'My Husband's Rich Boyfriend' draft: The interview (Patreon)

Chapter eight is another  long one, so I've split it into two parts. Here's the first half. Let me know your feedback.

I looked myself in the eyes in the rear view mirror. “It’s not too late to bail,” I told myself, audibly.  I knew that if I wanted to I could turn the car around, drive back down that driveway, and forget that this disaster of a plan ever happened. Maybe they’d never even know, if they didn’t already. But I also knew already that I wasn’t going to. It had been weeks since I’d seen my husband, and it turned out that I’d do pretty much anything, no matter how stupid, to be back in his life.

I took a deep breath and got out of the car. As I walked up to the front door it opened. I expected to be face to face with Winston, or Callum, or the pair of them. But instead it was some guy I’d never met before. A skinny twink, well-groomed and smartly dressed.

“You must be Nick,” he greeted me, extending his hand. “I’m Flynn.”

I took his hand and shook it, managing to get out a mumbled “Hi,” as I tried to figure out who he was and why he was the one greeting me.

“Nice to meet you, Nick. Come on in. Mr Cross is tied up with something at the moment but I can show you in.” He gestured and I stepped inside.

Being back in that house again was a little like finding myself in a place I thought only existed in a dream. I’d only ever been there the once, but ever since that night I’d constructed elaborate fantasies in my head of Winston and Callum together in this place, so much so that the house felt like it only existed in my imagination.

Flynn closed the door behind me, and started walking through to the living area. I followed. “I’m Mr Cross’ personal assistant,” he explained as he walked. “I’d usually be doing the interviews, but he said he wanted to do yours himself. I understand you’re a friend of his partner’s?”

“No,” I protested, baulking at the accusation. “I’m Winston’s… I’m…” I didn’t know where to go with that. “Long story, but yeah, pretty much.”

Flynn led me over to an area with a couple of sofas and armchairs, and gestured to me to sit down. “If you want to wait here, Mr Cross will be with you in a few minutes.” With that he made a swift exit from the room, leaving me alone with my nerves.

I could feel the sweat seeping into the armpits of my shirt and dampening my hairline as I waited. Now that it was too late to leave, and now that I knew I was going to be interviewed by Callum himself, I realised that I’d done something incredibly stupid by applying for this job.

I’d seen Callum post on social media about needing to find a new housekeeper. I’d done a whole lot of investigating — stalking? — to find out what agency he used to get domestic staff, and I’d cold-called them to express my interest in the job. It had taken some convincing; they’d been sceptical that someone would want to give up a highly paid marketing job to become a housekeeper. But I’d spun them a convincing story, and my experience owning and helping run the bar had helped get me across the line.

I knew deep down though, that there was no way Callum was going to give me this job and let him be in his house full-time, creeping on to him and Winston all the time like a pathetic third wheel. So ultimately this interview was just going to be another exercise in humiliation.

I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. A few seconds later Callum walked into the room. Tall, broad-shouldered with a confident swagger, he had the beginnings of a smile that looked like he was already mildly entertained by this whole situation. His shirt was unbuttoned about half-way down, showing off the chiseled chest I was so familiar with from the photos and videos I’d seen online. I stood up to greet him, not sure if I should try and shake his hand or not. Not sure if I should even look at him, or avert my eyes.

Behind him, Winston strolled in. Barefoot, shirtless, he was wearing the tiniest shorts I’d ever seen, made of mesh that was opaque enough to make out the silhouette of his black jockstrap underneath. His body had changed since I’d last seen him in person; he was more toned, more muscular, more tanned.

When he saw me he looked confused for an instant, then excited. “Nick!” He lit up, like he was genuinely happy to see me. Seeing him react like that made me almost start to cry tears of joy, but I kept my composure, even as he bounded up to me and gave me a hug. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s been months?”

When I didn’t answer he turned to Callum. “I thought you said we were interviewing for a housekeeper. What’s going on?”

Callum looked at me with that same amused expression as he explained, “Your husband’s applied for the job. So I thought we should give him an interview.”

Winston looked back at me, obviously surprised and maybe kind of puzzled. “You want to be our housekeeper?” he asked. “But what about your job? And the bar?”

“I see we’re not wasting any time getting into the interview questions then,” Callum said, chuckling to himself. He gestured to the seats and we all sat down, Winston and Callum together on the sofa, and me sitting in the armchair opposite them. When we were seated Callum prompted me again: “So, what about your job and your bar?”

