Brian and Justin lay in each other’s arms quietly for a long time. It was getting late, almost time for Babylon. They could have stayed in and made lo… fucked again, but they both felt the need to have a dry run of what having a relationship in the closet would actually mean. Eventually, they kissed and they showered, then got ready for Babylon, Brian having brought his clothes in his gym bag. They decided to take the small risk of going together and of having Brian spend the night. It was the first time they would trick in front of each other, and they wanted to know they would finish the night together and talk about anything their fucking other people might bring up.

They smiled at each other at they entered the club. They both loved it there. Sunday nights were always less crowded than other nights, but there were still plenty of guys around. Justin and Brian went to the bar and were checking out their options together. Justin was surprised that Brian’s preference was definitely for tall, dark haired guys in their mid-twenties. Shorter, blond, and teenage looking, he was, for sure, an anomaly.

Justin didn’t have a type. He explained to Brian that right now he wanted to fuck guys bigger than himself who were mostly tops since his physique did not match his preference. He did not want to spend his nights cruised by guys trying to get into his ass. If he played it right, soon there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that he never bottomed. Vance saw him, smiled and stopped to say hello, and Justin got distracted.

“Hey, Justin!”

“Hi, Vance.”

“Where were you last night? I brought one of my roommates to meet you… I mentioned you last Sunday and let’s just say he wanted to check you out for himself… ”

“Ah. Something came up. Sorry. Where is he now?”

“Home. I study architecture, but he’s pre-med. He has a lot of homework.”

“Well, I’m here now. Tell him to take a break. I find a good fuck always helps me focus,” Justin joked. “Otherwise, I’ll be here three, four nights a week from now on, so I’m sure I’ll meet him someday... Hey, do you know that guy over there? He’s been cruising me since I got here…”

“Yeah. Theo. He’s a top,” said Vance.

Brian left his side, and started dancing with a beautiful Latino-looking guy, grinding against him.

“That was Brian Kinney,” said Vance. “He’s a power top. Beautiful cock. He’ll have you blow him, then if you did it right, fuck you without even needing a break. Makes you come so hard and fast you don’t know what happened, and he’s out of the backroom before you even catch your breath. Hardly ever says anything, doesn’t want to know your name or anything about you, but remembers you enough that you never get a second turn.”

“Would you want one?” Justin was curious.

Vance shrugged. “It’s an experience. When Kinney fucked me, like five years ago, I came so hard I thought the top of my head had come off. I really thought it was as good as it got. I think it was the last time I let someone top me… Until this little blond twink coerced me into it in the nicest possible way… I like your style better.” He smiled. “I jerked off all week thinking about it, the sucking, the rimming, and the fucking. Man. I didn’t feel I needed to fuck again for like, four days. As I said last time: anytime Justin, anytime. But I know you need to spread yourself out, make an impression, otherwise guys like Theo are going to come after your gorgeous ass constantly. Speaking of which…”

Theo was making his move. He came to Justin, playfully put a hand behind his neck and pulled him to the dance floor. He was good, his hip swivel sexy and evocative. Justin smiled and matched him. Soon they were dancing closer and closer, foreheads touching, Theo’s hands making their way to Justin’s ass. Justin mirrored his moves, and soon they were pressing into each other’s erections.

“How about I eat your spectacular ass and fuck it, Blondie? It’s the prettiest ass I’ve seen in awhile…”

“It’s only decorative. You can suck me, or I’ll eat your ass and fuck you…”

“You’re joking, right? I’m a top, Blondie. I pitch, I don’t catch.”

“Have a nice evening then, because neither do I,” Justin said, stepping away.

Theo grabbed his wrist. “Don’t bullshit me,” he said. “I saw you hanging out with Vance. He’s a top only.”

“Yeah? Well, I fucked him last week and we both had a good time. Let go of me, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“Bye-bye, Blondie. You don’t know what you’re missing…”

Justin smiled and shrugged, and walked to a tall nicely built guy that had been looking at him intently. “Hey,” he asked, “do I know you or something?”

“Hey. No, you don’t. Are you Justin?”

“Yeah.”

“You match your description: Seventeen-year-old-looking blond twink…” The tall guy grinned a nice white smile, meaning no offense, obviously. “The word is you’re a fantastic fuck. I’m a top, but I like a cock up my ass once in a blue moon. You know how that goes... This is all Emmett’s fault, he had me salivating talking about you at the gym. He said you’d be in tonight. I used Fleet and everything. How about it?”

The guy must have been 6’4”. Justin pulled him down and kissed the hell out of him while massaging his cock.

“Oh, yeah,” said the guy as they smiled at each other. “Let’s go…”

Justin had lost sight of Brian for a while when he was with Theo, but saw him again not far from the entrance to the back room dancing with a different brunet, evidently done with the first. Brian smiled and winked at him. Justin laughed.

He set up muscle boy in a quiet corner and kissed him again. “What’s your name?” he asked, unbuttoning the guy’s fly and taking hold of his hard erection.

“Terry. Hmm. Oh yeah… Terrence Wallis.”

Justin licked his neck. Terry could have been just coming out of the shower. He smelled good; Benetton for Men perhaps, and his shirt was still crisp from the iron. Justin pushed it up one handed on a beautiful looking six-pack, and Terrence helpfully pulled it off altogether. Justin licked and kissed his way down to his dick. Terry had been paying attention to what Emmett said about Justin, because he had toed off a shoe, and slipped off a pant leg to be able to spread his feet wide enough to compensate for Justin’s smaller size. That was nice. Hopefully, pretty soon they would all know to do that.

