"Mall warts" is a term that most people apply to the kids that hang round malls making a public nuisance of themselves. It is, of course, a play on the name of that ubiquitous Superstore which can be found in every mall. I, however, apply the term not to kids but to adult men – the ones that hang round the public washrooms in the malls hoping to get lucky. And I have seen plenty of them. I was one of the guys who cleans those washrooms!

Yeah, I know. It's not the greatest job in the world for a guy with two college degrees – my first in Business Administration and my second in Secondary School Education. But it's what I'd been reduced to. I graduated with the business degree at a time when there was a great economic slump and no-one was hiring, so I went back to university and took a degree in Education. I actually got quite a good teaching job with a progressive school board, and was quite happy there for three years. The school board didn't mind when the word got out that I was gay. They didn't object that I was occasionally known to drink heavily on weekends. They did object when I was the driver in a hit-and-run accident. They fired me immediately, and a few weeks later they judge gave me a year less a day. He took into consideration that the young guy I had hit while I was drunk and driving would recover completely, other than a few minor scars.

The year less a day meant that I would not go to a maximum security prison, but a medium security prison was still confinement. It was good for me in one way, because I joined an AA group while in the pen, and am still sober five years later.

But what was not so good was that I now had a criminal record. No school board would ever hire me again, nor any respectable business. When I first got out was the hardest. I wasn't getting any work at all until the boy-wonder owner of this mall and several others took pity on me and hired me. I didn't remember much about that day, except that boss-guy was about my age, rich, and nice to me, giving me a job. So now I was cleaning toilets in a supermall!

I'm not bitter. I got what I deserved. Jail hadn't been too bad. The food was quite good, and I never got beat on by guards or raped by other cons. I did managed to hook up with several other gay or bi guys while I was in there, so I even got plenty of sex, both giving and taking.

That was also a benefit of the lowly janitorial job: I got plenty of man-sex. I saw a lot, and I joined in a lot. I even helped out in my own sweet way.

When I was hired to this janitor-cum-handyman position, a couple of the lesser-used men's rooms had rather grotty glory holes gouged into the dividers between the cubicles. I filed off or jigsawed off the rough edges, widened them a little, lined them with silicone tape, cleaned them up in general, and kept them clean. If my bosses noticed, they never said anything. But I noticed an increase of use by guys looking for action in those two men's rooms. There was even a note pencilled on the wall by one of the holes, simply: "Love it!"

Many of the guy who used these men's rooms were somewhat of exhibitionists and it was not unusual for them to leave the cubicle doors open while they serviced the guy in the next booth, so I got to see plenty of what went on. Most common was the usual anonymous blow-job, and there were plenty of those! I sometimes stuck my own dick through a hole and got serviced next.

One young redhead must have been really horny. He was sitting on the throne, alternately sucking and jerking the two nice cocks protruding through the cubicle partitions on either side.

The door was open, and he saw me going about my duties. He nodded me into the cubicle and had me strip down, then knelt on the floor before me, and switched back and forth between sucking my cock and the other two poking through at him. By the time we were finished, he was covered in three loads of hot cum!

His own cum was in a puddle on the floor. One of the downsides of these escapades is that I was the guy who gets to clean up the mess afterwards - but I didn't mind too much.

I got to see all types getting their jollies in those two men's rooms. Of course, things went on in the other men's rooms in the mall, too, but not as often and as openly as these two lesser-frequented rooms which were mostly only used by guys looking to score.

I remember two young guys, 19 or 20 years old at most, who actually stopped me in the mall and very embarrassedly asked me whether I knew some place in the mall where they could "be alone."

With a big grin on my face, I led the two red-faced youngsters, both with bulges in their jeans, to one of the secluded men's rooms. They were so horny they dashed into the first cubicle, and without even closing the door, dropped their pants to the floor and began groping and poking at each other with their hardened dicks.

I left them to it, but I hadn't gone far before I realized I had left my broom and rolling dustpan behind and went back for it. The two were still in the cubicle, door still open, but by now they were engaged in an enthusiastic sit-fuck, one straddling the other - who was seated on the toilet - and pumping himself up on down energetically on the sitter's hard rod. They were so engrossed in their fucking that they didn't even notice me.

