Chapter 1

The wooden plank hit the side of his head and he went down immediately. Someone yanked his jacket aside and he could feel them rifling through his pockets. He moaned in protest. He felt feet kick his ribs and the jolts of pain were blinding. He closed his eyes and tried to keep breathing. Another stab of pain felt like it sheared off his forehead and everything went black.

-----

"So what did you see?" the policeman asked the middle aged couple.

"Not a whole lot," the man said. "As soon as we saw the poor guy being kicked we yelled and the attackers took off."

"Is he going to be all right?" the woman asked. She was in her late forties and visibly shaking as her husband held her up. They had taken off their own coats and covered the body of the man while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

"I don't know," the policeman replied. "He was breathing. That's as much as I can tell you."

"I … I hope he makes it," the woman said.

"Can you describe the attackers?"

"There were two men wearing dark jackets, blue or black," the man explained. "They had the collars pulled up so I couldn't get a good look at them."

"Were they black, white, Asian?" the policeman inquired.

"Both white, I think."

"Anything else that stands out about them?"

"One of them seemed a little older…" the man hesitated. "He had scary eyes."

"Scary? How?"

"He looked at me when I yelled for them to stop kicking that man. But … but it was like … like he looked right through me. There was such coldness in his eyes."

"Would you be able to identify him if you saw him again?"

"I'm sure I will never forget those eyes," the man said with a shudder.

"Thanks for your help. Call this number if you remember anything else." He handed the man his card. "I have your name and number if we need to contact you, and thanks for your help. You may have saved this guy's life."

"I certainly hope so," the man replied. "May I take my wife home now?"

"Go right ahead, and thanks again."

-----

Darkness swirled all around him. He felt like he was drowning in the blackness. He tried to raise his head, tried to breathe, tried to see, but all was heavy and black and empty. He couldn't move no matter how much he struggled. It was all he could do to breathe. Then everything ceased to exist once more.

Some time later he tried to move. He groaned at the intense pain that wracked his body. He moaned and attempted to speak. He was sure his mouth was moving but he could hear nothing. And the darkness, the total blackness continued to surround him. He thought he heard a voice and then everything returned to the endless void.

Hours later he sensed someone standing near him. All remained enveloped in blackness but he knew someone was there. He tried to speak and thought he heard a voice from somewhere off in the darkness.

He tried to raise his arm, but the attempt was futile. He thought his eyes were open but he could see nothing. There must be bandages covering them. What the fuck had happened? He lifted his hand with great effort, but couldn't seem to raise his arm to reach his face. He felt a wave of panic. How could he be this weak? He wanted to call out but that would take too much effort. He dropped his hand back to the bed and decided to wait. Maybe someone would come and help him. Maybe the person whose voice he had heard. Maybe they would come and tell him what the fuck was going on. He was sure he had heard someone. But maybe he had been dreaming. He tried to speak again and heard another moan. He tried to clear his throat. It was so dry and he could hardly make air pass through. Panic rose again and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't fight his way through the blackness.

"Stay still," a female voice said. "The doctor's coming."

"Umm," he groaned. He couldn't seem to get his voice to work.

The doctor arrived almost immediately and took his pulse. "How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Thirsty," he managed to croak.

"You can give him a few ice chips," the doctor said to the nurse.

He sucked greedily on the little pieces of ice. It made his throat feel much better.

"So weak," he groaned.

"You were severely beaten and you've been in a coma for two days."

"What happened?" he asked as the nurse kept feeding him the ice chips and his voice and body responded to the blessed liquid.

"We were hoping you could tell us," the doctor answered.

"Don't remember," he said frowning.

"Do you know your name?"

"Of course, it's Brian Kinney," Brian rasped out.

"That's good, Mr. Kinney. Your memory seems to be intact except for the actual moment of the trauma. That's not unusual."

"Why was I beaten up?"

"I don't know, but you had no identification on you. It was probably a mugging. Your wallet was taken."

"Shit!"

"We didn't know who you were until you were able to give us your name just now."

"So nobody knows I'm here?"

"Nobody has been asking for you that I am aware of," the doctor explained. He looked at the nurse who shook her head.

Brian sighed. His fucking family wouldn't give a shit if he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere. They would be more pleased if he was lying in a pine box. His friends probably thought he was on some sort of orgy, and weren't the least bit worried about him. Brian sighed and tried to raise his arm to wipe at his eyes.

"Can you take these bandages off, Doc?" Brian asked.

"What bandages? The ones around your head have to stay for a day or two. Your knees are bandaged where they were scraped when you fell."

"The ones on my eyes."

The nurse and the doctor exchanged worried looks.

"There are no bandages on your eyes, sir."

"But … I can't see … anything," Brian breathed.

"Let me see," the doctor said moving around.

Brian felt him pull back his eyelid and then nothing. It was still black.

"Did you see anything?" the doctor asked.

"Nothing … oh, fuck," Brian gasped as the significance of what the doctor had done began to strike home. "I'm blind."

"Now don't panic," the doctor said. "You have had severe head trauma. There may have been some damage to the optic nerve."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Brian demanded.

"I'm trying to tell you that we need to do more tests."

"Tests?"

"We need to find out what's causing the blindness."

"What difference does it make what's causing it? If I'm blind…?" Brian moaned trying to control the intense feeling of dread that had overcome him. His life as he knew it was over.

"Once we know what's causing it, then we may be able to do something about it."

"You mean I could get my sight back?"

"Mr. Kinney, I can't answer that question at this point, but don't give up hope."

"Is there any hope?" Brian asked again. He needed something, anything, to hang onto, no matter how small or how fragile.

"There's always hope," the doctor said nonchalantly.

Brian would have punched him in the face if he had any idea where his fucking face might be. He sighed in resignation, but had to ask. "Can't you tell me any more? I need to know this will pass."

"There are no guarantees in medicine," the doctor stated.

"That's fucking comforting!"

"Mr. Kinney, I have other patients to see. I'm scheduling some tests for you starting tomorrow morning. We should know more after that. In the meantime, talk to Carol, your nurse. She will call anyone you want notified of what's happened."

"Thanks, doc," Brian said but he knew from the silence that the doctor had already left.

"Mr. Kinney," Carol said, "do you want me to call someone for you?"

"Um…" Brian hesitated. He should probably let Michael know what had happened, but he knew Michael would bring Debbie and Emmett and all the other shit that went along with them knowing. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Maybe this would all be gone by tomorrow and he would be back to normal. Yeah, he'd be fine. He'd just wait. What else could he do?

"Mr. Kinney?" Carol repeated his name.

"I … I should call my work," he said. "Is there a phone here?"

"Yes, beside you on the left side on the nightstand. Would you like me to dial it for you?"

"Yeah, please," Brian said softly feeling very vulnerable. He couldn't even use the damn phone by himself, couldn't even find it by himself.

Carol dialed the number he gave her and shortly he was talking to Cynthia. He tried to keep his voice level as he told her that something major had come up and he was going to need a couple of weeks off work. He asked her to arrange that with Vance and told her that he would call in in a few days. She wanted more information but he managed to put her off.

When he finished talking to Cynthia he didn't know what to do with the phone. He leaned over to the left feeling for the base. His fingers slid up the cord until his hand brushed against something. He felt it tip and fall. He waited for the crash but when none came he knew it hadn't been something breakable. He felt the base of the phone and tried to position the receiver atop it. He leaned back exhausted from that small task. His ribs hurt like a motherfucker. He could hear an annoying beeping sound and couldn't figure out what it was. He felt around his bed trying to find the buzzer to call for a nurse. They gave those to every patient, didn't they? Even the blind ones.

Brian felt a tear escape his useless eyes and he managed to raise his hand enough to brush it away. What the fuck was he going to do?

"Mr. Kinney, are you all right?" Carol asked. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Yeah," Brian sighed. "I couldn't find the buzzer."

"It's in the railing on the bed." She guided his hand to the right spot. "Now take your hand away and see if you can find it by yourself." He did as she directed and found he could easily get to the button if he needed help. "What's that beeping sound?" she asked.

"I don't know. It started a while ago."

"Ah," she said. "You didn't get the phone in its cradle properly. That's what is making the noise … in protest," she laughed as she straightened it out and the annoying sound stopped. "I'm going to remove your catheter and your IV. Some real food is on its way up."

"Thanks," Brian said as she set about her business. He hated these indignities being perpetrated on his person, but what the fuck could he do about it, about anything?

-----

Brian knew he was being wheeled to some sort of test, but it was extremely disconcerting to be at the mercy of the person pushing his wheelchair, some orderly that he didn't know. He wished Carol was there with him. He trusted her. He held his breath half expecting at any second to run into a person or a wall, or to be dumped down a flight of stairs. Blindness was fucking scary.

Much later Brian was returned to his room in the same manner. The battery of tests they had put him through had exhausted him. The orderly helped him back into bed. He felt a little safer when he could lay his head on his pillow and close his eyes. Open eyes without sight made him feel nauseous. Before long he was asleep.

When dinner arrived Carol came in and woke him. He needed to pee. He hated to ask for assistance but he didn't know how else to get to the toilet. Carol guided him into the bathroom and positioned him in front of the toilet. He let go with a strong sense of relief. When he was done he fumbled around for the lever to flush. Everything was so hard to accomplish and took so fucking long. He called for Carol who assisted him back to his bed and began feeding him. He hated this, being treated like a baby, but he wasn't sure if he could do it by himself.

His first meal had been liquids, broth and juice and tea. Now he had graduated to more solid foods, still rather bland but he could recognize potato and what was probably boiled chicken. He ate it anyway feeling some comfort from almost normal food. He ate quite a bit of the mostly tasteless stuff. He knew he was getting stronger, stronger today than yesterday, and hopefully stronger tomorrow than he was today. If only his sight would come back…!

He dozed after his lunch and was awakened by the doctor who shook him gently. "I have some of the preliminary results of your tests," the doctor told him. Brian held his breath. "It looks like there is blood pooled near the optic nerve along with severe swelling in that area, probably the result of your head trauma."

"And that means?" Brian demanded. Please say that I will see again, please!

"It means that we are going to play a waiting game. With this type of injury, there is little that can be done surgically without causing more problems, so the best thing is to wait. The blood will gradually be absorbed back into your system and the swelling will start to subside."

"And how long is this likely to take?" Brian asked holding his breath once again.

"That's hard to predict."

"Days, weeks, months?"

"More likely weeks than days and maybe months. It's very hard to say."

"Fuck!" Brian breathed.

"The good news is that all your other injuries are superficial. You're healing nicely. Other than bruising and scrapes, you're almost back to normal."

"Normal? I can't fucking see and you're telling me I'm back to normal!"

"Mr. Kinney," the doctor let out a long, slow breath. "I can't make you any promises about what is going to happen. You have heard my best guess. We have to wait and see."

"I … I'm sorry, but I don't know how to do anything. I feel so fucking helpless and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Maybe there is something we can do about it," Dr. Hagen said carefully.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Leave it with me for now. I have to check on a few things and I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"I don't want to say anything until I check out whether this can be done or not."

"Okay, but let me know soon, doc."

"Tomorrow, Mr. Kinney."

Brian was about to say something, but he sensed movement and knew the doctor was gone. He laid his head on the pillow and sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He wondered what the doctor was checking on. Maybe there was some revolutionary, experimental treatment they could use on him. Maybe the doctor could arrange for it right away, and he could get his sight back immediately. Maybe he would be all right and he could home to his life and his future. Maybe!

Blinded

Chapter 2

Brian lay motionless in his hospital bed staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes, or rather staring into the blackness that continually surrounded him. So began his third day of blindness, or the fifth if you counted the two days he was in a coma.

He could hear sounds from the hallway, early morning sounds that indicated they would be in for morning rounds soon. He wondered what Dr. Hagen would have found out. Maybe they could restore his sight. He sure as fuck hoped so.

He listened to the sounds trying to distinguish one from the other. He could hear faint voices, the squeaky wheel on a cart, the bing of an elevator door. He was becoming more and more adept at identifying the mundane sounds around him, a skill that he had little desire to develop.

Fuck! He knew there was blood behind his eyes putting pressure on the optic nerve. He also knew there was swelling, but they had told him that he might, no should, regain his sight, as the blood drained away and the pressure was relieved. He had to believe that would happen. But when? He didn't know how much more of this he could stand.

"Mr. Kinney?"

Brian jumped. He was getting good at knowing when people approached but he hadn't heard this one at all. "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's Dr. Hagen."

"Oh, you're back. Did you find a way to help me?" Brian asked hopefully.

"I think so. I've arranged to have you transferred to the rehab center attached to the hospital. They'll be able to teach you how to be more self-sufficient."

"But … but … I thought you were going to help me get my sight back."

"I told you that we had to wait. There's nothing I can do in the meantime, and you don't really need fulltime hospital care at the moment. You need help living with your blindness," the doctor explained carefully.

"No!" Brian protested. "I don't want to learn to live with my fucking blindness. I want you to fucking get rid of it!"

"That's not possible," the doctor said slowly.

"Then I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here until I'm better."

"I realize it's frightening to be moved to new surroundings," the doctor stated sensing Brian's fear. "But there's nothing more we can do for you here. We need this bed for ill or injured patients."

"But I am injured. I'm fucking blind! Do something about that before you send me away." Brian felt tears welling up and panic gnawing at his gut. "Please!" he begged.

"That's what I'm trying to do, Mr. Kinney," the doctor told him calmly. "Rehab will train you to look after yourself and how to get around. When you are self-sufficient, you will be able to go home."

"But I'm blind," Brian said in disbelief. "I can't go home."

"Mr. Kinney, your injuries are healing and your sight will come back, but it's going to take time."

"How much time?" Brian demanded. "Another day? A week? I can't fucking stand this!"

"Mr. Kinney," the doctor sighed. "I've told you that I can't give you a specific time line. I don't know how long it will take, but most likely weeks rather than days."

"Weeks?" Brian moaned.

"I don't want to give you false hope. It could even be months. Your sight should return when the optic nerve has a chance to recover."

"Months!" Brian gasped. "No!"

"Right now you need to learn how to take care of yourself. The orderly will be in first thing in the morning to move you over to rehab."

"Doc?" Brian sighed.

"Yes, Mr. Kinney," the doctor said in a slightly exasperated voice.

Brian could tell he was already halfway out of the room. "Couldn't you just fucking shoot me now and be done with it?"

"That's not the prescribed medical treatment for your condition."

Brian shook his head and whispered, "Fuck!", but he could tell from the silence that the doctor had already left the room.

-----

Brian heard a rustle of movement and knew that someone had entered his room. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"Mr. Kinney, I'm Detective Carver," a male voice said.

"Detective, as in police?"

"Yes. I need to talk to you about what happened."

"You mean what put me in the hospital and made me … blind?" Brian asked with disdain. The fucking police had failed to protect him and now they had come around to survey the results of their piss poor labors.

"I heard that you had lost your sight … temporarily."

"Yeah … temporarily," Brian snarled.

"Do you remember what happened that night?" the detective asked trying to get this interview back on track.

"Not really."

"Tell me what you do remember."

"I was walking to Woody's on Liberty Avenue."

"What's Woody's?"

Brian sighed. "It's a gay bar," Brian stated waiting to see what kind of homophobic asshole he was dealing with.

"What time of night would that have been?" the detective asked seemingly unfazed by Brian's statement.

"About eleven."

"You were alone?"

"Yes."

"What do you remember about your attack?"

"I had taken a shortcut through an alley. I was almost to Liberty when something hit me in the head."

"Anything else?"

"I think they rifled through my pockets," Brian said trying to remember.

"You had no wallet or ID when we found you. Did you have much money, credit cards?"

"I think there was probably about $200 in cash and several credit cards."

"Have you cancelled the cards?"

"Fuck, no! I haven't done anything. I'm fucking blind."

"Don't worry, Mr. Kinney. Now that we know who you are we'll track any use of the cards. That may lead us to your attacker."

"So I shouldn't cancel them?"

"Yes, you should, as soon as possible, but they may still try to use them."

"Okay."

"At this point we're treating this as a mugging, but … you wouldn't have any enemies, would you?"

"You think someone tried to kill me?" Brian asked horrified.

"I'm not saying that. We think it was probably a mugging, but the level of violence in the attack on you is unusual."

Brian thought about people who might hate him. There were some disgruntled tricks especially one from a few weeks ago, but they wouldn't attack him. No one had ever done that. "I can't think of anyone who would hate me enough to do this to me."

"Okay, Mr. Kinney, if I find out anything, I'll give you a call. If you remember anything else, call me. I'll leave my card on the nightstand."

Brian heard some rustling and knew the cop was gone. "Yeah, I'll be sure to call you," Brian muttered to himself. "Like I can read your fucking card!"

-----

Brian waited for the rest of the day for something to happen, but nothing did. Carol helped him with his meals. He debated about calling Michael. It would be nice to hear a familiar voice, even if he couldn't see the face. He wondered what he could do about his credit cards. All the information was at the loft. Michael could get that for him. But he really didn't want anybody to know what had happened. Maybe the blindness would go away in a day or two.

Then he realized that if he called Cynthia all his credit card information was on his computer and she could cancel them for him. He got Carol to help him place the call and told Cynthia the passwords she would need. She wanted to know where he was and what was going on, but he merely told her that his wallet had been stolen but he was all right. She finally agreed to do what he asked. He got off the phone without revealing anything about his condition.

The day drifted away into nothingness. Brian wondered if all his days would be like this from now on. He had nothing to do, nothing he wanted to do, except see. Carol helped him with meals and the toilet. He was starting to feel a little better. The pain in his ribs was subsiding. He could breathe without it hurting. His knees were itchy which meant they were healing. Carol removed the bandages. He wondered what his face looked like, but he thought it was probably better that he couldn't see it.

Thankfully they told him it was night and he closed his eyes to sleep. He could feel the drop of liquid seep out of the corner of his eye and he brushed it away. What the fuck was he going to do? His sight had to come back soon. It just had to.

-----

The trip to the rehab facility only took a few minutes. Some unknown orderly pushed him in his wheelchair while he clutched the plastic bag that held his jacket and some toiletries. The morning nurse had helped him to shower. He could still do that even if he was blind. He just couldn't find his way out of the shower room or back to his bed. The nurse had helped him get dressed, saying that it was expected that he be clothed when he arrived at rehab. He wished Carol had been there to help him, but apparently she was off duty for a couple of days. Brian wished he could have seen her, no, make that, spoken to her one more time. She had been very nice to him. He wondered what kind of horrors awaited him in rehab.

All the way to rehab Brian had that nauseous feeling of movement without knowing where he was or what he might run into. When the orderly finally stopped the wheelchair, Brian breathed a sigh of relief.

"Here we are, Mr. Kinney," the orderly said as he set the brakes on the chair. "This is Janet. She'll look after you from now on." With that he was gone leaving Brian to fend for himself.

"Janet?" Brian asked when no one said anything to him.

"Just a minute," a female voice replied brusquely.

Brian waited uncertain what to do. "Janet?" he repeated when several minutes had passed.

"I told you to wait a minute. I'm filling out some forms for you."

Brian sat in silence. If he was going to Hell, as his mother so often predicted, he had a feeling rehab would be adequate preparation to get him acquainted with what he would encounter. Suddenly his chair lurched forward, and the female voice stated, "Let's get you to your room."

Brian came to halt after a few seconds. Nothing else happened. "Janet?" he said uncertainly, having no idea where he was.

"What?" she replied.

"Where am I?"

"You're in your room. I told you that's where I was taking you."

"What are you doing?"

"Checking that everything is set up for you."

Suddenly his bag of belongings was ripped from his arms. He hadn't realized how tight a death grip he had had on it until it was pulled away. He waited.

"There," Janet said. "Your coat is in the closet and your toiletries are in the bathroom."

"Thanks," Brian said weakly.

"Do you want to get in bed or sit up for awhile?" she asked.

"I'll sit up," Brian said hoping to be moved to a different chair.

"Stand up," she ordered. "Take three steps." He did as ordered. "Turn around and sit down." Brian extended his leg to be sure the chair was actually there. When the back of his leg could feel it, he sat down with a sigh. "Someone will be in to begin your therapy," Janet said.

"But … but, how do I call you if I need something."

"You won't need anything in the next few minutes, so you won't need to call me."

Brian felt the panic rising. She wouldn't just leave him there, all alone, in the dark, would she? "Janet?" he said. When there was no reply, he knew he was all alone. He sat still and waited.

Brian had no idea how long he was left sitting there. He was afraid to move, afraid he'd be lost forever and no one would ever find him. He could hear noises off in the distance, probably down the hall, but nobody came near him for what seemed liked hours. His heart beat rapidly and he wanted to cry. He did his best to keep it together. And still he waited.

"Mr. Kinney," a male voice said out of the darkness.

"Yes?" Brian managed to croak. His mouth was very dry and he hoped the fear in his voice didn't sound as evident to this man as it did to his own ears.

"My name is Martin Kimmelman. I'll be working with you on coping skills."

"Coping?" Brian asked feeling a little better that someone had finally come to help him.

"Coping with your blindness."

"Oh."

"Have you learned to do any things for yourself?"

Brian shook his head. He felt like such a baby, a failure. He had to learn everything all over again.

"Then let's start with the layout of the room," Martin said quietly.

Brian liked the kind, gentleness of his voice. "Okay," he said.

Martin came over to the chair and asked Brian to stand up. When Brian was standing Martin began describing what the room was like. It was basically square with the bathroom inserted in one corner. The chair Brian had been sitting in was beside the only window in the room. The bed was to the left of the chair and a chest of drawers to the right. The door to the room was almost directly opposite to the chair.

Once that had been laid out for Brian, Martin showed Brian how to hold his arm and he walked Brian from the chair to the bed counting the steps. They went from the bed to the bathroom door, from there to the main door of the room, then back to the bed. He then took Brian through all of the different distances again, this time always starting from the bed. Brian began to memorize the number of steps. Next Martin had Brian start from the bed, find the correct direction and walk to the bathroom door using the correct number of steps. Brian found he could do it all by himself.

"Now get yourself back," Martin told him.

Brian did an about face and returned to the side of the bed. "I did it," Brian said rather proud of his achievement.

"When you can't see, you have to rely on memory and your other senses," Martin said.

"I didn't want to do this. I'm waiting for my sight to come back," Brian felt compelled to tell him.

"I know. I've read your file, but there is no telling how long you'll have to live with the blindness. You might as well be self-sufficient."

"I guess," Brian admitted.

"Are you tired?" Martin asked.

"A little," Brian said.

"Why don't you lie down on the bed and rest for a bit. Lunch will be here in about a half hour. I'll come back and show you how to deal with food. You've done very well so far, Mr. Kinney."

"Thanks, but could you call me Brian?"

"Sure, Brian," Martin said. "I'll be back in a half hour."

Brian laid his head down on the pillow. Maybe he could do this after all. He was asleep in a minute.

Blinded

Chapter 3

Brian leaned back on his bed. He was exhausted. He still didn't have all his strength back from the mugging and being in a coma. This was his first day in rehab for his blindness and he had learned so much. But it had taken a lot out of him. Everything required so much concentration without his eyesight. He couldn't believe how difficult the simplest things could be.

However, Brian was rather proud of himself. With the help of Martin, his rehab therapist, Brian had trained himself to find his way around his room. He had learned the clock method dealing with food on a plate. He could feel a tiny bit good about himself. He was self-sufficient as long as he stayed in this room and someone brought him his food and told him where each item of it was situated on the plate. He let out a long breath. Who the fuck was he kidding? He was a helpless, pathetic, lonely, blind man.

"Mr. Kinney," Janet said. "Are you awake?" He had learned that she was the receptionist/secretary/scheduler at the rehab center and not a nurse. Her manner really rubbed him the wrong way.

"If I wasn't before, I would be now. What is it?" Brian asked with a sigh.

"I have someone here who is doing some community service and I decided you would be a good candidate to assign him to."

"Community service? Assign him … to me?" Brian asked. He couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Yes," Janet said brusquely. "Go introduce yourself," she said to someone else.

That person cleared their throat and a hesitant voice said, "Um … hello, Mr. Kinney. I … I'm … um … my name is … um … Justin Taylor."

"I don't care who the fuck you are, I don't want you here. Go away." Brian turned his head and faced the wall away from the door. He was sure that should get his message across clearly. He didn't want anyone around him.

"But…"

"There is no fucking but. Get out!" Brian growled. He didn't need some stupid, incoherent adolescent hovering around him and making fun of him behind his back.

"But I have to do this. The court said so," Justin pleaded.

"Go tell the court to fuck itself, and then find someone else to irritate."

"But…"

"Get . Out . Now!" Brian yelled punctuating each word.

The silence and emptiness told him that he had gotten rid of his unwelcome visitor. If he could see, he would fucking kill that fucking Janet, bringing fucking strangers in here to fucking stare at him and pity him. If he wouldn't allow his fucking friends to see him, he wasn't going to allow fucking total strangers in. Brian lay back down and closed his eyes. He could still scare people, even if he was blind. He had kind of enjoyed driving the kid away. He sounded like an idiot anyway.

"Mr. Kinney?" the same soft male voice said.

"Are you fucking back?" Brian roared. "What part of 'get out' didn't you understand?"

"I understood all parts of it perfectly well," Justin said forcefully. He was going to have to deal with this asshole, and he wasn't going to take being ordered around.

"Then why the fuck are you still here?"

"I have to do this community service, and Janet says she won't assign me to anyone else. So you're stuck with me, and I guess I'm stuck with you."

"Well I'm not fucking doing community service, and I refuse to be stuck with you."

"I … I don't think you're in any position to refuse," Justin said rather condescendingly. He was getting sick of this asshole.

"That's what you think, is it?" Brian rumbled.

"Yes."

"Well," Brian began suddenly feeling the hopelessness of it all. "You're probably fucking right. I can't do anything for myself. I can't even kick you out and have it stick."

Justin chuckled and Brian thought that he liked the sound of that. "So, can we call a truce and I can stay?" Justin asked.

"Can you stay out of my way?"

"But I'm supposed to help you."

"For how long?"

"40 hours."

"That's less than two days," Brian observed. "So if I let you hang around for two days, then we'll both be free."

Justin let out a large sigh. "It doesn't work like that. I'm supposed to do an hour a day for forty days."

"I'm stuck with you for forty days!" Brian demanded.

Justin nodded and then he realized that Brian couldn't see him. "Looks that way."

"Didn't it rain for forty days and forty nights before the great flood? I think the end must be near."

Justin laughed out loud and Brian liked that sound even better than the chuckle. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having this kid around. In fact, he thought of something the kid could actually help him with.

"How old are you?" Brian asked.

"Um … twenty-one." Justin didn't know why he lied about his age, but he wanted to impress this man.

"Really?" Brian asked sarcastically. The kid sounded about fourteen.

"Twenty," Justin said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Nineteen."

"Right!"

"Eighteen."

"What is this, a missile launch?" Brian asked with a chuckle. That was the first time he'd had any inclination to laugh or enjoy himself or crack a joke. Maybe this kid could be a good thing.

"Okay, so I'm seventeen, but I'll be eighteen in a few months."

"Can you drive?"

"Yeah?"

"Good. Sit down. I need to find out a bit about you."

"You do?" Justin asked as he moved over to the chair and sat down. He figured he better take whatever this man was willing to give. He had to do his community service and it looked like he had to do it with this guy. Besides, once the black eyes went away, Justin could envision how handsome a man Brian must be. Then he chastised himself for thinking that way. "Does this mean that I can stay?"

"We'll see."

"So what do you want to know?"

"What did you do to get into this mess?"

"I … um … I …"

"Don't fucking lie to me. I'll know by the sound of your voice."

"I got caught with some pot."

Brian chuckled. "That's all? And they gave you forty hours?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, to do my community service."

"I heard that the first time. I want to know why you're here in the rehab building, here with a … blind man, here with me."

"Oh, because my mother suggested it. She volunteers sometimes at the hospital."

"Do you always do what mommy tells you?" Brian asked with a sneer.

"When it suits me," Justin said with a huff and with more bravado than he felt.

"Were you dealing?" Brian asked suddenly.

"You mean drugs?" Justin asked in horror. "Fuck, no!"

"Good," Brian said relieved to hear that Justin had got himself in just a little trouble. "Can I trust you to do something for me?"

"Of course," Justin said quickly. He liked that this man was going to trust him.

"All right, listen carefully," Brian began. "I'm going to give you the keys to my apartment. I want you to go there and get me some clothes and shaving gear and some of my special soap and my shampoo."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Justin interrupted. "I need to write this down." He opened his backpack which held his sketchbook and his ID that he had brought in with him. He found a pad of paper and a pen. "Ready," he said.

Brian gave him the long list of things he had been longing for from the loft. He gave specific instructions of where to find them. He asked Justin to pick up his mail and bring it to him. Maybe he could get Martin to read some of the important letters to him. He also wanted his laptop from his desk. Justin wondered how this man planned to use some of this stuff, but it wasn't his place to question what he wanted.

"So, can you do that without stealing anything from me?" Brian asked.

"Jee-zus," Justin reacted. "I'm not a fucking thief."

"I certainly hope not. You better be back here in two hours or I'm calling the police."

"I'll try," Justin said hesitantly.

"What do you mean, you'll 'try'? It should be easy to drive to the loft and return with these things in two hours."

"I … I can drive but I took the bus here from school. I don't have a car."

"Fuck!" Brian said. That blew his whole plan.

"But I can take the bus and go there. It may take me a little longer than two hours to get back, that's all," Justin explained.

Brian hesitated but he wanted his own soap and shampoo, not the awful detergent they gave him when he had a shower. "Can you make it in three hours?"

"I think so," Justin said.

Brian scrabbled around in the drawer of the nightstand and found his keychain. Thank God they hadn't stolen that. He handed the keys to Justin. "Then go, and … thanks."

Justin smiled to himself. "I'll be back as soon as I can," Justin said as he hurried out the door cramming the list into his pocket.

-----

Brian thought about this young man, kid, teenager, who had suddenly appeared. He seemed nice enough, but Brian didn't really want anyone around. Maybe he could get rid of him once he had outlived his usefulness, if he played his cards right.

Brian slid down in the bed trying to visualize what Justin Taylor might look like. He had such a soft, captivating voice until he got riled up. Brian smiled to himself. He wondered if one, Justin Taylor, might be gay. He had a few mannerisms that might lead one to think so. It might be interesting to play with him a bit before he got rid of him. Brian felt his eyes close and then he was asleep.

"Mr. Kinney."

"Huh, what? Who's there?" Brian came awake with a start and rubbed carefully at his still sore eyes.

"I'm the night nurse, Amanda Strang," said a female voice.

"Yes?"

"I'll be looking after you tonight," she said in a soft somewhat suggestive voice.

Brian felt her pick up his hand and assumed that she was going to take his pulse. However, her other hand rubbed the back of his wrist and his forearm. "What are you doing?" Brian asked feeling very strange about this turn of events.

"Getting to know you," the woman replied in that suggestive voice. Brian quickly pulled his hand away. Amanda sighed. "Let me get you situated for the evening. Your meal was delivered while you were asleep."

"What time is it?"

"Six-thirty."

Brian wondered how long Justin had been gone. Surely he should be back soon. "I'm not hungry," Brian said wanting this woman to go away.

"You have to eat to regain your strength," Amanda stated. "I bet you're quite the looker when the bruises all go away."

"Bruises?" Brian asked. He knew his ribs were very sore, but what was she talking about.

"You have two very black eyes, but I can see that they're starting to change color so they should be back to normal before long."

Brian absorbed this information. He knew his eyes were sore but he had thought that was because of the pressure that was making him blind. He must look like a fucking raccoon with two shiners. Shit! And he thought he had impressed Justin Taylor. The kid must think he was a fucking freak. It was a bloody wonder the boy hadn't run away in fear of his grotesque looks.

Amanda finished setting up his meal on the tray that slid across his bed. She described what the tray contained telling him where each item was positioned. At least she did that part of her job efficiently.

"I don't want it," Brian grumbled.

"Perhaps you'd like me to feed you, my pretty," Amanda suggested. She stroked his arm again.

Brian flinched and pulled away from the unwanted touch. "I'm gay," he said bluntly trying to put an end to this nonsense right away.

"That's what they all say," Amanda snorted.

"Jesus Christ," Brian thought to himself. "Does she pull this crap with all her patients?"

Amanda adjusted Brian's bed and he could hear her unwrapping the cutlery that came with his dinner.

"I can feed myself," Brian said quickly. "Give me the fork."

Amanda handed him the fork. He could tell she was standing beside the bed waiting. He took a bite of the potatoes. "You can go now," he said.

"I'll be back in a bit," she promised. "Maybe you would like a sponge bath."

Brian felt the mashed potatoes turn to concrete in his mouth. The last thing he wanted was Nurse Skank with her hands all over his body.

When Brian managed to eat a bit of his dinner and keep it down, he closed his eyes and dozed once more. He wondered why Justin hadn't come back yet. It was hard to know how long the boy had been gone, but surely it must be three hours. He hoped nothing had happened to him. The kid better fucking not be robbing him. But somewhere deep inside Brian was sure that Justin would never do that to him. Something about the young man had made Brian trust him as soon as he told him what he had to serve his community service for. He didn't think Justin would rip him off.

"Ready for that sponge bath now?" Amanda's attempt at a sultry voice asked.

"I don't need a bath," Brian responded. "I'll have a shower in the morning."

"Suit yourself," said a disappointed Amanda. "Shall we get you ready for bed?"

"What time is it?"

"Eight-fifteen."

"Shit!" Brian reacted. Justin should have been back by now. What was he going to do?

"Would you like to sit up for awhile?" Amanda asked taking hold of Brian's arm.

"I can do it myself," Brian snapped pulling away from her. He quickly slid his legs off the bed and got his bearings. Four steps along the side of the bed and three over to the chair. He negotiated the distance until he felt the chair brush against his leg. He turned and sat down. The next thing he knew Nurse Skank was draped around his neck rearranging his shirt, brushing out imaginary wrinkles and illicitly rubbing her palms across his breasts.

"What the fuck is going on here?" said a voice from behind them.

Blinded

Chapter 4

"What the fuck is going on here?" said a voice from behind them.

"Nothing's going on," Amanda said quickly standing up and brushing off Brian's shoulders. "I was just getting Mr. Kinney settled in his chair. "I'll be back later," she added as she bustled out the door.

"Is that you Justin?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, what the hell was she doing?"

"She likes me," Brian said with a touch of irony. "Thanks for rescuing me."

"Any time."

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," Brian admitted. "Did you get everything?"

"I think so. I had to take three buses each way. It took forever."

"I … I'm sorry it was so difficult. I probably shouldn't have…"

"It's okay. I wanted to do it for you," Justin protested.

Brian smiled to himself. How could this kid be in trouble with the police? He was so damn sweet and obliging. Brian shook himself, wondering where that lesbianic thought had come from.

"I found this small suitcase in the closet. I packed everything in it. I hope that's all right. I thought you could use it to carry everything when you go home," Justin explained.

"Home," Brian thought. He wondered when the fuck that might be.

Justin opened the suitcase and began asking Brian where he wanted him to put everything. Brian directed the boy to place things in very specific places as Martin had taught him. He was memorizing each site hoping he would be able to find each item when he wanted it. Finally Justin was finished and Brian asked him to place the suitcase in the closet.

