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Author's Chapter Notes:

How about some sexy fun times? I know I'm ready for it! Enjoy! TAG & Sally

 

Chapter 17 - I Send A Message.



I was so excited to tell Brian all about my discovery at the club the night before, that I was out of bed at the ridiculously early early hour of 8AM the next morning. Well, it was ridiculously early for ME, especially considering that I was on winter break. I scarfed down my two bowls of cereal way faster than I probably should have and started getting ready. My plan was to stop by Eggy’s on my way to my shift at the Diner. I quickly threw a change of clothes for after work into my messenger bag and decided to throw in a pair of pajama pants just in case I got an invitation for another sleepover. I made sure to pack my book on the history of Gauguin to read during the Diner's slow periods. I might as well use my spare time to study, right? Otherwise I’d just spend it daydreaming about my delectable Hunky Hermit.


I was out the door within twenty minutes of getting out of bed - which must be some kind of record for me. I took the bus down to Liberty Avenue, thanking the Pittsburgh transportation gods for my bus running on time so that I didn’t have to wait too long out in the cold. The weather had turned bitter and I wasn’t wearing nearly enough layers. It looked like Pittsburgh was going to get that white Christmas so many idiots always wished for. Hmm. There’s an idea; maybe I could arrange to be snowed in with my Egbert for the holidays this year?



As I walked past Crazy Mocha, I was debating whether or not to buy us both another cup of coffee, but by the time I was off the bus and making my way towards the Triangle Building my mind was made up. I was freezing and I needed something warm to hold so that I didn’t feel as though my fingers were going to fall off. I ordered myself a triple shot espresso and an Eggnog Mocha for my man, because I was feeling the Holiday spirit, you know? I also ordered a couple of gingerbread muffins because my cereal hadn’t seemed to fill me up at all. Maybe I’m still growing? . . . I laughed to myself as I walked out of the coffee shop - wishful thinking! I’d stopped growing a while ago. I was clearly destined to be short. Of course, that just meant all my twinkie hotness was crammed into a more compact package for my Eggy to love.


I did my usual cat burglar thing, then raced up the stairs two at a time. I had already perfected doing this, even while holding a hot drink in each hand, and could now make it inside and up the six flights of stairs fairly quickly without spilling a drop. I remembered to knock before going into Brian‘s rooms, though, like the polite housebreaker I was.


It didn’t take long for the door to open. A small part of me wondered if Brian was expecting me. Was I getting predictable? Oh, who cares. Young love and all . . . And, yep, there he was. He was standing in the doorway wearing only a pair of baggy sweats and no shirt. I was so stunned by the vision of yumminess in front of me I might have drooled. Damn, my Eggy is one FINE specimen of man meat! Fuck the gingerbread muffins, I wanted to eat him!


“Ah, the young sneak thief returns,” Brian chuckled as he stood aside to let me in.


I must have looked like a right twat as I stood there staring at Brian’s bare chest, but holy fuck, he was beautiful. I could climb him like a tree.


“You what?”


Shit, I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Uh . . . Um . . . You . . . Shit, Eggy, you better take this before I faint.”


I held out the mocha towards him and pretended to slouch against the door frame as if I really were about to topple over. I could see him eyeing me carefully, unsure about what I was doing, but after only a moment or two his hand reached out shakily and took the cup from me. I felt myself smile, but did my best not to make a big deal out of it - even though it WAS a big fucking deal.


Brian took the cup over to the breakfast bar and put it down, immediately rubbing his hands together the way I had seen him do numerous times before. It was moments like this that I wished I could read his mind, to know his thought process. He stood still, his eyes flicking from his hands, to the cup, and then to the antibacterial wipes just next to him. I was silently cheering him on, hoping he’d feel the mental strength that I was beaming his way. It must have worked because the hand that was hovering over the wipes fell back down to his side and I could see the faintest of smiles on his lips. He was proud of himself, and so he should be. And even more excitingly, he reached back for the cup and held it in his hands once more - not for long - but you could see he was trying it out and loving the feeling of elation he got from doing it. Then he surprised me even further by bringing the cup up to his face and taking a long sniff, sighing happily as the sweet smelling syrup penetrated his nose.


“This smells so good.”


