Squeaky Clean - 1. Chapter 1 The New Apprentice

What can be said about Elijah. He prefers to be known as Eli, loves football (or soccer, as some people call it), and, for intimacy he prefers the same sex. He isn’t a closet twink or anything. In fact, if anyone asked, he’d tell them straight to their face. All well and good socially. However, when it came to work, some of his former employers thought otherwise.

I could tell of those, stories, I suppose. Still, many a gay man has gone through hell and high water in the workplace with homophobes and the like. Let’s just say, this homosexuality business is not everyone’s cup of tea. You can spend aeons explaining what it’s all about to those inquisitive hetero’s but, for some lady’s men, you may as well talk to a brick wall. At least that won’t give you a black eye, intentionally. Oh my, apologies for the early adverb, but, as you’ll discover, Eli is full of them. Bless him.

Naturally, you may think your narrator a tad biased when he says things such as, never was there such a handsome creature to die for and, oh, if only I were eighteen again; none of those other bastards would stand a chance in hell in getting it from him. However, if you were me, you would definitely understand where I’m coming from. So, with no further ado, this is where I, the boss, the gaffer, the wage packet payer or whatever other phrase peeps use these days, enter the story.

The sun had definitely got his hat on that summer Monday morning. It was as if the sun was roasting away with jealousy at the thought of what lay ahead as the heat had already hit eighteen degrees Celsius by eight in the morning. Honestly, you could have turned me over and seen if I was done after carrying the ladder, the water bucket, the squeegee and sponge to my first window clean. One of the posher properties in the town of Frickham, or so the owners thought. For a hundred grand less, they could have bought exactly the same property only two miles away. The people who lived there were exactly the same as the ones who lived here. Above themselves.

In turning the corner into London Courtyard, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Was it a peeping tom hiding behind the wall or just some drunk youff. That’s youth to you and me but for some reason the boys here pronounce anything ending in t and h with two f’s. It’s their local dialect. After nearly thirty of years of it since moving here from London town, you would think I’d get used to it. No, I bloody well haven’t! Anyway, this youff, with his short black hair, tidied eyebrows, brown eyes, perfect nose and luscious lips stared back at me.

As scared as an animal caught in a trap, those brown eyes bulged to bursting point. I thought to myself, ‘oh hello, what’s this then?’

‘Are you my new apprentice?’ I asked him kindly as he shivered with his palms and his back firmly against the wall.

‘Yeah. Suppose I am,’ he answered quietly.

The whooshing sound of curtain in an upstairs window being flung open sent him diving to a cross legged sitting position on the pavement. In an attempt to camouflage his true feelings, he attempted a smile. With his arms crossed, I knew there was something amiss. All I had to do was discover the truth behind this boy’s actions, and fast.

In kneeling down towards him to attain the same eye level, I wondered if it was the job itself. ‘Are you afraid of heights?’ I asked him. It’s true, some of the toughest lads who’ve applied to do this job, only want to clean the downstairs windows. Admitting they’re afraid of heights is the same as admitting they once loved a man. You’ll never get the truth out of them.

Looking up at me from his trendy loose grey knee length shorts he answered, ‘no! Heights I’m not afraid of. Just someone who lives here.’

I found that hard to believe. The people who lived here were one of my best customers. As such, their windows were going to be cleaned whatever the impasse this lad had endured. Business is business. ‘They’re all asleep,’ I attempted to reassure him as he looked at my middle aged lined craggy face. It was once referred to as ruggedly defined by some drag queen, I once had the misfortune to meet. I was too polite to reply, just in case he became a customer.

Rolling up the sleeves of his grey summer jumper he revealed more of his youthful skin tone. Well, I call them sleeves. They looked as if they’d shrunk in the wash to be honest. Why he didn’t wear a simple cheap t-shirt was beyond me, still, fashion is fashion I guessed. Even so, the low-cut affair showed off his smooth chest in the dazzling sunshine. So much so, I think Tarzan would have approved. Anyway, ‘ok,’ he whimpered. Any passer-by would think I was asking him to do something nasty, really nasty.

‘Come on now. This job is really easy,’ I encouraged.

With such a task less thought in his mind he eagerly suggested, ‘OK, let’s do this.’