"I brought your mail," Justin said pulling it out of his backpack. "And there was an envelope leaning against the loft door when I got there."

"An envelope?" Brian asked having a strange feeling about this revelation. He hoped it wasn't another one like the two others he had received.

"Do you want me to open it for you?" Justin asked.

Brian hesitated. He didn't really want anyone to know what was in the envelope if it was like the others, but he had to find out what the envelope contained. "Open it," he said slowly. He heard Justin ripping the paper, and then silence. "What is it?" he asked knowing already.

"It's a love letter … sort of."

Brian exhaled slowly. "Just like the others," he thought. Aloud he said, "What does it say?"

Justin read from the paper: "Your words leave me breathless and aroused. I need you next to me, caressing me, in me … NOW!" He waited to hear Brian's reaction. A groan was all he received. Justin didn't know what to say.

After a minute or two Brian asked, "Is there anything unusual about the lettering or typing?"

Justin studied the paper not sure what Brian was asking. "The word NOW is written in capital letters and punctuated with an exclamation point," Justin observed.

"He's getting impatient," Brian muttered.

"Impatient?" Justin asked. "What do you mean?"

"The other two notes were less demanding, more pleading. I think he's getting anxious and … bolder."

Justin stared at Brian. "You've gotten two other letters like this? And you said 'he'," Justin said carefully.

"Yeah," Brian said. "I'm gay. I think this was a trick from a couple of weeks ago."

Justin's eyes got very big. This man was gay, just like … just like he was. Justin felt his heart pound in his chest and his cock grew hard at the thought. He covered his crotch with his hands before it dawned on him that Brian couldn't see what effect his words had had on him.

"Are you still there?" Brian asked staring in the general direction of Justin.

"Yes," Justin said forcing his uncooperative voice to work.

"Are you upset that I'm gay? Do you want to find someone straight to do your community service with?" Brian asked baiting the boy but wanting to hear what he would say.

"No … no … I … think I'm gay too," Justin admitted hesitantly.

"No?" Brian teased pretending to be amazed.

"You knew?"

"I guessed."

"What … what gave me away?"

"I have excellent gaydar."

"You do?"

"I do. I'm never wrong."

"But … I hardly knew I was gay myself."

"You knew."

"I … I guess I did, but I've never done anything about it."

"I could change that."

"You could?" Justin asked feeling his cock grow even harder.

"But not till I get out of here when I get my sight back."

"You're going to see again?" Justin asked. "They didn't tell me that."

"They say I will. I had head trauma which is putting pressure on the optic nerve. When that pressure is relieved I should be able to see again."

"When will that be?" Justin asked willing his cock to obey, but hoping Brian Kinney would still be interested when he could see.

"They don't know. Maybe a week or a month … maybe longer."

"Is … is it scary?" Justin asked.

"Yes," Brian whispered being honest with Justin and himself.

"Don't be scared." Justin said softly. "I'm here now."

Brian sucked in a breath and held it. He felt the tears behind his useless eyes. Who was this stranger, this boy, this gay man who held such promise and made him feel like a man, like he had a life once again. He wanted to grab this man and hold him and never let him go. He wanted Justin to hold him in return and tell him everything would be all right and never let him go. Brian let out the long held breath and tried to get hold of himself. He couldn't fall apart after everything he had already endured.

Brian cleared his throat hoping his voice would work on command. "Where's that note?" he demanded.

"I … I'm still holding it," Justin replied keeping his voice as normal as he could.

"Throw it away," Brian ordered.

"Should … shouldn't you keep it?"

"Why? What good is it?"

"He might do something and then this would be proof that he was stalking you."

"He's not fucking stalking me. He's just sending these annoying notes."

"I still think you should keep it."

"Fine," Brian said exasperated. "Put it in the nightstand."

Justin did as he was told. "Do you want me to open your other mail?" Justin asked.

"Don't you need to go home?"

"I called my mother from the loft."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That I was doing my community service and I'd be home by ten."

"What time is it now?" Brian asked.

"Shit! Almost nine-thirty. I'll never make it."

"Take a cab."

"I … I don't have enough money," Justin admitted.

"See if one of those envelopes is from my bank. They were supposed to send me a replacement card." Justin rifled through the pile of mail and found the one from the bank. He ripped it open and told Brian that the card was there. "Dial the number with it to activate it." Justin dialed and handed the phone to Brian. After all the questions were answered, Brian told them he wanted to use the card immediately. They said to wait five minutes and he could. "Usually there is an ATM in the lobby of these places," Brian told Justin. "Go down and take out a hundred dollars for me. You heard the password on the phone."

"You trust me to do that?" Justin asked in disbelief.

"I trusted you in my house. I trust you to do this. Go. By the time you find the machine you should be able to use it."

Justin grinned and headed for the lobby. The machine worked and he soon returned with the hundred dollars.

"Gather up your belongings, put the ATM card in the nightstand and put the money in your pocket. Go grab a taxi."

"But…"

"No buts, do it."

Justin grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Kinney. I think I can make it in time. I have a curfew."

"I thought as much," Brian smirked.

Justin gathered up his backpack and headed towards the door of the room. "Good night, Mr. Kinney," he said looking back at the only gay man he had ever met, at least that he knew about.

"Justin," Brian said. "Call me Brian."

"See you tomorrow, Brian," Justin said happily as he ran for the elevator that someone had just stepped off of.

Brian smiled to himself. He liked the sound of that. He would enjoy seeing Justin Taylor tomorrow. He might like to see the boy every day.

-----

Brian sat in his chair for quite a while after Justin left. He was trying to figure out why he would trust a kid who was here doing community service because he was in trouble with the law. He had given the kid the keys to his loft and the password to his bank card. He would never normally do anything like that, especially with someone he had only met a few hours earlier. What was it about Justin Taylor?

Brian had wanted to get rid of him at first, but he wanted to get rid of everybody. Then he had started talking to the young man and had felt almost an instant connection. Maybe it was the fact that he had suspected that Justin was gay. Maybe it was the sweet nature that came through the boy's attempts to appear grown up and blasé about the whole community service thing. Maybe it was the fact that he had taken three buses each way to pick up the things Brian wanted from the loft. Brian shook his head wondering how he could thank the boy properly. He had certainly gone above and beyond what was required for his community service.

He wondered if Justin really would come back tomorrow. He could get him to help him with his mail. He would like that. The kid seemed smart and should be able to handle anything that Brian threw at him. Brian hoped Justin had made it home before his curfew. He didn't want him to get into more trouble.

Brian decided to try to use his laptop that Justin had brought for him. He stood and counted off the steps to the top of his bed. He reached for the nightstand and felt along the top till he found the laptop where he had told Justin to put it. He picked it up and went back to his chair.

After a bit of fumbling he was able to get it open. He heard it bing indicating it was coming on. He wondered how much battery was left. He should have told Justin to bring the charger cable. He wondered what screen the computer was at. He tried to remember what order they came in and where he had to put in his password. He positioned his fingers as he would to touch type. Thank God he had learned that in high school. He waited. He had no idea what page his computer might be on. It probably wasn't logged on to any program yet, and he had no idea how to get to anything. After a minute wondering what to do, he slammed the laptop shut and fought the urge to pitch it across the room.

Justin had left just after nine-thirty. Brian had no idea how long he had been gone, but he knew he was tired. In fact he was feeling the beginnings of a headache. Fucking computer! He stood up and counted his way to the side of the bed. He placed the useless laptop back on the nightstand. He might as well go to bed he decided.

He started removing his shirt. As he pulled it off, he had the disconcerting feeling that someone was watching him. He stopped what he was doing and listened intently. He heard nothing. It must be his imagination working overtime. He undid his jeans and slid them off. Justin had brought clean clothes. It would be nice to have fresh things to put on in the morning after his shower. He decided to get rid of his days old underwear and sleep in one of the fresh pair that was now in the bottom of his nightstand where he had asked Justin to put it.

When the underwear slid off Brian had that funny feeling again like someone was in the doorway of his room. He turned quickly asking out loud, "Who's there?" There was no response but Brian could feel a presence. He was sure of it. He felt around in the bottom of the nightstand until the feel of the material in the gray underwear told him he had what he wanted. He sat down on the bed to put it on. Suddenly the feeling of being watched vanished. He frowned and wondered what was going on.

"My, my, my," Amanda said as she came into his room. "Let me help you with those."

Brian had the underwear halfway up his legs as she arrived. His dick was hanging out and he was sure Nurse Skank, as he now thought of her, was getting an eyeful.

"I don't need any help," Brian declared pulling the underwear up over his ass and tucking his cock inside. "How long have you been watching me?" he demanded.

"I wish I had been here sooner," Amanda replied licking her lips. "I just came out of another room."

Brian frowned. "Did you see anyone at my door?"

"No, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was writing in a chart. I wish I had known what was going on in here. I would have come sooner."

Brian noticed the stress she placed on the word "come" and shuddered. It must have been her hanging around his door watching him. Who else could it have been? He didn't believe her protestations.

He stood and turned to draw the covers back. He wanted to be safe in his bed with her out of his room.

"Let me help you," Amanda insisted pushing him aside with her hip and pulling the covers back.

Brian recoiled at the touch. "I can do that for myself. I'm supposed to do things for myself."

"I don't mind at all," Amanda stated ignoring his protestations. "Get in and I'll tuck you in."

"I'm not fucking two years old. I can do this myself."

"Hmpff," she snorted not liking being brushed off. "Fine," she conceded. "I'll come and check on you later."

"Don't bother."

"No bother at all," Amanda said airily as she headed for the door. "Hope to see more of you before I leave in the morning."

The sexual innuendo was not lost on Brian. He groaned and pulled the covers up over his head. Why did Nurse Skank have to be here? What was he going to do about her? He didn't know how he could stand her advances night after night after night. He needed to get out of here.

Blinded

Chapter 5

Brian spent most of the following day with Martin. He repeated all the lessons he had learned the previous day and Martin began showing him how to use his cane to get around. Martin took him down the hall and back until Brian could do it without help. Brian hated the fucking cane but he knew he was truly helpless without it. Much as he detested it he knew he needed it. Martin complimented Brian on being such a quick study, but he also wanted him to slow down and take his time learning the coping skills. Brian was determined to gain some self-sufficiency and get the fuck out of this place.

By the afternoon Brian was exhausted. Martin finally convinced him to lie down and have a nap. Brian made Martin promise to speak to the doctor about releasing him altogether. He wanted to go home and he had the beginnings of an idea about how he could accomplish that.

He lay back on the bed thinking about the young man who had come into his life so suddenly only a day ago. At first he had wanted Justin Taylor to go away and leave him alone. Now he couldn't wait for the boy to arrive as he had promised. He hoped Justin had made his curfew. He didn't want him to get into more trouble.

Brian wondered what it was about Justin. After knowing him for only a few hours he had given him the keys to the loft and the password to his bank card. Brian had never done anything like that before. Why had he done it with Justin? What was it about him that made Brian trust him and want him around? Maybe it was the innocence of the young man. Maybe it was the fact that he was gay and just on the verge of experiencing all that entailed. Maybe it was that he seemed intelligent and quick on the uptake. Maybe it was how sweet and obliging the young man had been. Maybe it was all of the above and something more. Brian closed his eyes thinking about Justin Taylor and wondering what he might look like.

"Brian," a voice said. "Brian."

Brian felt a hand on his arm and jumped. His eyes flew open to that disconcerting emptiness that he saw every time he opened them. "Huh? Who is it?"

"It's me, Justin."

"Oh, you came back."

"Of course I came back. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Thought you might have made a duplicate key and be cleaning out the loft right now."

"Yeah, right! I had to go to school. No time for burglary," Justin said wryly.

Brian chuckled. God, he liked this kid. "That's just as well," Brian said. "You're in enough trouble for the moment."

"Tell me about it."

"Did you make your curfew?"

"Yeah, by the skin of my teeth. Thanks for giving me money for a cab. Oh, here's the change," Justin said fishing the rest of the money out of his pocket."

"Keep it," Brian said.

"But … it's a lot of money."

"You did me a big favor by getting my things yesterday. Consider it a tip."

Justin snorted and put the money back in his pocket. "Thanks," he said.

"I have a proposal I want to make to you," Brian said seriously.

"A proposal?" Justin asked wondering what Brian might ask him.

"I'm going to try to get out of here in the next few days," Brian explained.

"Are you ready for that?" Justin asked knowing how helpless Brian seemed.

"I don't like it here," Brian said emphatically. "Martin, my therapist, says I'm a quick study and I've asked him to check into getting me released. But…"

"But what?" Justin asked when Brian didn't finish that sentence.

"I don't have anyone at home to help me."

"I kind of figured from the look of the loft that you lived alone," Justin said. "It's an amazing space."

"Thanks," Brian said. "The problem is that I don't want anyone to know I'm blind."

"But … what about your family … and friends?"

"My family," Brian snorted. "They don't merit an answer to that question, and it's my friends that I don't want to know about this."

"I don't think I understand," Justin said with a frown.

"Suffice it to say that I'm hoping to have my sight back before they find out."

"But … if it could take weeks…"

"I know, but I've managed to keep them in the dark so far." Brian sucked in his lips thinking about the irony of that statement. He was the one who truly was in the dark.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"If they set me free, could you take me home and maybe stay with me for a day or two until I get used to the loft," Brian asked quietly. He hated to have to ask for things but his circumstances made asking a fact of life that he could not ignore, especially if he wanted to get out of here and away from Nurse Skank.

"I …" Justin said. He wanted to go with this man. The loft was great, and he wanted to be with Brian, but he was on probation and he doubted that his mother and father would allow it.

"If you don't want to do it, just fucking say so," Brian said harshly taking Justin's hesitation for refusal.

"It's … it's not that. I'd like to … to help you, but I'm on probation. I don't know if they would allow it, and I don't know about my parents."

"I see," Brian said feeling the futility of it all. He was doomed to stay here or else rely on the generosity of his friends who would love every minute of having Brian at their mercy. They would never let him live it down. He could see Ted and Emmett snooping through the loft, treating him like an invalid, making snide remarks behind his back. And Michael would baby him. And Deb would lecture him. He'd have to stay here in rehab until they kicked him out. There was no other answer.

"I … could talk to my parents and see if they would let me."

"You could?" Brian asked hopefully.

"Sure, I told you that I wanted to help you."

"Would it help if I talked to them?" Brian asked.

"You won't have any choice," Justin stated.

"What do you mean?"

"As soon as I mention this, if there's the slightest chance that they'll let me do it, they'll want to meet you."

"Should I tell them I'm gay?" Brian asked with a grin.

"Christ, no! That's the last thing you should tell them … unless you really don't want me there."

"I want you," Brian declared. Then he realized how that sounded. "I mean that I … want you to do this for me."

"Sure," Justin replied, but he had trouble wiping the smile off his face. At least Brian couldn't see it.

"Do your parents know that you're gay?"

"Christ, no!"

"I see," Brian said thoughtfully. If Justin's parents considered letting him come to the loft, he'd have to be very careful about how he presented himself. They couldn't know he was gay either or they'd never allow it. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"And it's going to be a shaky bridge," Justin said gloomily.

"We'll see. Could you do something for me tonight?"

"What?"

"I want a little tape recorder that could be used for dictation," Brian explained.

"Oh, making notes for your secretary?"

"Something like that," Brian replied not wanting to explain any further.

"Do you want me to go get one now before the stores close?"

"If you could," Brian said quickly. "Here's my ATM card." He handed Justin the card. "Take out a couple hundred this time. Do you remember the password?"

Justin nodded and then said, "Yes," when he realized once again that Brian couldn't see him.

"Take a taxi each way," Brian instructed.

"Are you sure?" Justin asked stuffing the card in his pocket.

"I'm sure, and get me a couple of extra tapes for the recorder."

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Brian felt the emptiness of the room as soon as Justin left. He could barely believe how much the kid had come to mean to him in two short days. He relied on the boy to do so much for him. He enjoyed talking to him. He felt so alone when Justin left. He really did need to get out of there.

Brian ate his dinner when it came. The orderly explained where everything was on the plate and it didn't taste too horrible. After he finished dinner, Brian sat in his chair wondering how to occupy his time. He went to the nightstand and fished out the little radio he had asked Justin to bring him from the loft. There was no point in trying to use the computer. He could have asked for his walkman or his IPOD but he decided he might like to hear the news and find out what was going on in the world. He played with the dials hearing it click on and start to hum. He twirled the other dial until he heard a station. Carefully he tuned it in and listened to some oldies that poured forth. Maybe they'd have news in a bit.

Brian closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of his chair. Without sight he had so much time to think. Too much!

Brian sensed movement near him and opened his eyes. He wondered why he did that. It wasn't like he could see anything. "Is someone there?" he asked.

"It's Amanda, my sweet," was the response.

Brian groaned inwardly but decided to try to be nice and take the high road in their interactions. "How are you tonight?" he asked.

"Why just fine, darlin'," she replied. "Thank you for asking. And how are you?"

"I'm hoping to be sprung from here soon," Brian said making small talk.

"Not too soon, I hope," she said brushing against him.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking after you, my pretty."

Brian groaned to himself. This wasn't going the way he hoped. He decided to be quiet.

"Listening to oldies? I love those tunes. Want to dance?" she asked suggestively.

Brian clicked off the radio which he still held in his hand. "I'm kind of tired," he said quickly.

"Your bed's turned back and ready for you. I could help you undress."

"Um … no thanks. I'm going to sit up for a while. I'm waiting for someone."

"That's too bad. I bet you're a good dancer," she said bumping her hip against his arm.

Brian drew away but he could tell by the air movement that Amanda was still moving around probably dancing to the non-existent music. She was some piece of work.

"Brian?" Justin's voice called.

"Oh," Amanda coughed. "I should be going. Other patients, you know."

"What the fuck was she doing?" Justin asked.

"Dancing, I think."

Justin chuckled. "Looked more like some kind of fit. She's wearing a thong. I could tell through her uniform."

"That's an image I didn't need."

"Believe me; she doesn't have the body for it."

"Can we stop talking about Nurse Skank? Did you get what I wanted?"

"Here's the recorder," Justin said. "I got the clerk to take it out of the package and load it up. We put in batteries and I bought an extra package in case you need them. The extra tapes are here too."

"Put the batteries and tapes in the nightstand," Brian requested. "Can you show me the buttons and how to use this?"

"Sure," Justin said moving close to Brian and helping him figure out which button did what. Justin sat on the arm of Brian's chair as they worked through the controls of the recorder. Brian's scent from his toiletries went straight to Justin's groin. The urge to run his hands through Brian's unruly hair was overwhelming. He cleared his throat. "I … I should be going so I make my curfew, but this button is the playback and I left you a message." He rewound the tape and set it to the beginning where he had recorded his words. "Don't play it till I'm gone."

"Why?"

"You'll see when you listen to it. I have to go now. Here's your card and the change from the two hundred."

Brian accepted them and stuffed the money in his pocket. He'd put the card in the nightstand later.

"Good night, Brian," Justin said from the doorway.

"Are you coming tomorrow?" Brian asked.

Justin smiled. "Of course." And he was gone.

Brian waited a minute wondering what Justin would have taped for him. Then he pushed the button and heard the familiar voice of the young man. It said: "Brian, I've really enjoyed getting to know you. I'm going to talk to my parents tonight about going home with you. I don't know how it will turn out but I'll do my best to convince them to let me do it. I think you're a great guy. You've been so nice to me. By the way, you look great!"

Brian knew he was grinning. He wondered how the kid could think he was great looking when he had black eyes, but maybe they were starting to fade. He knew he liked hearing Justin say that even though it was on tape. He was growing to like the kid more all the time. He decided to keep the tape and use one of the other ones to tape on. Then if he felt lonely he could listen to Justin's soft voice.

Working his way to the top of the bed, Brian fumbled in the nightstand drawer till he found what he was sure was one of the extra tapes. He pushed the button and opened the recorder. Carefully he removed the tape Justin had made and set it on the top of the nightstand. He popped a new one in and sat down on the side of the bed. He thought about what he wanted to say but nothing would come to him. Over and over he could hear Justin's voice in his mind. Brian wanted to get out of here and he wanted Justin to come with him, but most of all he wanted his sight back.

He let out a long breath and let his shoulders slump. He was so tired of learning everything over again, and memorizing where everything was placed so he could find it again, and depending on others for the basic necessities of life. He was just so tired.

He pulled his legs up on the bed and stretched out. Maybe he'd feel like recording something tomorrow. Now he was going to allow himself to wallow in self-pity for a bit. He had suffered enough and he had earned that right. He was going to indulge himself. He wished he had a joint to smoke. That would make him feel better.

He still held the recorder in his hand. He opened it and took out the new tape. He popped Justin's message back in and pressed the 'play' button. He heard Justin's voice and it was almost like the boy was there talking to him. When the message was over, Brian rewound it and played it again … and again … and again.

As the message cycled through for the third time, Brian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Who's there?" he asked stopping the recorder. "Is someone there?"

There was no answer. Brian waited. He heard nothing and felt nothing more. Gradually he began to relax. He sat up and took off his clothes crawling back into bed. He wondered who might have been watching him. This was the second time he had felt like that. It must be that skanky nurse. Who else could it be?

Blinded

Chapter 6

Brian awoke with a start. Without eyesight he was never sure what time of day it was. He had no rising or setting sun to give him clues, just perpetual darkness. Martin said he was going to show him how to read the hands on a clock with the glass removed. Maybe he would get a watch that functioned the same way.

He sat up in bed knowing that he was finished sleeping. It must be early because he heard no sounds of movement from the hallway. He was pretty sure his door was open. That was standard procedure for this place. He sat on the side of his bed scratching his ass and yawning. Then he remembered Justin's tape and smiled. He thought he might like to hear it again, especially the part about him looking great.

He reached for the edge of the nightstand and felt along the top. Finally he found the recorder and pushed the play button. Nothing happened. Brian frowned and tried the process again. Nothing happened. He pressed the release to open the recorder and felt for the tape. It was empty. How could it be empty? That was the last thing he remembered doing last night - listening to Justin's voice. Where could the tape be? He felt along the nightstand and could account for everything there, but there was no tape within his reach.

Maybe he had taken it out and it was in the drawer. He was sure he hadn't done that but it was worth a try. He played each of the two tapes he found in the drawer, waiting to see if Justin's voice would be there, then rewinding and trying again when he didn't hear the soft voice. Nothing was on either of the tapes and there was no sign of the third one. He wondered if it could be on the floor, knocked off while he was sleeping. But he was sure that he had never taken it out of the recorder.

Brian got down on the floor and felt all around the bed. There was no sign of another tape anywhere that he could feel. He was about to get back up when he heard his name being called.

"Mr. Kinney, where are you?"

It was Amanda. He heard her knock on the bathroom door.

"I'm down here," he said from the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something."

"What?" she asked getting down beside him and rubbing up against him. All he had on was his underwear. He was about to get up when he decided to make use of her.

"I think I dropped a tape from my recorder. Do you see it anywhere?"

"There's nothing down here. Are you sure you dropped it?"

"No, not really. I guess I've misplaced it," Brian said knowing full well that he had not lost the tape. Something had happened to it.

"There was someone in the hall just now, but they disappeared down the stairs," Amanda said. "I came in to see if you were all right. He was near your door when I first saw him."

"What did he look like?"

"I don't really know. All I saw was the back of him, and then he disappeared into the stairwell."

"Could it have been an orderly … or someone from the hospital?" Brian asked, the seeds of fear beginning to grow in his head.

"At this time of night? I don't think so."

"What time is it?"

"5:10. Besides he was wearing a jacket for the outdoors."

"Who could it have been?"

"It was probably nothing, just someone checking on a relative. We got a couple of new patients yesterday," Amanda said logically.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Brian agreed wanting to believe that's all it was.

"Do you think we should get up from the floor, or do you like it down here with me?" Amanda asked as she leaned against him.

Brian had a fleeting thought of the thong and quickly got up. "What time did you say it was?" he asked.

"Just after five o'clock."

"Thanks."

"Well, if you don't want to play, I guess I better go get ready for the day nurse," Amanda stated with a worry-worn sigh and left the room.

Brian decided to have a shower and get dressed. He jacked off under the warm water picturing a lithe young body that went with the voice he had come to look forward to hearing every day. He couldn't explain what had happened to the tape. Maybe he could get Justin to make him another one. He missed the sound of the boy's voice. It was one of the few reassuring things in his world of darkness.

Breakfast arrived after a bit and he ate some of it. Meals were one of the markers of his day. He had grown to appreciate them.

Some time after breakfast Dr. Hagen arrived. He looked into Brian's eyes and did a cursory examination.

"You're looking better, Mr. Kinney. I understand you want to go home."

"That's right," Brian told him.

"Do you have someone to assist you when you get there?"

"I'm in the process of trying to arrange that."

"There's really no reason to keep you here longer. The bruising is disappearing and you don't need medical attention. Have you had any sensation of vision at all?" the doctor asked.

"Like what?" Brian asked not sure what Dr. Hagen was referring too.

"Sometimes there will be a lightening of the darkness and shadowy movement will be visible."

Brian sighed. "No, nothing like that. It's like it has been ever since I woke up from the coma."

"It's only a little over a week since you were mugged. You're doing remarkably well," the doctor said.

"Except for my sight."

"It'll come, Mr. Kinney."

"You better fucking be right," Brian threatened.

"I'm usually right," the doctor said confidently. "I'll leave instructions at the desk that you may be released once you've made the necessary arrangements. I'll want to see you once a week at my office. I'll leave my card on your nightstand."

"Doc … thanks," Brian said sincerely. He did feel that he would get his sight back, and the doctor had almost promised that. He just wished it would happen NOW!

"Good luck, Mr. Kinney."

Brian could tell the room was empty and he relaxed in his chair. Martin should be there soon. They were going to do the clock thing today.

-----

After lunch Martin put Brian through his paces. He made him do all the things he had learned in his room and in the hallway and then they ventured outside. Brian found that most frightening of all. There were so many unfamiliar noises and people. Brian didn't know which way to turn.

Martin explained that Brian would probably have few occasions to be out on his own, especially if he was having someone come live with him for a while, but it was best to know how to proceed should the occasion arise. Martin showed Brian how to use his cane to find curbs and to walk in a straight line by moving it back and forth to the same degree. Brian still found the whole experience disconcerting but he did his best. Martin said he did quite well for a first attempt. He then made Brian try to get back to his room with Martin staying several paces behind and only helping when really needed. He reminded Brian to memorize distances and any other markers that would help him find his way around. He said he wanted Brian to repeat the route the following day.

By the time he got back to his room Brian was exhausted. This kind of thing, dealing with new circumstances, took so much out of him. He slid onto his bed and closed his eyes. He had barely begun to relax when he sensed a presence in the doorway. He waited wondering if this was like what had happened the previous evening, but somehow it didn't feel the same.

"Who's there?" he asked after a minute.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you," a female voice replied.

"I wasn't asleep. Who are you?"

"Um … my name is Jennifer Taylor. I'm Justin's mother," the woman explained.

"Oh!" Brian said sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "Come in. There's a chair over there by the window."

He sensed movement and then silence. He waited.

"I came to meet you after what Justin told me you had asked him to do," Jennifer finally said.

"He told me you or your husband would want to meet me."

"Frankly, Mr. Kinney, I don't understand why you would want a teenage boy to live with you when you go home."

"He must have explained that my blindness is temporary, and that no one really knows about it. I want to keep it that way," Brian explained.

"So you would rather have a teenager whom you've known for a few days than your family or friends? Or don't you have any friends?" she asked pointedly.

Brian chuckled. "I see you don't like to beat around the bush, Mrs. Taylor. I have friends, but not ones who can or would want to look after me. I just need someone for a few days until I re-learn the layout of the loft and how to do the basic daily chores."

"And you think Justin is a good one to help you do this?"

"I do."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Jennifer stated firmly. "He barely knows you."

"And I barely know him, but I trust him, and I think he trusts me."

"He seems to, but … I don't know," Jennifer hesitated.

"If you are so against Justin doing this for me, why are you here? Why didn't you just tell him no?"

"I did," she admitted. "And he went crazy on me."

"He did?" Brian chuckled. "I haven't seen that side of him."

"We've seen a lot of it over the last few months. He has been very belligerent and … discontented with everything."

Brian thought about that. He could feel the boy's burgeoning sexuality every time they were together. He wondered if that was the basis of Justin's belligerence. He was sure that Justin wanted freedom, especially sexual freedom, to explore the feelings that he was dealing with. Brian tried to remember what it had been like being a teenage virgin, but that was so long ago and had only been for such a brief time. By fourteen he was no longer a virgin. Justin had many years of pent up frustration to deal with.

"Mr. Kinney," Jennifer continued, "since he has started his community service here … with you, he has been much happier. At first he tried to refuse to come here, but since he met you, he seems to have a purpose to his life. He's more polite, tries his best with anything we ask him to do, and isn't negative about everything we suggest."

"Maybe he's growing up," Brian suggested.

"I'd like to think so. But whatever has happened, he's like the old Justin this last few days."

"So, does that mean that you're considering letting him come home with me?" Brian asked hopefully.

"I honestly don't know. I know he will be furious if we say no. I know that he shouldn't be going with someone he scarcely knows." She sighed.

"I really need him to help me, and … maybe I can help him."

"You seem like a nice man but I just don't know."

"Have you run this by the legal system?" Brian felt compelled to ask.

"No, I don't think they would allow it, but that may not be the best thing for my son, and I do want what's best for him."

"What if he took me home day after tomorrow when he's finished with school for the day? It'll be the weekend and he won't have classes. He could stay Friday and Saturday night and then be back home for Sunday night and school the next day. I'm sure I'll be able to fend for myself by then."

"That might work, but what if the parole people call?"

"Direct them to the loft. We'll be there. I'll vouch for him."

"I'll talk to my husband. We'll make a decision by tomorrow," Jennifer said.

"Thank you. You won't regret it. I do need Justin's help," Brian said sincerely.

"You better keep up your end of this bargain," Jennifer warned. "Good day, Mr. Kinney."

Brian could feel the slight movement of air as Jennifer left the room. She was an interesting piece of work. He couldn't help but wonder why she came to see him and not her husband. It didn't really matter though. Things looked more promising than they had in a long time.

-----

Brian had fallen asleep by the time Justin arrived after school. When he woke up Justin was ensconced in the chair by the window. He had his sketchbook out and was drawing the sleeping Brian. He wished he had the naked form visible to capture on paper, but he was concentrating on Brian's face and that wasn't too bad to look at. He would leave out the blotchy bruises that were still visible around the man's eyes. They wouldn't be there too much longer anyway.

Brian turned in his sleep and knew that someone was in his room before he opened his eyes. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"It's me, Justin," the boy replied. "I tried not to disturb you."

"I wouldn't have minded," Brian admitted. Spending time with Justin was about the only part of his day that he enjoyed. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to sketch you," Justin said smugly. "It turned out great."

"Wish I could see it," Brian replied with a shrug.

"I'm sorry. I just … I like how it turned out," Justin said feeling that he had upset Brian.

"I hope to see it soon."

"Me too."

"I had a visitor earlier," Brian said changing the subject.

Justin tensed up. He had thought so. "Which one was it?" Justin asked.

"Your mother."

"That's better than my father. I guess he was too busy with work," Justin added.

Brian heard something in Justin's voice that raised an alarm bell, but he didn't know if this was the right time to pursue it. "Your mother seems … nice."

"Did she give you the third degree?"

"And fourth and fifth. Mostly she wondered why I wanted a teenager to live with me instead of my friends," Brian explained.

"What did you say?" Justin asked wondering how Brian handled his mother.

"That I liked you and trusted you, and you would do a good job," Brian said honestly.

Justin was grinning from ear to ear at Brian's words. "You said that?" he asked.

"It's the truth. She seemed to think your attitude had improved since you've been coming to help me."

Justin snorted. "They like me if I'm one hundred percent cooperative. As soon as I express an opinion that doesn't agree with theirs, I'm belligerent."

"That's the word she used to describe you."

Justin snorted again. "Figures."

"Anyway she seemed satisfied with my answers. She said she would make a decision tomorrow and we might be able to go home for the weekend."

"She said that?" Justin asked smiling once again.

"Pretty much, but you have to observe your curfew and do your schoolwork while you're with me."

"Sure," Justin said.

"And I'll know whether you do or not," Brian warned. "I can hear it in your voice."

"Yes, daddy," Justin said sarcastically.

Brian tensed and frowned. "Do you know what that term means in the gay world?" he asked bluntly.

"What term?" Justin asked.

Obviously the boy was clueless. "Do you see the tape you made for me anywhere around here?" Brian asked changing the subject.

"It was in the recorder."

"Yeah, I know, but this morning it was gone."

"Gone?" Justin asked getting up and looking around. He found the recorder which contained one tape. It had nothing on it, as he soon discovered when he played it. He found another tape in the nightstand but there was no sign of the third one. Justin looked under the bed and the nightstand and the chair. "It's not around here," he said. "Did you flush it down the toilet?"

"No, twat."

"What's a twat?" Justin asked.

Brian groaned. "You have so much to learn."

"And you're just the person to teach me?" Justin asked innocently.

Brian knew there were lots of things he'd like to teach Justin Taylor, but he had to bide his time and be very careful. It would not happen unless Justin wanted it to. "If you make me another tape, I'll teach you whatever you want to learn," Brian said with a grin.

"You liked the other tape."

Brian nodded. "I did."

Justin's smile grew broader. "You don't need a tape, you know. You have the real thing right here."

Brian felt his cock grow hard at Justin's words. Having the boy around the loft might be more difficult than he thought.

Blinded

Chapter 7

The next day dragged by as Brian waited for Justin's arrival and his parents' decision about him staying at the loft. Martin took Brian outside again and Brian did much better at finding his way back to his room. Martin brought a clock with no glass and Brian practised feeling the hands without disturbing the time.

Late in the afternoon Brian sat in his chair wondering how to keep himself occupied till Justin arrived. He decided that he liked having the real thing around, as in Justin, but right then he wished he had the tape. Justin's voice might have been able to keep him calm until he got the news about whether the young man could come home with him.

Thinking of the tape Brian remembered why he had asked Justin to get the recorder in the first place. He fished it out of the drawer of the nightstand and then sat back down in his chair. He tried to remember where he had left off. Finally he pushed the 'record' buttons and began to speak.

Dennis Stryker walked into "Shotz', his favorite hangout when he was looking for a certain kind of entertainment of an evening. His wary eyes scanned the clientele of the hustler bar. He recognized the faces of some of the usual patrons. Some were there every time he went into the joint. One or two gave him a slight nod of recognition, but most wanted to stay anonymous, much as he preferred to do. They all knew they weren't there for conversation, and there was very little of it going on in the dingy bar.

Stryker slid onto an empty barstool. He nodded at Fred who tended bar there most evenings. Fred quickly poured him a shot and set it down in front of him. It was immediately followed by a glass of draft. Stryker downed the shot and about half of the beer chaser. He could feel the reaction in his gut and allowed himself to relax slightly.

Stryker always sat at the bar when he came to Shotz. The mirrors behind it provided a panoramic view of most of the interior of the seedy bar. He also had a good view of the equally seedy patrons. Most of the men were heading towards or well into middle age like him. They were looking to score a piece of tight young ass just like he was. They nursed their drinks and waited just as he did.