“You know what else is good? The taste.” I smiled cheekily as I said it so that he knew I wasn’t pressuring him.


I wasn’t expecting him to take me seriously - he never had before - but I just thought I’d make the attempt. And, while I stood there with my mouth wide open like some sort of gormless fish, my brave boy sighed, lifted the cup to his lips, and took a VERY tentative sip. I could feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I held my breath and watched his face carefully while it took on at least ten different expressions within a very short space of time.


“It’s good, right?” I didn’t know what else to say, but knew I had to say something as I could see the panic in his eyes start to set in.


Brian nodded and put the cup back on the counter. I could see he didn’t know what to do with his hands, but then he finally brought one up to his mouth and gave it a quick wipe - as though he was trying to erase what he’d just done.


“Brian?”


I made my way towards him, his silence scaring me a little.


“I . . . I did it. Shit. Did you see that, Justin?”


The awe in his voice was enough to give me that jelly-belly feeling I get so much with him.


“I did . . . I saw, Brian. That was . . . Shit, I’m so proud of you.” And I meant it; I don’t think I have ever smiled so hard.


He rolled his eyes but I could see my compliment meant something to him. His naked chest had turned a lovely shade of red and the tips of his ears were glowing. “It was nice. What flavor was that?”


“Eggnog.”


But before I could ask him any more, Brian began to pace the kitchen area.


“Brian?”


“I shouldn’t have . . . I don’t know who made it.”


“No, but I . . .”


“What if the milk wasn’t fresh?”


“I . . .” he wasn’t even giving me time to try and answer him.


“What if it makes me sick?” I could hear the anxiety in his voice as he rubbed his stomach.  “I can’t get sick. I can’t BE sick.”


I walked over and stood in front of him, cornering him slightly to try and stop him from pacing. “Brian . . . Stop . . . Brian, listen to me. Are you listening?”


Finally he looked at me. “I can’t get sick, Justin.”


“You won’t!” I wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him, but now really wasn’t the time. It would only make things worse.


“You don’t know that . . .” He was back to manically rubbing his hands together.


“Trust me?” I asked. It was risky. Of course HE trusted me, but his OCD brain didn’t, and that’s who I was dealing with right now.


“I . . . I want to. I mean . . . I do trust you . . . but . . .”


“I know . . . I know it’s not that easy.” I tried giving him a reassuring smile and that’s when I knew what I had to do. I had to get his mind off what had just happened. “Hey, forget about that for a minute, okay. I’ve got more important news. Guess what I found last night when I was at that annoying Christmas party with my dad.”


“Huh? What?” He looked slightly calmer after even that minor distraction, like he was less likely to bolt.


“I think I found another clue about our Mr. Peebles and the mysterious Jay Frick,” I blurted out, hoping that my news was enough to grab his attention. “So, I got into this stupid fight with my father right off the bat - he accused me of flirting with the son of one of his business associates - which in his book is a sin worse than murder, right? - although I’d only just been politely chatting with him after he bumped into me and spilled my beer all over me. But Dad, of course, saw something nefarious in the whole thing and came over, hissing at me like an angry goose, accusing me of all sorts of shit. I mean, it’s not like we were having some hot and heavy anal intercourse right there in the middle of the Duquesne Club ballroom or anything. But Dad tends to see pretty much everything I do as some prelude to gay sex. Can you say, ‘homophobe’? I can’t call him out on it, though, because he’s the administrator on my education trust and I need to finish school, so I have to put up with the bigot no matter how pissed off I get. But anyway . . .”


And I continued to ramble on in that fashion for at least the next fifteen minutes. While I spoke, I could see the tension slowly draining out of Brian’s shoulders and face. It was working. He was getting caught up in my long, drawn out tale of WASP woe and totally forgetting his panic over that little taste of coffee. Go, me! Daphne would be proud!


“. . . And there they were in the picture. All three of them, standing side by side. Peebles, Frick and our William, or ‘Billy’ as I call him,” I finished my story with a conspiratorial wink. “What do you think? I mean, they all obviously knew each other. Do you think they might have been involved in some way?”


“I don’t know, Justin. Even if they did know each other - which isn’t all that surprising since Pittsburgh society was a pretty small circle of people in those days - that doesn’t mean they were anything more than social acquaintances.”