Everything was waiting for him outside the property. In picking up the filled bucket of water, Eli climbed the ladder with ease. ‘That’s it. ‘up the ladder now,’ I enthused. As he reached the bedroom window, I could have sworn as I saw him peering through the blinds to see who was inside. I knew it was the son’s bedroom. Quite often he’d be laying on his bed naked with a cheeky grin on his face, masturbating. I didn’t know his name, but I did know he wasn’t to be trifled with. He had a reputation. I wondered how Eli would react if he saw him.

Was Eli shocked, or worse, interested in what he saw. You see, a window cleaner sees many things that can cause arousal. I guess that’s why the baggy shorts were worn. You could have packed the kitchen sink down the front of those, and still had room for an erection. Unfortunately, the occupant behind the open blinds wasn’t in the least bit content as to who he witnessed on the ladder. Apparently, upon seeing Eli cleaning his windows, the lad was so vexed he decided to voice his opinion in person.

Bursting through his front door like a bull on heat, the hairs on his chest stood to attention when he shouted, ‘oi you! GET DOWN HERE NOW!’

It was nice of this lad to at least wear something on this occasion. His black Y-Fronts covered the family jewels. His mullet, or mop of greasy black hair blew in the breeze. His raised thickset eyebrows allowed the glow of his blue eyes to glisten in the sun. If he’d been even more angry, I swear blind those eyes would have turned red.

‘I, WANT A WORD WITH YOU!’

‘Why?’ I calmly asked before questioning, ‘what’s he done?’

In tensing his upper torso muscles, of which in all fairness, there were many; he pointed directly at me. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ the lad asked. Really, such an attitude, especially first thing in the morning also.

‘I’m his boss,’ I let the troubled one know.

Eli must have thought this lad had got out the wrong side of the bed this morning but, I was gobsmacked when he politely spoke to him. ‘Hi Dean, good to see you,’ my new apprentice said to him as he hung off the ladder like one of the chimps at a zoo hangs from a tree. I really must stop thinking of the yellow sponge as a banana. It’s my last apprentice’s fault. Honestly, all that lad needed was a script, an audience and a tv deal; he would have made a fortune.

Was Dean calmed by this politeness? Like hell he was. If anything, it seemed to make him even more irate. It was is at this point, that I now fully understood what my new apprentice was concerned with earlier. However, after showing such courtesy, I also quickly picked up on the fact that Eli had a sense of humour. As such, if he wanted to wind up the hairy chested one, I’d stand back and possibly learn something.

‘Get down here. NOW!’

Descending a window cleaner’s ladder is an art. Taking it step by step-in double-quick time means you can clean more windows. Watching paint dry would have been quicker than watching my new apprentice come down that ladder. Normally, I would have taken the piss out of him for that. I mean come on, it’s what you do with an apprentice. Today however, I hoped he was using this time, of which there was plenty, to think about what he was going to say.

It did give, Dean, time to say something to me. ‘I am so angry with him,’ he said under his breath. Why? I wondered.

‘Just what is your problem?’ I found myself asking, aloud.

‘I’ll discuss that, with HIM!’ the outraged one scorned.

Finally, on the ground after descending some fifteen feet after what seemed like an ice age, Eli turned to Dean and smiled. Oh, it was a lovely smile. Such white teeth and gorgeous red lips with those dainty little dimples in his cheeks. How could anyone be so vindictive towards that? Oh yeah, Dean.

‘How many times do I have to tell you. WE’RE FINISHED!’

Oh, dear I thought. That was the last thing I expected to hear. Neither of them sounded gay. You know what I mean, neither of them was what you call, camp. They just sounded like any of the local lads. Not that it in itself was something to be particularly proud of you understand. Some of the local lads couldn’t even form a sentence, well, a comprehensible one. I suppose that was the difference. These lads could form audible sentences with a degree of some understanding of the English language.

‘This is my new job,’ Eli informed him.

‘Oh,’ sighed Dean, sedately. I could see why he’d attract attention from some fellas. Even when he relaxed his torso, those muscles were still on show. I did think to offer to shave his chest, but considered this was not the best time to ask.