They all knew that a little after ten a small contingent of young hustlers would show up. They could be had for the asking, and of course the usual fee. Fifty got you a blowjob, a hundred entitled you to a fuck, and two hundred could get you just about anything you dreamed of. Most of these men would settle for what fifty could buy. They didn't have the money for more.

Stryker knew he was prepared to fork out the two hundred tonight. Work had been a bitch and he was horny as hell. He had a lot of pent-up frustration and resentment to get rid of. A willing ass would be just what the doctor ordered.

Brian clicked off the recorder. His own words seemed so ironic to him. "What the doctor ordered" was a bit too close to home, but he supposed it fit the context of the story. He sat silently staring into the blackness deciding what he wanted to say next.

Suddenly he chuckled. Michael and Emmett and Ted would shit if they knew what he was doing. He could hardly believe how long he had been able to keep it a secret. No one knew except that fucking trick from a few weeks ago, and now he felt that Brian was his own private property, that Brian owed him something, something that Brian was totally unwilling to give. Now it didn't seem to be so funny. Brian sighed. Christ, he wanted his sight back. He wanted his life back. How much longer could he put up with this, and keep yet another secret?

Brian exhaled another long breath and turned on the recorder once again.

Stryker felt the rush of fresh air as someone opened the door to the bar and entered. He glanced at the mirror behind the bar and noted that the merry little band of hustlers had arrived. They stood by the door surveying the pickings for the night, and making it clear that they were for sale to the first bidder.

Many of them were hardly young anymore. Their twink status was rather questionable, but that was what they tried to convey in their clothes and demeanor. A high premium was placed on youth by the hustlers and the men who purchased them. Most of them looked tired and used. One of them was twitching noticeably. Stryker wondered what he was high on.

Stryker watched them and knew that he had had them all before. He wasn't above repeats but he had felt like some fresh meat for tonight. One of the regular customers of the hustler bar approached the group, and with a nod of his head indicated which boy he wanted to follow him to the backroom. Stryker knew the guy would get the hustler to blow him back there. The guy was a cheap son of a bitch.

Again Brian turned off the recorder and leaned his head back against the chair. He wondered if he was capturing the shoddiness and meanness of the hustler bar. He played back what he had recorded and felt mostly satisfied with it. Again he started the machine and spoke into the recorder.

Another whoosh of cool air told Stryker that the door had opened once again. He looked up and locked eyes with a young hustler that had been in the bar a few times before. Stryker had never had the kid, but maybe tonight was the night. As Stryker watched, another of the regulars made his way over to the young hustler, said something to him and they quickly left the bar. Stryker wondered if they were going to the man's car or if he would take the kid home. He had missed his chance on that one.

At that moment Stryker's eyes fell upon the boy who had come in with the kid who had just left. He seemed frightened and apprehensive. He glanced around furtively afraid to make eye contact with anyone. He was new there and seemed even more scared now that his companion was gone. Stryker knew this was the one that he had been waiting for. He stood up and threw some money on the bar. He turned and stared at the kid who would barely be eighteen. But that was all right. Stryker liked them young and inexperienced and afraid. He got off on fear. He headed towards the young man still hovering just inside the door.

"Brian?" Justin's voice said from the doorway.

"You're early, aren't you?" Brian asked quickly turning off the recorder.

"A bit. I got here as quick as I could. My parents said I can take you home tomorrow and stay for the weekend."

"Freedom!" Brian exclaimed.

Justin laughed. "I can hardly wait."

"That makes two of us."

Justin grinned from ear to ear. "So is there anything we need to do to get ready?"

"I have no food at the loft," Brian said thoughtfully, "but we could order in."

"For every meal?" Justin asked.

"Why? You don't like takeout?"

"I love takeout, but … every meal?" Justin repeated.

"Okay, okay," Brian said mulling over how to solve this problem. "Could you get some groceries tonight and stock up the loft before you take me home tomorrow? I don't think I'm ready for a supermarket just yet."

"I … I guess so."

"What's wrong?" Brian asked noting the hesitation. "Don't you want to do the mundane chores for me?"

"It's not that," Justin replied quickly. "It's … that I have a lot of homework tonight, and doing the shopping will take forever."

Brian thought about that. "You could take taxis," Brian suggested remembering how long it took Justin to go to the loft on the bus. Or…"

"Or what?"

"What if you took a taxi to the loft, took my Jeep to do the shopping and brought it back here so that you can take me home in it tomorrow."

"You'd let me take your car?"

Brian smirked. "But it comes back in one piece, understand, and if I find a scratch on it when I get my sight back…"

"What? You'll spank me?" Justin giggled.

"Hmm," was all Brian said. They both were getting hard from the thought.

"If you want me to do some shopping, I should probably get going."

Brian fished out his keychain. "Do you have enough money for a taxi?"

"Yes," Justin replied.

"Here's the debit card. You can use it at the supermarket, and if you need to get gas. I can't remember what's in the tank."

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can," Justin said.

"Take your time, and Justin, I appreciate this."

Justin grinned and quickly left the room. He loved that Brian thanked him and complimented him. He wanted to do his best for this handsome, intriguing man. He could hardly wait to spend twenty-four hours straight with the guy.

-----

Justin had been gone for a long time. Brian dictated a bit more of his story. He covered the part where Stryker picked up the hustler and took him home. He thought he had captured the fear and uncertainty of the young man quite effectively. Now he needed to write the sex. That was going to take some planning.

Dinner had arrived and Justin had not yet returned. He hoped he wasn't having trouble with the Jeep or the groceries or the debit card. All Brian could do was wait.

He took out his recorder and switched it on.

Stryker shoved his thick, blunt dick into the ass of the young hustler. The kid screamed out in pain and Stryker found his hands going around the kid's throat to shut him up. The last thing he needed was for his neighbors to hear. He drew back and drove in savagely. The kid gasped and tried to call out but the cruel hands around his neck made his scream come out as little more than a whimper.

The boy felt his insides ripping apart with each new thrust. He knew he was going to die, if not from the stranglehold the man had on him then from being torn apart internally. His sorry scrap of a life flashed before him. He had hustled all of three times before this and had not had good experiences. Why did these tricks have to be so cruel? He felt darkness beginning to cover his eyes as he gasped for breath and tried to endure the pain. It couldn't last much longer, could it?

Stryker continued his assault on the young body beneath him. Each thrust must be agony for the boy who had begged and pleaded so deliciously before Stryker had finally claimed him. He had decided not to use lube or condom wanting everything raw and primal. He had ripped the kid open and he had enjoyed every fucking second of it. He was almost there. A few more brutal thrusts and he came with a blinding orgasm unlike anything he had experienced for a very long time. He collapsed onto the unmoving body beneath him and waited for the world to come back into focus.

Finally he rolled away and watched with satisfaction as his spunk ran out of the kid's ass. He smiled to himself. He could go again already. Watching his juices mingled with streaks of the kid's blood had made him hard.

"Kid," he said shaking the boy.

There was no movement from the hustler. He was deathly still. Stryker jumped at that thought. It couldn't be. No! The kid was just recuperating from the workout Stryker had given him.

"Kid," Stryker repeated shaking the boy harder. There was no response. Stryker felt for a pulse in the neck. Nothing. He rolled the boy over and could tell instantly that the kid was dead. "Fuck!" he said aloud. Now what was he going to do?

Brian shut off the recorder and leaned his head back against the top of the chair. He thought back to that day several months ago when he and the gang had been going to go to the diner for breakfast. It was supposed to be the usual joke-cracking, inane morning. But as they came along the street they had seen the police tape and cruisers. And Debbie.

She was really shaken. But who could blame her when she had just found the body of a dead kid in the dumpster behind the diner. Brian remembered looking at the boy and thinking that he didn't look real. He had made some snide comment, but the image of the young hustler had haunted him afterwards. Debbie had gone on a crusade to find out who he was, and Brian had begun his own research.

He was interested more in who had killed the boy, than the boy himself. He tried to imagine what kind of savage creature, who walked among them looking like any other man, could have brutalized and then killed the young hustler. He had found out some interesting bits of information. Debbie had directed him to a young hustler who had befriended Jason Kemp, as Debbie had discovered the dumpster boy's name to be. The hustler had seen Debbie's shrine to Jason in the Liberty Diner and had told her he knew Jason. With the hustler's help Brian had narrowed the suspects to people in the hustler bar the night Jason was killed. The kid didn't know who Jason went with that night because he had left first. Nobody else remembered the scared, insecure kid.

Brian had spent several nights in the hustler bar asking questions and coming up empty. He had tried to garner information at the police station. A few weeks ago he had even fucked one of the clerks hoping to gain access to the file on Jason Kemp. At first the guy had been more than willing to do anything for Brian. After all Brian was probably the best fuck he'd ever had. After they had fucked Brian told the guy what he wanted from the files. All of a sudden the happily well fucked clerk had backed out apparently afraid that he would lose his fucking job. Brian had been royally pissed having wasted his time on an at best mediocre fuck and getting absolutely nothing out of it. Brian had made a few other attempts to get the information he wanted but he got nowhere fast. He had come up with a few theories about who might have done the dirty deed, one in particular, but nothing conclusive. He wondered if he might have actually talked to the murderer in the hustler bar when he was searching for information. That made his shudder, but he would never really know. He had found enough to give him the character of Stryker, and he would play it for all it was worth.

Strangely enough though he had found more and more of the story revolving around the young hustler, Jason Kemp. In Brian's story he was Jackson, a poor gay boy from some small town. He had come to Pittsburgh to check out life in the big city. Jackson had not found what he expected. Instead he had found poverty and abuse and Stryker.

Brian wondered if he should change the point of view in the story and tell it from Jackson's instead of Stryker's or maybe he could alternate from one to the other. That was an interesting thought, if he could tell it from the POV of the prey and the predator both. He sucked in his lips and thought about that possibility.

Suddenly Brian sat up straight. Someone was watching him. He knew it. "Who's there?' he demanded.

"Me," a male voice whispered almost inaudible.

"Justin?" Brian said hopefully, but it didn't feel like Justin. "Who is it? Who are you?"

Brian waited. He was sure he had heard someone and he felt the presence.

"Who is it?" Brian asked again feeling the fear crawl up his back. He waited for a reply. Nothing happened. And then as suddenly as the presence had appeared Brian could sense that it was gone. He knew that they always said your other senses took over when you lost one. He had known someone was there. Had known it wasn't Justin. Had known he was being watched. He shivered involuntarily.

"Brian," Justin's soft voice came to him from across the room. "Are you all right? You look … pale."

"Did you see anyone by my door?" Brian asked brusquely.

"No, was someone bothering you?"

"No, no," Brian said slowly. "I guess I was imagining things." But he didn't think he had imagined that voice.

"I got everything done," Justin said cheerfully. "The Jeep's in the parking lot and the loft's all stocked up."

"And tomorrow we go home," Brian added brightening up. He could hardly wait. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible.

Blinded

Chapter 8

The next day dragged by. Brian had one last altercation with Nurse Skank. She came in early in the morning and even though Brian pretended to be asleep, she shook him to tell him goodbye. She hugged him so hard he could barely breathe clasping his head to her more than ample bosom. Brian was sure he was going to suffocate. She told him she would miss him so much and Brian thought she shed a tear or two. He couldn't see them, but from the hitch in her voice he guessed that was what was happening. When she finally left, Brian breathed a sigh of relief. He would be gone before she came on duty again. And he had managed not to promise to keep in touch in spite of her pleading.

Martin came in and they went through some scenarios of things he might run into when he went home. Brian respected Martin's teachings and advice. He hoped he would be able to manage as well as Martin kept telling him he would.

He ate his lunch thinking that it would be the last institutional food he would be required to eat for a long, long time. He wondered if Justin could cook or heat soup or boil water. Probably not, since he was a fucking teenager. They could always order in. Brian had most of the menus memorized and the takeout places were programmed into his phone.

Dr. Hagen came in just after lunch and gave him the once over. Brian listened to his admonitions, but still felt compelled to ask one last time if he could expect his sight to come back any time soon. It would soon be two weeks since he had been mugged. Surely the pressure on the optic nerve must be subsiding. Dr, Hagen, of course, would give him no reassurances. Brian felt pretty down after the doctor left.

He had nothing to do but wait until Justin came after school to take him home. He stuffed most of his meager belongings into the suitcase that Justin had brought his clothes in a few days earlier. That kid was pretty smart. He seemed to be able to think ahead and make the right decisions. Brian knew he had done the right thing in trusting the boy, in spite of what everyone else would think. He smiled to himself. Thoughts of Justin always made him smile.

Brian gathered his toiletries and added them to the suitcase. He decided he might as well add his computer which he had been totally unable to use. He slid it in between some of the clothes. He finally sat down in the chair by the window. He wondered what the weather was like. It was fall and had been chilly the night he was mugged. Some days could be quite cold this time of year, while others would seem more like late summer. He still had his leather jacket he had worn that evening. That should be enough if it was cold on the way home.

Home, the thought made him yearn for the loft which had never really been that much of a home in the past. The elegant and spare furnishings that he had opted for kept the place sterile and impersonal. And that was how he had always liked it. It showed style but revealed little about him. Tricks barely got to look around and he rarely had friends over, except for Michael. But that was how his life was and would continue to be once he got his sight back.

It must be his lack of sight that was making him nostalgic for the loft. It certainly would be better than the fucking hospital. The fact that it would be minus Nurse Skank was an added bonus. And the fact that Justin would be there with him made it seem cozier somehow.

Brian knew he was thinking too much. He didn't know how to stop himself though. He was going home. Finally.

After a few minutes Brian went to the nightstand and found his little recorder. He thought he might add a bit more to what he had written over the last couple of days. He tried to remember where he had left off, but decided he might as well rewind and listen to it over again. He pushed the rewind button and heard a brief whir, then nothing. He frowned. He was sure he had quite a few paragraphs taped and had left the machine wound to where he had stopped it.

He pushed play to see what was on the tape. "Brian, I've really enjoyed getting to know you," Justin's soft voice spoke from the tape. Brian frowned. This was the lost tape … but he hadn't found it. He pushed the stop button and rewound the tape. This was very weird. What the fuck was going on?

Brian started the tape again. He heard Justin say, "Brian, I've really enjoyed getting to know you." Brian waited. He knew the next line by heart, about asking his parents if he could go home with Brian. There were a few seconds of blank time on the tape. As Brian was about to shut it off another voice said, "Brian, I'd like to get to know you better. Why do you keep refusing me? That twink is not the one for you. I've easily erased him from the tape. It's time you erased him from your life. I'll be in touch soon."

Okay, this was definitely bizarre. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure it was the trick that had been sending the notes to the loft. But how had he gotten hold of the tape? He must have taken it from his room during the night or when he was outside with Martin. He would have to have recorded the new message and then have been in his room again to place it in the recorder. This was getting a little … sinister.

Brian stared at the recorder in his hand, not that he could see it. He wondered what he should do about this guy. He didn't think the former trick would do anything violent or too outrageous, but he didn't like this invasion of his privacy at all. This was going too far. He wondered if he should call the cops. They would probably laugh themselves silly if he did. What would they charge the guy with - kidnapping and molesting an audio tape?

"Brian?" Justin said from the doorway. "Are you ready to go home?

"One hundred percent," Brian replied deciding that the trick would have much less access to him and his recorder once he was in the loft. He could leave all this shit behind just by walking out of there with Justin. "Let's get this fucking show on the road."

"Yes, sir," Justin said with a smile. "Have you packed everything?"

"Just about, but there's still some stuff in the nightstand. Will you check it? I think my radio's still there, and get the tapes that are in the drawer too." Brian waited. "How many tapes did you find?"

"Two," Justin replied.

Brian took a deep breath. And now there were three. Someone was definitely screwing with him and his tapes, but how had they done it. He was a light sleeper. He knew if someone was watching him. He frowned and shook his head.

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked.

"No, it's nothing," Brian said not wanting to worry the boy. "Is everything out of the drawer?"

"Yep, I'll do a quick check of the closet and the bathroom and we're out of here."

"About time," Brian breathed sticking the little recorder in his jeans pocket.

Justin zipped the suitcase shut and set it on the floor. "Do you want to take my arm?" Justin asked when he was ready to go.

"Is it cold outside?" Brian asked.

"A little nippy now that the sun is starting to go down."

"I'll wear my jacket then."

Justin helped him on with the jacket and then took Brian by the arm.

"Um…" Brian began.

"What's wrong? Don't you want my arm?" Justin asked puzzled.

"Unless you want to see me walk into walls I need you to guide me. But I need to hold onto your arm, not the other way around."

"Oh," Justin said feeling sheepish. "We never did this before."

He felt Brian slide his hand around his elbow. He took the suitcase handle in his other hand and they started out the door.

As they passed the main desk Janet said," Goodbye, Mr. Kinney."

Brian nodded and said nothing. He felt no need to thank her. She had done next to nothing for him, and if he never saw her again it would be just fine. At least Nurse Skank wasn't there to see him off. He never wanted to see her either, even if he got his vision back.

They made their way to the elevator and then out of the building. Brian took a deep lungful of crisp autumn air and felt somehow like he had been released from prison. Justin walked them slowly to the parking lot and stopped beside the Jeep. When Justin seemed to hesitate Brian decided to try to lighten the mood.

"I can stand here by myself while you load the suitcase," Brian said with a smirk.

"Oh, of course you can," Justin said and quickly stuck the case in the back seat. "Do you want me to help you in?"

"I'm not crippled. If you open the door and point me in the right direction, I can get in. That is, unless you want me to drive," Brian chuckled.

"Um…" Justin looked at Brian and saw the smirk. "You better be careful. If you make fun of me, I might just leave you here in the parking lot and drive away." Justin had meant that to be funny, to pay back Brian for teasing him. But the look on Brian's face made him wish he had kept his mouth shut. Brian looked angry and upset and … scared. "I'm sorry," Justin said hastily. "I was just kidding." He quickly opened the door of the Jeep and watched as a grim faced Brian climbed in. Justin got into the driver's seat. He glanced over at Brian and knew he had to make this right. "Brian, I really am sorry. I didn't think about how that would sound. I'd never leave you … anywhere."

Brian turned towards Justin like he could read his sincerity by doing that. "I know. I'm being overly sensitive. It … it just made me think what would happen if you did go off and leave me. I'm so fucking helpless."

Justin watched the emotion on Brian's face as the man made that admission. It almost broke Justin's heart to hear the hurt and fear that came through in his words. He leaned towards Brian and before either of them knew what they were doing their lips came together in a soft reassuring kiss. Brian could feel the tenderness and caring coming from the boy. He knew Justin would never leave him to fend for himself.

As the kiss ended Justin sat back knowing that he had got hard from the kiss. He wondered if Brian knew. That had not been his intention when he kissed Brian. He just wanted to comfort him and tell him that he would be there for him when he was needed.

Brian sank back against his seat wondering what the fuck had just happened. He willed his cock to behave itself and he tried to collect his thoughts and his emotions. That was a very chaste kiss, but one that should never have happened. "Why … why did you do that?" Brian asked.

"I wanted to," Justin said honestly, "and you didn't seem about to do it."

"Justin, we can't go down that road. I'm fucking blind and I promised your mother you would be safe."

"I am safe … when I'm with you. I … I felt like you needed to know that and I wanted you to know that you will always be safe with me too."

"Let's go home," Brian said not sure that he could discuss this further.

Justin started the Jeep and they made their way out of the parking lot. The drive did not take long but it was accomplished in silence. Brian didn't know what to say after what had happened between them. Justin wished he had never kissed the man, yet some part of him was so glad that he had. Brian was everything he could ever want in a man, in a first fuck, in a first love. He didn't know how he knew it, but he couldn't be more sure of anything.

When they arrived at the loft building Justin pulled into the parking space behind the building. He almost felt like he knew his way around, like he had been there forever. He grabbed the suitcase and his own duffel bag which held the things he needed for the weekend. He stood patiently until Brian took his arm. He wasn't going to make another stupid comment or another false move. He wanted to impress Brian with how he could handle himself.

Justin pushed the button for the elevator and Brian asked him to show him where it was. Brian's finger connected with Justin's help and he gauged that his hand was slightly above his waist and the button was about two inches from the frame surrounding the opening. He wondered if he would be able to find it on his own. He would have Justin walk him through the lobby and help him get reacquainted with the building he had always taken so for granted.

Brian asked Justin to pick up the mail from the box and then they climbed on the elevator and took the slow ride to the top. As they stepped off the elevator Brian heard Justin make a slight noise of concern.

"What is it?" Brian asked. "Someone didn't break in, did they?"

"No, but there's another one of those envelopes standing against the door.

"Shit!" Brian reacted. This was getting old. "Bring it in," he ordered.

Justin unlocked the door and picked up the envelope before helping Brian inside. "Where do you want to be?"

"On the sofa, and lock the fucking door behind us."

Justin left Brian's suitcase and his duffel bag just inside the door. He escorted Brian to the sofa and then returned to close and lock the door. He glanced around the loft but nothing seemed to have been disturbed. "Do you want me to open this envelope?" he asked Brian wondering what message it would contain this time.

"Might as well get it over with," Brian said stiffly.

Justin ripped the envelope open and pulled out the sheet of paper. Justin read: "Welcome home, Brian. If he's with you, you will regret that decision. I'll see you soon, even if you can't see me."

"What does he mean 'if he's with you'? Is he talking about me?" Justin asked frowning and staring at the note.

"I think he's jealous of you."

"Jealous? How the fuck does he know anything about me?"

"Listen to this," Brian said pulling out the recorder from his jeans pocket and pressing play. The short message began with Justin's words followed by the erasing of Justin from Brian's life.

"You need to call the police," Justin said as a shiver of fear slid up his back.

"I thought about that, but what has he really done except leave messages for me. And the fucking police aren't about to help a fag with his love life."

"Love?" Justin questioned. "That doesn't sound like love. It sounds … threatening."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I don't want to deal with the police right now. I just want to get my sight back."

"But…" Justin began and then decided to shut up. This was Brian's problem. He would have to decide what to do about it. "Should I put something on for dinner or do you want to order in?"

"Give me the phone and I'll place the order," Brian said. He had been thinking about his favorite Thai takeout all day and he thought he could order it himself. "Take that stuff out of the suitcase and open a bottle of wine."

"Sure," Justin said watching Brian feel the face of the phone. He chose the buttons he wanted and quickly asked for his usual and an order of Pad Thai and some extra noodles. "You have takeout on speed dial?" Justin asked when Brian hung up.

"Doesn't everybody?" Brian asked with a smirk.

Justin shook his head and went to put away Brian's belongings trying to remember where he had retrieved them from a few days before. He opened some wine and they drank a glass while they waited for dinner to arrive. They chatted a bit about Justin's school and what he was studying. It seemed harder to find things to talk about than it had in the hospital. Finally the buzzer sounded and they both knew dinner had arrived.

The deliveryman came to the loft door and Justin took the food and paid for it. "Where Mr. Kinney?" the Asian man asked.

"Over there," Justin replied. "Why?"

"Man downstairs give me this. Say I should give it directly to Mr. Kinney," the man explained.

"Bring it over here, Tuk," Brian said. The man approached. "Leave it on the sofa and … thank you. Justin, give him an extra ten."

Justin did as he was told and locked the door behind the man. "It's another fucking envelope like the one that was against the door," Justin explained.

Brian sighed. "Open it."

Justin ripped the envelope apart and pulled out another sheet of paper. He read: "I am extremely disappointed in you, Brian. You haven't been listening to me. I thought I had made myself clear, but you haven't responded appropriately. I will have to take further steps."

"Is that it?" Brian asked.

"That's all it says. Brian, I think you need to call the police, right now. This is getting serious." Justin didn't like the sound of this at all.

"Fuck that."

"Brian…" Justin pleaded.

"Let's eat. I'm hungry," Brian said ignoring Justin's admonitions. He had suddenly lost his appetite but he didn't want Justin to know that. He needed to think before he did anything.

Blinded

Chapter 9

The Thai takeout was eaten in uncomfortable silence. Neither Brian nor Justin wanted to acknowledge the elephant occupying most of the room. Justin had gathered up the sinister notes and added them to the pile in the desk drawer. The recorder was set aside as they sat at the table to eat their dinners.

Brian got Justin to identify the location of the food according to its place on the clock. He decided to forego using chopsticks in favor of the more familiar fork. He found it much more difficult to eat Thai food than regular food. The noodles were slippery and he often had a mouthful of fork and little else. That suited him on some level as his stomach was churning and he had to force what food he was able to capture to go down.

When the pathetic meal was finally finished Brian said he wanted to count off the loft so that he could get around a bit by himself. He explained what he wanted as Justin walked him from door to desk, door to sofa, door to steps to the bedroom, door to the counter in the kitchen. Once they had done that Brian had them walk all the distances from the corner of the sofa and then from the counter in the kitchen. Finally he said he needed a break, but he would want Justin to help him navigate the bedroom later.

They sat down on the sofa and Justin turned on the TV. They caught just the end of the news. The weather was the final story in that a big blow was expected to hit Pittsburgh that night. The temperature would hover just around freezing and they could get rain, ice or snow depending on what the temperature did. People were being advised to stay off the roads.

"Guess I'll have to cancel Babylon tonight," Brian observed sticking his tongue in his cheek.

"What's Babylon?" Justin asked hoping to start a conversation that would relieve some of the tension and discomfort between them.

"You really are a baby, aren't you?" Brian asked sardonically.

"I'm not a baby, and I don't appreciate being laughed at," Justin said in a huff. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Brian even thought the man couldn't see him.

"I feel that," Brian said after a bit.

"What?"

"You're glaring at me."

Justin giggled. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"My other senses are heightened," Brian said knowingly. "I can feel the tension in your body."

"No kidding," Justin scoffed. "You should damn well feel the glare. You caused it."

"I … I didn't mean to make fun of you. Can we start over?"

"Sure," Justin said. He didn't want to fight with Brian. "Tell me what Babylon is."

"Haven't you heard of it before?"

"I've heard of the ancient city of Babylon. Isn't it where Baghdad is now?"

"This Babylon is a nightclub, a gay club, full of the best men that Pittsburgh has to offer."

"Really?" Justin asked leaning forward now totally interested. "Do you go there often?"

"Often enough."

"What's it like?"

"Maybe I'll take you there someday."

"You will? That would be great."

"Have you been to Liberty Avenue?" Brian asked.

"I got my friend Daphne to drive me down there a few weeks ago, but I chickened out. She finally just drove me back home."

"That was probably just as well."

"Why? I want … to … to find out things."

Brian chuckled. "I can imagine. But sometimes people aren't ready to find out things."

"You do think I'm a baby," Justin griped. His arms came across his chest and he glared at the older man.

"You're glaring again," Brian stated.

"Fuck off!"

"Justin," Brian warned. "I meant that you need to be careful. There are men on Liberty, or at Babylon, who would like nothing better than to take advantage of a fresh piece of meat."

"Piece of meat? I'm not a piece of meat."

"To them you are. Everything in the gay world isn't … kind and sweet. You have to be careful. Never go with someone you don't know. Don't take drugs from strangers. Don't wander around alone. Never … and I mean never … have unprotected sex."

"Hmmph," Justin reacted. "Like I'm going to have sex at all."

"You will … eventually, and you need to be careful."

"Do you lecture all your houseguests like this?" Justin asked deciding to give in to his bitchy feelings.

"I never have houseguests," Brian stated.

"You don't?" Justin asked. Suddenly he felt special being able to spend this time with Brian.

"Getting back to what I was saying," Brian continued ignoring Justin's question. "You need to be careful out there."

"Will you take me to Babylon sometime?" Justin asked.

"Me?"

"You told me about it. You could show me the ropes."

Brian snorted. "When did I become your mentor?"

"When you told me you were gay."

Brian stared in the direction of Justin's voice. He didn't know how to answer that. He never wanted to be anyone's mentor, never wanted that responsibility. But somehow he seemed to have become one. "What do you look like?" Brian asked suddenly.

"What? Why do you want to know?"

"I can't be seen out with a troll," Brian laughed.

Justin chuckled. "I have it on good authority from my friend Daphne that I'm not exactly a troll."

"Is that so? Describe yourself."

"I'm about 5'9". I have blond hair and blue eyes … and I guess I look all right."

Brian smiled. He liked that touch of modesty. He thought Justin probably looked better than all right. "Come here," he said.

"Why?"

"I want to try something."

Justin wondered, or maybe that should be hoped, that Brian might kiss him again. He moved over beside Brian. Slowly Brian raised his hands and trailed his fingertips down the sides of Justin's face. The boy shivered under the touch.

Brian felt the soft down on Justin's cheeks and wondered if the kid shaved yet. His thumbs slid across Justin's lips and he had the distinct impression that Justin was on the verge of sucking them into his mouth. Brian grew hard at the thought. He moved his thumb down the bridge of Justin's nose and traced across the boy's cheeks. He heard Justin draw in a breath and wondered if Justin was hard too.

Brian's fingertips slid around Justin's eye sockets. Justin closed his eyes and felt Brian touch his eyelids. He felt his heart leap at the gentle searching touch. He knew Brian was a gentle man. Brian's hands moved to Justin's ears and traced the shape and contour. Justin gasped as Brian drew his hands away.

"So what do you think?" Justin asked rather breathlessly.

"I'd say you pass the fingertip test."

Justin giggled. "That's good."

Brian's hands swept through Justin's hair which was rather short and spiky, but soft to the touch. "I thought it would be longer," Brian observed.

"I could let it grow."

Brian smiled. Justin was so eager to please. The urge to kiss those lips and bury his face against Justin's ear and kiss those eyelids and stick his tongue down the boy's throat… Brian cleared his own throat and drew back. He heard Justin sigh.

"I think maybe I should go to bed," Brian said. "Will you be all right on the sofa?"

"I … I could always sleep with you."

Brian wished he could see Justin's face. He would like nothing better than for that to happen, both seeing the boy's face and sleeping with him, but he knew he had to be strong. "I don't think your mother would approve."

"Probably not, but we don't have to tell her," Justin said suggestively.

"You're being very bad."

"I can be even badder," Justin grinned.

"Badder?"

"Badder," Justin affirmed.

"Take me up to the bedroom. I need to count off the paces so that I can pee without soaking everything in my closet."

Justin laughed but he had kind of hoped that Brian would take him up on his offer. He guessed that wasn't going to happen now, at least not tonight. He allowed Brian to pace the three steps from the sofa to the bottom of the steps leading up to the bedroom. Brian climbed them and then waited for Justin.

"You'd fucking think I could find my way to my own fucking bed. I've done it in the dark a million times. I've done it drunk. I've done it stoned. I've done it dragging a trick along with me. But I've never done it blind," Brian said with a sigh. "And suddenly I'm lost. I don't know which way to go."

"Yes you do," Justin said trying to instill confidence in Brian. "Estimate how many steps to the bed."

"Four," Brian said uncertainly.

Justin moved forward and Brian counted. "Three," Justin said as Brian's shin hit the edge of the bed. "You can move along the edge of the bed. Just keep your leg against the platform. Brian did as directed counting the three paces to the other side of the bed. They counted off the steps to the closet and then the bathroom, the toilet, the sink and the shower.

"I think I'd like to take a shower before I go to bed," Brian said.

"Sure," Justin said turning on the shower to warm up. I put your shampoo in there and the soap."

"Thanks," Brian said unbuttoning his shirt.

Justin watched as Brian's bare chest came into view. He wanted to stay and see the rest of Brian's body, but he knew he better not, or he would be in the shower with the man in a second. "Um … where are some sheets and a pillow for the sofa?" Justin asked deciding he better get out of there. He didn't want to be turned down again.

"Top shelf of the closet should hold everything you'll need."

Justin turned and went to get what he needed. He deftly made up the couch and decided he would take a shower before he went to bed too. He could hear the water still running in the bathroom. He wondered if Brian was all right. Maybe he just took long showers. Justin waited a bit longer and then decided he better go up and make sure the man wasn't lying injured on the floor of the shower.

The door to the bathroom had been left open and Justin looked through. He could see Brian's naked form through the steam coated glass of the shower enclosure. His breath caught in his throat and he took an involuntary step forward, closer to the action. Brian was jacking off and Justin could make out the length of Brian's cock as his hand moved back and forth along the shaft. He felt the surge of blood to his own dick and squeezed it with his hand wanting to go join Brian and find mutual relief.

Brian continued to whack off. He was getting close when he sensed Justin's presence in the bathroom. The thought of the boy watching him was all it took to push him over the edge. He came with a guttural grunt and pumped his seed into the warm water. By the time he was finished he knew Justin was gone, but he smiled knowing what the boy had witnessed. Good thing Justin wouldn't know who Brian was thinking about as he had jerked off.

Brian fumbled to find a towel, but was able to do so without calling for help. He walked back into the bedroom wrapped only in the towel. He carefully paced off the number of steps to the side of the bed. He dropped the towel and climbed in under the duvet.

"Can I take a shower?" Justin asked from the living room.

"Of course," Brian replied. "You don't have to ask for things like that. Do what you want to."

Justin wanted to throw himself on top of Brian and have the man fuck his brains out, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He had watched Brian drop the towel in the darkness of the bedroom. He wanted to be wrapped around that long, lean body more than he had ever wanted anything in his young life. "Thanks," Justin said trying to make his voice sound normal. He walked past the bed and went into the bathroom closing the door behind him.

Brian heard the door close and smiled. Like he could see anything even standing with his face pressed against the glass of the shower stall. He smiled at the modesty of the young man keeping his activities in the bathroom to himself. Brian had to wonder if Justin would be whacking off thinking about him, just as he had done thinking about Justin.

Justin stood under the warm water envisioning Brian's body as he had seen it only a few minutes before. His hand slid down to his hard cock and he began stroking.

"I'm going to leave here a non-virgin," he vowed to the porcelain gods that surrounded him. That was his mission for the weekend and it would happen. He had waited far too long, and Brian was exactly what he wanted … and needed. He came with a gasp and quickly stepped out of the cooling water.

He walked into the bedroom and saw Brian propped up on his pillows. "Were you waiting for me?" Justin asked.

"I'm not sleepy yet."

"I could entertain you," Justin suggested.

"Do you sing?"

"Um … no," Justin said hesitantly. He hadn't meant to entertain Brian in that way at all.

"Then I don't think having you dance or draw will do much for me."

"Good night, Brian," Justin said getting angry at being rebuffed and teased every time he came on to Brian. He walked down into the living room.

"You can leave the lights on if you want to read. They won't bother me," Brian called.

"No kidding," Justin responded sarcastically.

He switched off the lights and slid in under the blanket leaving his towel on the floor beside the sofa. With the lights off and everything silent the wind became the dominant sound. It howled around the building and rattled the panes of glass.

"Fuck!" Brian said after a few minutes. "How are we supposed to sleep listening to that?"

"I like storms," Justin said. "My mother used to tell us stories about God bowling and whistling to make us not be afraid. After a while I used to make up stories about the gods being angry and hurling lightning bolts. They could only hurt each other not us."

"How old were you when you did that?"

"I don't know," Justin said thoughtfully. "Maybe eight."

"You were very advanced for your age."

"Yeah," Justin agreed.

"A smart little fucker," Brian added. Justin smiled into the darkness.

"Night, Brian."