“Maybe . . . I don’t know why, but I feel like there’s more to it. And you gotta admit that it wouldn’t be completely unreasonable to assume that the ‘B’ Andrew wrote his love letter to might be the unmarried sportsman, William ‘Billy’ Carnegie. Am I right? And, if so, it’s possible that Jay Frick, who was Peebles’ business partner in the building and, if that picture was any indication, also a friend, might have known about it.”


Brian chucked. “Of course you think there’s more to it, you’re a romantic little twat.”


I couldn’t help but smile at that - I mean, he had a point, but, whatever. I knew I was onto something here. I was sure of it. I just didn’t know how to prove what I suspected.


“I wanted to tell you about it all last night, but I couldn’t. I was thinking that maybe there’d be more information about the three of them in the Club's records or something and I wanted to pick your brain on what to do next. Not that I really want to spend more time in that stuffy den of bigots, but I would if it meant we could unearth more info about our boys. Although, now that I think about it, I doubt there’d be anything much at the Duquesne Club. Those old boors would roll over in their graves if they found out one of their members was actually gay. We’re more likely to find additional information down in your basement than at the Club. In fact, I bet if we went through the books and that desk down in your secret room, we’d likely turn up a lot. Why else have a secret room, if not to store all your secrets?”


“The basement?” The panic that Brian had only recently started to master all of a sudden reared its ugly head again. “I don’t want to go back into the fucking basement, Justin.”


Oops. I forgot that he disliked the basement almost as much as he disliked germs. So much for my plan to distract him with my little mystery story. Now I had to start over from scratch on my Calm Eggy plan.


“We don’t have to do it NOW, of course,” I rushed to reassure him. “Besides, I can’t stay much longer today anyway. I have a shift at the Diner this afternoon. In fact, I should probably leave soon or I’ll be late.” I looked at the time display on my phone and grimaced.


“You’re leaving?” Brian asked, nervously.


Damn. I really hadn’t thought this through. First I go and set him off by urging him to taste the coffee and then I raise all the specters of his haunted basement before abandoning him to deal with it all on his own. Nice going, Doofus. Shit, could I be more insensitive? Time for more of that distraction thing.


“If you’re proposing I stay for more play time like we had yesterday, I might be willing to blow off work for you,” I suggested with a sexy leer. “Of course, then you’d have to take me on full time as my Sugar Daddy because I’ll be fired and broke. But I’m good with that plan if you are.”


He laughed at my little joke, and I was glad to see that it lessened his tension. “You know . . .”  Brian began but quickly stopped talking, one finger rubbing nervously over his lips.


“What were you going to say?” I wasn’t going to let him chicken out on me now, not when he had something he needed to say.


“I was thinking . . . what about . . . what if I gave you my number? Then you could at least message me . . . maybe . . . you know, when you’re not in breaking-in distance to my place.” He fidgeted a bit, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck and breaking eye contact as he continued. “And, who knows, I might need to send out an SOS if you’re wrong and someone does decide to come down that fucking tunnel you opened up.”


I could tell he was trying to make light of what he’d just suggested, so I went along with it. “That’s a great idea, Eggy. That way I can text you every time I get a naughty idea about what I’d like to do to you and that gorgeous body of yours.” ‘Cuz, yeah, it hadn’t slipped my attention that he was still only half dressed and I was less than a meter away from those delicious looking pecs. “And maybe I could even message you and let you know when I was on my way over in the future and you could unlock the door for me so I don’t have to keep breaking in. Not that I mind, you know, but eventually a cop might notice and I don't think I’d do well in prison. I’m way too cute and orange really isn’t my color.”


“Well, we definitely wouldn’t want to subject you to that,” he responded, latching eagerly onto the excuse I’d given him. “I don’t want to be responsible for making you into the pet of some fashion-challenged jailhouse bear.”


“You’re so thoughtful,” I shook my head laughing. Sometimes we were just on the same wavelength, you know, and it felt so good to be with someone who had the same quirky sense of humor; I love being silly with him. “Okay,” I pulled out my phone and opened a new contact for him, “shoot me your digits, Big Guy.”