With a face like a destroyed battleship, and lips that couldn’t sink to any further depths, Eli looked Dean straight in the eye. ‘And you’ve spoilt my first day,’ he let the angry hairy chested one know.

‘Well, I wasn’t to know,’ said Dean in an attempt to defend himself.

One to rub salt in the wound, I couldn’t help myself. ‘Maybe you should have asked first,’ I found myself saying. Hoping there would be at least an apology, I couldn’t have been further from the mark.

‘Just make sure you’re only washing the windows, and, not looking through them,’ Dean uttered in a low and menacing voice. If that wasn’t bad enough, he then added, ‘So long as we both understand each other,’ as if he were dirty Harry. The cheek of it.

Poor Eli. Dejected like some orphan without an orphanage to go to, he simply said, ‘yeah, sure.’

How my heart sunk for him as the angry one strolled to his front door as if he was a sergeant major. In turning back to the poor lad his closing words were, ‘OK then. BYE!’ Slamming the door shut as if he were hitting a nail on the head, the banging noise sounded an ultimate closure. In looking at my new apprentice, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever was going through his mind was only for him to know, nor was it for me to pry. I’d just wait until he told me. Experience had taught me such life lessons.

In shaking it all off you could have blown me over with a sudden gust of wind. ‘Shall we finish off here?’ he asked.

‘Good idea,’ I replied with an up tempo beat in my vocal delivery quickly followed by, ‘then you can tell me what that was all about.’ I know I said I’d just wait until he told me, but in all honesty, I was as nosy as the woman who twitches her net curtains to find something out.

‘Course. Suppose you need to know,’ he answered in an equally spirited mood.

Morning breaks are very important. The traditional British tea break is as old as time itself my dad used to say. In fact, I can’t remember a time in my working life when I never missed a tea break. Normally, I’d go to the nearest café and have breakfast. Some greasy spoon that served eggs, bacon, fried bread, beans and a cup of tea as cheaply as possible. However, having witnessed a first morning with a new apprentice like no other, I felt something appropriate was in order.

B and R’s. Yeah, I know, a stupid company name. Nobody knew what the B or the R stood for, even the staff. A smart trendy establishment serving trendy teas, coffees and pastries with trendy smart prices too. In other words, they weren’t cheap. A large emporium that on weekends was filled to the brim with trade. Monday morning’s, they were as quiet as the graveyard. The only good thing about Monday morning’s here, they employed one particular member of staff I wanted Eli to meet. I didn’t know his name, but I did know he was gay. Strange really, with a crew cut and an unusual goatee beard it was obvious to all where his true talents lay. With shaved arms and legs, this slim teenage creature was a drag queen waiting to happen. On occasion I’d been served by him wearing some rouge on his face to highlight his cheeks while he still wore his false eyelashes from the night before. For me he was as pretty as the day is long and whatever make up, he chose to improve his facial features were completely unnecessary. The staff uniform of a see-through short sleeved shirt displayed a torso vibrantly alive with a six pack in his stomach and pecs he’d obviously worked on to improve. The shorts he wore displayed a fine pair of athletic muscle-bound legs. Sadly, they weren’t see-through but fortunately, with shorts that tight, this lad didn’t leave much to the imagination. Naturally I would have liked to investigate on a personal level, but good manners and middle age suggested I shouldn’t. And, I haven’t! Guess we’ll have to wait until he appears in a certain magazine, showing all, with a bit of luck. He was the antithesis of any drag queen I’d ever met before. A physically fit gay lad in a dress? It just didn’t add up.

I did know this member of staff was mad for football. So much so, he was very modern as he also referred to it as soccer. Only posh people called it that. I mean, come on now. It’s a game where players kick a ball with their feet. That’s why we call it football. After listening to Eli complain about his favourite league team losing on Saturday afternoon, I thought these two should bump into one another.

At the counter, Eli simply asked for a coffee followed with the word please. Such good manners on the boy. I decided on the same, but I had the feeling I might need a beer. The member of staff said he’d bring them to us. I wanted to thank him, but with no name badge I still had no idea of his name. The only thing blazoned on his left chest of his uniform were the initials of the business. B followed by R. So, I’d secretly nicknamed him brew boy. As we, the customers took our seats, brew boy turned to face the big coffee machine. With its spits and spurts of hot water hissing up the back wall, we left him to it as we took our seats nearby.