"Night, John boy."

-----

"Brian, Brian," Justin said standing beside the man's bed.

"Huh, what?" Brian asked coming to. "What's wrong?"

"Do you have any more blankets? I'm freezing," Justin explained. He was standing naked beside the bed, but wrapped in the blanket that Brian had given him. His teeth were chattering.

"Why is it so cold?"

"The power's out. That wind must have blown down a power line. There's no heat and I'm so cold."

Brian could hear the wind howling outside. "Get in," he said pulling back the duvet. "Put the blanket on top."

Justin slid gratefully into the warm bed. He stayed close to the edge but he felt Brian's hand reach out and rub his arm.

"Jesus, Justin, you feel like a block of ice."

"I know," Justin admitted trying to keep his teeth from rattling in his head.

"Is that your teeth chattering that I can hear?" Brian asked.

"Yeah," Justin said as he continued to shiver.

He felt Brian slide closer and pull him back into the warmth of his body. Brian's hands rubbed along his arms and his sides and down his chest. The warmth of Brian's chest against his back made him feel so much better. He sighed contentedly feeling the chill leave his body as the heat of Brian's closeness took over.

"Is that better?" Brian asked.

"Much."

"Are your teeth still chattering?"

"No, but don't stop. That feels great."

"Too great," Brian thought as his cock started to harden. He wondered if Justin could feel it as it pressed against the crack of the boy's ass. Justin sighed and leaned into the warm body behind him. He could feel Brian's hard-on pressed against him and wished that Brian's hand would reach around and help him with his own.

Somehow they managed to get to sleep spooned together for warmth. Neither knew when the power came back on.

Blinded

Chapter 10

Brian awoke with a start. He was hot and there was something heavy draped all over him. He opened his eyes to the perpetual blackness and tried to figure out what was going on. He felt someone nuzzle against his neck and remembered that he had invited Justin into his bed last night. Obviously the heat had come on some time during the night because he was uncomfortably warm. And a great deal of that was simply his reaction to the slender body plastered all over him.

The boy had one leg wrapped around Brian's hip and he was practically sleeping on top of the older man. Brian could feel his morning wood under the boy's leg. He gently ran his hands along the boy's arms and felt Justin melt against him. He knew Justin was asleep and his reaction was involuntary, but the fact that the boy wanted to be so close to him and seemed to trust him so implicitly touched him in a way that little else had in the last few years. He pulled the warm body closer against him and kissed the top of the head that lay on his chest. He wanted to kiss the lips that he had felt with his fingertips last night. He remembered the chaste kiss in the Jeep and he knew he wanted more. His hand slid down the boy's back and softly cupped the rounded mounds of Justin's ass. Brian groaned inwardly. He wanted this boy so much, more than he could remember wanting someone in a long time. He felt his cock grow harder and knew he needed to get out of there before he did something they would both regret.

He carefully lifted Justin's arm and laid it at the boy's side. He tried to slide away from Justin's body but found that Justin's leg across his hip pinned him in place. He tried to gently shove the leg aside but Justin grunted and snuggled closer.

"Justin," Brian said softly. "Justin, I need to get up."

"Um…" Justin moaned. "So nice and warm." He welded himself even closer.

"Justin," Brian repeated gently. "I need to pee."

"No," Justin protested, "nice and warm and comfortable and sleepy."

"It's morning," Brian said softly. "We need to get up."

Blue eyes opened and looked into the unseeing ones above him. "Oh, sorry," Justin said realizing where he was and what Brian had said. He turned away reluctantly and rolled off Brian. "I didn't want to move. You're awfully comfortable to sleep on."

Brian snorted. No one had ever told him that. Of course, no one had ever been allowed to sleep on him before. Tricks were gone as soon as the fuckfest was over. Except for that guy a couple of weeks ago. But Brian didn't want to think about that. "Are you finally warm? You had me worried last night. Your teeth were chattering a mile a minute."

"I know," Justin chuckled. "I was freezing when the power went out. I never thought I'd be warm again, but … you saved me." Justin propped himself up on his elbow and watched Brian stretch.

"I had to save you. I couldn't return a sick boy back to his mother."

"I'm not a boy and I'm not going home just yet," Justin protested.

"Need to piss," Brian said throwing the duvet aside. He stood up beside the bed and then hesitated.

"Do you want me to help you?" Justin asked concerned. He was taking in Brian's nakedness in all its glory. Brian had a compact, taut ass and Justin stroked himself as he watched greedily.

"I'm just getting my bearings," Brian explained. He counted the paces to the bathroom door. Feeling the frame he made his way inside.

Justin groaned. He had been hoping that Brian would turn around. No such luck. He dropped back onto the bed and stopped stroking himself. He wanted something more. He had whacked off enough times on his own. He was ready for the next step … with Brian.

When Brian reappeared in the doorway of the bathroom, he realized he was naked and Justin was probably watching. He immediately went to the closet. He felt along the clothes looking for some sweats or jeans or something. "Justin, I need some help. Are my sweats hanging here somewhere?"

"Come back to bed," Justin implored.

"I want my clothes. It's time to get up."

"Fuck!" Justin griped but he got up and went to the closet. He saw a set of sweats lying on one of the shelves. He threw them at Brian.

"Thanks, twat," Brian chuckled knowing the boy was pissed off. "Get dressed and let's have some breakfast."

"Are we ordering in?" Justin asked with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He had retrieved his jeans from the living room and was sliding into them. He pulled a T-shirt over his head. Brian was climbing into his sweats. Justin watched and then started to giggle.

"What?" Brian demanded.

"You need to feel for the label," Justin explained. "Your sweatshirt is on backwards."

"Fuck!" Brian quickly turned it around.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Justin asked.

"Coffee."

"And…?"

"Just coffee."

"That's not enough. I bought some cereal."

"What kind? Cap'n Crunch?" Brian asked thinking about his best friend Michael who ate huge bowls of the sugary goop.

"Um … no, I didn't get that. I thought you might like something more substantial so I got shredded wheat."

"Shredded fucking wheat!" Brian reacted. "My fucking father used to eat that before he went off to work. I'm not that fucking ancient."

"I … I eat shredded wheat sometimes," Justin said hesitantly. "If you pour hot water over it and brown sugar and milk it's really good."

"Coffee," Brian stated.

"I'll go get it started," Justin said making his way towards the kitchen. He glanced back to see Brian approach the steps leading down into the dining area. He almost called out afraid that Brian was about to take a header down the steps. He bit his tongue at the last second and waited poised to race over there if Brian started to fall. He watched Brian stop at the top and feel with his toe to see where the floor ended and the steps began. Then he carefully made his way down and counted off the steps to the table. He kind of flailed around with his hand until it came in contact with the chair. With a sigh he lowered himself into it and its relative safety. "You're doing pretty good at getting around," Justin praised him as he made the coffee.

"Yeah, I'm about as good at it as a fucking two year old."

Justin snorted trying to keep from laughing out loud. Brian had reminded him of a two year old. "So what do you want to do after breakfast?" Justin asked.

"Do?"

"As in go for a walk or watch TV or read or…" Justin let his voice trail off as he realized how ridiculous his suggestions sounded.

Brian tried not to get angry. Didn't Justin realize how fucking ridiculous all those suggestions were? "How about rollerblading down the avenue?" he asked sarcastically. "Is the fucking coffee ready yet?" Brian demanded.

"Almost and I'm making shredded wheat for both of us."

Brian made a face but didn't refuse. He wondered what Justin would do with the shredded wheat. He hadn't had any since he was about ten. It might be interesting to see how it compared to what his mother used to make.

As it turned out Brian quite enjoyed the shredded wheat and Justin made a good cup of coffee. By the time they were finished eating Brian's mood had improved. He told Justin that he wanted to see if he could find his way to the lobby using the elevator. Once there he wanted Justin to help him get oriented to find the front door and the mailbox. Justin quickly cleared the dishes and off they went.

Brian was able to get to the elevator, find the button and open the gate when he heard the elevator come to a stop. They both climbed in. That was when Brian had to ask Justin to help him find the control panel and give him some clues to figure out which button would take him to the lobby. Justin led Brian around the small foyer until Brian felt he could negotiate it without too much trouble. He found he could feel the mailboxes and could count across to his. Getting the key in the hole was tricky but he managed it. He pulled out a couple of envelopes and handed them to Justin.

"Looks like bills," Justin observed flipping through them. Brian snorted. "Let's go to the park," Justin suggested looking out the front doors. The storm has blown away and the sun is shining. It looks cold but nice."

"We don't have our coats," Brian said in weak protest. He wasn't sure he wanted to be seen out in the neighborhood. But one of the reasons he wanted to come home was so he could be more independent.

"Let's make it a test," Justin said. "I'll wait here and you take the elevator back up to the loft. We left the door open. You get your coat and mine. They're both on the back of the chair at the computer desk. If you can do all that, you win a walk in the park," Justin added with a confident grin.

"I … I think you should come up with me," Brian said not feeling half as confident in his ability to accomplish the task as Justin sounded.

Justin realized maybe he was pushing too hard and so he agreed to go back up with Brian. "But you have to do everything yourself," he instructed.

"I'll try," Brian said. He wished he didn't feel so helpless. He was sure Justin had no idea what it was like to be in total darkness without even shadows to guide you.

Brian counted his way to the elevator. He raised his hand just above his waist and felt along the wall till he found the button. He called for the elevator which was still on the ground floor. No one had used it since they got off. Brian waited to hear it descend, but there was no noise. "Is it here?" he asked with a frown.

"It's still here from when we came down."

Brian raised the gate and they stepped in. Feeling the buttons Brian pushed what he was sure should be the right one for the top floor. "Did I get the right one?" Brian asked as the elevator began its ascent.

"We'll find out in a minute," Justin said smugly. Brian had chosen the right one but he didn't want this to be too easy.

The elevator came to a stop and Brian lifted the gate. He counted the steps to the loft door. When he felt the edge of the open door he grinned at Justin. "I did it," he said proudly.

"One gold star for Mr. Kinney, and a walk in the park."

Brian frowned and turned to Justin. "I … I'm not sure I'm ready to go out in public," he said slowly.

"Why? You just have to hold my arm and you'll be fine," Justin said reassuringly.

"Is my face still a mess?" Brian asked referring to his black eyes.

"The bruises are almost gone. You must be feeling better if you're worried about how you look," Justin chuckled. He thought Brian looked just fine, better than fine.

"Okay," Brian gave in, "but you better fucking look after me."

"Of course I will," Justin said solemnly. "Hey, do you have some sunglasses? They would cover the remaining bruises."

"In the desk," Brian said thinking that would suit him fine. Any observers wouldn't be able to see his eyes. They might not know he was blind.

Justin fished out the glasses and came over to pop them on Brian's nose. "That looks cool, dude," he teased, although he really meant it too. Brian was cool. "Here's your coat. Let's go." Brian shrugged on his leather jacket and took Justin's arm. "Don't you want to do it yourself?" Justin had to ask.

"I could … but I don't think you understand how hard it is. It tires me out."

"I'm sorry," Justin apologized. "I didn't realize."

"Let's get this fucking show on the road," Brian said still not convinced that he should be going out.

"Relax and you might even enjoy it," Justin said trying to be upbeat. Maybe he was putting too much pressure on Brian to be normal, to act normal. But that was how he seemed to Justin. Normal!

Justin led Brian downstairs and out onto the street. "Is there a park nearby?" Justin asked.

"Go left two blocks and then right. You'll see the park when we turn the corner," Brian explained. He wished he would be able to see the fucking park too.

They had just gotten to the park without incident when the very thing that Brian feared happened.

"Brian! Brian!" a familiar voice shouted at them.

"Who is it?" Justin asked.

"Michael," Brian snarled. "Get me back home as fast as you can. You're a client," Brian barked at him.

"What?" Justin asked trying to figure out what Brian was talking about.

"Brian," the stranger gushed rushing up to them and kissing Brian on the mouth. "Where have you been? I've left a ton of messages for you."

"I've been busy, Michael," Brian said levelly. The viselike grip he had on Justin's arm got tighter.

"Are you coming to Babylon tonight?" Michael asked with a grin. "It's pecs of death night."

"Michael, believe it or not I'm working," Brian said calmly.

"Working? What are you talking about?"

"This is my client Justin Taylor," Brian said making the perfunctory introductions. "Justin, this is my best friend, Michael Novotny."

"Hello," Michael said with a sour face. "Brian, he's just a kid," Michael whispered loud enough for all of them to hear.

"I'm standing right hear, Mr. Novotny, and I don't appreciate being called a kid," Justin said haughtily.

Michael scowled. "How can you be a client? You're what … twelve!"

"He also has a number one computer game," Brian said, "and we have to go. Let's go back to the loft, Justin." Brian turned and hoped that Justin would take the cue to guide him away from Michael.

"But Brian…" Michael whined.

"I'll call you in a few days when I have time," Brian threw over his shoulder. "Get me back to the loft … now," Brian hissed at Justin through closed teeth.

Justin marched them out of the park as quickly as he could. He glanced back once to see an angry, puzzled Michael staring after them. At least he wasn't following them.

Blinded

Chapter 11

"Do you think he knew I'm blind?" Brian asked as he collapsed on the sofa.

"I doubt it," Justin said as he hung their jackets on the back of the computer chair. "He seemed a little … stunned."

"That's my Mikey … stunned!" Brian said with a chuckle.

Justin was about to make some snide comment when he thought better of it. Even though he hadn't liked the offensive little man, Brian had said he was his best friend. He kept his mouth shut.

"How old are you … really?" Brian asked.

"I told you, I'm almost eighteen," Justin said with a frown.

"Then why did Michael say you looked about twelve."

"I do look young," Justin admitted. "People tell me that all the time, but he was just exaggerating. He didn't seem to like me."

"Michael doesn't like people who take my time away from him. That's why I said you were a client. He doesn't bug me about work."

"Doesn't he have a life of his own?" Justin asked.

Brian snorted. "Not so you'd notice, although he has been dating a chiropractor lately."

"A chiropractor?" Justin asked. "How did he find a chiropractor?"

"Fell off a ladder."

"Jesus!"

"My sentiments exactly," Brian chuckled. He didn't much like Dr. Dave.

"Are you tired after all that?" Justin asked.

"A bit."

"Want to lie down and have a nap?" Justin asked giving Brian his most seductive smile before he realized that Brian, of course, couldn't see him.

"I don't want a fucking nap!" Brian shot back. He wasn't a goddam baby.

"Well, you did just get out of the hospital," Justin defended himself.

"It was rehab," Brian replied tersely, and then he realized what that sounded like. "Sounds like I just kicked a drug or alcohol problem," Brian chuckled. He wished his problem was that simple, not that he hadn't wondered from time to time if he should check into that kind of rehab.

"Want to watch TV?" Justin asked.

"Don't you mean 'listen' to TV?" Brian responded making quotation marks in the air. "I've never been much of a Saturday morning cartoon fan."

"You don't know what you're missing. I think the Powerpuff Girls are on about now."

"Powerpuff Girls? Are you shitting me?"

"No, it's a cartoon show. The animation is great. That's what I want to do," Justin explained.

"When you grow up?" Brian felt compelled to ask.

"Yeah," Justin replied with sarcasm, "when I grow up."

Brian knew he had pissed the boy off once again but sometimes he couldn't help himself. The kid asked for it. Fucking Powerpuff Girls! How gay was that! Brian forced himself to sit through the program while Justin tried to explain what was going on, and commented on the drawing and the use of color.

"So what do you think?" Justin asked when the program was over.

"It loses something in the dark," Brian replied.

"Oh, yeah, I guess it would," Justin admitted. God, he was dumb sometimes, making Brian sit through the whole show. "What do you normally do on Saturday?"

"Why?"

"I just wondered."

"Let's see," Brian said thinking of how to answer that question. "In the good old days when I could see I'd have breakfast with the boiz at the diner, we'd go to the gym for a couple of hours, we'd meet at Woody's for drinks and then hit Babylon late at night."

"And then you'd come home?" Justin asked.

"Eventually."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that sometimes I would come home with someone, sometimes I would go home with someone, and occasionally there was no one worth leaving with. Sometimes it was very slim pickings."

"And would these guys stay all night?" Justin asked hoping to get a sense of how all this worked in Brian's life.

"Almost never," Brian said emphatically.

"Why not?"

"That wasn't their purpose."

"What was their purpose … exactly?"

"To get each other off … and then to disappear."

"Didn't you ever want any of them to stay?" Justin asked innocently.

Brian thought for a minute. "No," he stated, "but there has been the occasional one who didn't know when to leave."

"This guy who's sending these notes…?"

"Yeah, the one I think is sending them. He was here about a month ago now. He stayed all night, and then he got snooping around the next morning. When I told him to get out he tried to get me to let him stay by threatening to reveal something that he had found out."

"Reveal something? What did he find out?" Justin asked. Brian was just about the most forthright person Justin had ever met. What could he be hiding? "You have secrets?" Justin asked.

"You have no idea," Brian said shaking his head.

"What did he find out … this guy?"

Brian sighed and looked up at the ceiling like there was something definitive written there if only he could read it. He wondered if he should reveal that secret to Justin. Hell, the kid knew his pin number and had had every chance to clean out his bank account. He trusted him enough to have him live here with him at least for the next day or two. Maybe he could trust him with this. "If I tell you something, it never leaves this room. Understand?" Brian demanded.

"I'll never tell," Justin said crossing his heart.

"It's not a joke. Nobody knows about this, except that guy. And look at the trouble it's caused."

"I swear, Brian. I won't reveal anything."

"Go over to my desk and bring back the book that's lying there."

Justin got up and went to the desk. He saw a paperback laying face down beside the computer. He picked it up and turned it over. "Turn of the Screw" he read from the cover. "Written by Phillip Remington. What is this?"

"You've never read it, I see," Brian said shaking his head.

"I've read 'The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James. It was required reading last year."

"Too bad that fucking trick hadn't read that 'Screw' too. If he had had something better to do with his time, we wouldn't be having this problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm Phillip Remington," Brian said evenly.

"You're… You mean … you wrote this book?" Brian nodded. "You did? Oh my God, and it's published and everything?"

"Well, you're holding it, aren't you?" Brian smirked.

"Wow, a published author! What's it about?" Justin asked innocently.

Brian scowled. "I'm not sure I should assault your virgin ears with a précis of the story."

"What … what do you mean?"

"It's an erotic gay thriller."

"I … I've never heard of such a thing," Justin said bewildered.

"Well, now you have."

"So what is it about?"

"It's about this gay executive who fucks his way to the top and doesn't mind stomping all over people along the way. Eventually somebody exacts payback."

"That sounds kind of scary," Justin said.

"That's the thriller part of it."

"And sexy," Justin said with a leer.

"That's the erotic part."

"Is it … graphic?"

"Very," Brian replied and thought maybe he should leave it at that.

"Can … can I read it?" Justin asked. He hoped he liked Brian's story. He liked everything else about this man.

"You may … but don't fucking tell your mother. She'll come after me for corrupting you."

"Is it that bad?"

"It doesn't pull any punches."

"Should help me get to sleep tonight?" Justin asked with a nervous giggle.

"On the couch," Brian stated flatly.

"Oh!"

"And don't forget it."

"So how did you become Phillip Remington?" Justin asked deciding to change the topic before Brian made him promise about their sleeping arrangements. He fully intended to be in Brian's bed again tonight.

Brian chuckled. "I knew I didn't want to use my own name so I was thinking about Remington Steele from the old TV series. Pierce Brosnan is one good looking man. I pictured him as the author I'd like to be wearing the ascot and the pipe."

Justin giggled out loud. "Ascot and pipe?" he repeated.

"Well, maybe not," Brian conceded with a wry grin. "But I was playing around with the name and I realized that Remington was a shaver and so was Phillips and that's how I came up with it."

"Clever," Justin agreed. "And very classy sounding."

"Thanks," Brian said with his tongue in his cheek.

"So how did you get it published? It can't be easy."

"Actually it was. I don't think the gay publishing house I took it too had ever read anything quite like it. They snapped it up immediately."

"And you've kept your part in it a secret ever since?"

"To everyone except my publisher … and that fucking trick."

"How did he find out?"

"As I said, he managed to convince me to let him stay all night. As I recall he was a decent enough fuck, and it was pouring rain that night. I guess he caught me at a weak moment. I think I was pretty well plastered. I drank a lot at Babylon and had a few bumps. I think I finished a bottle of Beam after I fucked him into the mattress."

Justin knew his eyes had gotten very large. He obviously didn't know much about Brian's lifestyle. That wasn't what he had expected at all.

Brian cleared his throat and continued. "When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in bed. I remember sighing with relief thinking that the trick had had enough sense to leave at some point. Mornings can be so … awkward."

"I bet," Justin said sarcastically. He thought about waking up that morning in Brian's arms, and how safe he had felt. How could his Brian be saying these things, treating men like nameless pieces of meat that he used for his own gratification?

"I had quite the hangover and finally managed to get vertical and go piss. When I came out of the bathroom I saw him sitting on the sofa with my book and a bunch of papers. I had just received a letter and check from my publisher, and he had put two and two together. I asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, and he proceeded to read me a steamy section from my novel. It seems he had read the book already and even had favorite parts. He was a fucking fan of Phillip Remington."

"What did you do?" Justin asked.

"I told him to get the fuck out."

"But he wouldn't go?"

"No, he said he loved the book and he loved me. He had known I was smart when he let me pick him up. I don't know how he could know any such thing. I was stoned out of my mind."

"And I got arrested for a bag of pot," Justin griped shaking his head.

"Remind me to ask you about that," Brian said.

Justin stuck his tongue out at Brian knowing the man couldn't see him. "Sure," Justin said sarcastically.

"Are you giving me the finger?" Brian asked.

"No, but that's a good idea," Justin agreed giving Brian the middle finger salute.

"Do you want to hear the rest of this?" Brian asked not liking the way this was turning out.

"Yeah."

"He … he refused to leave until I promised that he could come back again."

"But you didn't let him, did you?"

"I didn't really promise. I just sort of let him think that I agreed. I had to get him out the door somehow."

"So what happened?"

"The next night he called. He must have got the number off the phone on the desk before I got up. I hung up on him. He called eight times before I unplugged the phone."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, tell me about it. The next night he rapped on the loft door. I don't know how he got up here but he did. I slammed the door in his face and told him to get lost. He pounded on the door until I threatened to call the cops. Finally he left. The next day these fucking notes started coming."

"Have they always been threatening in tone?" Justin asked.

"At first they were pretty mushy … about how good we were together and how he missed me. He kept saying we were meant for each other. I kept ripping up the letters and throwing them in the garbage."

"You should have kept them."

"Maybe," Brian agreed. "At that point I thought he'd get tired of being pushed away and just give up."

"But he hasn't."

"No, but I keep hoping he will."

"The letters I've read have felt threatening," Justin told him.

"I know. They changed after you arrived."

"They did?"

"I told you that he seemed jealous, maybe because you're staying here with me and he feels it should be him."

"That's sick."

"I wouldn't say we're dealing with the most stable of people here."

"That's for sure," Justin agreed. "You should report him to the police."

"How can I do that when I don't even know his fucking name?" Brian admitted.

"You don't know his name? Didn't he tell you?"

"Probably. But I don't remember the names of tricks. It's one of my rules."

"That's a rule?"

"That's what I said."

Justin shook his head. This wasn't what he had been banking on. Brian was someone he didn't know at all. He had only made the man's acquaintance a little over a week ago. So many of his assumptions had been wrong.

"I guess you find this whole mess disgusting. I suppose you find me disgusting too?" Brian said softly. He knew from Justin's silence that his revelations had upset the boy. He could just imagine what Justin's mother would think if she knew even half of it.

"I think I better get started on my homework," Justin said getting up and moving to the dining room table. He needed to distance himself from Brian. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Blinded

Chapter 12

Justin made them some soup for lunch. They ate in rather uncomfortable silence. Justin wondered who the man across the table from him really was. From what he had heard he didn't know Brian at all, and that scared him.

Brian knew his confession had somehow upset his young helper. He wasn't sure which part of it had spooked the boy, but he guessed it had to do with him bringing tricks home and getting stoned on a regular basis. He should never have told Justin about his other persona.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," Justin said as he loaded the dishwasher. "Will you be all right by yourself for a bit?"

"Sure," Brian replied knowing that some time apart would give each of them a chance to think and try to deal with the uncomfortable feelings between them.

"I'll lock the door behind me," Justin said as he slipped on his coat.

"Wouldn't want someone to steal me," Brian said wryly. He heard the loft door clang shut and knew the boy was gone. He stared in the direction of the door wondering how the fuck they were going to get through the rest of the weekend. He didn't think Justin would just leave, but he sensed that he now made the boy feel uncomfortable. Justin's need to take a walk proved that he wanted to get away from Brian. Before, he would have insisted that Brian go with him.

Justin ran down the stairs. He felt he had to get out of that building, to clear his head and figure out what the fuck he was going to do. He had worked it all out in his mind before their little talk just now. He was going to crawl into Brian's bed that night and seduce the man into fucking him. He knew they had been very close to doing that when they woke up that morning. But now! Justin knew he was falling in love with the tall, handsome man. He still felt that way, but he also felt fear. Brian had all these secrets, lived a lifestyle that Justin could barely comprehend, and seemed to have no qualms about pushing people away once he was through with them. Justin didn't want to be one of the discarded ones. He didn't think he could stand that.

When he reached the bottom of the steps, Justin ran across the lobby, threw the door open and ran along the street making sure he went in the opposite direction from the park. The last person in the world he would want to meet right now was that Mikey guy. In his haste Justin didn't see the shadowy figure that slipped into the building before the door could lock behind the boy.

Brian leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He debated getting up and stumbling around the loft trying to negotiate his way around like he really knew what the fuck he was doing. That seemed plain ridiculous so he stayed put. He wondered about calling Cynthia, but it was the weekend. He'd have to call her Monday and explain somehow why he wasn't coming into work once again. Vance would shit himself.

Overriding all these thoughts was Justin. What the fuck was he going to do about Justin? He didn't want to hurt the boy. In fact, he wanted to give the boy what he so clearly had been asking for, his first fuck. But, he knew he wasn't going to do that until he could see the look on Justin's face as he was taken for the first time. He wanted to remember that look, and he wanted Justin to remember it as well … and he wanted it to be perfect. And Brian couldn't give him that if he was blind.

And then there was the whole issue of Justin's reaction to the way Brian lived his life. Brian had thought the boy would know that he wasn't going to be treated like his other tricks. Christ, they had spent the night in bed together and absolutely nothing had happened. But he supposed Justin didn't know what would happen once they fucked. Maybe he thought he would become another nameless trick like the asshole that was sending him those letters.

Brian sat up suddenly. Someone was at the door trying to open it. Maybe Justin had come back, but he had the key. He had to have it to lock the door from the outside.

"Justin," Brian said weakly trying not to panic. The door was locked. No one could get in. There was no answer. "Justin," he said a little louder. There was no response but Brian was sure someone was out there. He waited. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he felt a clench of fear in his gut. What would happen if someone got in? He couldn't fucking see. They could kill him and he wouldn't be able to defend himself at all. Brian shook his head. He had to stop thinking like that. No one wanted to kill him, fuck him maybe, but not kill him.

He listened carefully and heard nothing more. After a minute or two he knew whoever had been there was gone. He let out a breath and tried to stop shaking. Fuck! He was such a coward. Everything was so scary in the dark. It could have been anybody at the door, maybe even Michael checking up on him. But Michael would have answered when Brian called out, or used the fucking key that he had to the loft.

Brian leaned back and closed his eyes. He had to get hold of himself. He didn't have to have a panic attack every time he heard a fucking noise. Maybe it had been the trick who wouldn't take no as an answer. Maybe the guy had left another one of his messages. If it was that, it was only paper. Paper couldn't hurt him. Brian wondered if he should open the door and see if there was a note there. What the fuck good would that do, he asked himself. He couldn't read it if there was. And … and the guy could still be out there just waiting for Brian to open the door. He wondered if the guy knew that Justin had gone out.

Justin! Where the fuck was that kid? How long had he been gone? Maybe the trick had done something to Justin, and that was why he felt confident enough to try the loft door. Brian shivered. He wanted Justin to come back … now.

Suddenly he heard another noise at the door. He heard it slide back and he felt his heart freeze in his chest. "Justin," he managed to whisper as a new round of panic swept over him.

"It's me," Justin said from beside him. "What's wrong?"

Brian's hand reached up looking for his savior. "Justin," he said hearing his own voice sound like a sob.

"I'm here, Brian," Justin whispered against his ear as he grabbed Brian in a tight hug.

"Someone was at the door," Brian said shakily.

"I know. There's another note."

"There is? I … I didn't know what to do."

"It's all right. I'm here now," Justin said releasing Brian who sat up and tried to collect himself.

"I'm … I'm sorry," Brian whispered hanging his head. "I don't know where that came from."

"It's okay to be afraid. This guy is scary … and you can't see."

Brian knew Justin was trying to make him feel better, but he just felt like a helpless fool. He was practically bawling and hanging onto this kid like his fucking life depended on it.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long but I needed to think," Justin explained.

"And what did you decide? Are you leaving?"

"Leaving? God no, I wasn't thinking about leaving. Is that what you thought … that I'd leave you all alone?"

"I didn't know what to think. When you didn't come back, I thought maybe he had hurt you."

"Fuck! We need to call the police," Justin stated.

"Maybe … maybe we should," Brian agreed. He wanted this stopped now.

"Should we open the letter before we call?" Justin asked.

"No, leave it. Maybe there's something on it that the police can use as evidence," Brian said.

"Should I call 911 … or what?" Justin asked not sure what to do.

"Do you remember picking up a business card from the nightstand in my room in rehab?"

"Yeah, I think I put it on the desk when I unpacked your suitcase," Justin said moving over to the desk.

"It's from the cop who came to see me about the mugging?"

"Do you think this has something to do with the mugging?" Justin asked looking alarmed.

"Fuck no! But maybe he would come and look into this stuff with the letters," Brian said hopefully.

"I'll dial it and you can talk to him," Justin said matter-of-factly as he picked up the phone.

Brian spent the next few minutes getting connected to the right person and then explaining what was going on. Finally he hung up.

"Here," Justin said handing him a bottle of water from the fridge. "It's water. Being scared makes me thirsty." Justin took another long drink out of his bottle of water. "I thought you could use a drink too."

"Thanks," Brian replied twisting the top off the bottle and drinking greedily. "I could use something stronger."

"Not till we get this sorted out. What did the detective say?" Justin asked.

"He's coming over as soon as he can."

"So we wait."

"Yep."

"Brian, I need to ask you something," Justin said rather hesitantly.

"What?"

"Can I trust you?"

"You have to ask?" Brian said with a snarl. "I've given you the keys to my whole fucking life."

"Not your whole life," Justin said boldly. They needed to get this out in the open. "And I'm not talking about keys."

Brian knew Justin was talking about his secrets. "I guess there are a few things I've kept to myself."

"Is … is there more that I should know?" Justin asked dreading the answer he would receive.

"I don't think there's more that you need to know. My … life … is complicated in a lot of ways."

"Yeah, so I see," Justin said ruefully. "You know … you know that I'm attracted to you?" Justin said partially as a question but more as a statement.

"I kind of figured…"

"But you've kept me at a distance. Is that because you don't want me … or because you do want me but not under these circumstances … or are you just using me as your companion until you can see?" Justin hesitated for a moment but then plunged on before Brian could answer. "Will you fuck me when you get your sight back and … and … and then tell me to get lost … like you did this guy who's sending the notes?"

"Justin, I…" Brian began but didn't know how to answer that question. He couldn't tell Justin how much he wanted him. He couldn't admit that he had planned to fuck the kid into next week once he got his sight back. All he knew was that he would never tell Justin to get lost.

"I see that you're having a lot of trouble with the answer to that question and I even made it multiple choice. I guess I have my answer." Justin turned away as the emotion of being rejected swept over him.

"I don't know how to answer your question, Justin," Brian said, sounding much calmer than he felt. "I … I do care about you. I … like you and I would never tell you to get lost."

"Even after you fuck me?"

"That … that can't happen," Brian stated knowing he wasn't ready to complete the sentence with one word "yet".

"Ever?" Justin asked.

Brian rubbed his hands across his face. The persistent little shit just wouldn't leave well enough alone. "I have a lot to deal with before I can answer that question," Brian admitted.

"So, you won't give me a straight answer," Justin stated. "Maybe after tomorrow I should see about getting another community service assignment."

"No," Brian choked out before he could stop himself.

"You don't want me to go away and stop bothering you?"

"I … need you."

Justin smiled. That was as close to an admission of Brian's feelings as it seemed likely he was going to get. He'd take that for now. Brian wanted him there and he had said he would never send him away. That held some kind of promise. "Okay," Justin said, "but we're not finished talking about this."

Brian groaned. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

The knock on the door interrupted anything further on the matter. Brian jumped noticeably at the sound. Justin hurried to the door.

"Who is it?" Justin asked.

"Detective Carver," a voice from the other side of the door stated.

Justin unlocked and pulled back the door. The detective stepped inside. He looked around the loft obviously assessing what and who he was dealing with. "You are?" he asked pointedly giving Justin the once over.

"I'm Justin Taylor," Justin replied extending his hand to shake the detective's. "I'm staying with Mr. Kinney until he gets used to being in the loft.

"I see," the detective replied. Justin wondered just what the man was seeing. "Mr. Kinney," Carver said moving over to where Brian was seated on the sofa. "So you've been receiving harassing letters."

"Yes," Brian replied.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Almost a month."

"A month? Why did you choose now to call?" Carver asked.

"We got another letter today," Brian explained. "Justin had gone out for a while and I heard someone at the loft door. I called out Justin's name and then everything was silent. It … it scared me being here by myself … being blind. If the door hadn't been locked…" Brian chose not to complete that statement.

"So how did he get to your door?" Carver asked.

"How did you?" Brian countered.

"Point taken. This isn't the most secure building."

"No, if you hang around the front door someone will let you in or you can catch the door before it closes," Brian said.

"So where's this letter?" Carver asked.

"Justin, where's the envelope?"

Justin picked it up from the desk and offered it to the detective. The detective pulled out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on before taking the letter from Justin. "May I?" he asked before he ripped it open. He proceeded when Brian nodded. He pulled the paper out and began reading: "You are not making the correct decisions, Brian. Get rid of the kid and I will come look after you. I can do a much better job than the blond. If you don't send him away, I will have to do it for you."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Justin asked alarmed.

"I don't like the sound of that," the detective observed.

"Neither do I," Brian said with a worried frown on his face.

"You think you know who's sending these?" Carver asked.

"Not exactly," Brian replied.

"On the phone you indicated that you did," Carver told Brian not at all pleased to hear what Brian was now telling him.

"I told you in the hospital that I was gay. The guy sending these is a trick from about a month ago."

"A trick?"

"Yeah, he came home with me one night and I had trouble getting rid of him. Right after that these started coming."

"Do you have other ones he sent?" Carver asked.

"They're in the desk. I'll get them," Justin said getting up.

"So if you know who this guy is, give me his name and we'll have a little chat with him."

"I don't know his name," Brian confessed.

"You don't know … his name?" Carver said slowly.

"That's what I said."

"But you had him in your home, had sex with him, and now he's jealous of you. And you don't know his name?"