As tall as he was, Terry’s dick was not that long, seven inches or so, but it was really, really thick, and uncut, which Justin loved. He ran his tongue under the foreskin, playing with the frenum, as Terrence sighed in contentment, probably to find someone who knew what to do with a prepuce. Too many guys were in a hurry to push it back. It was nice and sensitive, and the head of the uncut penis was more responsive and needed a lighter touch.

Fuck, Terrence sure was a mouthful. This boy was exquisitely clean, even his balls were waxed, an added pleasure. Justin was enjoying himself almost too much to switch gears, and Terrence’s cries had nothing to do with complaints, but he did remember the big top mentioning Fleet, and fuck, if he’d made that much of an effort, he deserved a reward.

Justin turned him over, and after spreading Terrence’s legs, also spread his cheeks and started playing with his hole. Terry smelled nice everywhere. He must use not only the fragrance but also the Benetton for Men body lotion. Within a minute Justin had the tall man purring like a kitten. Most tops didn’t get rimmed often, so it was a special treat. When Justin started fucking him with his tongue, the purring changed to much louder sounds of approval, and Justin started playing with Terry’s dick again to really make it count, the foreskin making it nice and easy to jerk him off without too much friction.

With his left hand, he opened his fly and got out his cock. Ah… multi-tasking, it was a gift… He pulled a lubed condom out of his back pocket, pulled his tongue out of Terry’s ass long enough to open it with his teeth then slipped it on one handed, resuming his attentions to Terry’s ass. Simply by feel, he added lube to the condom from a small tube which he dropped on the floor, empty.

Terry was seconds from coming, the sounds he produced sexy enough to make all the guys around hornier than hell. Justin took his tongue out, stood up quickly, and immediately pushed his cock in the wet, relaxed, twitching hole, as Terrence cried out in delight, the proximity of his orgasm changing the pain of the swift penetration into indescribable pleasure. Justin started fucking him hard and fast, rubbing his prostate both ways and continuing to jerk him off. It took only a dozen thrusts to make the tall man cry out again very loudly and come, spraying the black painted wall with an abundant amount of cum. Justin kept pumping in and out of him gently the entire time, giving him the best orgasm he could give. God. He loved fucking.

As he got his brain back, Terry just said, “Holy fucking shit, Justin. Oh, my fucking God. That was… God. Let me suck you off. I want to worship that cock…”

He slipped the condom off Justin’s erection, pulled his own pants back up, leaned Justin against the wall and kneeled, something Justin did not do on that filthy floor, preferring to crouch instead. Terrence gave him an amazing blow job, making it last deliciously long; long enough for Justin to notice Theo standing there watching, his arm around the trick he was apparently finished with, and Brian, whose cock was also being serviced. Brian came, staring at him. When Justin’s release followed he couldn’t help but close his eyes, it was so good. When he reopened them, Brian was gone. Terrence licked him clean, tucked him back into his pants, and kissed him sweetly.

“Fuck, Justin. You could turn anyone into a bottom,” he said, laughing. “Your dick is fucking amazing.”

Justin laughed too. “Just my dick? And here I thought you kind of enjoyed that rim job…”

“Oh, fuck yes. I need more rimming in my life, I tell you that right now. “ They were both chuckling as they came out of the back room, the big guy with his arm around Justin’s shoulder.

“I’m a personal trainer at your new Gym. Don’t get me wrong, you’re looking good, but if you need advice, call me.” He gave Justin his card. “Don’t worry. I know how to separate business from pleasure. I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

Terrence left. Apparently he’d come for the sole purpose of getting fucked by Justin. That was nice.

Justin scanned the room for Brian, but couldn’t see him. Suddenly a topless Bill was there smiling at him.

He was obviously with a group of guys his own age, and looked like he’d been having fun.

“Hey, Justin, can I have a quickie? I’ve got my plug in…” he asked, bouncing like some eager pup.

God, he was cute. And why the fuck not?

They walked in the back room hand in hand. Brian was fucking some trick against the wall, hard and fast, his motions smooth and beautiful to watch. There was plenty of space next to him. Justin made out with Bill for a while enjoying his soft mouth, then turned him around, lowered the kid’s pants, and opened his own. He put on and lubed a condom, removed Bill’s plug, put it on the cum towel ledge and pushed in. God. This kid felt so fucking good. Bill had asked for a quickie, and that’s what he got, their height differential making it possible for Justin to hug and caress Bill’s torso the whole time, to kiss his neck and nibble his shoulders.

Somehow, Brian and Justin migrated closer to each other until their arms were touching as they fucked their tricks. Soon Brian’s fuckee was crying out, and Bill was moaning, “Justin, oh. So good. Oh, Justin,” as he sprayed his cum in the air, managing to avoid getting it on anything. Justin came deep inside him. He was so soft and warm.

He kissed Bill affectionately and asked, “Do you want your plug back in?”

“Oh, yeah. I want to get fucked some more. It’s so good.” He looked at Justin self consciously. “You fuck me best by far, so when I saw you I didn’t want to miss out… but I like it no matter what. I can’t get enough…”

Justin laughed. He’d had enough for the night. He caught up with Brian at the bar.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Definitely. I have an early meeting in the morning,” Brian teased.