The armchairs we chose were massive, not unlike some of the customers who could fill them. Eli and myself could have sat side by side in one of them. Out of courtesy, I thought it best we have a chair each. When Eli felt lost and lonely over there, he was more than welcome to pop across and come and join me.

‘That Dean boss,’ he began, ‘he was a one-night stand. But he thinks I want a relationship.’

As soon as he said that, I knew the brew boy would have his attention. One-night stands with other lads the same age. If that didn’t prick his ears up, I didn’t know what would. The next thing he’d be asking himself is, ‘I wonder if he plays football?’

Just in case the brew boy was in another world, I had to ensure we’d get his attention. ‘Ah, you’re gay,’ I boomed back at Eli, loud enough to drown the muzak that was playing in the background. Where they got this so-called music was beyond me. It was like jazz, gone wrong. I’m sure it was intended to give the establishment some rapport of some sort, although, on a Monday morning, it was a bit much. I’d have needed at least three beers on a night to have appreciated it. Still, Eli wasn’t bothered by it and as such, why should I be.

Approaching with the stealth of a predator on heat, the member of staff stood by my new apprentice’s chair with one hand behind his back and as if he were serving the lord of the manor. ‘Here’s your coffee,’ said the brew boy as he handed Eli his filled cup. I thought he was going to bow as he placed it on the black leather armrest.

As nice as it was to get a look at those abs, I did feel a little out of place somewhat. ‘Thanks. Where’s mine,’ I reminded him.

Remembering his place, the brew boy replied, ‘I’ll fetch it right away sir.’ Off he sped back to his station like an Olympic runner attempting to beat the world record. At least he recognised who was paying for them. As he did so I quipped, ‘you do that.’

I couldn’t help but notice Eli appreciate the brew boy’s physical attributes. Up close, there was a certain charm. Whether it was brew boy’s deodorant or the whiff of his testosterone, it got him noticed. From the smile on my new work mate’s face, I knew he was interested. Not from the bulge at the front of those baggy trousers, but from the glint in his eye.

‘Here’s your coffee sir,’ the brew boy offered. I simply couldn’t resist with an opportunity to get these two together, especially after the unfortunate incident with Dean earlier. Urgh, how I hated that boy now. Such an ugly brute.

‘He’ll have you, in his football team for sure Eli,’ I sort of warned him

‘Do you play?’ the brew boy asked him without any excuse me or, do you mind if I ask? He must have been desperate for players.

‘Course I do,’ was Eli’s response. Albeit lacking in enthusiasm for the brew boy, but positive enough nonetheless. ‘In midfield,’ he continued to tell him. Out of politeness, he kindly asked the brew boy, ‘and you?’

‘I’m the goalie,’ the brew boy boasted. Let’s face it, most players want to be as near to the opponent’s goal as possible. To score goals of course. That’s where the glory in the beautiful game takes place. Here was an actual player who was proud to be a goalkeeper. Not many of them about, I can tell you. Maintaining Eli’s interest, the subject came naturally to brew boy. ‘Any chance you could shoot a few goals and help me practice at the five a-side pitches at six?’ I had to give him credit. He knew how to hook a lad in, especially if there was a big ball to play with. It never ceases to amaze me how lads are so easily amused.

‘Yeah. Course I can,’ my new man answered instantly.

With a wink of his eye, a blown kiss and a finger pointing directly at Eli, the brew boy said, ‘see you there.’ With that, he returned to his duties with a skip in his step and the merriest of merry melodies hummed harmoniously.

If it wasn’t for a tanned skin, I could have sworn that Eli blushed as he said, ‘nice lad, isn’t he?’

Holding back the loudest of laughs, I simply found myself advising, ‘remember to play nice now, won’t you.’ The look on Eli’s face was as readable as any newspaper headline. He was up for scoring goals later, although the goal he wanted to score wasn’t in the back of any goalkeeper’s net. Eli would need some fancy tactics in the bedroom alright. Naturally, I’d be happy to offer some worldly words of advice, should the voice of an experienced coach be needed on the game in hand.