“I’d leave my job,” I assured Winston. “I think the bar will be fine too. I’ve been helping out there more lately, ever since you’ve stopped working, but I think that with that guy you hired to pick up your managerial duties, plus an extra couple of bartender shifts, that should cover the work. It’ll eat into the profits, but the bar will still break even. I won’t need the money if I’m here all the time anyway.”

“But how are you gonna pay the mortgage?” Winston asked. “And what will you do with the house if you’re staying here?”

“I’m going to rent it out. I’ve already put an add up and got the place ready. There’s lots of interest. I’ll be able to cover the mortgage.”

Winston nodded slowly, processing the information.

“And since I’ll be here,” I added, “In the servants’ quarters, with the bar covered and the mortgage on the house covered, it means I can work full time. Like, twenty-four seven. I can be available whenever you need. And you don’t even need to pay me, I can do it for free.”

Callum looked kind of annoyed at that. “Dude, you know what I do for a living. You’ve seen my house. Do you think I need to save a few dollars by getting a free houseboy? Did you think coming here with a cost-saving proposal was going to get you the job?”

I felt like an idiot. “No,” I said meekly, barely even looking at him.

He sighed, like he was disappointed. “Fucking sell yourself man, come on. Tell me why we should hire you.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath while I gathered my thoughts, then when I was ready I tried to rattle off all the reasons I’d practiced in front of the mirror at home: “I’ve worked in hospitality before; I’ve waited tables, managed front-of-house, managed a bar — with Winston, of course — so I know what I’m doing when it comes to serving guests when you’re entertaining people. You’ve seen me do it before, and you know I’ve done a decent job.”

They gave me no reaction, so I continued. “I know how Winston likes things done round the house, what brands of groceries he likes, all that kind of stuff, so I’ve got a head start. And I’ll work hard to learn the same for you, Callum. I’m happy for you to set any hours you want, and I’m happy to not have much time off, and for you to change my hours without notice. I’d basically be your slave.

“I know I’m not as hot as the houseboys you’d usually have. But the added bonus for you is that you get to humiliate me, whenever you want, in front of whoever you want. In front of my husband. It seems like you enjoy it, and I’m happy for you to do it. More than happy — I’m fucking desperate for you to do it.”

Callum chuckled. “I do kinda like that,” he admitted. “You’re right though, about your body. When I’m entertaining I like to have staff who are a little easier on the eye. Having you wandering round the house wouldn’t be great for my personal brand, you know?”

“Maybe he could make use of Gideon, when he’s off the clock?” Winston suggested to Callum. He turned to me and asked me, “Would you be willing to take up a workout regime? Like, a really intensive one?”

“Definitely,” I promised, without hesitation. It was heartening to see Winston in my corner, arguing for me. “Plus, Callum, you know with me there’s no chance Winston’s going to cheat on you with me.”

That made them both laugh. “You’re right about that,” Callum agreed.

In the silence that followed I could tell Callum was mulling it over. This was fucking crazy; I’d come here with the expectation that he’d laugh in my face, but he was actually considering it. I actually had a chance — even just a small one — that this could actually happen.

“Tell me why you want this, then,” he said finally. “You know Winston’s not gonna fuck you. You know you’re not getting your husband back. So why do you want to be here in this house watching him and never having him again?”

“I love Winston, with all my heart,” I told him. “I know I’m never going to be with him, physically, again. But I want to be in his life.”

I looked over at Winston. He gave me a tiny, supportive, reassuring smile.

I continued. “I’m a cuckold. I’ve always been a cuckold. I’ve always known that even though I was lucky enough to have Winston fuck me for as many years as I had, ultimately my place was to be replaced sexually by for other men who could give him something better than I could. So seeing him become your… your fucktoy, it made sense. It felt natural.

“But losing him entirely, having him disappear from our house and our whole life, that’s a whole other thing. The last few months have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with, him being gone. So I just want to be around, being his cuck, seeing him happy.”

“Babe, that’s beautiful,” Winston said to me.

Callum was silent, still mulling it over. I was acutely aware that my display of emotion just then might have shown him exactly why he wouldn’t want me around. So I followed up with more. “So I understand, one hundred percent, that me and Winston are over sexually and romantically; I’m not going to try anything at all.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Callum replied, dismissively. “I know it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you tried.” He looked over at Winston. “What do you think? Do you want the cuck around?”

“I think I could maybe go for it, yeah,” Winston replied casually.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I think maybe Nick and I should talk for a minute, just the two of us, before we decide anything,” Winston decided. “Callum, do you think you could give us a minute?”

“Sure thing.” Callum got up off the sofa and sauntered out of the room, completely unfazed by Winston’s request. “Gimme a yell when you’re done.”