Brian rattled off his number and then he took his own phone out of his pocket and did the same with my number. Then I kinda had to run out of there because I really was running late by that point and Deb would have my balls. But, right as I hit the first landing, Brian called out to me, causing me to stop and look back up at him with one of my biggest smiles ever.


“How late are you doing this working thing?” he asked.


“Why?”


“I thought . . .” he took a deep breath as if to steady his nerves and then just blurted out what he’d been planning to say. “I thought that if you’re going to be breaking in again later tonight I might as well make dinner for the both of us. Otherwise you’ll just steal my food again.”


“Awwww! Eggy, are you asking me to come for dinner? That’s so sweet,” I teased him, internally delighted that my man was getting bold enough to do something like asking me to come for dinner. “Does this count as our first date?”


He scoffed as though I had just suggested the most ridiculous thing in the world. “No, I just don’t want you interrupting my dinner and stealing shit off my plate.”


Yeah, right; he was SO full of it. “I finish at eight and I’ll be back here by 8:15,” I promised and then took off again, yelling over my shoulder as I descended the next flight of stairs. “Byeeee!”



“Hey, Deb!” I hollered as I scooted around her on my way to deposit my stuff in my locker in the staff room.


“You’re late, Sunshine!” she screeched back.


“I know,” I replied, re-emerging as I tied an apron in place around my waist. “Good thing I’m not only adorable but also your favorite employee, otherwise that might be a problem.” I added one of my brattiest grins so as to make myself totally irresistible.


“Yeah, well, if you don’t get your adorable ass in gear and start clearing some tables, I might have to rethink that favorite employee thing,” Deb rejoined with a pretend-serious scowl.


I chuckled and ducked as I trotted past her with my bus tub, effectively avoiding the friendly slap to the back of my head that she’d aimed my way.


We were all busy for the next hour or so, cleaning up the post-breakfast mess and starting on the pre-lunch prep work. I didn’t actually get to stop and take a breath till we hit a lull around 11:15. I sighed, grabbed myself a fortifying vanilla milkshake, and slid into the back booth so I could rest a bit before the next onslaught. While I was catching my breath, I pulled out my phone, trying to think through the wording of the first text I’d send my Egbert.


“Whatcha smiling about over there, Sunshine? “ Deb smirked as she plonked herself down across from me at the booth where I was sitting. “You’re sunnier than usual today.”


“What are you talking about?” I asked around my mouthful of milkshake.


“Don’t play dumb with me, kiddo. You’ve met someone. I know these things. Call it mother’s intuition.”


“You’re not my mother,” Justin laughed.


“I’m someone’s mother.”


I loved Deb. She’s completely crazy and hands down the nosiest person I know. She also has a heart the size of an Elephant’s schlong.


“I MAY have met someone,” I grinned; I couldn’t believe I was that obvious.


“We have about five minutes before I have to get my butt back to work.”


I looked at her over my straw, canting one eyebrow inquisitively.


“That means you have five minutes to tell me everything. Go!”


I spent the next couple of minutes filling her in about my Eggbert -  I didn’t want to tell her everything, but shared enough with her that she was happy. It felt so good to brag about him to someone besides Daphne for a change. Almost like it made the whole thing more real once I’d said it aloud.


“So when are we gonna meet this paragon of manly attributes?” Deb asked. “I need to make sure he’s good enough for our Sunshine, you know.”


“That may be problematic,” I replied, trying to think of a way to delay Deb without revealing Brian’s whole hermit thing - I didn’t want to betray his confidences by discussing his agoraphobia and OCD issues.


“He’s not a closet case, is he? Because you should know better than to get involved with someone who isn’t yet comfortable enough with himself to show his face to the world. After all you’ve gone through with your father and everything, Sunshine, you need someone just as brave and out there as you are . . .”


“Don’t worry. He’s not a closet case, Deb.” I had to stop her before she continued her rant - did I mention she was one of the most passionate people I know? “He’s just . . .” What could I say to satisfy Deb long enough to get her off my back? “He’s just not really into the gayborhood scene.” There, that was vague enough, right?


Thankfully, right then the cook dinged his bell and hollered for Deb to come pick up the bunless burger for the customer waiting at table three and I was saved from further need to explain my not-yet-relationship with Egbert.


