Jonathan Stuart Bailey, the neighbourhood’s sweetest, hottest, openly-gay man. An actor that hoped to live comfortably in a beautiful home by age 40.

Here he was, on a sunny day, wearing tennis shorts and a very, very tight t-shirt that hugged his muscular body and FAT PECS perfectly, just finished with the usual chores around the house. Hoping to have some time to relax, Jonathan sat down on the couch in lounge room.

A knock jolted the man up. He wasn’t expecting anyone? Who could it be? With a sigh, the man stood to his feet and headed to the front door?

Could it be one of his friends? A co-star? He opened the door, to see a young lightskin man, about 19 or 20. Muscular. Hot. Fuck.

“Morning sir! Uh, Someone here needed their pipes laid?”

Oh, right. The plumber! Jonathan’s kitchen sink drain had something wrong with it. He totally forgot!

“Oh, yes! I’d forgot about that.” He chuckled, leaning against the door like a he was a stupid schoolgirl who had just gotten the chance to talk to her crush. “Come on in, uh, the kitchen’s that way.”

He pointed at the entryway to the kitchen. As the young plumber walked into the home, Jonathan’s eyes glued to the LARGE, RIPPLING BULGE in the young man’s jeans. Holy—

“Excuse me.” A voice called from behind Jonathan.

The man jumped, turning sharply. Another younger man at his door, dressed in a suit and holding some sort of compact briefcase. A white boy, probably a little older than the plumber.

“Oh, hi!” Jonathan exclaimed in relief, glad that it was just a harmless boy, letting out a little chuckle.

“I was wondering if I could speak to the man of the house?”

“That would be me.” Jonathan smiled proudly, in the same sort of tone that a woman in her 40s would have if she was just mistaken to be in her 20s.

“Great! You look like a man who knows what he wants, and where he wants it... all over the house, every room, every corner, every hole!”

Jonathan tilted his head, his brow raised, “Excuse me?”

The younger man held up a briefcase, “Cleaning supplies! Every purpose!”

Jonathan let out a small sigh of mixed relief and embarrassment, “Oh, that makes much more sense.” He motioned for the man to come in, who followed right after the plumber into the kitchen.

Jonathan glanced out of the doorway. Anyone else? No? He shrugged, shutting the door behind him as he turned to the kitchen, where the plumber had already gotten to work under the sink, and the salesman had already taken a seat at the kitchen island.