“Me too. I’m supposed to meet my new boss. I hear he hates it if people show up late…” said Justin. He thought Brian had fucked three guys, and had had one or two blow jobs on top of that. He truly was an amazing fucking machine. He wondered if there was a chance they could still make love tonight. He wanted to so badly, wanted to feel close to him. It wasn’t that late.

*****

Justin had handed him his keys, and Brian was glad to drive them back. He hated being a passenger and the Audi was a very nice drive. He’d gotten two blowjobs, and fucked three guys, way more than his usual quota, yet he felt dissatisfied. Justin had explained to him what he was doing, trying to give guys who were mostly tops a good, loud time bottoming, so people would know he always topped, everyone, and was not a bottom, ever.

It seemed to be working, too. Justin had certainly had Terry, the personal trainer from their Gym, sing his praises for all to hear, and Brian had not even known the guy ever bottomed. He’d apparently struck out with Theo, who was into twinks, but maybe not for long if the way Theo’s cock had gotten hard watching Justin rim Terry was any indication.

But still. Justin didn’t act like a true top. He’d gotten down and sucked and fucking rimmed a guy in the back room… He’d taken care of the guy, giving him an amazing orgasm, but hadn’t come himself. Then he’d made out with the black kid for like, ten minutes, and though he’d fucked him like a trick, the kid had come screaming his name, obviously not for the first time… Brian wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about how Justin had looked getting that blowjob. It was obvious he had really, really enjoyed it. The way he’d closed his eyes as he came… It must have been really good. Maybe as good as one of Brian’s blowjobs. Maybe better…

Brian could not wait to get back and wash the tricks’ sweat, cum and spit off his body, and for Justin to do the same. He needed to feel close to him. Would Justin be too tired to fuck? Brian would literally had given a nut to be able to fuck him. Justin was his, goddamn it. Not Terry’s, not that black kid’s. His.

When they got back, Justin seemed relaxed; goofing off as he brushed and flossed his teeth then used some super-strength mouthwash before getting in the shower with Brian. His only mention of Babylon was that he liked the cum towels, but that the floor was a little disgusting. Brian teased him and grossed him out, telling him he should see that floor in full light…It looked shellacked; there was so much accumulated spunk.

He brushed and flossed too, though he’d neither had his tongue in someone’s ass nor even in someone’s mouth. He was secretly very happy about Justin’s thorough oral hygiene, though he felt idiotic about it. They got into bed, the feeling of intimacy increased by the low ceiling and the inadequate green light. Justin got on an elbow and looked at Brian pleadingly.

“Brian, I know we fucked this morning, and again before Babylon, and I’m sure you got your fill there tonight, but I really want to make love again… please.”

Wasn’t it nice that Justin was begging him for what he wanted most in the world? Well, second most… Fuck. He had to stop thinking like that. This was them, together. The logistics did not matter.

He rolled on top of Justin and ravaged his mouth, and took possession of the pale soft body, kissing it, caressing it, loving it. He put a love bite above the left nipple, one below the navel, one underneath the left hip bone. He grabbed Justin’s thighs and put them on his shoulder, spreading the magnificent ass to tease and plunder his opening, suck his smooth balls and finally swallow his cock.

Justin had not sounded like that when Terry was blowing him. He had not panted, growled and moved his hips for more like some wanton whore…

Brian sheathed the beautiful cock, slathered on the lube, put a big glob of it on his own hole, and impaled himself slowly on Justin’s cock.

Justin’s eyes were full of concern until the unbelievable tightness he was penetrating brought him a pleasure so acute he could not think anymore, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. For Brian, it was agony. The pain was incredibly sharp, as if he was torn in half, though he knew full well that it was not the case. He breathed through it, watching Justin’s body tremble from the assault of the amazing sensation.

As soon as Justin was fully in, ignoring his own extraordinary ache, he sat up and plunged him back in without respite, Justin keening in bliss, immobile, his knuckles white on the sheet. Brian went for several short quick thrusts followed by one long one, again and again, and abruptly, to his surprise, his pain was gone and he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

He felt the large mushroom-like head of Justin’s cock milking his orgasm closer and closer. He sped up, wanting Justin to get there first. Justin’s body was covered in sweat, his back arched, his keening replaced by uncontrolled cries of pleasure. He opened his eyes, the large black pupils shockingly making room for the intensely blue iris when they shrank to pinpoints as he came, his abs contracting so hard his head and shoulders came off the bed, again and again.

Brian’s orgasm was that sweeping, all-encompassing rush one experiences from having one’s prostate stimulated to completion, adding itself to the exquisite pleasure of a normal release as one ejaculates. He fell forward, his sweaty forehead on Justin’s shoulder, just to hear Justin sigh, “Brian” before passing out. Brian laughed softly. Justin had not said his tricks’ names as he came, nor had he lost consciousness from the strength of his orgasm with them.

He held the condom on Justin as he raised himself off his cock. He was very, very sore. Stupid. But he was still grinning. He slipped the condom off, tied it and threw it at the base of the ladder so he could pick it up on his way to the shower later, and leaning on his elbow, looked at his unconscious lover.

Earlier, Justin had told him, “I love you,” simply, without theatrics, a statement of facts. Now Brian could go about his day, talking, eating, sleeping, working, knowing that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Justin loved him.

The man he respected the most, admired the most, laughed with the most, talked with the most and wanted the most, loved him. How fucking lucky was that?