While Deb was bustling around, I quietly sipped at my milkshake and contemplated how to word my first text to my hermit. That might not sound like a deep, weighty consideration to some, but I was definitely feeling the pressure. I mean, I wanted to totally wow him without coming across as either too pushy or too needy. Sexting is an artform, you know, and you have to set the right tone from the very start. And, no, I wasn’t overthinking things, thank you very much. I simply have standards.


After using up five more minutes of my precious break time, I finally settled on a simple: ‘Hey, Handsome. I’m thinking about you while HARD at work. How’s your day going so far?’


Okay, I admit, it may not have been the most brilliant work of literature ever written, but how eloquent can you be via text. Am I right? At least I got all the required elements in: flattery, humor, and sexual innuendo. Sheesh, I’d like to see anybody else do better within the limits of the medium.


Seeing as my break was almost over and the beginnings of the lunch crowd were trickling in, though, I didn’t have time to rethink it and merely hit ‘send’


Within seconds my phone beeped, indicating I had a new message. I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked to open it.


‘How HARD are you working, Justin? Tell me.’


I smiled stupidly to myself as I read Brian’s reply.


‘HARD enough that I broke into a sweat,’ I typed back almost instantly, chuckling under my breath as I wondered how he’d respond.


Clearly my Egbert was in a cheeky mood and that was absolutely fine with me. I had been nervous about leaving him after his slight freak out earlier, but he seemed to be doing okay by the sound of things. I really needed to get back to work, but since Deb seemed to have the current customers in hand, I decided to quickly duck into the restroom for a few minutes more of Eggy Time. By the time I had locked myself into a cubicle, Brian had replied - this time he had sent me a picture message. My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I opened it, wondering what on earth he could have sent me.


When I opened the pic, it turned out to be a closeup of Brian’s hand. That wasn’t a biggie. Of course, the fact that he was holding an already torn open condom packet, kinda was. What a naughty boy my Eggy was today.



‘As you can see, I’m also hard at work,’ the text below the picture read.


Knowing exactly what my man was gonna be doing with that condom, brought back flashes of our joint jerkoff session. My dick responded immediately, in predictable ways, and I knew I was going to have to take care of my little problem before going back to work. No way could I go out there like this, not with the way my pants were tenting, I would be eaten alive by the lunch crowd. Deb’s rule about ‘No Masturbating During Breaks’ be damned. This was an emergency!


So I quickly unzipped and took matters into hand, so to speak, visions of Brian fueling my momentum. I briefly contemplated sending my guy a photo of myself, in case he needed some inspiration of his own, but I knew it was probably too soon for that. We weren’t quite at the dick-pic stage of our acquaintanceship yet. So, no matter how badly I wanted to do it, I held back. Instead, I managed, awkwardly with my left hand, to scroll through the emojis list and send him back a silly pictographic message:


 



After that, though, my brain short circuited and I wasn’t able to think any coherent thoughts for a good three or four minutes. And don’t even think about giving me shit for only lasting three minutes - if you’d seen the magnificent cock my man had, you wouldn’t last long either. Just knowing that he was touching himself, right then, at the same exact time I was stroking my own dick, even though we weren’t in the same room . . . well, you get the picture. Fuck, I’m surprised I didn’t go off like a squirt gun in the hands of a trigger-happy toddler. In fact, lasting for three minutes might be considered commendable restraint under the circumstances.


And it was a good thing I’d been quick, too. I was still standing there, panting, with my pants drooping off my hips, when the door to the restroom suddenly swung open and Deb’s loud voice echoed around the small room. I was so startled I almost toppled over into the toilet.


“Break’s over, Sunshine. Wash your hands and get back to work. There’s a time and a place for self love and work ain’t it.”


I could hear the whole diner laughing as the door swung shut.


“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath as I shuffled out of the stall with my pants strangling my knees, washed the cum off my hand, and pulled my pants up.


When I emerged from the toilet into the Diner proper, I actually got a standing ovation. Guess I’d been a little too vocal in my enthusiasm back there. I wasn’t sure if I should be proud or embarrassed, actually, so I just smiled, waved to my fans and tried to pretend it was cool to have such fair skin that my blushing turned my face a bright magenta. Deb merely rolled her eyes and pointed me over to the newly arrived table of customers in the second-to-last booth.