I never ceased to be amused by the ways guys would make their moves to get a bit of cock or ass. For example, you could bet your balls that if a guy dropped his jeans to bare his ass while he was pissing, he was just itching for someone to slip a finger up his hot ass or do a reach-around on him. Those guys usually got just what they were itching for. Could you resist a young ass if it were offered to you?

Most guys, however, just settled for the no-so-subtle method of standing right alongside another guy at the urinals and pointedly looking at his cock while rubbing the piss out of their own – "cheeky-peekers," I called them. This method works in most washrooms, and in my 'special' men's rooms it was a sure thing.

The cheeky-peekers with the greatest advantage are the tall guys. Even if the urinals have deep dividers between them, the tall guys can still look down at the next guy's cock. Of course, it's pretty obvious what they are up to, but that's ok. You want the guy to know you're interested in his cock, don't you?

I made it a point - a point of honour, I suppose you might say - to never make a move on a guy while I was at work. If they made a move on me, that was a different story.

As a rule, my code of honour didn't cause me any trouble, but then I fell for a guy, but he didn't even know it! I'll call him Hottie for now

Hottie was a youngish man, late thirties, I guess. He was quite handsome, and looked familiar, even though I couldn't place him. The first time I saw him use one of my 'special' washrooms I was busy cleaning tiles in the entry area of the men's room. He caught my eye and nodded as he went in, and I thought that was a signal. I left my task and went and stood alongside him at the urinals and pretended to be trying to piss. We both stood there for the longest time, neither of us pissing, until he zipped up, washed his hands, and left.

The next day, about the same time, I passed Hottie in the corridor leading to the same men's room, just as I was leaving. I turned around and followed him back in. Again he stood at the urinals, pretending to piss. Again, I stood beside him, and likewise tried to squeeze out a leak - but I saw he had a bit of a woody, and I got one, too. But again, he zipped up and left.

The third day, I didn't want to seem so obvious, but I did make a point of cleaning tile in the entry way at the time I thought Hottie might arrive again – and he did. I didn't follow him to the urinals this time, but lingered in the entryway, peeking round the corner to see what he was up to.

This day Hottie had dropped his pants to his knees and I had a good look at his glorious bubble butt. I slid my hand into the front of my jeans and played with my hardening cock. Should I go over and slip a finger into his hot hole?

But before I could even decide, he had pulled up his jeans, zipped up, washed his hands, and headed out, looking at me sadly and shaking his head as he passed.

What more indication could I want. Hottie obviously wanted me, too.

I promised myself that the next day I would take action.

But the next day came and there was no sign of the guy. If Hottie had wanted me, he had given up on me. I had held off too long. The more I thought about him, the hornier I got, so when a working man came into the men's room and flashed me a sign - lock eyes, eyes to my crotch, eyes to his own - I knew what he wanted right away and dropped to my knees and sucked his mighty meat right there in front of the urinals.

It was good, but even as I was washing the remains of the man's cum off my chin, I was still regretting missing out with Hottie.

The next day, Hottie didn't show either. Now I knew he had given up on me. Out of spite or as a sign that I didn't care, I let one of the other janitors suck on my bone in the storage area. This guy had been after my cock for a while, but I had always turned him down, not wanting to get involved with the guy, because I had seen him shopping with his wife and kids a couple of times.

I always felt like a home-wrecker when I played round with married men. But I just didn't care. I was pissed off that I'd missed out on Hottie. I'd had daydreams that we might have really hit it off together.

It was later that day that things began to turn around for me. After work, I always took a shower in the staff locker rooms. After a day of cleaning out washrooms and toilets and other grotty places I always felt so dirty and smelly. I didn't have a car, so I had to take public transport home and I didn't want people on the bus or the underground sniffing at me in distaste.

I was alone in the showers, as I usually was. The mall proper closed at eight, just a few stores with outside entrances remaining open a little later. Most employees were gone by eight-thirty, and my shift, usually the afternoon shift, finished at nine.