"That's right."

"Jesus," Detective Carver said shaking his head. "Where are these other letters?" Justin handed them to him.

"They're getting more threatening," Brian said, "especially towards Justin."

"Is this all of them?"

"I threw some away at first. They were just … mushy."

"But now he's getting angry," Carver said.

"Seems that way."

"I'll take these with me. Forensics will run them, but we probably won't find anything. In the meantime be careful … both of you."

Justin followed the detective to the door and locked it behind him. Justin turned to look at Brian.

"That went about as well as I expected," Brian said with a sigh as he gazed into the black nothingness that surrounded him.

Blinded

Chapter 13

Saturday's are supposed to be fun. They're a day off work. They're a day for leisure, for getting together with friends, for parties. But sometimes Saturday's are for shit. And that's what this one was.

Brian dozed on the sofa for a while but he knew Justin was watching him even though the boy was pretending to do his homework at the dining room table. It was very disconcerting to Brian to know that he was being watched, and he was sure that he was. But he was totally unable to gauge how he was being watched. He didn't know if Justin did it furtively or boldly or in anger or curiosity. Fuck! He hated being blind.

He tried for a while to ignore Justin. He concentrated on the new idea he had for his book. He liked the idea of alternating points of view. He had most of Stryker's done already, but he needed to go back to the beginning and start with Jackson's story. He tried to picture what would have brought Jackson to Pittsburgh and how he would have been when he first arrived there. Then it occurred to him that Jackson must have a lot of the same feelings that Justin had. They both knew they were gay. They were looking for their first real encounter with a male partner. They were eager and fearful and hopeful, a mass of conflicting emotions. Brian smiled to himself. He was getting close to finding the right storyline for the young hustler.

Justin worked on his homework. He wanted to get it all done and then he wouldn't have to worry about it. Brian wouldn't be able to hold it over his head. But as hard as he tried to concentrate he kept finding his eyes wandering over to what little of the man on the sofa was visible to him. He wished Brian had his vision back. It would simplify everything. Brian could see Justin and decide if he wanted him around. He wouldn't feel that he had to depend on Justin for his very existence. He wouldn't feel obligated. Then Justin could know whether the man was really interested in him or not. All the signals told him that Brian was, but he couldn't be sure. Maybe Brian just thought of him as a stupid kid who for the moment was useful. Maybe Brian really didn't want to get to know anyone he fucked. Justin couldn't imagine how that must be. Surely you had to feel something for the person that you were that intimate with. Brian didn't even know their names.

"Justin, if you're finished watching me, would you get me that little recorder?" Brian asked sweetly.

"I'm not watching you," Justin stated hoping it sounded like the truth. He wasn't going to admit that he had been staring at the man for the last ten minutes. "I'm doing my homework."

"Of course," Brian said obsequiously. "But I'd like to use the recorder."

"Sure," Justin said getting up from the table to go retrieve the recorder. He thought he had put it in the drawer of the computer desk. "Here," he said having found it. He dropped it on Brian's chest.

"How very gracious of you! Thanks ever so…" Brian snarked in his little falsetto voice.

Justin gave him the finger and Brian chuckled. "What?" Justin demanded.

"Was it the finger or the tongue this time?"

"Finger," Justin said with his own chuckle. "How do you do that?"

"I just imagine what my reaction would be and assume that you would do the same."

Justin shook his head. "You're right far too often."

"What does that tell you?" Brian asked wondering what it did say about each of them.

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Language, little boy," Brian chided.

"I'm not a fucking little boy!"

"But you'd like to be a fucked little boy."

"So when are you going to take care of that?" Justin asked deciding he was sick of skirting the issue.

"Justin, let's not go there right now," Brian pleaded.

"You brought it up, asshole."

Brian groaned. He needed to keep his mouth shut. "Are you finished with your homework?" Brian asked.

"Not quite. What are you going to do?"

"I'm dictating some parts of my next book into the recorder. I'll get them transcribed later."

"I was going to read your other book," Justin said thoughtfully.

"Are you sure you're ready for steamy man on man sex?"

"I'll take my chances," Justin replied wondering if Brian's book might help prepare him for his first time.

"Get your homework done first."

"Yeah, sure," Justin said going back to the dining room table.

He sat down and watched Brian sit up and turn his back to him. He wondered if he would be able to hear what Brian was dictating. It would be interesting seeing how Brian the author worked.

Brian knew Justin was watching him, and probably listening too. He didn't really have anything to hide, but he wasn't sure he wanted Justin to hear the part of the story he was going to dictate. However, in the broad, open expanse of the loft there really wasn't anywhere to have privacy except the john, and he didn't want to write the story sitting on the toilet. That seemed like a bad omen of how his publisher might react to it. He was about as far away from Justin as he could get so he decided to start. He pressed the 'record' button and began.

Jackson Cooke came from a small town in Pennsylvania. He had just turned eighteen and he had vowed that he would leave Hawthorn Grove as soon as he achieved adulthood. His life there had been a misery at least for the last two years since it had become obvious to the kids at school that he was gay. He had been called a faggot for as long as he could remember. He wasn't sure what he did that made people think that, but he also knew that it was true.

The last two years in high school had been hell. He had been cussed at, called names, slammed into lockers and walls, had his belongings stolen and destroyed, and any number of other horrible things that you could think of doing to a human being. They had all been done to him. He had tried to be brave, ignore it all, not show any emotion, but nothing had stopped them.

The final insult, the one that brought him to the breaking point, had happened a couple of weeks before the end of his final year at high school. Somehow he had pissed off some of the jocks, pissed being the operative word. They had caught him in the washroom at school, five of them. They had held him captive while they made him watch them piss in one of the toilets. Then they had rammed his head into the foul smelling bowl and held him under the urine infested water until he had been forced to breathe some of it in. When they let him up he was coughing and sputtering, spitting out their own urine back at them. That had really pissed them off. They kicked him but good and when he ceased to struggle they pulled out their dicks and finished pissing all over him. They finally left him alone each giving one last kick for good measure.

He didn't know how long he lay on the cold floor before he could summon enough strength to get up. He ran from the school looking like a crazy man. People shouted at him and laughed at how pathetic he looked. His wet hair was matted to his head. He had urine stains all over his clothes. He could only imagine how he smelled. He vowed he'd never go back to that school. And he hadn't. He skipped the last two weeks of the year, refusing to write his exams, and finally running away when his parents told him to get a job or get out.

And that was how he ended up in Pittsburgh. He had a change of clothes in his backpack and fifteen dollars when he started hitchhiking away from Hawthorn Grove. He would never go back. He never wanted to see any of them again, including his less than sympathetic parents.

Brian switched off the recorder. He remembered his own dunking in the toilet in high school. That had been the inspiration for that scene. His had ended differently than Jackson's however.

"Brian," Justin said. "Did you make all of that up?"

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework, not eavesdropping on me?"

"If you don't want me to hear, then go into the bathroom."

"I thought about that," Brian admitted.

"So did you make that up?"

"Some of it."

"It … it sounds like some of the things they did to me."

"To you?"

"Yeah, they call me a fag and shove me against the lockers. Someone even set my locker on fire. Burned my sketches."

"Fuck! That sucks."

"Tell me about it. I only have to get through the next few months and then I never have to see any of them again."

"Ever had your head shoved in the toilet?" Brian asked.

"No, haven't had that pleasure. You?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Really? What did you do?"

"I caught the ringleader of the jock posse a little while later. He was alone by his locker. I watched him standing there all cocky and self assured. He reached for something in the locker. I grabbed his arm, held it in position and slammed his fingers in his locker door. Ended his football season right there."

"You didn't?"

"I did." Brian shook his head at the memory.

"Did you get suspended?" Justin asked.

"For two weeks. My old man just about killed me for it."

"My father would shit a brick."

"He doesn't know you're gay?"

"God no! Sometimes I wonder if my mother might suspect, but my father is in total denial. That's why I can't really tell them about how I get treated at school."

"Sucks to be us sometimes," Brian said with a rueful laugh.

"Looks like you turned out all right," Justin observed. Better than all right was what he really thought.

"Does what happened with these jocks at school have something to do with why you were smoking pot?" Brian asked changing the subject.

"Sort of. My friend Daphne and I were just experimenting. Pot's awesome."

"Awesome," Brian agreed.

"You and I might never have met if I hadn't been using pot," Justin said thoughtfully.

"Oh, I don't know. I probably would have found you standing under a lamppost on Liberty Avenue."

"You think?" Justin asked with a chuckle. Could Brian possibly mean that they were destined to be together?

Brian knew he probably shouldn't have said that, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Somehow he did know that Justin was part of his destiny. The kid had managed to worm his way into his life and turn everything upside down in a matter of days.

"Homework finished?" Brian asked.

"Not yet," Justin sighed.

"Then get back to work and stop watching me and listening to me," Brian admonished.

"You're just so fascinating."

Brian gave him the finger from across the room, and he heard Justin laugh out loud. Maybe things were getting back on a more even keel between them.

"If I do all my homework like a good little boy, will you take me to Babylon?" Justin begged.

"I'm blind for Christ's sake. I'm not going anywhere."

"It doesn't have to be tonight," Justin conceded although he wished it could be. He bet that Brian was about the hottest guy there and they could walk in arm and arm.

"When you turn twenty-one I'll take you," Brian said with a smirk.

"Twenty-one! Fuck you! How about when I'm eighteen?"

"Maybe."

Justin smiled. He'd work on Brian right after they fucked. "What if we rented a movie for tonight? I could make some popcorn."

"Sounds heavenly."

Justin shook his head. He better get this fucking homework done or he would be sitting at this table all evening.

Brian dictated some more of his story and Justin worked on math. They ordered in some lasagna and salad and garlic bread. When the dinner was cleared away Justin wanted to get the movie he had mentioned before. Brian griped that there would be nothing left to choose from at eight o'clock at night, but Justin said Brian would have to fuck him if he wouldn't let him get the movie. Finally Brian gave in even agreeing to go with the boy so that they could find a movie they both could tolerate. Coats on and movie card in hand they set out.

Brian held Justin's arm as they walked along the sidewalk. Justin told Brian of any obstacles coming up and chattered away about movies that he had seen before and liked. They crossed one street and Brian knew they were almost at the movie rental place.

"It should be up ahead on the right," Brian said.

Justin stepped away from Brian a bit to look for the sign. He said he could see it about seven or eight stores ahead. As Justin stepped towards Brian someone came running down the street at breakneck speed. Justin saw him coming and stepped out of the way tugging Brian to follow him.

What happened next neither of them could remember exactly. The running man careened into Brian's back and knocked the man towards the street. Brian's grip on Justin's arm slipped and he felt himself beginning to fall.

He heard Justin call his name and then he hit the pavement hard enough to knock the air out of him. He heard a horn and screeching brakes and a strangled scream from somewhere. He wondered if his life was about to come to an end.

Blinded

Chapter 14

Justin led Brian to the sofa and the man dropped wearily down onto the cushions.

"I think we should take you to the hospital and get you checked over," Justin said.

"I'm not going to any fucking hospital. I'm all right," Brian protested.

"But you fell into the street."

"I was fucking pushed."

"It was some guy running completely out of control."

"Thank God the guy in the car was able to stop in time or you'd be looking at road kill," Brian said with a shake of his head.

"Don't say that," Justin said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'll probably have some bruises and scrapes, but I'll be fine."

"I'll get you a drink," Justin said feeling like he needed to do something useful, if Brian wasn't going to let him take him to the hospital.

"I'll have a bottle of Beam," Brian said loudly.

"You'll get a bottle of water … and you'll like it," Justin retorted.

He brought Brian a bottle from the fridge and the man drank half of it at one go. Justin watched him thoughtfully. That had been a close call. Brian could have been killed. So could he for that matter. If the guy had charged over to the left it would have been Justin sprawled in the street.

"What are you thinking about?" Brian asked after a minute.

"I was thinking about that guy that ran us down. He could have killed us … and he didn't even hang around long enough to see if you were all right."

"Did he even stop?"

"I don't think so, but everything happened so fast that I can't be sure. I was more concerned that you were going to get run over, than I was worried about that asshole."

"Did you get a look at him?" Brian asked.

"Not clearly. He had a dark jacket with the collar up and some kind of ski hat on his head. I could hardly see his face at all."

"That's just great. And I'm such a reliable witness," Brian said sarcastically.

"I think it was probably just an accident. The guy may not have even realized what he did."

"I've never had so many accidents in such a short span of time," Brian observed.

"Are you suggesting that they're not accidents?" Justin asked with a frown. He had to admit that that thought had occurred to him too.

"I don't know what to think, but it seems like something weird is happening."

"Do you think we should report this to Detective Carver?"

"Christ no! He already thinks I'm some kind of pervert. Now he'll think I'm ready for the loony bin."

"So what do you want to do?" Justin asked.

"Nothing, I guess. And we didn't even get a fucking movie."

"I guess I'll just have to read your book," Justin said with an evil grin.

"I'm going to bed," Brian said rubbing his elbow. It hurt where he had hit the pavement.

Justin watched what Brian was doing and how gingerly he stood up. "Why don't you take a hot shower and I'll rub some of your sore spots for you."

Brian knew what the kid was trying to do, but he had enough sore spots to make him want to take Justin up on his offer. He headed to the bathroom counting the paces carefully. When he came out he could smell something delicious.

"What's going on?" Brian asked.

"You like the smell?" Justin asked from the other side of the bed.

"What is it?"

"I heated up some oil that I found in the nightstand and added a touch of your cologne."

"Very resourceful, aren't you?"

"Lie down and I'll give you a massage."

Justin threw back the duvet and Brian slid onto the bed lying on his stomach and deliberately keeping his towel wrapped around his hips.

"Afraid I'll get oil on your sheets?" Justin asked with a grin. He knew exactly why Brian was retaining the towel, but he was sure he'd get it off before long.

"Hmpff," was Brian's reply.

"Let me see your elbow," Justin said. Brian rolled onto his side and lifted his arm so Justin could look at his elbow. "You're going to have a good bruise there tomorrow," Justin said.

"Thank you for that diagnosis, Dr, Taylor."

"Sh," Justin ordered. "I'll put some warm oil on it and massage it gently. It might help break up the blood."

"Could you do the same for my eyes?" Brian asked. "Apparently that's what's wrong with them too."

"Really?" Justin asked as he began gently rubbing the oil into the sore elbow. He stretched and pressed just enough to make the joint feel so much better.

"They say there's blood putting pressure on the optic nerve. When it goes away I should get my sight back."

"If I could do something to take it away, you know I would," Justin said sincerely.

"What you've done already is more than I ever expected," Brian said as the warmth of the oil made his arm stop aching.

Justin smiled. "I think that's enough for that spot. Turn back on your stomach."

Brian rolled over and felt Justin pour the warm oil over his shoulders. The boy began working it into the muscles of his shoulders and back and neck. Brian sighed in contentment. The kid had talented hands. He let the warmth of the oil and the sweet scent lull him into a peaceful stupor. He felt Justin tug at his towel after a while, but he didn't protest. Everything felt too good. He felt cool air on his ass and upper legs and then some more of the warm liquid. Justin worked extra long on the hip he had landed on. It felt so soothing and peaceful to have the sure, soft hands press and caress and massage everywhere. Brian knew he was close to sleep, but he let himself go. He wanted nothing more.

Justin could tell by his steady breathing that Brian had fallen asleep. He smiled to himself. This wasn't exactly how he had wanted the evening to turn out, but he was glad he could help Brian relax and get some sleep after what had almost happened to him in the street. Justin carefully got off the bed. He left the towel underneath Brian not wanting to disturb him. He pulled the duvet up over the sleeping man. As he tucked it in around Brian's shoulders, he leaned in and kissed the cheek of this amazing man.

"Later," he said softly as he went down the steps and retrieved Brian's novel from the desk. He would read some of it and try to get his cock to calm down. It had enjoyed the view of Brian's ass far too much.

Once Justin got into the story he couldn't put it down. He folded over several pages to read again or maybe ask Brian about what was happening there or maybe get Brian to demonstrate on him. Justin sighed and squeezed his aching cock. He understood why people read porn. It could get you all excited. It wouldn't take much to get him off. He looked at his watch and it read 2:54. Christ, he had been reading for hours. He wanted to take a shower and jerk off, but he was afraid he might wake Brian.

He crept up the steps and listened. Brian was still sound asleep. He decided he would risk the shower. As quietly as he could he closed the bathroom door and started the shower. Once he was under the warm water he thought about the last part of the book he had been reading. In Brian's story the executive had just thrown his client over his desk and had fucked the man mercilessly. The client had called out and begged for me, and the executive had given him everything he asked for. Of course, he had won the big account too.

Justin jerked off imagining himself spread across Brian's desk in Brian's office with Brian's staff walking by outside not knowing what they were doing in there. Justin's hand picked up the pace as he imagined Brian's big cock plunging in and out of his ass. He could only imagine what that would feel like, and his imagination was working overtime at that moment. He pumped his dick harder and exploded against the wall of the shower. He slumped against the wall breathing hard and fighting to stay upright. He knew what he was going to do next.

Shutting off the water Justin proceeded to dry himself. Once he had accomplished that he slowly opened the bathroom door. Brian snored softly. Justin dropped his towel on the bathroom floor and walked naked to the other side of the bed, his side as he now thought of it. He raised the corner of the duvet and slid under. He could feel the heat from Brian's body and the sweet smell of the oil he had used for the massage. He moved closer until he was lying along Brian's side as the man slept on his stomach. He reached out and ran his hand along Brian's arm. The man shifted in his sleep and turned into the touch. Justin rolled onto his other side and felt Brian settle against his back spooned tightly against him. Justin sighed as he felt Brian's arm drape over his hip. He smiled contentedly. That would do for now, but in the morning… He drifted off to sleep with a smile plastered on his face.

Sometimes Saturday's weren't for shit.

-----

Brian woke with a grunt. His hips thrust up involuntarily and he could feel the soft lips and the warm moist cavern that engulfed his hard dick. He thrust harder wanting the feeling to continue but unable to stop himself. Getting off at this point was almost an involuntary action.

He heard a choking sound and stopped thrusting. Suddenly he realized what was happening. Justin!

"Justin," he said aloud.

"Mmm," he heard as the boy still had his mouth wrapped around Brian's cock.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He felt Justin's lips move up and down the shaft a couple of times and then he released the head with a pop. "I'm blowing you. I thought that would have been self-evident. Or … am I doing something wrong?" he asked hesitantly.

"What you're doing is very right. Almost perfect!" Brian gasped as he felt the lips once again moving up and down his dick. He arched his back as the need to cum became more and more pressing. "Justin!" Brian gasped. "Stop!"

Justin had no intention of stopping. He worked the shaft harder and faster. He loved what he was doing. From the moment he had awakened with Brian's dick prodding his ass to the first taste of precum that he been able to garner to what he was doing right now and to what was to come. He loved it all … and he wasn't about to stop.

"Oh God, Justin!" Brian cried as he arched his back and pumped his hips involuntarily. He couldn't stop himself and he shot his load down Justin's throat.

"Yum," Justin said pulling himself up so he could look at Brian's face, now slack jawed and relaxed. "You taste good."

"You shouldn't have done that," Brian said.

"Why? I love cock."

"Justin, you don't know me that well. I … I could be HIV positive for all you know."

Justin frowned. "But you're not, are you?"

"No, I just got tested a few weeks ago, but you shouldn't do that if you haven't asked that question already."

"How would I know if the person was telling me the truth?" Justin asked reasonably.

"You get to know who you're dealing with after a while. Besides I rarely do that to anybody. They do that to me."

"Like I just did?" Justin asked.

"Yeah, like you just did."

"Was I good? I mean … did I do it right?"

"You did just fine."

"Fine, only fine? I wanted it to be great."

"Is that the first time you ever blew anybody?"

"Yeah," Justin admitted sheepishly.

"Well, you have a few things to learn, but for a first time that was not bad."

Justin grinned. He had already learned that Brian rarely gave compliments, so he supposed that was pretty high praise from the man. "I tried some of the things that I read in your book last night."

"What! Has my novel become your new sex manual?" Brian chuckled. He tried to remember the blowjob scenes he had written for that book.

"Well, I have to learn from somewhere since you won't teach me."

"You never asked me to teach you anything," Brian said with a frown.

"What the fuck did you think I wanted you to do when I ask you to fuck me every few minutes?"

"I just thought you wanted a good fuck," Brian said thoughtfully.

"At this point I'd settle for any fuck."

"Low standards?"

"No standards! I have nothing to judge by."

"We'll just have to rectify that situation," Brian said rolling over on Justin and pinning the boy beneath him. He knew he wasn't going to fuck the kid until he could see again, but that didn't mean that he couldn't teach him some other stuff, stuff that they could both enjoy.

"Mmm," Justin whispered. "I'm ready."

Brian knew the boy was ready. "I think we'll start with a lesson in kissing," Brian said in his best professorial voice.

"Kissing? I thought you were going to fuck me … finally!"

"We need to start with the basics."

Justin let out a big sigh. Brian followed the noise and the puff of air to find Justin's lips with his own. He started slowly with a soft, warm kiss waiting until he felt Justin kiss back and demand more. Brian raised his head pulling away from the greedy lips. "Be patient and let me do the work," Brian stated.

Justin let out another long suffering breath and felt Brian's lips immediately capture his own. Brian's kiss was much more demanding this time and Justin couldn't breathe or think. All he could do was feel and it felt so right. He moaned from somewhere deep in his throat. The next thing he knew Brian's tongue was in his mouth exploring, caressing, tasting. And then it was down his throat and he thought he was going to die. He had never felt anything like this. His cock throbbed against his stomach. It was so hard he thought it might snap off as Brian rutted against him still kissing and exploring. Brian's hands were everywhere and Justin's brain was spinning out of control. His body was screaming at him, every nerve and fiber more alive than he could ever remember. Brian kept rubbing their cocks together and Justin knew he was going to cum.

"Brian," he cried as Brian released his mouth.

He came so hard he thought he'd gone blind just like Brian.

"I need a shower," Brian said with a chuckle. He stood up beside the bed. He wished he could see the kid's face. His own cock wanted attention but he would do that in the shower. "How did you like your first lesson in kissing?" Brian asked as he started to count the paces to the bathroom.

"Um … fine … just fine," Justin mumbled as he finally got his voice to work.

He could hear Brian laughing quietly in the bathroom.

Blinded

Chapter 15

Justin whisked away making scrambled eggs for himself and Brian. He wanted to surprise the man when he got out of the shower. He had cleaned himself up wishing he could go in and shower with Brian, but he knew that would be pushing things too far too soon. He had the coffee brewing and the bread ready to be dropped into the toaster. He wanted to impress Brian with this meal and thank him for his first lesson in gay sex.

He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but that was the first time he had ever got off with another man and without the use of his right hand. Who knew you could cum just from kissing … and a little strategic rubbing? He had so fucking much to learn. His smile grew bigger the more he thought about what had just happened. He was kind of glad at that moment that Brian wouldn't be able to see what a dopey kid he was.

He heard the shower shut off and knew Brian would be out in a minute or two. He dropped the bread into the toaster and poured a cup of coffee for Brian. He heard the man rustling around in the closet.

"Do you need some help?" he called out.

"No, I remember where the sweats were from yesterday," Brian stated. "Something smells good."

"Breakfast's almost ready. I poured you a coffee and the toast's about to pop. Eggs will be ready in a minute."

"Very efficient, dear," Brian said with a chuckle as he sat down at the dining room table. He carefully felt around until he found the coffee mug. He sipped and found it perfect, just the right amount of sugar. "Not bad," he commented with a satisfied sigh.

Justin smiled. "Thanks. Here's your eggs … in the middle of the plate. Toast at ten o'clock."

"Did you butter it?"

"No, but I will in a moment," Justin said retrieving his own meal from the bar.

"I like it dry."

"Yuck!" Justin reacted.

"Have to watch my girlish figure."

"Or nobody else will?" Justin giggled.

"Exactly. The gay world is very unforgiving."

"Mmm," Justin replied his mouth full of eggs. He watched Brian as he chewed. He wanted to leap across the table, sweep the dishes aside and make the man take him on the cold table top. He grinned lasciviously. He had made good progress towards his goal this morning, but he wasn't done yet.

Suddenly he thought of his mother and father. That was enough to make his dick go soft. He had to call them and report in. And he was supposed to go home tonight, not stay here with Brian. Shit! He didn't want to go home. His parents might be able to see in his face that something was different. Because something was different. Everything was different. He had experienced so much since he met Brian. And he wanted more. He wanted it all.

"I need to call my parents," Justin said after a bit. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight instead of going home?"

Brian thought about that question. He had promised that Justin would be home tonight so that he could go to school Monday morning as he normally would. But! He really didn't like the idea of being alone in the loft. What if that guy tried to get in again? "Do you think your parents would let you stay tonight?" he asked.

"I'll call them after breakfast and see," Justin said finishing up his eggs. Brian was just getting started on his. Justin cleared off his side of the table and watched Brian continue to pick at his eggs. "Don't you like the eggs?"

"They're good. I just don't eat very much and it takes time to find the food and get it into my mouth. Besides, what else do I have to do with my time?"

Justin bit his lip. He wanted to tell the big lug to get on with his lessons in Gay Sex 101, but he was pretty sure that if he pushed that issue Brian might refuse to teach him anything more. "I'll call them now and see what I can do about staying tonight. You want me to stay, right?" He needed to hear Brian say it.

"Yeah," Brian admitted. It would be a lot better than being alone, and he could give Justin a lesson in the fine art of the blowjob, not that the kid seemed to need a whole lot of instruction. He was pretty much a natural. Jesus, he needed to stop thinking like that. It was set in concrete that he wouldn't fuck Justin until he had his eyesight back, and he meant that. Why did he keep hearing the sound of cracking concrete every time he thought about the kid? He was so fucked.

Brian listened to Justin's soft voice talking to his parents. There didn't seem to be any loud altercations or contentious moments. Could it be that easy, that Justin merely had to ask? He heard the voices stop and knew Justin was standing next to him.

"So what's the verdict?"

"Thank God I was talking to mom. Dad's at the club getting in one last golf game before they close for the season. She says if I come home for an hour or two and pick up some clean clothes and my uniform for tomorrow, she'll let me stay with you. She'll cover it with Dad too."

"You wear a uniform to school?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just picturing it," Brian replied. And he was. He would really like to see it too. "Your mother seems to be very … um … understanding," he said trying to get his mind back to where it should be.

"She wouldn't be if she knew … everything. I told her I had all my homework done already and she was very impressed with that. I usually do it at midnight on Sunday."

"Punctuality is a virtue," Brian said with a smirk.

"Should I go now or is there something else you want me to do first?" Justin asked.

"I want you to get naked and crawl into my bed," Brian thought. He shook his head to clear that image, and suddenly he could have sworn he saw the silhouette of the young man standing in front of him. It wasn't clear just a lighter area in front of the total blackness that he had become used to. He shook his head again and peered towards where he thought Justin was standing. Nothing!

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked watching Brian's attempts to clear his head.

"No, no," Brian said. "I just thought for a split second … but I guess it was just my imagination."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Forget it. You go now while your father's not home. I'll be fine. And Justin, lock the fucking door."

Justin gathered up his dirty clothes and some other items and headed out. He carefully locked the door behind him. He hoped Brian would be all right while he was gone. Justin wondered what the man would do on Monday when he was at school all day. He seemed so unsure of himself when he was alone. Justin could only try to imagine what it must be like to be alone in total darkness with no hope of getting out of it. At least Brian had the possibility that down the road his sight would come back. Justin climbed into the Jeep. Brian had said he could use it so that he wouldn't be away too long. Justin thought that he could easily get used to tooling around town in the black Jeep. He wondered if Brian might let him take it to school tomorrow.

After the door banged shut and Brian heard the lock turn, he sat on the sofa staring at the windows. He had been sure that he had seen a lighter shape against the darkness. He had thought that shape was Justin. He rubbed his eyes and then slowly opened them to see if the same thing would happen again. Nothing! The darkness was total. Fuck! He had seen something; he knew he had. Maybe this was the beginning of his vision coming back. He certainly hoped so.

After several more futile eye-rubbing tries Brian decided to give up before he did some damage. If his sight was starting to come back it would take its own sweet time apparently. There was no forcing it.

Brian wondered how long Justin had been gone. Being alone made time seem to stretch on forever. He hated that feeling. He knew he needed to do something to take his mind off waiting for Justin to return. He made his way to the desk and fished around in the drawer until he found his recorder. He carried it over to the sofa and sat down. He leaned against the arm and thought about what he wanted to write.

Writing had been his escape almost all his life. No one knew that back then, not his parents or Claire or Michael. He used it to escape the world he hated. He hated his father's drinking and temper. He hated his mother's stoic silences and her religious fervor. He hated the fucking church where he was made to be an altar boy, until he rebelled at twelve and refused to go anymore. He thought maybe that was the only time his father had ever been proud of him. He had stood up to his mother, to the church, and to his fucking father who had told him to obey his mother. When he had refused to do any of that he had received the strapping of his life. He was sore for days afterward, but he was sure his father looked at him with new eyes. Brian wasn't afraid anymore. His father still let him have it every once in a while, but they both knew that Brian was getting stronger every day and his old man wouldn't be bigger than him much longer. All of this was documented in his journals. And that was the beginning of his writing.

Brian switched on the recorder and began.

Jackson' first day in Pittsburgh was spent roaming the streets. He tried to not spend any of his meager dollars, but finally as darkness began to fall he was so hungry that he bought a huge Subway sandwich and went to eat it in the park. He found a bench and sat in the shade trying to stay cool in the dying light of the summer sun.

Unwittingly or perhaps because of who he was he had found a park often frequented by gays. He saw men kissing each other openly and without fear. He could scarcely believe his eyes. There were some women too, with little kids, but obviously the women were together as couples. Jackson marveled at these new sights unlike anything he had ever seen before.

When he finished his sandwich he just sat on the bench taking it all in. After a bit a slightly older guy probably in his late twenties sat down beside Jackson.

"Like what you see?" the man asked him.

"Huh?" Jackson replied.

"I could show you some things that will blow your mind."

"Like what?" Jackson asked warily. He had never seen anything like this. He wondered what else there was to see.

"Come with me," the man said standing up.

"I … I don't know," Jackson replied. Could he trust this stranger?

"I'm going to a party. Come with me."

"A party?" Jackson asked.

"A gay party. You'll like it. Trust me."

Jackson hesitated for a moment but his need to know and experience outweighed his natural fear and common sense. He stood and hiked his backpack onto his shoulder. They set off through the park.

"Won't they care that I'm crashing their party?" Jackson asked.

"They'll love you. You're with me," the man said with a sideways glance.

Jackson felt a little strange about going with someone he didn't know, but he could use a good time for once in his life. He had no idea what he was getting into. The stranger finally told him that his name was Kyle and that Jackson should feel free to help himself to whatever was going on at the party. Jackson smiled and felt like maybe things were looking up. He could eat some food and maybe meet some people who could help him get established in Pittsburgh.

Kyle took him to a house in the suburbs. It was quite large and impressive to Jackson with his small town upbringing. No one met them at the door. They just walked in. What confronted Kyle was beyond his wildest expectations. There were men in various states of undress lying around the living room. Many were kissing, some were involved in blowjobs, but others were having anal intercourse.

Jackson felt his breath catch in his throat. These were all the things he had dreamt of doing, all the things he had read about from whatever sources he could find, all the things that had been denied to him all his life.

"So what do you think?" Kyle asked slyly watching Jackson's reaction to what lay in front of him.

"It … it's amazing," he managed to get out of his mouth.

"Let's get a drink," Kyle said. "Then you can look around some more."

"There's more?" Jackson asked as he followed Kyle to the bar set up in one corner of the room.

"Much more," Kyle said confidently. "I'll have a vodka/tonic, and make a "special" for my friend here," he said to the bartender. Jackson didn't see the wink that passed between the two. His eyes were glued to two men sixty-nining right in front of him.

"Thanks," Jackson said as Kyle tapped him on the arm and handed him a drink. He drank greedily. It tasted sweet and he could tell there was alcohol in it. "That was good. Can I have another one?" he asked as he drained the glass.

"Take it easy, sport," Kyle told him. "There's plenty more for later."

"Sure," Jackson said fairly bouncing with excitement. Whatever was in the drink was making everything seem easy and relaxed. "I want to see more."

"We can arrange that," Kyle said smugly. "Follow me."

Kyle led Jackson to some stairs leading down to what looked like a rec room. They made their way downstairs where more men were having sex. This time though there were threesomes and people strapped to the wall and a whip. Jackson recoiled a bit and started to say that maybe this wasn't the scene for him. He felt his head start to swim and he couldn't get his voice to work. He felt Kyle put an arm around him and hold him upright. He heard Kyle saying something like, "Fresh meat. Candidate for the sling. Our host gets the first go."

Brian stopped dictating. He thought he had heard something. He sat silently and listened. Someone was at the loft door. He could hear them trying to pry it back.

"Who … who's there?" he called out.

"Brian," a voice replied. "Let me in."

"Who is it?" Brian repeated. He thought the voice might be that of his scorned trick but he couldn't be sure.

"You know who I am even if you can't remember my fucking name. I've been told that the almighty Brian Kinney never remembers the names of his tricks. Well, this is one trick you will never forget."

"Go away!" Brian called out recoiling in fear. "Leave me alone."

"Not till I'm through with you. I've given you so many chances and you shit on every one of them. Now we'll do things my way."

"What … what do you mean?"

"Open the fucking door and I'll show you."

"Go away," Brian repeated. "I'm going to call the cops."

"Go ahead. Do that. They can't protect you every minute of every day. I'll be back. Count on it!"

And then all was silence. Brian lay curled into a ball on the sofa. He couldn't make himself stop shaking.

Blinded

Chapter 16

Justin slid back the loft door. He looked around and couldn't see Brian anywhere.

"Brian, where are you?" he called. He heard a muffled sound from the sofa. "Brian?" he repeated pulling the door closed and moving towards the sound. "Brian, what the fuck is wrong?" He saw Brian curled into a ball on the sofa. He pulled Brian against him and felt the man shiver. "Are you sick? What happened?"

"He was here again," Brian managed to force out of his mouth.

"What … what did he do?"

"He was trying to get in and he talked to me. He's angry because I'm not cooperating and he says he'll be back." Brian turned away from Justin pushing his face into the back of the sofa. He didn't want anybody to see him like this.

"I'm calling Detective Carver," Justin said.

"Don't bother. He says the police can't protect me every minute of every day … and he's right."

"The police can protect you. We need to call them."

"He's watching us, Justin. Whenever you go out, he comes to the door. What am I going to do tomorrow when I'm all alone?"

"You won't be all alone. I won't leave you. Fuck school!"

"You have to go to school. I'll find someone else … or … or I'll stay by myself," Brian said shakily.

"I'm not leaving you alone. I'll think of some way of doing it."

"I don't want you to get into more trouble. I should never have brought you into this mess," Brian said shaking his head.

"I still think we should call Detective Carver," Justin said adamantly.

"Maybe we should," Brian agreed with a thoughtful look on his face. He was starting to feel more like himself now that Justin was back. "If he comes to the door whenever you leave, maybe they could catch him tomorrow when you are at school."