Justin’s blond hair looked darker wet with sweat. The angle of his jaw was beautiful, as well as his tiny shell like ear. His pouty mouth was slightly parted on his minty breath, his cheekbones sharp for someone so young. His eyes were deep set under the straight brows and the completely smooth forehead. Brian guessed Justin had Finnish ancestors. He kissed the round tipped nose, because he always wanted to kiss the round tipped nose but felt silly doing it normally. It just begged to be kissed though, so he did it again and Justin smiled, opening his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

Justin chuckled. “Beautiful?”

Brian smiled at him. “Oh, yeah… Very. But don’t worry, it’s just the post coital glow speaking. Normally I only see some blond twink I am unaccountably fond of…”

Justin smiled. “Post coital or not, when I look at you, I always see the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”

“Well, that goes without saying.” Brian smirked contentedly.

Justin burst out laughing. “And the most conceited, vain and arrogant one too.”

Brian laughed too. “Stop with the compliments. You’ll make me blush. Let’s go shower and sleep, OK?”

Under the hot water Justin asked, with real concern, “How’s your ass, you idiot?”

Brian made a face. “Hurts.”

“Any tear?”

“I don’t think so. There was a lot of lube.”

“Let me see.”

…Oh, whatever. Brian bent down to the floor, his legs apart. He jumped and hissed when he felt Justin’s warm tongue exploring the area, searching in and out for that sharp metallic taste that indicated a tear, or at least an abrasion bad enough to bleed, and then felt him gently soap the exterior and direct the shower spray to abundantly rinse it. Justin smacked his ass lightly, signaling he could stand up.

“No tearing, just a lot of irritation and swelling. You need some of that fish oil ointment with the zinc oxide, Mytosil.”

Fuck. That meant a lot of swelling. If he let it go, he might end up with hemorrhoids. He’d have to get some tomorrow. The stuff was foul, but it worked miracles. It was French of course, and strangely enough the only place you could get it was at the pharmacy on Liberty Avenue…

They got out of the shower. After they dried themselves, Justin handed him a sample size tube of Desitin with zinc oxide, aloe and vitamin E. “That’s all I’ve got, but it’s better than nothing.” He left Brian to it.

It hurt quite a bit to apply it where it was most needed, but it was literally going to save his ass, so… He washed the white stuff off his fingers, and joined Justin in bed.

Brian, closer to it, turned off the light. After a while, Justin’s voice came in the dark, hesitant.

“Why did you do it? It had to hurt…”

Brian admitted, ”Yeah. Like a bitch. I… I needed it to be… unforgettably good for you.”

Earnestly, Justin said, “Brian, every time we’ve fucked, every time, it’s been unforgettably good. Every time I think, this is the best sex has ever felt. You and I, it’s just… extraordinary.”

“I know.”

Justin was quiet for a while. Then, “So, what the fuck?”

“Just let it go, Justin, OK? I got what I needed. It’s all good.”

Another time of silence, but Brian could feel how tense Justin was now. Finally, in his soft voice, he said, “I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, OK? I… I just don’t want to hurt you. Ever. It’s really important to me that you not be hurt. By me. In that way. Please.”

This was important. Brian could tell it was very fucking important to Justin. “Justin? I promise you I’ll never do anything like that again. I promise. And remember, I hurt myself. You’ve never hurt me, not ever. Even earlier tonight, when you only stretched me to two fingers? It burned, but it felt so fucking good, you know? You are an amazingly considerate lover. You never hurt me.”

Justin sighed, and Brian could feel the tension leaving him like a retreating tide.

“Hey, Is there any way I can hold you while we sleep without… without making your dreams worse? I’d really like to hold you,” said Brian.

“Can I put my head on your shoulder?” asked Justin.

“You can put your whole body on mine. We fell asleep once like that after sex and I loved it.”

“Really? I’d love to but aren’t I heavy after a while?”

“Pfft. Climb on board, Sunshine.”

They fell asleep with Justin’s head on Brian’s heart, his body on Brian’s, one of Brian’s hands in the blond hair, the other lightly on his back. Neither moved until the alarm went off at 5:30.

*****

As soon as he had turned off the alarm on his palm pilot, Brian had gotten up, put on his jeans and his leather jacket, kissed Justin lightly on the lips, whispered, “Later,” and headed out.

Justin had stretched, having enjoyed the best non drug-induced sleep he’d had in awhile, and had engaged in a bit of daydreaming, very happy with how things were working out in Pittsburgh.

But it was time to get up. He showered quickly, shaved, put on his favorite fragrance and went to the closet where his suits hung to choose what he was going to wear to meet his team.

As far as he was concerned, the morning meeting was of no consequence. He’d met Ted and Cynthia, and was already vaguely acquainted with his boss. The important part of the day would come when he would meet alone with the art team, five people who could make him or break him… He knew there was talent there, or Kinnetik would not have been as successful as it was, but he was also aware that there were huge communication problems between the ad execs and the Art Department, and that often Brian had to step in and rattle the cage for things to move in the right direction, which meant that the two creative sections of Kinnetik were constantly at odds.

He was bound to be resented. Younger than any of them, looking younger still, right out of school, replacing someone with years of experience whom they had viewed as protecting them from the abuse from the execs… It was going to be an uphill battle.

