadn't thought of such things, after all. "And they hired me to drive you around and take care of you."

"Do you like taking care of me?" Jeffrey asked him.

Thomas smiled. "I sure do. You're a terrific kid."

"Well...at least I have you." Jeffrey said. And the arms around Thomas squeezed, and this time it was a true hug.

Thomas let Jeffrey hug him, rested his cheek on the top of Jeffrey's head. When Jeffrey lifted his head up, it didn't seem strange to give him a kiss, Jeffrey was reaching his lips up to Thomas' mouth anyway.

Then Jeffrey's hand touched Thomas' groin, landing right at the nexus of his legs. At first, Thomas thought Jeffrey didn't realize what he was doing, and then the small hand squeezed, and Thomas hissed in a sharp breath.

He looked down into Jeffrey's eyes, and there was an intent earnestness in those glowing blue orbs. "I have you."

"Yeah...yeah, you do." Thomas agreed. That little hand squeezed him again.

"Can I? Please?" Jeffrey asked him.

There wasn't any doubt what he was asking to do, not with that hand where it was. Thomas found his breath coming out in short pants, like he was running a race. "I...I don't know." he temporized.

"Please?" That hand was making an even more compelling argument than anything Jeffrey could say. "I want you to love me."

"I do love you." Thomas gasped. "Honest. I just...I just...oh, God!"

Jeffrey's hands were working on the buttons of his trousers. He ought to fight those hands off of him, ought to stop this. He ought to tell Jeffrey to stop. He ought to. He ought to...ought to what?

Now Jeffrey's hand was working its way into his pants, his boxers' slit was right behind the opened fly, and gave no resistance to the small fingers that worked in and around him and grasped him and pulled him out into the open, his cock, his manhood, his life!

Fully panting now, Thomas could only do as his body wanted, to scoot forward so that Jeffrey could get a better hold on him, that diminutive hand stroking his cock, bringing out of it all the joy and the pleasure that lay dormant within, the warmth racing up and down his shaft as the fingers milked at him.

Thomas figured this was all Jeffrey wanted to do, it was all he had known when he was Jeffrey's age. For Jeffrey to do this to a grown man was new, and perhaps unwise, but such sexual curiosity combined with the complete lack of anyone Jeffrey could have experimented with otherwise (tutors may teach a child his lessons, but couldn't give him playmates), Thomas could give it the barest approval. Who else did Jeffrey have to find out about this, except with him.

But that supposed ignorance on Jeffrey's part, an ignorance Thomas had held at his age. So when Jeffrey leaned over and the warm palm of Jeffrey's hand was replaced by the warmer confines of Jeffrey's mouth, Thomas could only gasp out in surprise.

Jeffrey wasn't adept beyond the bare knowledge of knowing that a mouth on a man's cock was pleasant for the man, but he gave it an earnest effort, he ran his lips around Thomas' prick and his moist tongue played over the glans and tickled the flare with the lavish delights borne from soft, wet caresses.

Thomas could only moan as Jeffrey's mouth worked upon him, but Jeffrey must have noticed a drop in the tenor of Thomas' tones, a lowering in his ecstasy.

"Teach me how to do it for you." he begged his servant, his caretaker, his lover. "Teach me how to do it right."

Thomas swallowed hard, and in tortured tones from his lips, he told Jeffrey what he needed to do. Guided thus, Jeffrey, his mouth fortified with saliva, began to work his mouth up and down Thomas' dong, his tight grip sucking Thomas' foreskin up with each pull and letting it slide down under the gentle clutch of his lips, and as he worked it, Thomas felt his passion rising up in him.

"Jeffrey, ah, Jeffrey!" he groaned. "My time is near, I am about to release. Do you understand what this means?"

"Nu-uh." Jeffrey's mouth didn't release him one iota as he grunted the negative.

"A man, when he reaches his joy...," Thomas' voice gave out on him briefly and he had to gasp in breath, grunt out his growing ecstasy, before he could continue. "...he squirts out a thick, white liquid." Again, he could only pant for a while. "It has a strong, salty flavor to it. If you want to...." his voice faltered again, and he realized that this time, he couldn't forestall any longer by mere grunts, his climax was upon him.

All he could manage was some warning groans, trying to let Jeffrey know that if he didn't want to taste it, he had to let go! But the words wouldn't come, they wouldn't...wouldn't...come!

So he groaned out a loud roar of sound and he ejaculated, right into Jeffrey's still-tightly-holding mouth, he came, and he came hard! A huge load of sperm squirted right into that sweet little rich boy's mouth, and he could do nothing but groan the more, while his cock punched out jet after jet of hot jism right into the soft white mouth.

And Jeffrey drank it down! He would have thought that the boy would have been overwhelmed by it, but forewarned at least this much, Jeffrey was sucking out the hot man-juice as quick as Thomas could produce it, he was gulping it down. Even when Thomas was done, when he was left with only a few dregs of come still lurked within his shaft, Jeffrey siphoned it out of him, all of it, drunk down by that beautiful young rich boy.

Thomas was panting and it seemed like Jeffrey took a bit of time to realize that this was all of it, that he had finished sucking Thomas off, but when he did, he didn't just let go, but he took out his very-clean handkerchief, gently cleaned Thomas' prick of the saliva that coated it, and then carefully returned it to Thomas' fly, re-inserting it inside his boxers, and even did up Thomas' fly again, while Thomas watched all this, bemused.

Once the last button was refastened, Jeffrey looked up at him and said, "Did you like that, Thomas?"

Thomas laughed, the carefree laugh of a man who has released every bit of his inhibitions and control, and is only a man enjoying being a man. "I certainly did, Young Master Bennett." he said and then realized the absurdity of the title. "Jeffrey."

Jeffrey smiled up at him. "Then can I stay with you until my father returns from his business trip, then?"

"With me?" Thomas was a bit taken aback. "I thought we'd get the house opened up for you, get a servant or two back to take care of you...."

"Why do you want to do that?" Jeffrey wanted to know.

"But, when I call your father's office tomorrow...."

"Why should you call him?" Jeffrey asked him cunningly. "My father thinks I am staying with my mother. My mother thinks I am staying with my father. Both houses are closed, so none of the household staff will know where I am. You and I can just stay at your apartment for the next six weeks or even eight weeks. Maybe even longer, if my father is delayed by his business. He often is, you know."

"But my apartment is only a single room." Thomas pointed out. "Just a hot plate to cook on, and I only have a single chair, a dresser and my bed for furniture."

"One bed will be plenty. We'll be spending a great deal of time in it, I think." Jeffrey said. "It's settled then. I'll be staying with you until my father returns and we can get this straightened out. You can spend the time teaching me what else we can do." Jeffrey settled back into the seat, comfortable for the first time during the trip. "Take me home now, Thomas." And the tones were that of a Bennett giving an order to one of his servants, with confidence and authority. Not a poor little rich boy any longer, as long as he had his chauffeur around.

So Thomas touched the brim of his hat in a salute as befit a servant. "Yes, Young Master."

THE END

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