I was luxuriating in the refreshing stream of hot water in the male staff showers, soaking away the dirt of the day, when I thought I heard someone cough in the locker room. When the place is empty like this, every sound reverberates. I listened, but heard no more over the running water. I amused myself thinking of the hundreds of slasher movies I had seen in which someone gets chopped up under the shower and we watch the blood flowing down the drain.

I put those images aside, and had just begun lathering up my cock prior to jerking off when I heard the cough again, this time right behind me. I swung around. There was a naked man less that two feet from me. As I turned, he reached out and grasped my soapy cock.

I started back in shock, but the man held my cock tightly and joined me under the flow of water.

"Hi," he said, and smiled. "I think you've seen me before?"

I certainly had! Recovering from my shock, I realized who it was. Hottie was beside me in the shower, grasping my rigid dick. My dreams were coming true.

"How did you get in here?" I gasped. This was a staff-only area, and anyway, the mall was closed.

"I have my ways," he grinned. "Don't ask questions. Just come here." Hottie drew me to him, and there, under the cascading hot water, we kissed greedily.

He slid down my body and he dropped to his knees on the draining-boards beneath us. His mouth nibbled at my nipples on the way south, making them rock hard, stopping again to tease my belly button, exploring it with his tongue. When he was finally fully kneeling, he leaned toward my rigid manrod, opened his mouth, and enclosed me in that warm environment. I was in heaven!

Hottie gobbled at my cock so greedily that within a minute I was about to explode into his mouth. I didn't want this to end so soon. I pulled him to his feet and we embraced and kissed once more under the never-ending flow of hot water.

"I knew it would be this good with you," he whispered as we pressed out bodies together, our hard cocks probing each other.

"So did I," I told him. "I've wanted you since the first day I saw you."

"I have wanted you longer than you can imagine right now. You'll understand soon," he said cryptically.

What the fuck was he babbling about? I didn't really care right now. All I knew was that my manhood was throbbing for him, wanting to be inside him.

"I want to fuck you," I whispered in his ear.

"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed. "I want that, too," he cried.

I pushed him rather roughly face first against the tiled wall, pinning him there with one hand while I stooped and picked up the bar of soap from the floor where I had dropped it earlier. I used it to lather up my cock again and then his crack. He wriggled as I did so and I slipped one finger, then two, inside him. He pressed back onto them and cried,

"Oh, please, fuck me!"

He didn't have to ask a second time. My rock-hard prick slipped between his rounded buttocks, found his hungry hole, and with just a little pressure slipped inside him. He let out a gasp, and then a moan of pleasure as my rod slowly moved up inside him, into his warm insides, opening the way as it went.

"Do me hard," he begged.

I did as he requested, and with Hottie pinned against the wall, I pounded his ass like I had never fucked any guy before. He gave little gasps as his breath was pounded out of him with each thrust, but he never asked for me to ease up, just pushed back to accept each new drive forward.

Soon I was cumming inside him. Spasm after spasm shook me as I squirted my semen deep inside him, and his arse clutched and clenched my cock to drag it all into him, to suck more spunk out of me. It was one of the most exciting climaxes I had ever experienced. I felt that my cock and his ass were one organism, working together to u give us both the ultimate pleasure.

At last I was spent, and reluctantly pulled out of his arse. I looked down and saw much of my cum dribble out of the still-open hole and wash away down his legs. I swung him round and back under the water again, and we soaped each other down, and rinsed off, kissing hungrily all the time.

Done, I turned off the water, and we both stalked naked back to the locker area, where his discarded clothes lay beside my own on one of the wooden centre benches.

We dressed mostly in silence, but I was already thinking about the future.

"Will I see you again?" I asked.

"That's for sure, if you want to," Hottie replied.

"I want to," I told him.

"I hoped you'd say that, James, because I want you, too."

"You know my name?" I said, surprised. "How?"

"You'll understand soon," he said again, as he had done earlier.

"How?" I asked again, puzzled.