"Fuck, Brian! That's genius. Let me get the phone."

Justin found the card and placed the call. He handed the phone to Brian who spoke at length with the policeman. When he got off the phone he didn't look very happy.

"What's wrong?" Justin asked.

"They don't have the manpower to set up surveillance on the loft. Carver as much as told me that the trick hasn't done anything that would warrant that kind of coverage."

"Shit! What the fuck are they doing? Does the guy have to break in or try to kill you before they'll do something?" Justin ranted. This really pissed him off. The police were supposed to protect you. And Brian needed protection. He was blind for fuck sake.

"Seems that way," Brian said thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm not leaving you alone tomorrow."

"You're going to school, Justin. It will make things worse if you don't. Your parents won't let you stay here at all."

"No, I'm not going to school," Justin said adamantly. "I'm staying here with you."

"You're going to school, and if you don't stop arguing about it, I'll call your mother."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would, and I will. I've been thinking about this. I'm going to call Cynthia, my assistant, and ask her to bring some work over. She can stay with me till you come back from school."

"Will she do that?" Justin asked.

"Cynthia will do whatever I ask her. She's always stuck by me."

"But then she'll find out you're blind."

"That's the other good thing about her. That girl knows how to keep a secret."

"If you're sure…" Justin said slowly. He liked being the one Brian depended on. He wasn't sure he wanted to share that with someone else.

"Then it's settled. I'll call Cynthia tonight and arrange for her to come here. You … go to school tomorrow."

"Okay," Justin agreed reluctantly. He wasn't at all sure this was the right thing to do.

"Stop thinking of ways to get out of school. You're going and I will be fine here with Cynthia."

Justin blew out a huff of protest but decided he was getting nowhere fast. "So what do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked changing the subject.

"I don't fucking know! Don't you have some more homework or something?"

"No, I don't," Justin said testily.

"Well, what would you do if you were at home?" Brian asked.

"Um … I'd probably go to Daphne's."

"Who's that?"

"She's my best friend. She lives down the street and we tell each other everything."

Brian snorted. "You sound like a schoolgirl."

"Fuck you!" Justin reacted and stuck his tongue out at Brian.

"Tongue?" Brian asked with a chuckle.

Justin giggled. "Yeah. I still want to know how you do that."

"One of my many hidden talents," Brian said tongue in cheek.

"We could practise some of your other talents," Justin suggested hopefully.

"I don't think so," Brian replied quickly. He knew exactly what kind of talents Justin wanted to have demonstrated.

"But I was reading in your novel…" Justin tried to explain.

"You shouldn't believe everything that you read in books," Brian admonished.

"But … but you wrote it. I just wanted to know if it was true."

"If what was true?"

"You had them in the 69 position, and they were trying to cum at the same time. Is it possible to time it like that … so that you both get off together?"

"Of course it is. But it takes self-control."

"Could we try that?" Justin asked with his most seductive smile and voice.

Brian snorted. "Are you trying to seduce me, little boy?"

"I certainly am," Justin said boldly.

Brian laughed out loud. "Maybe later. I could use some time to work on my book," Brian replied knowing that he was merely prolonging the inevitable. He wasn't sure he would be able to stop if they started something like that. His need to fuck Justin seemed to be growing exponentially. The more he had the kid around and the more he got to know him, the more he wanted him. But he had set some boundaries that he wasn't going to cross. The problem was that his dick didn't seem to be on the same page. It was uncomfortably hard from Justin's provocative suggestion.

"I guess I'll just have to read some more of your book, and, you realize that that will give rise to more questions that you are going to have to answer," Justin stated.

Brian groaned. "Youngsters, can't live with them, can't kill them."

"I'm not so young and you will teach me more … later."

"Go read, little boy, and let me think in peace."

Justin got up and retrieved Brian's novel from the desk. He carried it over to the chaise in the alcove and collapsed into it. He could read for a while, and from the alcove he could watch Brian and maybe listen to what he was dictating. But sooner or later he was going to get his questions answered, and he fully intended to have them answered using the tried and true hands on method.

Brian turned to face the windows knowing that he was still under the scrutiny of the young man. He wondered how to handle what was going on between them. In the past he would have had no qualms about fucking Justin the moment the kid asked, and Justin had been asking non-stop since he had found out Brian was gay. But his blindness had changed things. He had come to depend on Justin. He respected the kid in a way that never happened with tricks. He never gave himself the opportunity to get to know them. But Justin was different.

And that was the problem. He could never treat Justin like one of his tricks. The kid had come to mean too much to him. Justin had somehow managed to establish a place in Brian's life, even in the few short days that they had known each other. Brian did want to teach him to be the best homosexual he could be. He wanted to do that and he wanted to do it right … when he could see.

But his body had other ideas. Every time he came in close contact with the young man his body screamed its need to possess him. It was getting harder and harder to turn Justin down. And Justin was certainly not making it any easier for him. The kid was crawling into his bed every night and outright asking him to teach him things. How many more times could he refuse?

Justin watched Brian's back. He could tell that the man wasn't dictating anything into the tape recorder. He wondered if Brian was thinking about his novel … or about him. He hoped it was about him. He hoped that was what had Brian preoccupied. He had done just about everything he could to capture the man's attention. He smiled to himself. Maybe tonight he could get Brian to take it a step further.

Justin flipped through the book and found one of the pages where he had turned the corner over. He wanted to read that section again. If he could get Brian to do that with him he wanted to remember how it was described and see if he could work some magic of his own.

While Justin read the section he had found, Brian continued to worry about what he was going to do. Finally he knew he would get nothing further accomplished. He needed a change of environment. He needed to get out of the loft.

"Justin," Brian said.

"Huh?"

"Are you busy?"

"Hot and bothered," Justin thought to himself as he finished the section he had been reading. He needed to go into the bathroom and jerk off. "Not really," he said out loud. "Why? Do you need something?"

"Would you like to go for a ride?"

"And what kind of ride would that be?" Justin asked lasciviously.

"Not the kind you're thinking about," Brian said quickly, having caught the tone of Justin's reply.

Justin chuckled. "You're no fun at all."

"I'm a lot of fun under the right circumstances."

"Then why won't you show me?" Justin demanded.

"Justin! Get your mind out of your crotch and tell me if you want to go for a ride in the car."

"You mean in the Jeep?" Justin asked perking up. The only possible thing better than his sex education, well as good as his sex education, or maybe almost as good as his sex education was driving Brian's Jeep.

"Yes, twat! My Ferrari's in for repairs."

"Aren't they always," Justin giggled. "Very unreliable."

"So, want to go?"

"Sure. Where do you want to drive to?"

"Nowhere in particular. I just thought we could get out of here and get some different air."

"Full of exhaust fumes from other cars. Sounds like a plan to me!"

Brian stood up. He smiled to himself. Justin had a quick mind. He enjoyed sparring with the boy. There were getting to be far too many things he enjoyed about this young man. He made his way to the bedroom to put on some jeans and get his jacket. He was going to have to do something about laundry before too long.

Justin encouraged Brian to call for the elevator and take them to the ground floor. He got Brian to take the lead in getting them to the door. It was only when they stepped outside that Justin positioned himself so that Brian could take his arm.

Once they were situated in the car Justin started the engine and they took off. Justin drove through downtown telling Brian how deserted the streets were on a Sunday afternoon. Not sure what Brian wanted to do Justin circled the outskirts of the city. Finally he saw a sign that caught his interest.

"Do you mind if we make a stop and take a little walk?" Justin asked.

"Why?" Brian asked warily. He wasn't sure that he wanted to get out of the car in a strange place. So many accidents and non-accidents had happened to him lately. He felt Justin turn the car and then pull to a stop. "Where are we?" he asked trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "What are you doing?"

"It's all right, Brian," Justin said gently. "We're at Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art."

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's an art school. I've been thinking of applying here when I finish high school. I thought we could look around."

"And just what the fuck do you think I'm going to see?" Brian asked the anger in his voice clear. He hated being dragged around to places he didn't want to be and that he didn't know anything about.

"I thought I could see what the campus is like and you could walk with me. I doubt that we'll meet Mikey here," Justin said sarcastically. "But we can go back to the loft if that's what you want." Justin started the Jeep.

"Wait," Brian said. "We can walk for a bit as long as you guide me." He felt guilty for spoiling Justin's idea and for being so fucking afraid of everything.

Justin turned off the engine and they got out. Justin walked along, with Brian holding on to his arm. The boy described every building and fountain and tree and flower bed. Brian felt like he could visualize the place based on Justin's descriptions. He would have to come back when he could see and compare the images he drew from Justin's words to the real thing.

Eventually they arrived back at the Jeep. Justin helped Brian get back in and then he sat in the driver's seat. "So what do you think of it?" he asked Brian.

"I'd say you've already made up your mind that you want to go to school here. I could hear it in your voice."

Justin frowned. He did want to go there but that wasn't going to happen. "No," he said, "I haven't made up my mind."

"Oh?" Brian asked skeptically.

"My father says I'm going to business school at Dartmouth."

"An Ivy Leaguer! Well, la dee da!"

"Like I have a choice," Justin grumbled.

"You do. There's always a choice."

"If my father's paying I have to go to Dartmouth."

"Then get a fucking scholarship, or a student loan, or I'll lend you the fucking money. Just don't let your father or anyone else make you do something you know isn't right for you."

Justin stared at Brian. He knew the man was right. He would never be happy at Dartmouth, never be happy in business like his father, never be happy. Period.

"Let's go grab some takeout and go home," Brian said when Justin remained silent.

"Sure," Justin said starting the Jeep. Brian had just given him a lot to think about.

Blinded

Chapter 17

Justin parked the Jeep and they made their way into the loft building. Brian pushed the button for the elevator and they rode up. As the elevator came to a stop Brian had to ask, "Is there an envelope in front of the door?"

Justin looked through the gate and shook his head. "No," he said with a sigh of relief.

He shoved the gate up and put the takeout bag in Brian's hand while he unlocked the loft door. He pulled the heavy door back and they went inside. Immediately Brian stopped sensing something was not right.

"Justin," he said, "is anything disturbed … or out of place?"

Justin looked around. "It looks the same to me. Why?"

"It … it doesn't feel right," Brian said hesitantly.

"I don't see anything, Brian," Justin replied looking around more carefully. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. "There was no note at the door and I locked up carefully. No one has been here."

Brian let out a breath. He would have to take Justin's word for it that everything was as it should be. But that didn't explain the feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe his imagination was working overtime what with being blind and focusing on his other senses to compensate.

They ate their takeout and Justin told Brian about his art and his hope of being an artist in the future. Brian wished he could see Justin's work, but he thought the boy must be pretty good if he thought he could get into PIFA. From what Justin said about the place it was probably one of the most prestigious art institutes in the east. Brian made it clear that he would help Justin with his tuition if he got accepted, and then he had to fend off Justin's attempts to thank him.

When Justin realized that he was getting nowhere fast, he decided he better find a more neutral topic. He asked Brian about his writing. He asked about the current book that Brian was working on, wanting to know how Brian got the ideas for his stories. Brian told him that his first book had been semi-autobiographical. He had written it because his friends were always laughing at his exploits and amazed at what he got away with in business and in the bars and clubs. Brian had thought other people might enjoy a vicarious look at his life too. As long as they never knew who he really was. That was why he had become Phillip Remington in the world of writing. And the public, or some segment of it, had enjoyed his book. His first novel had achieved a modest success. Then his publisher had wanted him to write another one. Brian confessed to Justin that coming up with an idea for another book had been a lot harder than he had expected, and he refused to just rehash what he had done in the first novel.

"So what is the current novel about?" Justin asked.

Brian sighed. Nobody knew what he was writing about, but he thought it might be interesting to bounce some ideas off Justin since he had begun to pattern Jackson after some of the things he had found out about Justin. They were about the same age. "Do you remember a few months ago there was a news story about the body of a young man being found in a dumpster behind a diner on Liberty Avenue?"

Justin thought for a moment. "No, it doesn't ring a bell," Justin replied. "But I don't always pay attention to murders and bad stuff."

Brian huffed. That was typical of kids. They never dealt with their own mortality, or anybody else's for that matter. "You remember Michael from the park?" Justin nodded and screwed up his face in disgust. Brian waited for an answer not seeing the nod or the face.

"Yeah," Justin said finally, realizing once again that Brian couldn't see him.

"Michael's mother, Debbie, works at that diner. She found the body when she went to put out the trash."

"Fuck!" Justin reacted.

"Michael and a couple of other friends and I were going to breakfast at the diner that morning and saw the police cars. We saw the body in the dumpster."

"Really? What did it look like?" Justin could only imagine finding something like that. It must have been gruesome.

Brian thought for a moment. He had been fascinated by the sight too. "Dumpster Boy" as he came to be known, was young, not much older than you. He had bruises around his neck, and he was crammed into that fucking dumpster, thrown away like another piece of garbage. It was disgusting … and … upsetting … and sad."

"How did you stand to look at him? I don't know if I could have."

"It was kind of mesmerizing in some weird fucked up way. I couldn't get him out of my mind after that."

"So your book's about Dumpster Boy?"

"His name is Jason Kemp. Debbie managed to find that out. She kind of went on a crusade to solve the murder."

"Wow, if I had found that body, I wouldn't want to ever think about it again," Justin said slowly.

"Debbie always takes up a cause when she finds one. She didn't want Dumpster Boy to lie in an unmarked grave with no one knowing who he was."

"Debbie sounds like an amazing woman."

"She is. So I decided to call this book 'Dumpster Boy'."

"It's about Jason then?"

"Not exactly. Jason was Debbie's crusade. Mine was to find out about Jason's killer."

"You wanted to solve the crime?" Justin asked in amazement.

"No, but I wanted to understand what kind of a monster could do that to a young man. He was so young and anybody, hustler or not, deserved better than ending up in a fucking dumpster. The only thing the kid was guilty of was faulty judgment in going with his killer. I was interested in how someone who had done that to Jason could walk among us every day and look like anyone else, and get away with something as horrific as that murder."

"The story's about the killer then, not the victim."

"That was the idea I started out with, but since I've met you," Brian admitted slowly, "I've become more interested in Jason's side of the story, or Jackson as he is in my novel."

"You switched the point of view because of me?" Justin asked with a smile.

"Only partially. I've decided to tell the story from alternating points of view."

"Between Jason and the murderer? I like that idea."

"Glad it meets with your approval," Brian said with a chuckle.

"So who is your murderer?"

"Um … My murderer," Brian said stressing the word 'my', "is a cop."

"A cop?" Justin asked. That gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach hearing Brian say that. "How did you come up with that idea?"

"It's kind of a long story," Brian said by way of explanation. He wasn't sure how much he should tell Justin about his theories.

"I've got lots of time. I'm staying the night. Remember."

How could Brian forget? But that was a problem for later on. "This stays between us. Okay?"

"Of course," Justin promised. "I wouldn't reveal the plot of your novel."

"It's not just the novel…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I have a pretty good idea who the actual killer is," Brian said slowly.

"Fuck! You do?"

"Yeah, and I don't know that I should share that information with anyone else."

"You know who the killer is?"

"I think so."

"But … but … shouldn't you tell the police?" Justin sputtered.

"He is the police … if I'm right."

"Holy fuck!"

"I did some investigating and everything points to a certain person. I've tried to get some concrete evidence, but my leads always dry up. I haven't gone to the police because I don't know who to trust. They might be friends of this guy, or accomplices even. They might tell me to get lost and then tip off the murderer that I was snooping around. I can't say anything without proof."

"So you're just going to write about it in your novel?" Justin asked still trying to figure out this new wrinkle.

"At this point, yes."

"I still think you need to talk to the police. What about that Detective Carver that came here?"

Brian sighed. "He seems all right, but I don't really know him. I don't know where he stands in the pecking order or if he knows the cop that I think is the murderer."

"Jesus, that's kind of scary!"

"That's why I don't think I should tell you any more. In fact, I've probably told you more than I should have already," Brian sighed.

"I told you that you could trust me. It won't go any farther."

"Good, now let's drop that subject."

"Could I listen to what you were writing about Jason? I mean Jackson. Maybe I can give you some insight into young, horny gay men."

Brian snorted loudly and shook his head. Justin Taylor was something else. "Where's my recorder?" Brian said feeling around on the sofa. He was sure he had left it there when they went out.

Justin looked around not seeing the recorder anywhere. He slid his hand down behind the cushions and finally came up with it on the opposite end from where Brian always sat. He placed it in Brian's hand and waited to hear what Brian had written about Jackson.

Brian pushed the play button not sure whether he had rewound the tape or not. He expected to hear nothing and then he would rewind. The tape started in the middle with Jackson going to the orgy with the man he had met in the park. Brian pushed 'stop' and frowned. He hit rewind and heard the whir as the tape went back to the beginning. He pushed play and held the recorder out to Justin who took it to listen.

Brian turned away lost in thought. He knew he never stopped that tape in the middle. He had dictated the scene and then shut it off. That was his usual practice. Sometimes he might rewind it so it would be ready for him to listen to when he wanted to write some more, but he never left the tape in the middle of something. Somebody had been in the loft listening to that tape. That had to be what happened. It was the only explanation. But who? And how would they have gotten in? Justin was sure he had locked up properly. Brian remembered that feeling when he first stepped into the loft - the feeling that something wasn't right. This was getting out of hand. If the trick had access to the loft, then he could have gotten in yesterday when he talked to Brian through the door. It had sounded like he was trying to get in, picking the lock or something. Brian felt himself shudder involuntarily. He had no idea what he was going to do about this. Could he be wrong? Maybe he was imagining all this. He could have inadvertently stopped the tape where he had found it, but he knew in his gut that he wouldn't have left it like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Brian?" Justin asked clicking off the tape as he came to the end of what Brian had written. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"You look upset," Justin observed.

"I'm fine," Brian snapped.

"Okay, okay, just asking," Justin said raising his hands in a sign of surrender. "So are you going to describe this orgy in more detail?"

"What orgy?" Brian asked still distracted with his thoughts.

"Where the fuck are you? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure. I … I'm just tired. Going to new places takes a lot out of me."

"We could get ready for bed," Justin said using his most seductive voice.

"Fuck!" Brian reacted.

"Okay," Justin said with a grin.

"Stop that! I just remembered that I have to call Cynthia. What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"I better call her right now."

"I'll get you the phone," Justin said moving over to the desk. "Do you need me to dial?"

"No, she's number 2 on speed dial," Brian said pushing the button.

Justin wondered who number 1 might be. "I'm going to go have a shower while you do that."

"Fine," Brian replied as the phone began to ring. "Did you lock up?"

"Yes, after we came in."

"Great." Like that was going to protect him when someone had already gotten in. "Go shower. Cynthia?" he said into the phone. "I'm glad I caught you at home."

Justin moved towards the bathroom wondering if he should forego the towel when he came out and see what he could do with his naked body up against Brian's. Then he realized that the man wouldn't be able to see him. And he had already had his naked body all over Brian's. That hadn't got him too far either, at least not as far as he had wanted it to get him. He needed to think on this some more while he took his shower.

"If you bring the cellular account with you," Brian said to Cynthia, "we can work on it here."

"But why aren't you coming into the office?" Cynthia asked from the other end of the line.

"I told you that I'm not feeling well."

"That never stopped you from coming to work before. I've seen you majorly hung over and you still dragged yourself in."

"This is … different," Brian replied.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I think you'll understand when you come here tomorrow."

"If you say so," she said skeptically. "What time do you want me there?"

"Could you make it around eight?" Brian asked. He wasn't sure what time Justin had to leave for school.

"I'll try, but I'll have to drop by the office, tell them what I'm doing and pick up the materials you want. I might be a bit later than that."

"Get here as soon as you can," Brian said with a worried frown.

"I will."

"And thanks, Cynthia."

"You're welcome," she said and hung up wondering what had come over her boss.

Brian set the phone down on the sofa. He rubbed his eyes with his palms. He really was tired. It had been a long day and he was still fucking blind. As he took his hands away he was looking in the direction of the windows and for a split second he thought he saw the glow of the lights from the street.

Blinded

Chapter 18

Justin came out of the bathroom with his towel firmly wrapped around his waist. He headed for Brian who was still sitting on the sofa. He sat down beside the man before he realized that there was a smile on Brian's face unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"Brian?" he said wondering what could have happened.

"I think my sight's starting to come back," Brian whispered.

"What? You can see?" Justin asked gripping Brian's arm excitedly.

"No, no, I can't," Brian said dashing the young man's hopes. "But for a couple of seconds I'm sure I saw the glow from the street lights outside. It's the second time it's happened."

"And you didn't tell me the first time?" Justin asked his voice full of hurt and accusation.

"I thought I imagined it. It happened so fast and it was just shadowy, but this was light. I'm sure it was."

"That's great, I guess, but now you can't see anything?"

Brian shook his head. "The doctor told me that it would most likely be gradual. I guess this is what he meant."

"But it's a good thing that you could see even for a second. It must mean that you're on the road to recovery."

"Oh God, I hope so," Brian gasped. He wanted to cry. He wanted this nightmare to be over. He felt Justin's arms come around him and pull him into a warm hug. He hugged back and then they were kissing, softly and tenderly. Justin was telling him how happy he was at the prospect of Brian's sight returning and Brian was grateful to have someone to share this moment with. This was all spoken without words. Their lips and arms and bodies pressed together did the talking for them. The kiss went on and on until Justin tried to add a little tongue. At that point Brian pulled back. He knew where this was going to lead and he knew that he had promised it wouldn't happen, not yet.

Justin felt Brian draw away and he sighed. He turned away from the man, staring at the curtained windows of the loft. He could feel tears behind his eyes and he tried to fight them. Brian was rejecting his advances once more. He didn't know how many more times he could stand being shoved away before he really did break down. He wanted Brian with all his heart and his body and his soul. He didn't understand why he was so drawn to the man. He was beautiful and intelligent, but it was more instinct than rational thought. He just knew he needed Brian, and he wanted Brian to be the one, his first, last and always. Justin cleared his throat. He didn't know where that thought had come from. Brian would shit a brick if he knew Justin was thinking like that. And yet… Justin smiled to himself. He might be seventeen and totally inexperienced but he had always known all through his life what he wanted. And when he put his mind to getting something he always was successful. He wouldn't give up just yet.

Brian knew Justin was still seated on the sofa with him. The magical moment they had shared had been ruined when he pulled back. He was sorry about that but he knew he couldn't give Justin what he wanted. And he was beginning to think Justin might want too much from him, more than he would ever be able to give. He really should say something and clear the air, but when emotion was involved words always failed him. He never knew what to say.

Justin cleared his throat. "Brian?"

"I'm still here."

"Why don't you want me?"

That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question! How could he answer that? "It's not that … that I don't want you," Brian said haltingly.

"So you do want me?"

"Yes," Brian gasped amazed that the word had come out of his own mouth.

"I knew you did," Justin said triumphantly.

"But nothing's going to happen," Brian stated flatly.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Nothing . Is . Going . To . Happen," Brian repeated punctuating each word.

"You think I'm a kid, a baby. You think I don't know what I want. Well, you're wrong!" Justin declared.

"Don't tell me what I think!" Brian reacted.

"Then tell me yourself, because I don't get it!"

"I … I don't do relationships. I … I don't want to hurt you," Brian managed to get out, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"I'm not asking for a relationship," Justin stated even though he knew in his heart that was a lie. He would like nothing better than to have Brian as his boyfriend, but he knew it would probably never happen that way, and he was prepared to simply be Brian's friend. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

"It's easy to say you won't be hurt, but it's not so easy when it happens," Brian said solemnly.

"Are you talking from experience?"

"You could say that … but we were talking about you not me."

"I want you," Justin spat out knowing he had to say it. "I want you to be the one to teach me everything. I want you to be the first." He didn't continue the rest of his thought from a few moments ago. That would really freak Brian out. "If it's over after that, then I can accept it. I won't become a stalker like this guy that's after you now."

Brian snorted. "You would have to bring that up!"

"Why won't you help me?"

"Help you?" Brian snorted. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

"Do it! Help me, or at least fucking tell me why you won't."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I promised myself that I wouldn't, and I always keep my promises."

"But why?"

"You're here to help me, and I need you and appreciate what you have done for me. I'm not going to betray that trust."

"Don't you sound all high and mighty!" Justin said sarcastically.

"I mean it, Justin. I won't betray that trust, for your sake, for your parents' sake and for my own sake."

"So let me get this straight." Justin said thoughtfully. "While I'm here helping you, while you're blind, you won't fuck me. When you get your sight back, you will?"

This kid was no dummy. He could cut through the bullshit. He knew Brian was really a lowdown dog, but a dog that he wanted. And what was more; Justin seemed prepared to accept that. And that made Brian want him even more, made Brian want to be more than he really was, made Brian refuse to treat Justin like all the others. Christ! Life was complicated sometimes. "Yeah," Brian finally said. What else could he say? They both knew that it was going to happen. He might as well set the timeline.

Justin grinned and then threw himself into Brian's arms. His lips captured Brian's and they kissed once again. This time it was Justin who drew back.

"I can wait," Justin gasped breathless from the kiss. "I've waited seventeen, almost eighteen years. What's a few more days?"

"You've waited not quite two weeks and been most impatient the whole time," Brian reminded him with a wry smile.

"Whatever," Justin said in a cavalier manner. He had Brian's promise that they would fuck when he regained his vision. "I hope your sight continues to improve … quickly."

Brian chuckled. "Me too. Although I have a little more at stake than you do."

"I'm not so sure about that," Justin countered. "This will be a very big step in my life."

"Yes, it will," Brian admitted thoughtfully. "Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Sure, but I don't see why we can't continue with the kissing lessons and maybe some other exploring."

Brian groaned. Talk about a persistent little twat! "I'm going to work on my novel for a bit." Brian hoped that would distract Justin and put him off for a while.

"Are you writing the orgy scene?"

"I don't know yet."

"I could help you with that," Justin suggested with an evil grin. "We could 'explore' that avenue."

"Think you'd like S/M?"

"Don't know yet."

"I don't think it's the place to start with your gay education," Brian cautioned. "Jackson finds that out in my story."

"What happens to him after the orgy?"

"They let him stay the night and use him and abuse him. The next morning he is sore, hardly able to stand up. They throw his clothes at him and tell him to get out."

"That's pretty shitty. His first time should have been a lot better than that."

"What have I been telling you?" Brian had to say.

"But you'd never do anything like that to me," Justin said confidently.

"You don't know me nearly as well as you think you do."

"But you wouldn't…"

"Probably not, but I'm just saying that you have to be careful. Jackson went with someone thinking the guy was nice. Nice is relative and it can cover ulterior motives."

"I see," Justin said thoughtfully. He really did have a lot to learn.

"Go read something … and not my book. It makes you horny."

Justin giggled and went back to the chaise. He took Brian's novel with him. A little more education from its informative pages couldn't be a bad thing.

Brian knew what he wanted to write, and it wasn't the orgy scene. He had been to enough of those. He'd pick one from the past and just describe it. For most people it would be a revelation. For him it was old hat. It was only a small segment of the gay population that was into slings and orgies and S and M.

He put a new tape into his recorder and returned to the sofa. He would need to get some more tapes soon or else get what he had written transcribed so that he could tape over it. He pressed play.

Jackson pulled on his shirt and shoes. He didn't know where his socks had disappeared to, but nobody seemed inclined to help him, so he would leave them wherever they were. He wished he could take a shower. He felt dirty and he hurt all over especially his ass. He had very little recollection of what had happened to him, and maybe that was just as well. He rubbed his wrist which felt sore. He looked at it seeing a bruise clearly beginning to develop. A vision of the sling swept in front of his eyes. "No," he moaned as he grabbed his backpack and ran out of the house.

He ran and ran and ran. He prayed the wind rushing past his face would wipe away the dirt and the hurt and the fear. He knew about Aids and he had no idea if the men who had used him had worn condoms. He prayed they had. He felt so helpless and used and afraid. He was gasping for air as he came to an intersection. He leaned over resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The pain of someone ramming into his ass flooded through him and he knew he was going to be sick. He stumbled over to a nearby tree and threw up all over its base resting his shoulder against the tree as he retched. This was not what he had hoped to find when he came to Pittsburgh.

The smell of his own vomit made him throw up again. He moved away from the tree as soon as his legs would hold him. He walked a little ways down the sidewalk before dropping gingerly down to sit on the curb. His ass throbbed in protest but he ignored it. He was so fucking tired. And what was he going to do? His money was almost gone, and he had nowhere to go, no place to stay. He'd have to sleep in the street or a park. Somebody might mug him or kill him while he slept. He felt his shoulders shaking and heard a strangled sound. He realized that it was him crying in fear and dread. What the fuck was he going to do?

"That's so sad," Justin said from across the room.

"What?"

"What you just dictated. It's sad."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Justin," Brian said. "There are hard things out in the world, and you need to protect yourself."

"Is Jackson going to get Aids?"

"He isn't going to live long enough to find out," Brian replied.

"Fuck!"

Suddenly Brian felt very tired. "I think I'll go to bed now," he said standing up.

"Me too," Justin said quickly.

"Make up the sofa," Brian ordered.

"No, please Brian. Let me sleep with you," Justin begged. "Your bed is much more comfortable and I promise to be good."

Brian sighed. He was afraid this was going to happen. Once he had accepted Justin into his bed there was no going back. Brian knew he liked having the boy wrapped up close to him. He had never slept so well as the last couple of nights. "Okay, but no funny business."

"I promise."

"And just what are you promising?" Brian asked. He had learned from long experience that you had to be very specific with promises. He never made them unless he knew exactly what was expected from them and unless they were something he could keep. "I don't want to wake up with your mouth around my dick again." Unfortunately that was exactly how he would like to wake up. Brian shook his head. He had to get rid of those thoughts.

Justin chuckled. "I won't compromise your principles," Justin said. "You know, in the eyes of the law, I'm an adult as far as sex goes."

"Yeah, I know that the age of consent is seventeen, but that's not the problem."

"What is?" Justin asked.

"You and your hormones and … me and mine," Brian said shaking his head. He made his way up to the bathroom and decided to take a shower before getting into bed. That way he'd be ready in the morning when Justin left for school and Cynthia arrived. That was a whole other thing he would have to deal with.

When Brian came out of the bathroom some time later he knew Justin was already in the bed. "Comfortable?" Brian asked with a smirk.

"Very," Justin said watching Brian wrapped in his towel, and then catching a glimpse of what he so desperately wanted as Brian dropped the towel and climbed into bed next to him.

"Brian," Justin said after a minute or so.

"What?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For teaching me some ground rules. For looking out for me. For trying to protect me from what happened to Jackson."

"Jackson's just a fictional character," Brian said finding it hard to accept thanks for protecting the one he wanted to ravish.

"But he's also Jason. And he's also every gay, inexperienced kid who comes to the big city looking for some kind of life."

"Yeah, he is," Brian admitted.

"So thanks," Justin said leaning over and giving Brian a chaste kiss. He snuggled down so his head rested on Brian's chest and his arm lay on Brian's stomach. He just needed to touch the man.

Brian was about to push the boy away, but it felt too right having him there safe and protected and in his arms. He felt Justin wiggle a couple of times, and then his steady breathing told Brian that he had fallen asleep already. Brian cradled the boy gently liking the feel of the warm body, so trusting and sweet. It would be a long time before he got to sleep, but that was okay. He liked where he was, where they both were.

Blinded

Chapter 19

Brian awoke with a start. The last thing he remembered was Justin asleep on his chest. But the boy was no longer there. Brian reached out to Justin's side of the bed, but he knew it was empty. He sat up, disappointment written all over his face. He was about to call out for Justin when he heard the shower go off and knew that was where his minder was. He smiled at that thought. Justin had done a good job of taking care of him. He knew that he had received another good night's sleep with his little tempter wrapped firmly against him.

"Fuck!" he said out loud as he realized that they had not discussed the coming evening. Justin was expected back at home and Brian would have to stay alone. He shivered at the thought.

Justin came back into the bedroom wearing his underwear. "Morning, lover," he said suggestively as he saw Brian sitting up in bed. "Can you see this morning?"

Brian snorted. "Yeah, right, I'm just sitting here waiting to plow your tight little ass," Brian said sarcastically. He wasn't in the best of moods following his realization about the night to come.

"I take that as a no," Justin said with a chuckle.

"What time is it?"

"Just about eight."

"And no sign of Cynthia yet. What time do you have to leave?"

"That depends on whether you let me take the Jeep or you make me ride the bus."

"Take the fucking Jeep," Brian snapped.

"In about a half hour then. Why are you in such a bad mood? You were sleeping like a baby when I got up."

"None of your fucking business!"

"Brian?" Justin asked in bewilderment.

"I need to piss," Brian said getting up and making his way to the bathroom.

Justin watched him go. He frowned and wracked his brain trying to figure out what had set Brian off. The man had been sound asleep. What could have happened? A bad dream?

Justin pulled on the rest of his uniform and gathered up his books and backpack. He went down to the kitchen to grab a bagel. He decided to toast it before he left. He put some coffee on for Brian. When his bagel popped out of the toaster he was tempted to grab it and just leave. Brian was in such a foul mood. But they hadn't made any arrangements for that evening. And then it dawned on him. He was supposed to be at his parents that night. Brian would be alone once Cynthia left. That must be what was upsetting him. Brian was worried and scared, yet he couldn't bring himself to ask Justin if he could return to the loft. He'd suffer in silence. There was so fucking much to understand about Brian Kinney. Justin wondered if he would ever figure it all out.

Brian came out of the bathroom and Justin banged his knife on the counter so the man would know he was still there. "Haven't you pissed off yet?" Brian asked with a snarl.

"Cynthia isn't here yet. I want to meet her."

"She said she might be late. She has to stop at the office first."

"I want to meet her," Justin repeated. "I made coffee."

"Thanks," Brian said as he finished pulling on some clothes. Justin set a mug of coffee down on the table. Brian sat down.

"It's right in front of you," Justin said. He watched Brian reach out and make contact with the cup. "How late will Cynthia be able to stay with you today?" Justin asked deciding to take the bull by the horns.

"Don't know."

"I'm supposed to go home for dinner, but … I could ask my mother to let me come back to spend the night."

"You could?" Brian asked. Justin could hear the anger disappear and the hope return in that short question.

"I don't want you to be alone. You know that, don't you?" Justin asked wrapping his arms around Brian's neck and giving him a kiss.

"Yes, dear," Brian said trying to be more sarcastic than it sounded.

Justin chuckled as the buzzer went off. He went to the intercom and told Cynthia to come up. Brian sat at the dining room table nursing his cup of coffee. He tried to steel himself for Cynthia's concern and possible pity. He knew he would never be ready for that.

"Hi, I'm Justin Taylor. I've been staying with Brian for a few days," Justin introduced himself to the pretty, blond lady.

"Hello, Justin. I'm Cynthia. Where's Brian?"

Justin cocked his head toward Brian's seated form at the table. He said, "I just wanted to meet you. I have to get to school. Bye, Brian." Justin ran down the stairs knowing that if he really pushed it he might make it to school on time.

"So what the fuck is going on?" Cynthia asked pulling the loft door closed. "Vance is having a fucking bird!"

"Grab a coffee and I'll fill you in. Oh, and lock the door."