I followed directions, tying on a fresh apron and pulling my order pad out of my apron pocket as I approached the table of regulars. They all welcomed me with smiles, making jokes about my bathroom antics in a friendly way, which did nothing to alleviate my blushing. I was used to it though, so no biggie. Getting heckled, teased and having my ass fondled was part and parcel of the job when you worked at a gay Diner - and I knew without a doubt my little performance would probably get me some great tips, which I was always in favor of.


“About time you got around to taking our order,” Michael - Deb’s adult son - fake-growled at me when I finally got to him. “If the job’s too tough, you know, I’m sure some of us wouldn’t mind lending you a hand . . .”


Predictably, Michael held out his hand to me, palm up, but then when I smiled, his gesture turned into a fist which he pumped a couple times in a lewd fashion. The rest of the table snickered like little boys and I rolled my eyes but laughed along, because who among us doesn’t like a good hand-job joke, right? I don’t care how old they get, gay boys never outgrow that sophomoric sense of humor.


“As thoughtful as your offer was,” I teased back, “I think I’m good. But thank you.”


Emmett, one of Michael’s closest friends, reached over and gave me a gentle poke in my side. “From what we all heard, Honey, you definitely did good. VERY, very good, indeed. And I bet, if you told people that you hadn’t washed your hands afterwards, your tips would quadruple. You go, baby.”


“I’m pretty sure that would violate about a dozen health code regulations,” the oldest one of the bunch, Ted, chimed in, his face scrunched up in a grimace of disgust. “Not to mention it’s just plain bad hygiene.”


“I washed. I promise.” I reassured them all, holding out my clean hands as evidence.


“What I want to know is, what brought on such an Oscar-worthy performance,” Emmett pressed nosily. “It certainly wasn’t the lunch menu offerings.”


“Justin’s got a new hottie on the hook,” Deb butted in as she hustled past with an overloaded tray full of food.


“Well, whoever he is, he must be dreamy,” Emmett added with a wink in my direction, “if that’s what was inspiring you.”


I felt myself blushing yet again. “Yeah, he is.”


“Ooooo - do tell!” Em insisted, clapping his hands joyously as he prepared for some juicy gossip. “Who is he? Do we know him? How big is his cock? Can I borrow him when you’re done? Tell us EVERYTHING!”


“No. I’m not sharing with you degenerates,” I replied, looking at them sternly. “I’m not letting any of you get within a hundred yards of my sweet, innocent, Eggy. You’d corrupt him.”


“This sounds serious,” Ted commented with an appraising look. “Could it be that our lusty little gayling has found ‘the one’?”


Just then my phone pinged again and, partly because I didn’t know how to respond to the guys’ teasing, I used that as an out so that I could look at my phone instead of their jeering faces. I was happy to see that it was another picture text from the very man we’d been discussing. A quick swipe to open the app and I saw a picture of Egbert’s desk with the open computer sitting atop it. The text below read: ‘And now back to the real work.’



“OMG! Look at that smile! It’s from HIM, isn’t it?” Emmett gushed, trying to grab hold of my phone so he could see what I was looking at.


“Wow, Em’s right. You really do have it bad, Boy Wonder,” Michael agreed. “Looks like our little Justin has been bitten by the Love Bug. So, when’s the wedding?”


“I think I’d make a lovely June Bride, don’t you?” I replied, cocking my head to the side and batting my eyelashes at them all while giving my most angelic smile.


“If you don’t hurry up, take their order, and get back to work, you’re going to have to find another job to help you pay for that wedding, Sunshine. Get a move on already,” Deb ordered as the bell over the front door chimed, welcoming yet another group of diners.


“You’re no fun, Deb,” I rejoined, but then proceeded to follow her directions anyway, silently thanking her for getting me out of answering any more questions about my mysterious lover boy.


 

Chapter End Notes:


Chapter 17 End Notes - I Send A Message by INXS. We realize that in real life Exposure Therapy takes months, if not years, to get a patient to the stage Brian’s at here, but we’re asking you to engage your suspension of disbelief and just go with it for now... How do you like sexy, brash Justin, huh? TAG & Sally

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