"I've got to go now," he told me, tucking in his body shirt and zipping up. "I'll explain next time we meet. Just promise me this for now, that you'll stay here until I'm gone. That you won't follow me."

"Why?" I asked again.

"Please, just promise me," he insisted. Reluctantly I agreed.

I watched him leave in his jeans and singlet, and I heard the squeak of his rubber soled runners on the mall corridor floors, then nothing - silence.

I hurried out into the open areas of the mall, but I was all alone. There was no sign of him in any direction. I was all alone in the mall corridors. I began to dread that he was gone forever.

My dread was compounded the next day, when I lingered around that special men's room as much as I could, but he never came. I was sure I would never see him again.

The second day was much the same. I lingered around that washroom so much that I eventually really needed to take a leak. It was late in the evening, close to closing. I was standing at the urinals pissing when another man joined me, right beside me, usually a good sign that the person is looking to hook-up. I wasn't really interested, but took a quick glance in his direction. It might have been a quick glance, but it was enough to see that he was wearing an expensive suit. And that he had a nice woody.

I sensed that he was also looking at my cock, so teasingly I turned a little to let him have a better view. It grew harder as I stood there, pretending to piss, although the flow had stopped.

"Looks just as good as last time," the man in the suit said, his voice striking a chord in me.

I turned, astonished, and looked the man up and down. There was no mistaking. Now he was wearing and expensive suit and expensive eye-glasses, not jeans and singlet, but it definitely was him, Hottie. And now the old thought that he looked familiar came back to me, stronger than ever, and my brain raced to place him.

He grinned.

"I knew you wouldn't recognize me dressed like this," he smiled. "I knew you didn't recognize me when I came here the last few days. I know you don't remember where we first met, do you?"

My racing mind was dredging up that memory. Suddenly the occasion of our very first meeting leapt into my mind. "Hottie" was the man who had hired me some six months before. "Hottie" was the young tycoon who owned this mall and several other large malls across the country.

"I see by that stupid look on your face you've just figured out who I am. Yes, I'm your boss. I took a liking to you months ago, when I interviewed you for this job, something I usually leave to my managers. But I read your honest application had to check you out for myself."

"You see, I too spent six months in jail back when I was twenty-one and thought I'd never get anywhere again. Someone gave me a chance and here I am. So I hired you. I have to admit, something about me made me very horny for you - maybe it was your beaten-down appearance, your lost boy look. I remember you hardly daring to look up, to meet my eye, as you sat forlornly before me and told me about your criminal charge, your prison term. You were like a lost boy."

We were still standing at the urinals, cocks in hand, both with woodies, as he continued:

"And after I hired you, I never quite forgot you. And then one of my 'contacts' mentioned a really hot janitor he had hooked up with in my mall, and I had to check for myself. And it was you. I was hoping it was!

"But let's get out of here. Let's go to my office."

We zipped up, and a little stunned I followed David through the mall to his offices. Yes, David. I knew now he was David Thompson owner and CEO of Thompson Enterprises, one of the fastest growing companies in Canada. Only a few stragglers remained in the corridors. David's receptionist and secretary were already gone. We were alone in his plush office. He sat on a leather couch and motioned me to join him.

The crazy thought crossed my mind that this was the "casting couch" - but that hurdle was already behind us.

"So what do you want from me?" I asked, finally daring to speak.

"I want to offer you a new job," David replied. "I want to hire you as my personal aide and bodyguard," he told me. "You would be with me twenty-four hours a day. You would work with me, eat with me, live with me ..."

"Sleep with you?" I concluded.

David reddened a little. "That's strictly up to you," he replied," but, yes, I hope so, sleep with me. Where it goes from there, who knows? Are you interested?"

I gave him my biggest smile. "When do I start?" I asked.

"Right now," he replied. "Now let's get out of here and go to your new home - my place. I'm so horny."

"Me too," I agreed and followed him eagerly.

I don't just work for David any more. It's three years later, and I am his partner – in marriage, that is. We just got back from a one-month honeymoon in Hawaii. Tomorrow is back to work as usual, but I don't clean toilets any more!

I am always eager to hear what you think: