Darren
by Kewtieboy


kewtieboy@hotmail.com



Don’t let anyone tell you that owning bed and breakfast style accommodation is easy! The trouble is, of course, that you don’t need a lot of staff but you do need help. As a gay couple running a straight business, we usually like to balance ourselves with female part-time help where we can. Generally this was always easy as guys tended not to apply.


We had three staff, all part-time. One worked five days a week, one three to four days and one at weekends. This usually gave us two members of staff on the busiest days. When the five day vacancy came up, in amongst all the middle aged married women and part-time students was Darren. He had an evening job in a bar and thought our 9:00am till 2:00pm hours would slot nicely in to augment his income.

He was 25 with dark hair and freckles. I assume the hair had some red in it (and he later confirmed that his facial and other hair was actually red). He was plain rather than attractive, well built rather than slim or fat, medium height and had a cheeky, rather than polite personality. Basically, the sort of guy you would probably walk past in the street and perhaps only give a passing glance. He was as straight as they come, talking about his love of football (soccer) and his many girlfriends. In fact his pursuit and failure of girls became the joke of many a Monday morning.


By now, you have probably guessed that we employed him. He had an affable personality and was likeable though he could talk faster than he worked. Within a few weeks, we felt he had worked with us forever. He would push our limits frequently, walking in just in time to start work, arguing when we asked him to do something he didn’t want to and always leaving the difficult chores to the end in the hope that they might be carried over for someone else to do the following day. We still liked him and his constant tales of “the girl that got away” were quite amusing.

Whether Darren realised that he was working for a couple of gays, I hadn’t any idea. He certainly didn’t let on. We discovered he liked to smoke the odd joint and his grumpy moods some mornings suggested he partook on quite a regular basis. That along with ability to sink 12 or 13 pints of beer on a guy’s night out, were quite staggering. Certainly judging by the state of him on the odd occasion when he went out with friends on a work night, he must have looked like death the night before.


He worked with us in total for about 18 months and sometime about 9 months into the job a couple of things happened. He started to arrive at work in his jeans (which we forbad) and changed into his work trousers. The reason given was that he liked to be in his jeans for after work. Frequently he would stand around in his tight boxer shorts as he changed and, we may not have given him a second glance normally but he earned a few more brownie points from that moment. One day I noticed the seam on the side of his shorts was split and mentioned it. He spent some time looking at it as a little bit of his fly front opened and a piece