Cynthia glanced at Brian wondering about the lock business, but she did as he had requested. She grabbed a mug and poured some coffee carrying it over to the table. She sat down across from her boss whose eyes seemed glued to his coffee cup. "Spill!" she ordered.

"I'm blind."

"Wh… What the fuck did you just say?" she sputtered almost spitting her mouthful of coffee at him.

"You heard me."

Cynthia studied him carefully noting the way he looked down and refused to make contact with her eyes. There was a slight discoloration around the eye area. "What happened?" she asked finally comprehending and believing what he had just said.

"I was mugged a few days before I called you that first time. I called from the hospital. There was head trauma. I was in a coma for a couple of days and the optic nerve was damaged."

"Oh, my God," she reacted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"They say my sight will come back. There's pressure on the nerve, pooled blood or something. I kept hoping it would just go away. But not yet."

"Jesus, Brian, you should have told me."

"There was nothing anybody could do except come to the hospital and heap pity on me."

Cynthia shook her head. She knew pity would be the last thing Brian wanted. "And when have you known me to offer pity. I should kick your ass for keeping it from me."

"Down girl," Brian chuckled. It was nice to talk to Cynthia. He could always depend on her. And there was no bullshit involved.

"And just who is this Justin Taylor that met me at the door?"

"He's doing community service."

"By living here with you?" she demanded.

"It's a long story, but he has been a big help. I'd still be in rehab if it wasn't for him."

"You do have friends, you know. I'm sure Michael would have stayed with you."

Brian glared at his assistant. He didn't want to get into that with her or anyone else. "Did you bring the cellular account?" he asked deliberately changing the subject.

"I did, but how are you going to work on it when you're…"

"You can say it," he said when Cynthia hesitated. "I'm blind. I figure I can tell you my ideas and you can draw them up on the computer."

"You have … ideas?" she asked still disturbed by what had happened to her boss and unsure exactly what he wanted her to do.

"I have nothing else to fucking do, other than sit around and think all the time. It's my eyes that don't work, not my fucking brain."

"I … I didn't mean it like that," she said softly.

"I know. I'm just a little touchy these days. Can we get started?"

They spent the rest of the day working. Cynthia was quite surprised at what they could accomplish. Brian seemed to be able to describe his vision of the account and she worked it out on the computer. Cynthia made them lunch and then they got back at it. She was amazed how much they actually accomplished. When Brian said he had had enough, she saved what they had done. She asked Brian how he wanted her to handle the office rumor mill which had been running rampant with his extended absence.

"I'm actually getting a glimmer of light every once in a while," Brian explained carefully.

"You mean your sight is coming back? That's great!"

"It is, but it's just a flicker and it's only happened once or twice. Most of the time I'm in total darkness. I don't want anyone to know about this, so just tell them that I … broke my leg … or something, and I have to work from home."

Cynthia chuckled. "I'll come up with something," she said.

"Is there anything else you want me to do while I'm here?"

"Could you find someone to type out some stuff I've been writing … a transcribing service or something?" Brian asked.

"I can do it for you. I still type almost ninety words a minute."

"Thanks, but I don't think this would be your cup of tea," Brian said not really wanting Cynthia to know about his novel.

"What do you mean? Are you writing some gay sex or something?"

"Actually … yes," Brian said with a smirk. He should know better than to think he could keep something from her.

"You're kidding … right?"

"No," Brian said shaking his head.

"Let me at it," Cynthia said with a laugh. "I could use some provocative sex."

"I don't think that would be a good idea. Just find me a service to do it."

"Sure," Cynthia said disappointed. She was kind of hurt that Brian wouldn't share this with her. She went to the desk and found the phone book. She quickly arranged for the company to send a courier to pick up the tapes. "It's all arranged," she said coolly when she was finished.

"Cynthia, it's nothing against you. I just don't think I want to mix my business and private life."

"Of course, Boss, no problem at all," she replied formally. "Where are these tapes? The courier will be here in half an hour."

"In the desk drawer. Shit!" Brian reacted. "When I send these away I'm out. I won't be able to work on my writing."

"Want me to go down the street to that electronics store? They would probably have some."

"Could you? That would be great."

Cynthia grabbed her coat and went to the door. She unlocked it and started to pull it back when she gasped in surprise and jumped back. "Fuck!" she said taking a quick breath.

"What's wrong?" Brian asked concerned.

"I thought I saw someone standing just outside the door," she said looking out. "Scared the shit out of me, but there doesn't seem to be anybody there now. Where could they have gone?"

"From here? Maybe up to the roof, but I don't know who would be going up there this time of year."

"It must have been my imagination. There's no one out there. Do you want to lock the door behind me?"

"Yeah," Brian said as he made his way over to her. When she stepped out he quickly pulled the door closed and locked it.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," she called out as she headed down the stairs.

"Hurry back," Brian replied more to himself than to Cynthia.

He leaned against the firmly closed and locked door. He wondered who could have been hanging around out there. It could have been the stalker. But Cynthia hadn't mentioned an envelope. He hadn't received one for a couple of days now. Maybe the guy had given up. He hoped so. But it could have been him planning to leave another message when Cynthia interrupted him.

Suddenly the phone rang and Brian just about jumped out of his skin. He counted his way over to the desk and felt around for the cordless.

"Hello," he said tentatively.

"Brian?" Justin asked.

"Yeah, who did you expect?"

"I thought Cynthia would probably answer. She hasn't gone home already, has she?"

"No, but she's out running an errand. She'll be back soon."

"I have some bad news. I'm at home and it's started to snow. There's supposed to be the first big storm of the year tonight."

"Did you call to give me the weather report?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"No, of course not, but my parents don't want me to drive in it. I thought I might have been able to talk them into letting me come over, but now there's no way."

Brian sighed. "Could you take a cab?"

"They don't want me to go out, but they said I could come over tomorrow after school and stay with you. Will you be all right till then?" Justin asked hopefully.

Brian knew he didn't want to lay a guilt trip on the young man who had already done way beyond the expected for him. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I said, I'll be fine," Brian repeated with an edge to his voice.

"If you need me for any reason, just push 9 on speed dial."

"You programmed your number in?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, just in case you needed me. And, if you do need me, just call. I'll come immediately. I don't care what my parents say."

"Listen to your parents. I'll … I'll be fine," Brian said hoping he could somehow get through the night alone.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Justin asked hearing something in Brian's voice.

"I told you I'll be fine. Cynthia should be back any minute."

"Make sure you get her to fix you some dinner," Justin counseled.

"Yes, dear," Brian snarked. Why did he keep calling Justin that?

"I better go," Justin said. But remember. Call me if you need anything."

Brian cut the connection and took a deep breath. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.

Blinded

Chapter 20

Brian sat on the sofa and listened to the radio. He had found a station that was reporting on the big snowstorm that was in the process of pummeling Pittsburgh. It was a good thing that Justin was safe at home and not out on the roads where the number of accidents was growing by the minute. Cynthia had decided to leave after making him a sandwich and some soup. He had eaten the soup while it was hot, but he had little appetite for the sandwich. His stomach was in a knot being left all alone in the loft for the whole night.

Once the weather report was over Brian got up and walked to the windows. He used to like to look out from his perch above the masses, down at the little people on the street, out at storms like the one that was currently raging, or out at the sunshine on a bright day.

He wished he could see the storm. He wished he could see anything. He had been hoping all day for another glimmer of light or a movement of shadows. Unfortunately he had not seen anything except the perpetual darkness that he was all too familiar with. Brian sighed and went to the stereo to turn off the radio. He sat down deciding that he would try to work on his novel.

He found the recorder complete with the new tape that Cynthia had put in for him. She had sent his other tapes off to the transcribing service. They would be returned all typed up in a couple of days. He had asked for a hard copy and also to have it saved to disc so that he could load it on his computer … when he got his sight back. Everything hinged on that. When would that be? Right now would be nice. He sighed as he stared out into the darkness. But apparently it would not be now. Fate seemed to have other plans for him.

Brian thought about what he had last dictated for his novel. He had been concentrating on Jackson's side of the story. Somehow that seemed appropriate while Justin was around. Being without the company of the young man Brian decided he wanted to write about Stryker and how he disposed of the body. He thought about that for a minute. Most writers would find his method of writing very bizarre. He was sure they all wrote in a linear fashion from the beginning to the end. He, on the other hand, wrote whatever caught his imagination at the moment. He would assemble it all later. It was much easier to do that on the computer where he could cut and paste. He could load what was on the transcribed disc and organize everything later… when he could see.

Brian wondered how Stryker would have transported the body of Jackson to that dumpster behind the Liberty Diner. He supposed that fear gave a person extra strength, a huge adrenaline rush. Stryker would need that if he was going to lift Jackson into that dumpster.

Unless … unless he had an accomplice. That sent Brian's mind off in a whole new direction. Who would his accomplice possibly be? Would they both have abused the boy? Would the accomplice be one of Stryker's lovers or a neighbor or another policeman? Jesus, Brian shivered at that thought. No, Stryker would work alone and the adrenaline rush would account for his ability to carry Jackson's body and throw it in the dumpster.

Brian pushed the 'record' button and started.

Stryker dragged the nude body of Jackson to the edge of the bed. He struggled to put the boy's clothes back on not wanting any remnants of the boy to remain in his house. When he finally accomplished that he squatted slightly and pulled the boy onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He staggered slightly as he righted his load. Slowly he made his way towards the garage. If he could get the kid into the trunk he would be able to drive the body away from his home, away from any possible connection with him.

As he slammed the trunk shut, Stryker blinked wishing that was the last time he would have to look at the dead, cold body he had just carried out. But he would have to do that once more when he found a place to dispose of it. Stryker leaned against the back of his car trying to get his breath back. The kid was heavier than he looked and it had taken a lot out of Stryker carrying him from the bedroom to the garage. Thank God he had a door from the house into the garage, and he didn't have to carry the body outside where someone could have seen him.

Stryker pushed the button to open the garage door. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. He wished he had a plan of what he was going to do with the body, but he didn't. He just knew that he had to get it out of his house.

He put the car in reverse and started to back down the driveway.

Brian shut off the recorder. He played back what he had dictated. It sounded plausible. Maybe he needed to make Stryker struggle a little more with the body. He sat lost in thought when he thought he heard something from outside the loft door. He sat up and turned towards the door, his ears straining for any repetition of the sound. He heard nothing.

He was sure the door was locked. That was the last thing he had done when Cynthia left. He sat in silence listening, waiting. He wondered what time it was. He had eaten his sandwich long after Cynthia left. He hadn't really wanted it, but she had gone to all the trouble of making it, and she would return in the morning to chew him out if she found it uneaten. Then he had listened to the radio for a while, finally finding news about the storm. He wasn't sure what station or what time that had been. And then he had worked on his book. He wondered if it was midnight yet.

There it was again, some kind of scraping noise against the loft door. Was somebody trying to get in? Brian recoiled in fear. This was his worst nightmare, being alone and blind and having someone break in. He listened intently concentrating all of his attention on the door. His legs came up and he wrapped his arms around them curling into a sitting fetal position.

There was the noise again. He was sure he heard it this time. It was all he could do to stop himself from whimpering out loud. He waited. What else could he do? He didn't think anyone could get in. They would go away eventually. They had to. He reached for the phone thinking that he could dial 911 if he needed to. He had set it on the sofa after he talked to Justin. Where the fuck was it? He felt all around, but to no avail. He couldn't find it.

And then he heard the loft door being pulled back. Someone was coming in.

"Justin?" he said hopefully.

"Afraid not!" a strange voice said.

"Who … who are you?" Brian demanded trying to sound brave and powerful. "How did you get in?"

"I have my ways," the voice replied.

"What do you want?"

"Get up!"

"What?"

"Stand the fuck up!" Brian hoped his shaking legs would support him as he stood up. "Start walking."

"Where … where are we going?" Brian asked in an unsteady voice.

"Shut up and walk."

"But I can't see."

"I know. Walk!"

Brian began to move forward reaching out with his foot to see if anything was in his way. He knew how to get around the loft but his brain didn't seem to be functioning very well at the moment, and he didn't know where the fuck this guy wanted him to go. After a few tentative steps, he stopped.

"Keep moving. Turn to the right."

Brian did as directed. He could feel the man behind him. He stopped once again. "I … I don't know where I'm going," Brian said trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I do. Move."

Brian continued to walk slowly forward.

"Turn left," the voice ordered. Brian took a few more steps. "Now right." Again Brian slowly followed the instructions. He thought maybe he was outside the loft. The floor felt different on his bare feet. "Climb the stairs."

"Stairs?" Brian asked. "But all that's up there is the roof."

"Smart fellow. That's your fucking problem. Too smart! Climb!"

Brian felt for the wall and used it to help guide his feet up the stairs. What was this guy going to do with him? There was a fucking blizzard outside and he had no shoes, and no coat. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He would freeze to death up there. And then it hit him. This guy was going to kill him. He continued to climb trying to think what to do. He was going to die.

"Why are you doing this?" Brian asked with a shaky voice.

"Shut up!"

"If you're going to kill me what difference does it make if you tell me why?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out yet?"

"Not as smart as I thought, but you've come way too close."

"Too close to what? What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian demanded.

"Shut up. We're almost there."

Brian knew he was running out of time. What could he do? Once he was out on that roof he was at the mercy of the elements … and this man. He wondered if he would be pushed from the rooftop or left there to freeze. It didn't much matter. He'd be dead either way. One would be fast and one slow. He tried to pick one. Maybe freezing was preferable. He remembered reading that you got sleepy and when you drifted off you just never woke up. That would be all right. Besides he didn't like the idea of being a deformed puddle on the curb of Tremont Street. He shivered with fear.

"Stop," the man commanded. Brian halted and waited. He could feel the man beside him and the blast of cold air told him that the door to the roof was now open. Brian knew this would be the only chance he might have to save himself. He reached for the man and when he made contact with his body, he shoved as hard as he could trying to push the man down the stairs. He prayed the guy would trip on the steps and fall to his death. He felt the man grab hold of him and for a split second Brian thought they both were going to go flying down the stairs.

Suddenly the man seemed to right himself and Brian knew his plan had failed. Brian felt himself being shoved unceremoniously out into the snowstorm. His feet did not make the last step and he sprawled awkwardly into the snow on the roof.

"Get up!" the man commanded.

Brian stayed still. He wasn't going to help this guy kill him. He felt a hand grab his hair and yank it with enough force that Brian thought he would be bald in that spot. He had no choice but to rise with the extreme pain in his scalp. He stood shakily feeling the wind whistle around him and the snow cover his face. He was trembling violently. He wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the fear.

"Walk," the man ordered.

"Wh … Where?" Brian stammered.

"Doesn't matter, just move."

Brian took a few steps. He had no idea how close he was to the edge of the roof. "Please!" he gasped.

"Shut up and keep walking."

Brian took a few more steps and then his leg hit something. It had to be the short wall that surrounded the roof. He had reached the end.

"Now jump!"

"I … I can't," Brian pleaded.

"Jump! Now!"

Brian turned around and looked up to the heavens. He never prayed. He had given that up when he had stopped being an altar boy. But at that moment it seemed like the right thing to do. It had to be the last remnant of the good Catholic upbringing he had received. He raised his foot.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" a voice yelled into the storm.

Brian felt a hand shove him and then there was the sound of running feet. Brian teetered on the edge trying to regain his balance. His raised foot hit the top of the wall and it stopped his forward momentum. That was probably what saved him from going over the edge. Suddenly arms came around him and pulled him back from the brink. He leaned into the embrace and let the tears come. Someone had saved him.

"Let's get you inside," the voice said. Brian felt himself being half dragged half carried back into the building and down the stairs. He was numb from the cold and from fear and from relief. He let himself be led. He was relieved to have someone make all the decisions for him.

Brian was shivering uncontrollably. He heard his savior tell him to climb the steps up to the bedroom. He felt his clothes being removed. He did not protest. Arms led him to the shower and shoved him in under the warm water. He stood unmoving letting the warm water pour over him. Gradually he could feel the warmth seep into his system. He could feel some of the numbness ebb away. He heard the shower door open and someone led him out drying him off tenderly. He was led to the bed and he sank into the sheets feeling the duvet come up and cover him. He felt it being tucked in around his body. He relished the warmth and safety.

"Brian," a voice said. "You're all right now. I'm here and I'll protect you."

Brian closed his eyes. He felt his savior pull him over against his body and he knew he was clasped in the man's embrace. It felt so good. His head fell against the strong chest and he let himself drift.

He had survived. He was so sure he was going to die up there on that roof, but somehow with the help of this man he had cheated death. He was still alive and now he was warm and safe.

He felt the man rock him gently in his arms. It felt so good, so soothing.

"Brian, remember that I'm here. I won't let anybody hurt you."

With that, utter exhaustion overtook Brian. He felt reality slip away and he slept safe and sound in the arms of this man who loved him.

Blinded

Chapter 21

Brian awoke with a start.

He felt all around the bed. Nobody was there. He was warm and safe and somewhat rested. What the fuck had happened? He turned over wondering what time it was. He pulled the faceless clock off the nightstand and carefully felt the hands. Little hand on the two, big hand on the six. It was two-thirty. He thought carefully. Was it night or afternoon?

Suddenly the events of the night started coming back to him. Someone had tried to kill him. Someone had saved him. Where were these people? What had happened?

"Is anyone there?" Brian called out with some trepidation.

"I'm here. Don't be afraid," a voice said from the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush.

"Who … who are you?" Brian drew back wondering who this person was. The voice sounded kind of familiar and it didn't sound threatening.

"You should recognize my voice."

"My stalker?" Brian surmised suddenly sure who he was dealing with.

Trent made a face but he knew Brian couldn't see it. "My name's Trent but I knew you didn't remember it."

"You … you saved me … up on the roof."

"Yeah."

"Why?" Brian asked. "I thought you were the one who was after me."

"Apparently I'm not the only one. You certainly know how to win friends and influence people. What the fuck have you been up to?"

"I wish I knew," Brian said solemnly. He didn't understand what would have caused someone to try to kill him.

"You know that you pissed me off big time!" Trent said.

"Yeah, I guess, but most tricks know the score before they come home with me."

"Maybe I don't want to be 'most tricks'."

"I got that already," Brian admitted.

"So maybe you pissed somebody else off even more than me."

"I can't think of anybody," Brian said trying to think of a trick that he had had a really bad time with.

"Too many to choose from?" Trent asked sarcastically.

"What was your name again?" Brian asked.

"Fuck! You are one motherfucking son of a bitch!"

"That's me, so why do you want anything to do with me?"

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing." Trent frowned as he studied this man who had been the object of his fascination, his obsession, for so many weeks.

"Of course, I am the best fuck in town," Brian said some of his bravado returning.

"You had to remind me," Trent said shaking his head.

"So what was your name?"

"Trent."

"So Trent, how the fuck did you know we were up on that roof?"

"I was making another delivery to your door."

"In the middle of a fucking blizzard?"

"I'm nothing if not dedicated," Trent said the irony of that statement not being lost on either of them.

"That's for sure."

"I've been watching your place every chance I got since the night we were together."

"But you have to understand that there can never be anything between us," Brian said slowly.

"Because of that blond kid?"

Brian knew he meant Justin. "No, because I don't do relationships. And I don't do repeats."

"Never?"

"Never."

"You're lying to me. That kid's been here all weekend."

"We … we haven't fucked," Brian said. Technically that was correct. This guy didn't need to know anything else. "He's just staying with me because I'm blind."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth."

There was a long silence. Brian wondered if he had gotten through to Trent, if he finally understood they were nothing to each other. Except … except now he owed his life to this man.

"Is the kid coming back?" Trent asked.

"He should be here this afternoon, after school."

"He's a fucking schoolboy? I didn't know you were into chicken."

"I'm not. I told you he helps me … to cope … with the blindness."

"Is it permanent, the blindness I mean?"

Brian debated telling Trent that his blindness was permanent. Maybe he wouldn't want anything to do with damaged goods. Then he decided he at least owed the truth to this man who had saved his life. "They say my sight will return. There's pressure on the optic nerve. When the pressure lessens, I should be able to see."

"That's good. I wouldn't have hurt you, you know."

"You were outside the loft door that day, and you talked to me. You sounded like you wanted to hurt me … or Justin."

"I was angry that he was taking my place, angry that you let him look after you, this Justin, the blond?"

"That's his name, yeah."

"And you remember his name, but not mine." Trent was obviously not pleased by that revelation.

"He's been with me for over a week."

"Yeah, I saw him at the rehab center."

"You were there?" Brian asked with a twinge of fear. "Were you watching me?"

"A few times. I even told you that it was 'me' once."

"I remember that," Brian admitted thinking back to that whispered word. "How did you find me at rehab?"

"I was dropping off an envelope at the loft when the elevator started to come up. You had been missing for a few days and I thought it might be you. I hid in the stairwell and watched that kid unlock the door and go in. I was really pissed when I saw that. I knew he must know where you were, so I waited and followed him when he came out. He took my message to you."

"Yeah, he brought me the envelope."

"Then I knew where you were and I could watch you."

"Did you steal my tape?"

"Yeah," Trent admitted with a little chuckle. "I erased the blond's message and left you one of my own."

"You heard me playing his message, didn't you?"

"Yeah. You called out asking who was there, but I was angry at you and I left. But I came back in the middle of the night and stole the tape out of the recorder. I took it home with me and the next day I made my message for you. I had to buy a fucking recorder of my own to do it. And then I put the tape back that night."

"I wondered how anyone could have done that."

"It wasn't hard," Trent said. Nothing had been too much for him to do … for Brian.

"You never finished telling me how you knew we were on the roof. You couldn't have seen us from the street."

"I didn't. I was coming up to the loft to leave you another message. I still have it in my coat pocket," Trent said thoughtfully. "When I got to the landing your door was wide open. I couldn't believe my eyes, knowing you were blind, and knowing that you were afraid when I talked to you through the door. I came inside and nobody was here. I was worried. I had come up the stairs and I didn't meet anyone, and I never heard the elevator being used. The only other place was the stairs to the roof, unless you were gone somewhere else entirely, but that didn't seem likely in a snowstorm. And why would you have left the door open?"

"So you came up to the roof and saved my life."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Did I thank you for that?" Brian asked.

"Not yet."

"Well, consider yourself well and truly thanked. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shouted at the guy when you did. Actually I do know, and it's one hell of a long step off the edge."

"That didn't happen, thank God."

"Did you see who was up there with me?" Brian asked realizing that Trent might be able to identify who had tried to kill him.

"I saw him, but not clearly. The snow was blowing so hard and it all happened so fast. He had a dark jacket and a hat pulled down almost over his eyes. And those eyes! Cold and scary! He looked right at me as he ran past."

"I wish you had tripped him … or something," Brian said thoughtfully. "Maybe this would finally be over if you had."

"And if I had taken the time to do that, you might be lying dead on the street."

"I forgot that part," Brian said with a rueful sigh.

"I was so scared … when I saw you at the edge of the roof."

"That makes two of us," Brian said with a wry smile. He had come so close to going over. "Do you think you could identify the guy if you saw him again?"

"I hope to hell never to see that bastard again! I'd kill him with my bare hands."

"Thanks, I think," Brian said.

"I mean it," Trent said sincerely. "I didn't know what to do after I got you back down here. You were shaking and so cold and I was afraid if I didn't get you warmed up, you might be seriously ill."

"You put me in the shower," Brian said vaguely remembering.

"Yeah, and then I wrapped you in the duvet and rubbed you until you fell asleep."

"I can't believe I slept after all that," Brian said shaking his head in disbelief.

"It was probably the best thing you could do. You feel all right now, don't you?"

"I … I'm fine, and I owe it all to you … Trent."

"You remembered," Trent said with a big smile. It felt good that Brian knew who he was now. He couldn't stand being some nameless trick.

"I'll never forget it again," Brian promised.

"I'm glad. It … it makes me feel better."

"Good, but you understand we can never be more than … friends," Brian stated wanting to make sure that Trent understood they would not fuck again.

"I'm beginning to understand. I would like to be your friend though."

"You already are."

"I … I suppose I should have called the police after what happened on the roof."

"Why didn't you?" Brian asked realizing that they should do just that.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right first … and I wasn't sure what might happen to me."

"To you?"

"I have been … stalking you. I was afraid they would arrest me. I still haven't called. In fact I was getting ready to leave when you woke up. I had to piss and I was thinking while I was in the bathroom that I should just leave. Get out while the going was good! You're safe now and you don't want me around. I should go right now."

"No," Brian said. "Don't go. Don't leave me alone. And we do need to call the police."

"Will you have them arrest me?" Trent asked fear evident in his tone.

"Fuck no! You saved me. I wouldn't do that to you. Plus the cops already told me that leaving notes at my door is not really a crime. You didn't actually threaten me. It was more Justin that you wanted to get rid of."

"That's for sure," Trent admitted. "But I don't think I should get involved in this other stuff."

"You have to," Brian said desperately. "You're the only one who saw the guy. You can tell them what happened better than I can."

"Why did you open the door for that guy?"

"I didn't. I heard someone scratching at the door, and I thought it was you." Trent grimaced. "The next thing I knew he was in the loft ordering me around," Brian explained.

"Did he beat you up?"

"No, just told me to walk and he directed me to go to the roof. I followed his instructions."

"I didn't see a gun or anything."

"He probably knew I was helpless. I just did what he told me," Brian said feeling like a fool.

"He almost killed you, Brian. You need to report it to the cops. And … and he could come back. It sounds like he had some kind of key or he picked the lock to get in."

"Will you stay with me until the police come?" Brian asked.

"I'll stay."

"There's a card on the computer desk. Call it and ask if Detective Carver can be reached. He's the one I've been dealing with."

"I'll call now. Where's the phone."

"I couldn't find it last night when I heard him trying to get in. I think it's somewhere near the sofa."

"I'll find it and make the call," Trent said going to the sofa and seeing the phone wedged down by one of the cushions.

"And Trent, I really do appreciate everything you've done," Brian called to him.

Trent smiled and dialed the number on the card.

Blinded

Chapter 22

Brian had dressed and he and Trent had made a pot of coffee. Neither of them would get any more sleep that night. Trent had called the police using the number Carver had provided on his card. Brian had talked to some detective at the station. He was told that Detective Carver was not scheduled to be in until the morning. However, the cop promised to call Carver even though it was four in the morning. Brian felt better about talking to Carver than somebody that he had never met before … or maybe somebody that he had met. He shivered at the thought.

When Brian had mentioned attempted murder he could tell by the reaction on the other end of the line that he had really gotten their attention. The detective had wanted to come right over, asking if Brian had been injured. Brian told him the whole story but he insisted that he wanted to talk to Carver, no one else. Finally that was when the man had agreed to call the detective at home.

Brian and Trent sat at the dining room table drinking coffee and talking. Brian got to know his former trick in a way that he never had with any of the others. He had never given any of them a chance. All he wanted from them he had had in bed. Once that release was over he had wanted them to disappear. After talking to Trent Brian had to wonder how many other men he might have liked and wanted for friends if he had only given them a chance. He'd never know.

Trent told Brian about working in an insurance office. It was a boring and tedious job, but it provided him with a livelihood regardless of how "unlively" his existence was. He wanted to be a writer and had truly loved Brian's first novel. He said the main character was just the kind of gay man that he wished he could be. Brian snorted but refrained from informing Trent that the character was based on him. He just said that he had known many executives like that character.

Brian and Trent waited not knowing how long it might take Carver to arrive, or if he would arrive at all before daybreak. A little after five a.m. the buzzer sounded signaling Carver's presence. Trent buzzed him up.

Detective Carver entered the loft giving Trent a cursory look. He went directly to Brian who was still sitting at the table.

"Mr. Kinney, someone tried to kill you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Brian replied.

"Tell me what happened."

Brian proceeded to tell the detective about the harrowing events of a few hours earlier. The detective listened carefully and made some notes. As Brian got near the end of his story, he told about how Trent had saved him from falling over the edge and had brought him safely back to the loft. The detective looked appraisingly at the other man.

"And what's your full name?" he asked Trent.

"Trent Marchment."

"And what were you doing on that roof, Mr. Marchment?"

Trent hesitated not quite knowing how to answer that. "Trent's my stalker," Brian said for him. "He's the one who has been sending those notes."

"And now he's here in your apartment? Isn't that rather odd? Are you sure he had nothing to do with what happened on that roof?"

Trent gasped. Not only was he labeled as the stalker, he was now being accused of trying to kill Brian. "Fuck!" he sighed running his hands through his hair.

"Detective," Brian began, "Trent saved my life. Without him interrupting the guy I would be dead on the sidewalk outside right now."

"Okay, I get that," Carver said slightly annoyed, "but it's my job to explore all the possibilities."

"I understand, but don't pick on Trent. He saved me, stayed with me, and he's here now. He did nothing that is criminal." Trent had to smile at Brian's kind words.

Carver raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go. "So what's your theory about who would want to kill you, Mr. Kinney?"

"Until Trent rescued me, I would have thought like you that he was the chief suspect. But I know it was someone else. He didn't say much but he had a harsh … bitter voice."

"Bitter?" Carver asked.

"Yeah, like life had done him wrong."

"That's a very strange thing to say about someone who is trying to push you off the roof."

"That's the funny part," Brian said thoughtfully. "He wanted me to jump. He kept yelling at me to jump until Trent arrived."

"He didn't get rough? Was there a gun?" Carver asked.

"Not that I know of. Did you see a gun, Trent?"

"No," Trent replied concisely.

"Did you get a good look at this guy?" Carver asked Trent.

"Between the blizzard and what he had on and being scared shitless I don't remember much."

"What do you remember?"

"He had a dark jacket and a ski hat pulled down onto his face. He had scary eyes. He looked right at me as he ran past."

"Could you identify him if you saw him?"

"I doubt it," Trent admitted. "It all happened so fast and I was worried that Brian was going to go over the edge."

"So how did he get you up on that roof?" Carver asked turning back to Brian.

"After he got the loft door open, I was … scared. He ordered me to get up and told me where to walk to. He kept barking orders at me. When I realized he was trying to make me go to the roof, I tried to push him down the stairs but he didn't fall. He shoved me out the door to the roof. That's the first time he even touched me. He kept yelling 'Jump' when I got to the edge. He pushed me after Trent yelled at him."

Carver looked thoughtful. "He had no gun. He barely touched you, but he was determined that you were going off that roof?"

"That's right," Brian concurred.

"It sounds like he wanted it to look like suicide."

"Suicide?" Brian said in wonder. "Why would he want it to look like suicide?"

"How should I know?" Carver said. "We don't even know why someone's trying to kill you in the first place."

Brian sat staring into the darkness. Something was rattling around in his brain if he could only put his finger on it. The silence hung over the three as they all thought about who might be doing this. "There's something we're missing," Brian said slowly.

"Obviously," Carver retorted. "My partner's on the roof looking for clues. Maybe he'll have some ideas."

"Your partner?" Brian asked. "You never had a partner before."

"I've always had a partner," Carver corrected him. "It's just that we didn't need two of us to interview you about the mugging, and he was off sick the day I came to the loft."

"The mugging," Brian repeated. "You know," he said slowly, "I've almost been killed three times in the last three weeks."

"Three times?" Trent gasped.

"Yeah, the mugging and the roof, but a couple of days ago Justin and I were walking to the movie rental store when someone running along the street rammed into me and knocked me in front of an SUV. Luckily the driver was able to stop in time. I could have been killed."

"And each time it was meant to look like something other than an attempt to kill you," Carver observed. "They must be connected. Thee times like that is no coincidence."

"Shit!" Brian reacted. "Now I am scared. What the fuck is going on?"

"Are you sure you can't think of any reason why somebody would want to hurt you?"

Brian shook his head. He had no idea.

"Dan," a voice said quietly from the doorway. "I didn't find anything on the roof."

"We're not getting anywhere here either," Carver replied. "This is my partner, Ken."

Trent nodded and Brian looked up even though he couldn't see anything. Ken stayed in the doorway barely stepping into the loft. "Are you just about done?" he asked. "I got a call from the station. We need to get back."

"I don't think there's much else I can do here," Carver said. "I'd advise you not to be alone, Mr. Kinney, and get a more secure lock on your door."

"And that's it?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"There's not much more I can do. If you think of anyone who might have it in for you, call me."

Brian could tell they were leaving. He dreaded being alone. He wondered if Trent would stay until Cynthia arrived.

When the cops had left and Trent and Brian were alone, Trent stared at Brian like he was seeing him through different eyes. "Brian," he said, "is there anyone I can call for you?"

"No, not really. What time is it?"

"Almost six, why?"

"My assistant is supposed to be here around nine. Would it be possible for you to stay until she arrives?"

"I can do that," Trent said. "I'll call in and tell them I'm going to be an hour late."

"Thanks," Brian said sincerely. "After everything else that you've done, I really appreciate you staying. I don't want to be alone."

"I can understand that, and there might be something you can do for me if you would."

Brian groaned inwardly. He had come to like Trent since their talk and he owed him his life, but there was no way he would welcome him back into his bed. "What would that be?" Brian asked slowly dreading the answer.

"I'm writing a novel," Trent explained. "Do you think you could introduce me to your publisher? Maybe he would be interested in it."

Brian released a sigh of relief. "I can do that," he said quickly. "But you understand that there's no guarantee that he will like it."

"I know. In fact I was thinking of asking you to read it first, but since it's not out on tape…" Trent laughed uneasily.

"Yeah, that does present a problem."

"Anyway, if your editor or publisher would look at it and tell me if it has a chance, I'd really appreciate that."

"Let's make another pot of coffee, and then you can sit down and tell me what your book's about," Brian said.

"I'd like that," Trent said moving to the kitchen. Brian could feel the shift in their 'relationship'. He smiled to himself.

Some time later the phone rang. It was Justin checking in before he went to school. Brian pretended that everything was fine. He didn't want the boy worrying all day.

By the time Cynthia arrived just after nine Brian had gotten to know Trent quite well. He was a nice, seemingly kind man who had had some rough times in his life. That was what his novel was about, those rough times. Brian had no idea whether the book would be any good, but he could see why Trent would want to write about it. Many authors were exorcising demons. In a weird way that was what he had done with his first novel.

Brian introduced Trent to Cynthia. He could imagine the look on her face wondering who the hell this guy was. She probably thought that he was a trick that Brian had kept around for some unfathomable reason. And in a way he was. As soon as Cynthia got there Trent said he had to take off for work.

"I can't afford to lose this job no matter how crappy it is," he said.

"Thanks for everything, Trent," Brian said shaking the man's hand at the door.

"Can I call you some time?" Trent asked.

"I'd prefer a call to your other form of communication," Brian said wryly.

"Me too. Take care, Brian."

Trent left hastily and Cynthia looked at Brian. That had not sounded like her boss. "What was that all about?"

Brian knew he was going to have to explain it all eventually. "Let's sit down and I'll tell you the dastardly tale." He dreaded having to tell Justin when he arrived after school. He was torn as to whether to send him home and keep him safe or keep him at the loft where they could be together and fight the forces of evil. It was hardly funny, he chastised himself. What the fuck was he going to do?

"So, late last night…"

Blinded

Chapter 23

Justin arrived after school looking very much the high school student in his uniform. He was all smiles as he greeted Cynthia. He was all smiles until he saw the tense looks on both her face and Brian's.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

"I'm going to go, Brian," Cynthia said. "You can talk to Justin. I'll see you in the morning and take you to your doctor's appointment."