Soooo… John Varvatos: A dark grey suit with a slight shimmer, a snow-white shirt, and a yellow silk tie that matched his blond hair. It was only when he removed his jacket that you could see what he had had embroidered in yellow silk on the back of the conservative, perfectly cut shirt: “Nothing helps me think creatively like a good blowjob.” And of course, the yellow converse sneakers Varvatos had designed the suit to go with.

He grabbed his messenger bag, his keys, his wallet and was out the door. He stopped at Starbucks on the way for a triple decaf latte with enough sugar to feed an anthill for a year.

At twenty-five minutes to seven, he walked into the conference room. Cynthia and Ted were already there, comparing notes. They exchanged smiles and “’Mornin!” Cynthia pointed to the chair he had occupied for his interview, on the immediate left of Brian’s. Hers was on Brian’s right.

He got his laptop out and signed on to the network, only to be asked for an authorization code from the Network Master. Ah ha. Security had been beefed up at last… He passed his computer to Ted with a grin.

“Oh, Network Master! Let me in!”

Ted chuckled. “It’s only the first time you sign-in, in a given time period. To keep people out who may still have access otherwise.” He typed something, pressed enter, and returned his laptop. “There. You’re in. You’ll have to do this every three months.”

Justin checked his Kinnetik email. There wasn’t anything new. He checked his Gmail address, and smiled when he saw something from Aidan157.

JT,

You are busy Wed. evening. Whatever it is, it will keep you busy deep into the night. Most probably until morning actually, so bring appropriate accoutrements. Corner of Fuller and Tremont, top floor. Parking under building from Tremont, code 4554. Take my space. We would not want people to see your petty wheels at my place overnight, now would we?

And remember that your boss is an asshole. Whatever he says in public, know that I do not share his opinion… probably. And feel free to answer him similarly.

Later.

Aidan

Justin answered.

Aidan,

Wed: check.

Asshole boss: check

There is this really nice article in the Sunday Times about Itchiku Kubota's Kimono Museum. We should go to Japan. I’ve never been. I want to go to Nagoya. They have a museum of architecture I’d love to see and a huge spa a friend of mine raved about. Tell my asshole boss we need a contract over there. Or maybe I’ll tell him I need to go for research purposes.

Later.

JT

He’d just pressed send when the art department arrived. Ted made the introductions. Bob, Cathy, Ingrid, Stuart and Viv. Cathy and Viv’s welcomes sounded genuine. Stuart had “I’m a jerk off” written all over his “If you call me Stu, you take the art out of my name” t-shirt. Bob seemed oblivious of the change in command, and Ingrid looked like a mouse.

The ad execs entered, and their welcome was way more enthusiastic. They raved about Justin's work for Sim and Sam, asked about his schooling, his experience and so on.

“Well, it would have been nice if maybe the Art Department had been invited to this little viewing,” said Stuart aggressively, to no one in particular.

“Well, considering the work was done by Carrie’s replacement, and that she was unaware she was being replaced, that might have been awkward, Stu,” said Cynthia as if she was speaking to a mentally challenged youngster.

“Well, maybe if the art department had been consulted, she would not have been replaced, Cyn…” answered Stuart.

“And maybe the day I ask your opinion about any kind of executive decision, Stu, is the day I decide to pick a new color for the clients’ bathroom,” said Brian, waltzing in exactly at seven.

He threw two signed contracts in Ted’s general direction. “$270,000.00. Anybody else got a signed contract this weekend? No? Hmm. That must be why I decide who comes and goes in this company. Right, Stu? So. You’ve met Justin Taylor. Justin, welcome to Kinnetik. You don’t have to dress as if you own the company, by the way.”

“Oh, good,” said Justin, standing up and turning his back to everyone to remove his jacket, exposing the embroidery on his shirt. He sat back down and put his feet on the table.

Brian rolled his lips in. “Feet off, please,” he requested.

Justin grinned at him, took his feet off and put his jacket back on. Cynthia looked like she was going to explode laughing, and she and Ted were carefully avoiding looking at each other. There were smirks all around the table. Stuart was in a quandary. Smiling would mean siding with Justin, and not smiling would mean siding with the boss, neither option acceptable to him. He decided to roll his eyes and look bored by the infantile confrontation.

“Luckily for Mr. Taylor, he has better taste in art than in footwear. Here are the digitized panels for Sim and Sam.”

The lights dimmed, and the doors dissimulating the large screen opened. One by one the panels appeared. Viewed as they should be, they looked really cool. Justin was quite happy with them. The last thing to appear were the instructions Justin had to work from.

“I gave these to Justin on Sunday; he turned in the finished panels on Thursday. So, Stu, when you can do work half as good on a job in twice the time, I’ll start valuing your opinion.”

“If I could do half as good a job in twice the time, I wouldn’t work for this two-bit outfit, Bri. I’d be in New York City, playing with the big boys…” answered Stuart, without missing a beat.

“At least three times a day, I do wish you were in New York City, Stu.”

Justin wondered why Stuart was even working for Kinnetik. One of those mysteries that would be solved later no doubt.

Cynthia went over the finalized campaigns and the new ones brought in by the different members of the team. Two outfits in the Northwest had contacted Kinnetik to get an idea of what the Pittsburgh Company, which had worked magic for Sim and Sam and Caunaussy, could do for them. For some reason Brian, who just a few weeks ago had been so keen on going to Seattle, did not seem all that eager to pursue these leads personally. Both Grant and Amber were interested though, and Brian decided to send Amber. She’d been with the company longer, was super loyal and presented well. Summer was approaching, and with it a slowdown in business. Any possible contract deserved to be pursued.