"Okay, and thanks."

Cynthia quickly left. She had done all she could to help Brian. They had had a locksmith come and change the lock. It had been replaced with a much stronger and supposedly safer version. Brian still wasn't sure how his attacker had got in, but the new lock was supposed to be almost impossible to pick.

"Brian, tell me what the fuck's going on!" Justin demanded.

"Someone tried to kill me last night," Brian said levelly.

"Kill you! What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Justin threw himself against Brian and hugged the man for all he was worth. "You're all right, aren't you? You look all right," Justin whispered against Brian's ear as he held on.

"I survived … but barely," Brian said. He let out a big sigh and led Justin to the sofa. He would have to relive the nightmare as he told his story once again, for what, the third or fourth time that day. He just wanted to get it over with.

By the time he was finished explaining and answering all Justin's questions and continually reassuring the boy that he was all right, Brian was exhausted. Justin kissed him again and again, and it felt better than anything else had all day. Finally he told Justin that he wanted to lie down for a while. He had got only a few minutes of sleep the night before.

Justin made sure Brian was safely tucked into bed and went to make dinner for them. His parents had said he could stay at Brian's that night and he was happy he had their permission already, because there was no way he was leaving Brian alone again, never again. He should never have agreed to stay at home in the first place.

Brian had never been one for naps. He lay in his bed dozing and thinking. He knew there was something he was missing about the attempts on his life, but try as he might he couldn't figure out what it was. Finally he closed his eyes and drifted off.

"Brian, Brian, dinner's ready," Justin said from somewhere far away.

Brian groaned and opened his eyes. In front of him was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat and he shook his head thinking that he was imagining the vision he was seeing.

"Brian?" Justin said watching Brian carefully. "What's wrong?"

"Did you say you were a blond?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I'm looking at the most beautiful blond I've ever seen."

"Looking at? You mean…!!!" Justin dropped down on the bed next to Brian and took the older man in his arms. He kissed Brian's temples and cheeks and lips and the eyes that could now see. He poured all of his love and relief and longing into those kisses. He continued until they were both breathless and very aroused and so fucking happy.

Brian grabbed Justin's golden hair and gently tugged it, pulling the boy's head back so that he could look into that wonderful face. "You're just like I pictured you with my fingertips … only better," Brian whispered. A stray tear ran down his cheeks. "I can see, Justin! I can fucking see! And it's not going away. I can see!"

The smile through the tears was so radiant and joyously happy that Justin had to grin through his own misty eyes. He had prayed that Brian would get his sight back and now he had. They grabbed each other in another bone crushing embrace. They held on, laughing and crying and just being together. Brian didn't think he had ever been happier. He could see again and he had Justin in his arms. What more could he ever ask for?

"Is something burning?" Brian asked sitting up straight and sniffing.

"Fuck! Dinner!" Justin gasped and raced to the kitchen. He quickly shut off the chops he had been cooking on the stovetop. They were smoking and shriveling up into little hard coals as he watched them in disbelief. "I ruined dinner," Justin said sadly.

"Who cares?" Brian asked coming up behind Justin and wrapping his arms around Justin's chest. "I don't need food. I can see!"

"And now you can fuck me," Justin said leaning back into Brian's embrace. Brian had a momentary flash of conscience. "You promised … when you got your sight back," Justin reminded him.

"Justin … I…" Brian didn't know how to finish that sentence. Some part of him wanted to do the right thing, but every other part of him wanted Justin and he knew the boy wanted him just as much. Justin had told him that, every day in every way since they had known each other.

"You said you would," Justin challenged. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions and this is what I want." Brian hesitated. "Unless you don't want me…?"

Brian heard his own strangled voice as it uttered the words that would seal their fate. "I want you!"

Justin turned in his arms and the kiss began. Neither knew how long they kissed standing in the kitchen beside a pan of charred meat, but however long it was, it still wasn't long enough. When they finally broke apart their lips were red and swollen and the desire inside each of them was as ready to combust as their dinner had been a few minutes before.

"You're sure?" Brian asked one last time. When Justin nodded he began removing the boy's clothes tossing them anywhere they landed in the kitchen. He shoved Justin's cargo pants to the floor along with his underwear and dropped to his knees in front of the boy. He had wanted to taste this kid, this man, for so long and nothing was going to stop him now. Justin's cock was purple and fully engorged. He whimpered as Brian's hand clasped around it.

"Brian, Brian," Justin moaned as his eyes threatened to roll back in his head with the feel of Brian's lips moving up and down his shaft.

Brian ran the tip of his tongue through Justin's slit tasting the sweet, yet salty essence of the young man. Justin bucked forward and cried out. Brian knew Justin was very excited and it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge. He held the head of Justin's cock in his mouth, sucking and then running his tongue all around it. Justin whimpered and pushed forward with his hips.

"Easy," Brian cautioned. He waited and felt Justin calm down a bit.

Brian licked along the protruding vein drenching the hard shaft with saliva. He took the whole thing into his mouth surprised by the size of dick on such a slender body. Sometimes surprises were a good thing. Brian smiled as he looked up at Justin's face holding the boy's cock firmly in his mouth. Beautiful blue eyes looked back at him dark with raw need. Justin's cheeks were flushed as his orgasm neared. Brian ran his lips up and down Justin's cock sucking hard and then soft. Justin continued to groan and push his dick into Brian's warm, inviting mouth. Brian gave a few swift pulls with his mouth and then deep throated the cock. Justin cried out and shot his load into Brian's mouth. Brian swallowed it all loving the taste that he had wanted for so long. He sucked Justin dry before he stood up and cradled the shaky boy against his chest.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Mmm," Justin said rubbing his head against Brian's T-shirt. Brian was still fully clothed.

"Let's go to the bedroom. We're just getting started," Brian said putting his arm around Justin's waist and leading him towards the bedroom.

"Are you going to fuck me now?" Justin asked still feeling very light-headed and spacey from what had just happened. "Finally?"

"I knew you would be a demanding little bottom," Brian chuckled.

"Well, are you going to fuck me?"

"That was my intention."

Justin's face lit up with the most radiant smile that Brian had ever seen. He had wanted his eyesight back for so many reasons, but the thought of never seeing that smile was enough to make him weep. He cleared his throat. Getting his vision back had certainly turned him into a lesbian. He leaned down to kiss the smile that had seemed to light up the whole bedroom.

Justin tugged at Brian's T-shirt and Brian allowed him to pull it over his head and off. He dipped his head to make it easier for his smaller lover. And lover was what Justin would be, but first Brian had every intention of showing the boy the fine art of rimming. He wanted to taste every part of this kid.

Naked they dropped onto the bed and another bout of nonstop kissing ensued. It was so sensuous and arousing that they could never get enough of it.

"You are the absolute best kisser in the whole universe," Justin gasped.

"And just what do you have to compare me to?" Brian asked his tongue in cheek.

"Um … nothing," Justin admitted.

"Roll over," Brian ordered with a little chuckle. The kid was so honest.

Justin looked questioningly at Brian and then did as he was told. Brian leaned into the boy biting and licking and kissing the boy's neck and shoulders. Justin moaned and started to pant. Apparently it took next to nothing to arouse him. Brian smiled a feral grin. Wait till Justin felt what was coming next. Brian's tongue started at the base of Justin's skull and he dragged it all the way down the boy's back to the crack of Justin's ass. There he brushed his tongue across the little pink pucker and continued down the perineum. Justin moaned and shoved his butt up in the air wanting more.

"Do you know what rimming is?" Brian asked.

"Uh, no," Justin admitted.

"Well, you're about to find out."

Brian licked all around Justin's pucker and then shoved his tongue into the tight folds. Justin rose up off the bed and cried out. "Oh Go, oh God, oh God!" Brian dove in again probing deeper and eliciting more expletives from the boy. "Wait!" Justin said. "Are you using a condom?"

"On my tongue?" Brian chuckled.

"That was your tongue! Oh my God!"

"You've suddenly become very religious," Brian observed and then probed some more.

Justin was sure he was going to die. His heart pounded in his chest and he gasped for air. He was covered in sweat and he couldn't form a coherent thought. Brian continued to eat the boy's ass enjoying every taste and sensation, and getting off on the sounds he was able to elicit from the willing body beneath him.

"Now you know what rimming is," Brian said flipping the boy over. He wanted to look into those blue eyes as the kid experienced his first fuck.

"I can't believe you did that with your tongue," Justin said his blue eyes dark and full of lust. His dick was so hard he was afraid to touch it. It throbbed and ached against his stomach. He was definitely on overload.

"Now we use other equipment," Brian said reaching for a condom on the nightstand and handing it to Justin. "Roll it on me."

"Do you always practise safe sex?" Justin asked as he slid the condom the length of Brian's dick.

"Always, and you make sure you do too."

"I will."

"I want you to be safe … and I want you around for a long, long time."

Brian witnessed the radiant smile once again. He was kneeling between Justin's legs and he reached up to caress each side of the youthful face. Justin truly was beautiful in every way. Justin took hold of one of Brian's hands and raised it so he could kiss the palm. He looked into Brian's green gold eyes with such trust and hope that Brian almost had to turn away. He had wanted this to be perfect for the boy and he would make sure that it would be.

"Ready?" Brian asked. Justin nodded.

Brian lifted Justin's legs placing them on his shoulders. He squirted lube into his hand. He stroked his aching dick spreading the lube along the length. He took the tube and placed it at Justin's pucker squirting some into the opening and the surrounding area.

"It's cold," Justin said looking into Brian's eyes and making a face.

"It'll heat up," Brian assured him.

Brian placed the head of his dick at Justin's pucker and pressed forward. The head of his cock spread the tight pucker and started to make its way in. Justin let out a muffled cry of pain as he tried to take Brian's size inside him. Brian stopped and waited for Justin to adjust.

"Does it always hurt?" the boy gasped.

"A bit. That's part of it. But it gets better after a bit. Ready?"

When Justin nodded Brian eased about half his length into the tight opening. Justin screwed up his face in pain and Brian stopped. He couldn't remember ever having such a tight ass before. He'd had one or two virgins but this kid was something else. When the pain disappeared from Justin's face Brian pushed in farther. One more thrust and he was buried in the velvet warmth of Justin's channel. He looked at the boy's face full of wonder and something else that Brian might call love if he knew what the fuck love was. Justin's smile returned as he relaxed his ass for the Olympics to come. Brian drew back and thrust forward burying himself even deeper inside the beautiful tight ass. Justin made a little mewling sound and Brian thrust again. This time he felt Justin thrust back and he smiled at the boy. He was a quick study and bold beyond his years.

Brian began to thrust in earnest. Each time their bodies slapped together Brian felt the boy tighten his anal muscles. The ride got faster and harder until they were both drenched in sweat and finding it hard to breathe. Brian felt the tingles of orgasm building in his spine and groin. He drove home again and again seeing the flush on Justin's face that indicated once again that he was about to come.

Brian leaned in and captured Justin's lips in a searing kiss. The boy reached for his cock and it exploded all over them. Justin pumped his hips as he came again and again and again, forcing Brian deeper inside him with each thrust. His anal muscles contracted around Brian's dick and Brian followed him over the edge filling the condom rammed so far up Justin's ass.

After a minute or two or twelve Brian rolled away pulling out as gently as he could. He stripped off the condom and tossed it in the wastebasket. He looked at Justin who lay still with his mouth slightly open and contentment written all over his visage. Brian leaned in for another kiss.

"How was your first time?" Brian whispered.

"Un-fucking-believable," Justin said breathlessly. "I'll never forget it. You are amazing. Nothing will ever top what we just did."

"We could play 'Can You Top That'?" Brian said with a smirk.

"We could?" Justin asked with a grin. He threw his arms around Brian's neck. "Let's."

"Okay," Brian agreed nibbling on Justin's neck.

"I so love you!"

Brian's lips froze and he stopped nibbling. Now what was he going to do?

Blinded

Chapter 24

"What's wrong, Brian? What did I do? Did I say something wrong?" Justin asked bewildered by Brian's sudden halting of their lovemaking.

He and Brian had just fucked for the first time, and it had been great, phenomenal, beyond wondrous. Brian had said they could play "Can You Top That" and they had started and then… Brian had suddenly stopped.

"You don't love me, Justin. It's because you just got fucked that you said that, and fucked very well I might add," Brian said with a smirk as he tried to regain some control. Justin's words had thrown him.

"I do love you. You're a wonderful amazing man, and I can't believe what we just did."

"I don't do love," Brian insisted.

"You don't?" Justin frowned. "But everybody does love, don't they?"

"Not me."

"But…"

"There is no 'but'. We're gay and we fuck. Love is for heteros and lesbians. And look at what it gets them."

"What do you think it gets them?" Justin had to ask.

"Rancorous divorces, mutual hatred, unhappy screwed up children. Shall I go on?"

"It's not always like that," Justin averred.

"Only in 99% of the cases," Brian replied cynically.

"Well, I don't care what you say. I believe in love, and I do love you."

"Don't say that."

"I can't help it; it's how I feel." Brian scowled. "Please, Brian, I mean it."

"Don't…" Brian began but Justin put a finger on the man's lips to silence him.

"Can we talk about this later?" Justin asked. "I want to play 'Can You Top That'."

"Are you horny again?" Brian asked hoping he had got his point across to Justin.

"Again? I never stopped."

"Insatiable," Brian grinned as his lips found Justin's once more. He could match insatiable with insatiable. His cock was already hard and ready for round two. Maybe having a youth was just what he needed in his life. They could fuck themselves into oblivion. But this love thing…

Justin wrapped his legs around Brian's waist. He humped against the man feeling both their cocks grow even harder. That was enough to make Brian forget about anything except plowing that tight little ass once again.

Some time later they lay sated and resting on the bed. Justin had a huge grin on his face which Brian couldn't help but comment on. "I can see you've become a big fan of 'Can You Top That'."

Justin turned his head and beamed that smile at Brian. "It's the best game in town."

Brian chuckled. It was a pretty damn good game if he did say so himself. So far they had been able to top the previous time with each new attempt. "I think I could use a shower. Care to join me?"

Justin was about to say yes when his stomach emitted an enormous rumble. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"I guess I should feed you, especially if we're going to improve on our record for 'Can You Top That'," Brian smirked.

"Dinner is burnt. I don't think there's much left in the fridge."

"Did you forget speed dial takeout?" Brian asked standing up. He looked down at the handsome young man who lay in his bed. The kid was certainly something else, something quite wonderful, something Brian wasn't quite sure he had bargained for. "I'll order some food and we can shower while we wait for it."

"Is there a shower component to 'Can You Top That'?"

"Most assuredly. Why do you think I suggested it?"

Justin smiled up at him and once more Brian felt tears of gratitude that he could again see. "I'll go make that call. Start the shower."

Brian and Justin climbed out of the shower having christened two of the walls of the shower stall. They thought they might try the other two later in the evening or tomorrow morning. Justin felt a little unsteady. He had barely experienced anything sexually before and now he had had four orgasms in less than two hours. He did need some sustenance or he was going to collapse. Brian pulled him towards him and started nuzzling the boy's neck. Justin felt his cock stiffen almost immediately. He groaned loudly.

"What's the matter, little boy? Can't keep up with me?" Brian asked with his patented smirk."

"I can do anything you can do, old man," Justin stated boldly.

"Then let's go again," Brian said.

Justin could feel Brian's stiff cock against his groin. "The food should be here soon. We better wait."

"Sure. No problem. I can understand how someone so virginal doesn't have much staying power." Brian smirked at him. Justin flipped his head from side to side muttering to himself as he turned away to look in the mirror. He stuck his tongue out in protest to Brian's words as soon as Brian couldn't see his face. "Tongue," Brian said knowingly.

"I thought you could only do that when you were blind?" Justin said frowning.

Brian shrugged and then grinned. "I saw you in the mirror," he admitted.

Justin giggled and then whacked the older man across the chest and went to find some clothes. He wondered if he would ever get used to being around Brian. The man had a knack for keeping him off balance. He also didn't know how Brian did it sexually. He was always hard, always ready for sex. Justin was finding Brian a much more demanding man than he had ever dreamed.

"Don't you ever get enough?" Justin asked after a minute as he pulled on some socks. He found his feet were often cold in the loft. He couldn't believe that Brian went around in his bare feet all the time, even in winter.

"There's no such thing as enough," Brian said doing up the buttons on his jeans, all except the top one. He grabbed a wifebeater out of the drawer and pulled it over his head. It was so much fucking easier to get dressed now that he could see. He knew he had his clothes on the right way around. He knew if he was presentable to other people. He went back into the bathroom to fix his hair. Fuck! He could only imagine what the fuck his hair must have looked like for the last month. He carefully tousled it into just the disheveled look he liked. All of a sudden Brian heard the phone ring. "Can you get that, Justin?"

"Yes, your highness," Justin giggled. He had been watching Brian play with his hair. The man was quite the prima donna now that he could see.

When Brian came down the steps Justin was putting the phone back on its base. Who was that?" Brian asked. "Is dinner delayed?"

"No, it was Detective Carver. He said he's coming over. He has something to discuss about the case."

"I wonder what he has found out."

"He didn't say, but maybe they have a lead on whoever tried to push you off the roof. I still can't believe that happened. I … could have lost you, before I even got to know you," Justin said putting his arms around Brian's neck.

"You mean before you got well and truly fucked, don't you?" Brian smirked.

"Briiiaaan," Justin whined and gave the taller man a hard swat on the chest.

"Ummpff," Brian said with a chuckle.

The buzzer indicated that dinner had arrived. They sat on the floor by the coffee table eating the Chinese food. For Brian it was much more enjoyable to use chopsticks and be able to see what he was trying to capture with them. Seeing the food somehow added to the taste. Brian told Justin this was the best meal he had had since the mugging.

Justin watched Brian eat and marveled at the change in the man. He had been so tentative and careful when he was blind. This man who could see was totally confident and seemed to have barriers that he wasn't willing to allow Justin to cross. Justin searched for things to talk about but it seemed much more difficult than it had been when Brian was blind. They shared a beer and waited for Carver to arrive.

"Detective Carver will be so surprised when he finds out that you can see," Justin said.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"He hasn't exactly been a great deal of help in all this," Brian griped.

"I'm sure he's doing his best."

Brian snorted. He had never had much use for the police, and his recent experiences hadn't changed his opinion. "Right," was Brian's sarcastic response.

"Have you thought any more about who might have tried to kill you?" Justin asked.

"I don't think about anything else," Brian declared, "except when I'm fucking you."

"Glad I can ease your mind for a bit," Justin said with a smirk.

"And my body."

"And your body," Justin agreed with a giggle. "Especially your body." Justin's eyes darkened with lust. "We could go again."

"Yes, we could, but I don't think Detective Carver would appreciate walking in on me with my dick stuck up your ass."

"We could make him wait."

"You're just full of good ideas, aren't you?"

"I'm noted for my creativity."

"No shit!" Brian reacted. "Second only to your brazenness."

"Hmpff," Justin snorted. "Do you think Detective Carver has found out anything worthwhile?"

"You talked to him on the phone. What did he say?"

"Just that he had something interesting that he wanted to discuss with you."

"That doesn't sound like he's solved the case," Brian said thoughtfully.

"I wish they would. I don't like the idea of this guy being on the loose. He could come after you again."

"And now that Trent isn't stalking me anymore, there will be no one around to save me."

"I'll save you," Justin promised. "But he won't know that you can see," Justin reflected. "He'll think you're helpless, but you will be able to see him if he tries anything. Then they can arrest him."

Brian stared at Justin thinking about what the boy had just said. It actually made a lot of sense. If he pretended to be blind for the next few days, there might be another attempt on his life. He hated the thought of having to deal with whoever had broken into his apartment, but it would be worth it if the man was caught.

"I think you're right. Maybe we should run the idea past Carver, or maybe I should just pretend to be blind and see what happens."

"But you should tell Detective Carver. You might need his help."

Brian looked thoughtfully at Justin. He was a smart young man, but Brian had a feeling that he should keep this to himself. He had learned that not all policemen were honorable or straight … in any sense of that word. When he had been looking for information about Jason Kemp's murder, he had found that more than one cop frequented the hustler bar where Jason had last been seen alive. That was how he had come to the conclusion that the murderer might be a cop, and that was why he had chosen a cop as the villain in his novel. It was an interesting twist like Agatha Christie's "Mousetrap".

"I think I'm going to keep the fact that I can see a secret from everybody including Carver. Can you play along when he gets here?"

"Sure, but I still think you should tell him. What if this guy comes back with a gun or something? I don't want something bad to happen to you."

"Believe me neither do I, but back me up. Okay?"

"If that's what you want," Justin said with a frown.

They sat in silence waiting for Carver to arrive. Finally the buzzer sounded indicating the detective was at the front door. Justin went to buzz him up. Brian wondered why sometimes people had to use the buzzer, and other times they seemed to make their way to his door with no trouble at all. And they usually managed to do that at the most inopportune moments. If he had been fucking Justin when Carver arrived the policeman would have probably been pounding on the loft door without any prior warning that he was there.

Brian sat on the sofa facing the windows. He wondered if Carver would be able to tell that he could now see. This should be interesting. Justin pulled back the loft door and they waited for the detective. The whir of the elevator indicated he was almost there. It stopped and Justin greeted the man and brought him inside pulling the loft door closed behind them.

Carver came around the sofa and sat in the chair kitty corner from Brian. Brian kept his eyes glued to the floor trying not to let on that he could see.

"What did you find out, Detective?" Brian asked.

"I went back over the notes about your mugging," Carver began. "There was an interesting description given by the people who witnessed your attack and scared off the muggers. The man said there were two muggers, but one was older and had scary eyes." Carver let his words hang in the air.

Brian almost looked at Carver, but then remembered he was supposed to be blind. He stared out the windows instead. "That's what Trent said about the eyes of the person who tried to push me off the roof," Brian said slowly.

"In all likelihood the three attempts on your life have been by the same person."

"Not really," Justin interjected. The guy who was running and knocked Brian in front of the SUV wasn't old. He would have been in his late twenties at most."

"I thought you said you didn't get a good look at him," Carver reminded Justin.

"I didn't but I don't think someone older would have looked like this guy and run as fast."

"I think you're making a lot of assumptions," Carver said.

"Maybe I am, but two people mugged Brian. It could have been the younger one who shoved him in front of the car."

Suddenly someone was pounding on the loft door. Brian jumped and Justin looked uneasy. A voice from the other side of the door called, "Dan, there's a robbery down the street. They want us to check it out."

"That's my partner," Dan said.

Justin got up and went to open the door for the man. Carver was saying something to Brian. As Justin pulled the door back, Carver's partner stepped across the threshold. "Hurry the fuck up, Dan," he said harshly. "We might be able to nab this motherfucker."

Brian turned at the sound of the bitter, harsh voice and his eyes locked onto those of a man he had met in the hustler bar, those of the man who he was sure had tried to shove him off the roof.

Blinded

Finale

"You!" Brian exclaimed.

The detective at the loft door glared at Brian realizing that the man could see. He hesitated for only a second and then he was gone, racing down the stairs as fast as he could.

"Ken," Carver called. "Ken, what's going on?"

"That's him," Brian stated. "That's the guy that tried to push me off the roof. Oh fuck! And now I know why. I saw him in the hustler bar where Jason Kemp was last seen alive."

"Jason Kemp?" Carver asked. "What are you talking about? Can you see?"

"I got my eyesight back this afternoon, and your partner is the one who tried to kill me. Jason Kemp aka 'Dumpster Boy' is who I'm writing a book about. My research led me to believe a cop may have been the one who killed Jason, and that cop is your fucking partner."

"It can't be," Carver said totally in denial.

"I'm telling you, it's him. His voice is the voice of the man who broke in here yesterday. His face is one I've seen before and now I understand why he wants to kill me. I've made the connection between him and the murder. I just didn't have all the facts."

"Are you sure?" Carver asked looking bewildered.

"He fucking ran when I accused him! You've got to arrest him," Brian shouted.

"Okay, okay, I'll go after him," Carver said. "Calm down, and lock the fucking door behind me." Carver headed down the stairs.

Justin ran to the door and pulled it closed. He locked it and went back to Brian wrapping his arms around the man's waist. They were both shaking.

"So much for pretending I'm blind," Brian said trying to lighten the mood.

"You're sure it was him?" Justin asked.

"Of course, I'm fucking sure! Do you think I would have accused him if I wasn't? I was so fucking shocked when I heard that voice raised in anger, and then when I turned around and looked into his eyes…"

"Scary eyes," Justin said holding Brian a little tighter.

"Do you think Carver will go after him? He's his partner for Christ sake!" Brian asked.

"Carver seemed surprised but I don't think he'd let a murderer go."

"What … oh shit! … What if Carver is his accomplice?"

"I don't think so, Brian. He seemed really shocked when you accused his partner."

"He could have been pretending," Brian averred.

"I don't think so. He seemed genuinely surprised."

"You should go home, Justin. Right now! Let's get your stuff together. Take the Jeep and go," Brian rambled letting go of Justin and starting to pick up anything of Justin's that he could find.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Justin asked after a minute of watching the frenetic energy Brian exuded. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You have to go home … where it's safe. Get away from here. Get away from me … in case he comes back."

"Brian, you're being paranoid. He won't come back. I'm sure he's running as far and as fast as he can go."

"You don't know that. He's tried to kill me three times. He may try again."

"But why? You identified him. His partner knows he's involved in murder. He's going to run, Brian, not come after you again."

"I'd feel better if you were with your parents, if I knew you were safe," Brian said running his fingers along Justin's cheek. He wanted to be sure the boy didn't come to any harm.

"I am safe when I'm with you," Justin said leaning against Brian and raising his head for a kiss.

Brian leaned in and caressed the sweet lips with his own. This beautiful, trusting boy felt safe with him, wanted to be with him, said he loved him. He wanted to say all those things back, but he knew he never could; he wanted to feel all those things back, but he knew he never could. He would end up hurting this kid one way or another. Maybe it was better to end it now.

Brian pushed Justin away. "You," he said sharply, "are going home now. And that's the end of it."

"No, I'm not," Justin stated emphatically. "I'm staying here."

"Don't you get it? I don't need you anymore. I can see. Your job is done."

"Oh, I get it all right," Justin said realizing that Brian was trying to get rid of him, but for his own good.

"Then pack up and leave," Brian said misunderstanding Justin's comment.

"I think you'd be making a big mistake letting me leave," Justin said.

"A mistake? And why is that?"

"Because you want me as much as I want you," Justin said with a little smile.

Brian remembered the beaming smiles he had already received from Justin and his resolve slipped a little. "So what if I did, and I mean that in the past tense. I've had you now and it's time for you to leave … permanently." That last word would hardly be forced from Brian's mouth but he managed to get it out somehow. He had been staring at the floor as he spoke, but he looked up as he spat the last word at Justin. The look on Justin's face almost broke his heart of steel.

Justin felt his world crumbling around him. Brian didn't want him anymore. He had been just another trick. Now it was his turn to be discarded. He didn't know if he could stand it. His knees felt weak and his heart thumped erratically. Everything was wrong, so wrong. Tears built behind his eyes and he turned away from Brian. He couldn't stand to look at him a second longer.

Brian knew he had hurt Justin deeply, but he had to make the break before it was too late and it killed both of them. He still had most of his walls intact, and if he could get rid of Justin right now he might be able to resurrect the rest of them. He just wished he knew why this hurt so bad. His heart felt like it was in a vise, and everything was kind of blurry. He wiped at his eyes thinking for a second that he might be losing his vision again. He pulled his fingers away and looked down at them wet with tears. He was fucking crying.

Justin took a step towards the bedroom. He'd get his belongings and get the fuck out of there. If Brian didn't want him, he wouldn't debase himself by begging. He had almost reached the steps to the bedroom when he turned for one more look at the man he thought he loved. He saw Brian wiping tears from his eyes, and then he knew that Brian loved him back, loved him at least a little, loved him enough to shed a tear.

He covered the space between them in a fraction of a second. His arms went around Brian's neck and he kissed away the remaining tears. His mouth seared onto Brian's in a deep and insistent kiss. Brian wanted to push the boy away, wanted to refuse the kiss, wanted to take back his former life, but something wouldn't let him and he found himself kissing Justin as hard as Justin was kissing him.

When they broke apart Justin had tears in his eyes too. "I knew you wanted me. I do love you, Brian, and I'm not going to leave you. We have so much to talk about and to settle. I love you so much."

Brian held onto the slender body not knowing what to say. He had tried to drive the boy away. It should have worked. But somewhere deep inside he knew he didn't want Justin to go. He wanted him here with him, but how could that ever be?

"Justin…" Brian began.

"I know we have a lot to work out, but don't push me away. I need you," Justin pleaded.

"Fuck!" Brian said as harshly as he could. Then he added a strangled, "I need you too."

"Make love to me, Brian. Please," Justin asked.

Their bodies came together and their lips and their hearts and their souls. Brian made love to his young charge softly and gently and urgently. They both needed it like that. They both had to reaffirm that they meant something to each other, no matter what had been said or what would be said.

When they were finished Justin rolled onto his side and stared into Brian's face. He wished he could make the man see how much he meant to him. He wished he was older and more experienced. Then Brian wouldn't doubt him when he said, "I love you." Why did people have to think that because you were young you couldn't possibly know what you wanted? But Justin knew. And it was lying right next to him in this bed.

Justin reached over and brushed a sweaty lock of hair off Brian's forehead. Brian was about to push Justin's hand away, but something stopped him. He didn't want to hurt the boy anymore than he already had, or as he knew he would in the future. He wanted just to be in this moment … in this moment with Justin.

They lay silently staring into each others' eyes, breathing and thinking. Brian wondered how he could end this, whatever it was, without destroying Justin. Justin wondered how he could make Brian realize that this, whatever it was, was important and lasting.

"Justin…" Brian tried again. He watched tears form in the boy's eyes. Justin knew what was coming.

"I know you think you're doing the right thing sending me away, but I know you don't really want to do it. Is it because you think I'm too young? Because I'm not. I'm a man even more so than when I came here today. I know my own mind. I know what I want to do. I'm going to tell my parents that I'm gay, and I'm going to follow that by applying to PIFA. If I get accepted, I'm going. I might have to take you up on your offer about helping me with tuition, but I'm going. I want my dream of being an artist, and I want you to be part of it."

Brian stared at the determined young man lying next to him. "I said I would help you and I will, but we can't be together, Justin. We can't."

"I'm not saying we have to live together," Justin said. "I'll live at home if they let me. If they kick me out I could live in the dorms or maybe with my friend Daphne, but it doesn't matter. The only thing I need to know is that you'll let me come and visit with you, and talk to you, and you can teach me, and maybe we can play 'Can You Top That'. What do you say?"

Brian studied the hopeful and oh so beautiful face full of love and trust. "How can I say no to that face?" Brian groaned.

"I was banking that you couldn't," Justin replied with a grin.

"Come here," Brian groaned. Justin rolled towards him and he captured the boy in his embrace never wanting to let him go.

The phone rang from somewhere out in the loft. "Want me to get that?" Justin asked.

"I'll go," Brian said. "Now that I can see, I'll be able to find the fucking thing."

Brian got up from the bed and went down the steps seeing the phone sitting on the computer desk. He had to marvel how easy it was to find and pick up the phone. What he wouldn't have given last night to have been able to do that.

"Yeah," Brian said pushing the talk button.

Justin could hear only one side of the conversation but he could tell that Brian was excited. He waited hoping it was good news. He thought it was about time for Brian's ordeal to be over. He had suffered enough.

Finally Justin heard Brian say goodbye and then the naked man was standing above him beside the bed. There was a huge grin on his face.

"It's over," Brian stated.

"Over?" Justin asked sitting up. "What do you mean? Was that Carver?"

"Yeah. They caught him. Carver sent out an APB as soon as he left here. They checked Kenneth Rikert's home and got there just as he and his accomplice were backing out of the driveway."

"Is that his name, Kenneth Rikert? And who is his accomplice?"

"His accomplice is a clerk in the police records department. He and Rikert have been fucking on and off for a couple of years."

"Carver told you that?" Justin asked surprised.

"He was much more delicate. Apparently they're an item, as he chose to call it."

"An item," Justin said thoughtfully. "Is that what we are?"

"Fuck no!" Brian retorted. "Do you want to hear the rest of this?"

Justin really wanted to ask Brian what they were. If not an item, what could they be called? Instead he said, "Yeah." He leaned back against the pillows waiting for Brian to finish his story.

"Anyway, they gave up without a fight and were taken to the station. They confessed everything. Rikert killed Jason Kemp during a sexual encounter that got out of hand. He called his fuck buddy who came and helped him dispose of the body in that dumpster on Liberty Avenue."

"Why would the clerk help him? He would have been better to tell Rikert to take care of it himself," Justin said practically.

"I don't think Rikert is the type of person who you refuse," Brian said philosophically.

"I see what you mean."

"Apparently the clerk did most of the talking. Rikert has refused to say much of anything."

"Does this clerk have a name?"

"He does and Carver told me, but it didn't mean anything, even though I fucked the guy."

"You fucked him?" Justin said rather distastefully.

Brian ignored the comment. "I fucked him hoping to get access to some of the records about the Jason Kemp case. He promised he would help me in exchange for the fuck of his life."

"But he double crossed you?"

"Yeah. As soon as I told him I needed files about the Jason Kemp case, he backed out saying it could cost him his job. Now I know that he was scared that I might find the truth and his part in the murder. He must have tipped off Rikert about my investigation. I can't remember exactly what I told the guy about what I knew, but it must have alerted them. I wonder how long they were keeping an eye on me before they decided they had to take action."

"They could have been listening outside the loft when we thought it was Trent, or they could have broken in and checked your computer for what you had written."

"I don't even want to think about that!" Brian said shaking his head. "It's all over now, thank God!"

"Come back to bed. You'll freeze standing there naked," Justin said.

Brian slid in under the duvet and Justin snuggled against him. After a minute, Justin asked, "Am I a fuck buddy?"

Brian looked into the blue eyes and shook his head. "I don't know what you are, Justin," he said honestly. "But I think we're going to find out … eventually."

"I'd like that. I want to be something to you. I want to mean something to you."

"You already do," Brian admitted kissing him warmly.

"Brian…"

"Hmm."

"Who's number one on your speed dial?"

"What the fuck do you want to know that for?"

"I just do."

"Michael."

"Oh."

"Do you want to move up the speed dial list?" Brian asked with a smirk. Justin nodded and smiled. "Want to be number one?"

Justin nodded enthusiastically taking that as a sign of his important place in Brian's life. "I'd be happy just to be ahead of the Thai restaurant." That earned him a pinch from Brian. "What will Michael say if you make me number one?" Justin asked.

"Michael doesn't have to know."

Justin smiled broadly. "What will Michael say about all the things that have happened, and you didn't tell him any of it?"

"Maybe we should just keep this whole thing to ourselves. It will be our secret."

"Like your writing?" Justin asked.

"Just like that," Brian said running his hands along Justin's sides and pulling him closer.

Justin grinned. He liked being part of Brian's secrets especially when Michael didn't know anything about them. "Want to play 'Can You Top That'?"

"You bet," Brian grinned as he rolled on top of the boy and captured the full lips in what would be the first of many, many encounters that night. They had a lot to celebrate.