Ted went over the new security protocols, and described the recovery of their squandered intellectual property achieved so far. He also went over the financials. Kinnetik was doing very well.

At the end of the meeting, Brian retained Cynthia, Ted and Justin.

“Justin, I give you one month to get your team up to par. After that, guys, we are going after Vangard. I want to buy Gardner out in six months, or watch him sink, whichever he chooses. I want all three of you to suggest strategies to achieve this. It’s not just a private vendetta. With Justin as Art Director, I really feel we are the better company. His clients should be ours, especially the ones I brought in. We will talk about it after the meetings every Monday. Justin, do you need one of us to give you a rundown of your department, show you around and so on?”

“No. I’ve got it.” Ted and Cynthia got up and left. “Well, you could tell me why Stuart works here.”

Brian walked him to the door, looking sour.

“Ah, Stuart. He’s an idiot. Malicious and malingering, too. His presence here can be explained in one word. Font. He knows all the fonts and I mean all of them. Ours, others, old and new ones. He’s a one trick pony, but he’s a fucking genius at picking them.”

“I can pick my own fonts…” That’s all the guy has to offer? Brian had to be kidding.

Brian smirked. “Justin. Do you have a project you are particularly proud off? Where you feel you really kicked ass?”

“A couple projects for school, sure.”

“Show them to Stuart. Have him pick a font. You’ll see.”

He opened the door, dismissing him. Justin took a deep breath, looking toward the far end of the corridor, towards his kingdom. Well, show-time.

The Art Department was a large room with seven work stations, of which only five were occupied. It resembled any art department he’d ever seen, with a look of organized chaos that he knew would come to make perfect sense to him in only a few days. There was a door with his predecessor’s name on it. It was his office.

He opened the dusty blinds and the windows, looked around the dismal looking space which Carrie York had emptied of her possessions but had not cleaned of three years of professional detritus. He sighed. He took his jacket off and put it on the back of the chair. He’d clean up tonight, after work. He went back to the main area and walked to the closest station, which happened to be Ingrid’s.

“Hey, Ingrid. Any deadlines today?”

“Hi, Justin. No. Something due Friday for Sandy, and another for Abe, Friday as well.”

“Cool. Here’s what I want to do. I want four piles, one for each exec, the most urgent project on top. For each project, I want their original instructions, their revisions and the finalized plan if you have it. First, I’m going to enter them in a database, and then I’ll review them one by one. Then I want a list of your finished projects for 2005, with the exec’s name. OK?”

“Sure.”

Ingrid was very organized. The first part took all of fifteen minutes. The review of the projects, however, was painful. The directions might have been written in Chinese for all Ingrid followed them. Her work was beautiful, but painstakingly slow, because her comprehension skills of what the execs required was nil. Her list of finished projects was very short. It was obvious the execs only used her as a last resort. Both items due on Friday were going in opposite directions to what Sandy and Abe needed. It was a two-pronged problem. Their instructions were disorganized and all over the place, and Ingrid only saw in them what she liked. She had seven files total. Justin rewrote clear, detailed instructions for each, making sure she got them; underlining what he realized she did not care for as being mandatory parts of the execution, not optional.

He moved on to Viv. She was gifted, disorganized, and overwhelmed, behind on several projects, oblivious of deadlines. Her phone was ringing incessantly, as the execs complained and she jumped from project to project, according to who had yelled at her last. She was also smart, funny and charming. It took over two hours to get a handle on what projects she had, for whom and when due. At the end, she fell back in her chair, haggard.

“There is no fucking way I can get any of this done on time. I’d forgotten about half of these!”

Justin took seventeen files off her load, and closed her up on the database. She would not be available for anything new for at least two weeks. He gave her a prioritized list, and told her what he expected to see coming across his desk in the next three days, regardless of deadlines. He unplugged her phone and smiled at her. “If the execs call, they’ll talk to me. You work, I’ll take the heat. Get to it.”

When he left her, she looked as if she had a new lease on life.

Next he went to Bob, who, after Justin explained what he was doing, handed him his own database, which Justin just had to copy. He was managing his load all right, and had an impressive number of projects finished for the year. However, creatively, he was definitely in a rut, his art humdrum with no originality or creativity. He required every idea and every ounce of flair to come from the ad execs through detailed instructions. He was bored and boring. For now, Justin left him to it.

Stuart had the workstation next to the water cooler. His load was a joke, as was his artwork, really. He’d been in the middle of reading Psychology Today when Justin came to his desk. He put down the magazine and crossed his wrists on his knees.

“What can I do for our new Art Director?”

Because Justin was curious, he showed Stuart a project from Cornish he thought he had been particularly successful completing, all of it coming together. Stuart took one look at it; pouted, changed the font to one Justin had never heard of. It was significantly better. Justin repeated the experiment with several others, including his resume. Each time, Stuart’s choice was by far superior.

Stuart gave him a little satisfied smile and was about to start reading again when Justin laughed. “Oh, no you don’t.”

Stuart sighed, put upon. “What now?”

“Do you pick all the fonts for Kinnetik?”

“No. Not Bob’s. He’s a dick,” Stuart answered.

“Dick or not, you do now.” Of all the art produced, Bob’s was certainly the one that needed the increase in “Oomph!” a good font could give.

Stuart rolled his eyes. “Yes, master. Anything else?”

“Sure. Picking font takes what, 5% of your time? So either we cut your salary to match that 5%, or we fill up the rest of your schedule.” From Stuart’s desk, he picked up a really lame attempt at a project Ingrid was actually completing. Obviously, no one gave a project only to Stuart. Everybody knew he was terrible as an artist. “Since you completely suck at your present job, you are getting reassigned. As my personal assistant.”

“Like hell I am. I’m going to continue to do exactly what I’ve been doing. You need me.”

“OK, then. It was worth a shot.” Justin shrugged. “You’re fired. Pick up your Psychology Today; take your computer to Ted for a cleanup, and good-bye.” Justin started to get up.

“You can’t fire me. Brian won’t let you,” said Stuart, very sure of himself.

“Really?” Justin dialed Brian and put him on speaker.

“Brian Kinney.”

Now. Let's see how good an actor Brian was.

“Justin Taylor, sir. (Justin hoped the ‘sir’ would tell him something was afoot.) I’m here with your idiot savant. You’re right. He could have a booth at a fair. But it’s nothing that the new program we looked at can’t do.

“Hmm…” Oh, god. Brian was clueless. Well at least he wasn’t calling his bluff.

“I know the program gives you three font choices and doesn’t actually pick the final one, but I think we can manage. We can purchase it with one month of this pedantic blowhard’s salary. I think it’s totally worth it.”

“So we’re getting rid of him?”

OK. That was better.

“He has no place at his present job and does not seem open to the reassignment you suggested. So I have no use for him here.”

“Oh, well. Do what you think is best. You’re in charge down there.”

Brian hung up. Well. No Academy Award for his ass, but at least he had left Justin room to play.

Stuart was looking horrified. “There’s a program that picks fonts?”

“Yeah. We used it at school. You’re better, but it’s cheaper and you’re otherwise useless, so…”

“Brian suggested I should become your assistant? Why didn’t you say it was his idea? What exactly would being your personal assistant entail?”

“Working?”

“Oh, haha. Very funny.”

“Do what I need done, when I need it done, without bitching mostly. You could start by getting a large garbage can and getting rid of all of Carrie’s remaining shit in my office, then help me organize it. And you could keep track of the deadlines from the database and make sure projects make it across my desk on time.”

“I get to harass the others when they’re behind?”

“Within a reasonable limit. And you can track and order supplies.”

“Shopping?”

“For approved supplies, yes.”

“Can we get an espresso machine? I can make decaf espresso for everybody. I make a killer espresso.”

“Sure. You can make them espresso, and harass them.” Man, this guy was a trip…

“And pick the fonts. You’re not getting that program, right?”

“…OK. And pick the fonts.”

“Goody. I’m in.” Stuart giggled.

“Uh, Stuart.” Justin did not have the best gaydar, but Stuart was really throwing him off. “You’re straight, right?”

“Yes. Definitely. Happily married, thank you. Why?”

“I’d love to meet your wife, that’s all.”

“Juliette?” His smile made his face glow. “She’s great. She drives a bus for the city. Can I tell her this is a promotion?”

“It is. From font picker, to Personal Assistant to the Art Director.”

“Oh, my god.” Stuart fanned himself with a narrow, long fingered hand. “Can I get business cards?”

“Sure. You do a good job, and in a month you can get your own business cards.”

Stuart was a complete trip. Justin wondered what neuroses he suffered from. It might be easier to list the ones he didn’t have… Stuart got up; all business now, he threw his magazine in the trash, and disappeared in the direction of what hopefully was a broom closet. Who knows? He might yet work out…

Cathy was the last artist under his care. She was good, but it quickly became obvious, not half as busy as she liked the ad execs to think. She was definitely not pulling her weight any more than Ingrid was, though in her case, it was not by lack of ability, but out of pure laziness. Justin reassigned nine of Viv’s files to her. She bitched. He told her he had eight more, if she insisted. She shut up and went to work. As good as she was, in a couple of weeks he would double her output.

He reassigned the last eight charts to Ingrid, rewriting all the instructions, which considering how lackadaisical the ad execs were took quite some time, and then went to his office to see how things were going.

The place was spotless. He now had a coat tree with his jacket on a hanger, a green plant by the window, a blotter, a blown glass pencil cup, and a multi-line phone on his desk.

There was a big white board on the wall with the names of the artists on the x-axis, the ad execs on the y-axis, and this week’s deadlines in the appropriate areas.

Along the wall, there was a smaller desk, also with a multi-line phone, and with a little spring bouquet. Sitting there, on the same stool he’d used at his workstation, perusing a supply catalogue, was Stuart. OK. That was interesting. Not much privacy there, but…

“Thank you, Stuart. This is terrific.”

“I found the perfect espresso machine. Can I show you? I can put it at my old station, next to the water cooler, and revive everyone’s spirit when they flag!”

“Sure.”

It did look like a good machine. Stuart had apparently been researching them for a while because he had the consumer report, and the industrial standard ratings handy. He also had a request for payment and an order form all filled out for Ted’s department.

Justin signed it, and Stuart said gaily, “If you don’t need me for anything, Justin, I’ll walk it over right now. I’ll stop and remind Viv that Bakker’s Dry Cleaning is due on your desk in a half hour. Knowing her, she’s done with it and just forgot.” And out he went.

Justin shook his head. He took out his laptop, put a password on it so Stuart could not, in his zeal, get anywhere near his stuff, and checked his work email.

From Brian Kinney.

Justin,

How about a head's up next time you want to fuck with one of our employees? I don’t have fucking ESP. What is the resolution, or is that Need to Know as well?

I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing. He is an idiot savant, but we need him.

Brian

Brian,

Sorry to have put you on the spot. Don’t quit your day job, BTW, you suck at improv… Stuart has now, per your suggestion, been promoted to the post of personal assistant to the Art Director.

He cleaned up my office and has memorized all the deadlines. OCD, much? He will also be the new Art Department barista. We will share his talents with those deserving few.

He will pick all the fonts from now on, including Bob’s.

I didn’t run across any projects with your name on it. Why has your creativity not been put to use? Too busy chasing business? That’s a fucking shame, Kinney.

Justin.

He also checked his Gmail.

JT,

We can go anywhere as long as you wear that suit. You look hot. When you got up and took off your jacket, for a split second I thought you meant to strip. Fuck. I’m hard again. Then I saw your shirt, and had this almost overwhelming urge to raise my hand and volunteer to help your creative thought process.

And I love the Converses. John Varvatos, right?

God. I need a fucking blowjob, and I don’t have time to go to the baths before my next appointment.

Babylon tonight?

Aidan.

PS: Read the article at lunch. Nagoya and Kobe, 10 days, as soon as you can pretend to have accumulated some vacation.

Justin replied.

Aidan,

Yes, John Varvatos, good call.

I think I mentioned before what I think of you in a suit. That and the arrogant Kinney persona made me almost come in my pants…

No Babylon for me. I’m bushed. What time did we fall asleep last night? I’m still a growing boy; I need my 6 to 8 hours to function at full potential so I’ll be catching up on sleep.

The biggest market for Eastern Washington apples is Japan. Maybe you can translate your newfound popularity advertising in the Northwest into a contract with the Washington State Apple Growers, and we can write the trip off…

JT

Stuart walked in and dropped four files on Justin’s desk. Bakkers from Viv for Amber, Little Froggies, a French/English preschool from Cathy for Abe, Ross Park Mall from Bob for Grant, and Stevenson’s Ice Cream from Bob for Sandy. Both of Bob’s were a yawn. He sent them on anyway and then called them both to make an appointment and have a chat with them the next day. Remembering too late that he had an assistant, he told Stuart, “I’m meeting Grant tomorrow at 9:00 and Sandy at 2:30. Do you want to take care of my diary? Cynthia can give you pointers.”

Stuart was already dialing Cynthia.

“Cynthia, Stuart, here. As his new Personal Assistant, I have to keep track and organize Justin’s diary. Can you see me in the morning and show me how you deal with Brian’s? Oooooh! Can I get a copy of that? Cool. Yes, 9:15, got it. Thanks, dear.”

He smiled gleefully at Justin. “She uses a special program and everything. This is so much more exciting than working for the Art Department!”

God, thought Justin. I created a monster… He needed to stretch his legs. He left the Art Department and walked toward the executive end of the floor. A corridor to the left led to the administration. Then there were three doors. There was the server’s closet, with all the wiring, and a supply closet with… supplies. Next a janitor’s closet. He wondered if they had a cleaning service, and called Brian.

“Brian Kinney.”

“Hey, it’s Justin. Sorry to interrupt. Are you with a client?”

“No. My last appointment is … in twenty minutes.”

“Hmm. That’s barely enough time, but… Could you make your way to the art department? I want to quickly show you something.”

“OK. I’ll be right there.”

Justin walked leisurely in the direction of Brian’s office. Brian came out and seeing Justin, could not help but smile. When Brian reached him, Justin turned around and started walking with him in the direction of the art department.

“It’s nothing major, but…”

As they passed it, he shouldered Brian into the janitor’s closet, locked the door, and was on his knees with Brian’s tumescent cock in his mouth before the man could say more than, “Oh!”

God! He tasted good, and smelled even better. Justin took the long, thick cock in all the way and buried his nose in Brian’s pubes. He took a deep Brian-scented breath and started giving him the kind of blowjob that are janitor’s closets’ specials: quick, efficient and hopefully, deeply satisfying. Soon, Brian’s hands were in his hair, and he was breathing fast. Justin could imagine the rolled-in lips trying to contain the sex noises. Still, there was an “Aaahhh” when Brian, with his head thrown back, ejaculated down Justin’s throat, but it was quite discreet.

Justin tucked Brian back in while he caught his breath, and was about to walk out when Brian caught his arm and drew him close, kissing him.

“God, Justin.”

Brian held him tightly for a moment then backed away enough to look and smile at him.

“You’re going to be late for your appointment,” said Justin, smiling too.

“I won’t. I’m going. I’m certainly a lot more relaxed than I was.” Brian chuckled.

“Good. Later.”

“Later.”

They went their separate ways. It was four-thirty, and Justin had skipped lunch. He felt fine calling it a day. He checked everyone’s progress, asking them what time they usually called it good, and what time they normally arrived in the morning. The consensus was that aside from Mondays, they got to work around nine and left around six.

Justin decided his hours would be 8:30 to 6:30, knowing from experience that there were a lot of late nights in his future. He informed his assistant of his decision, and then told him that on Mondays he’d be off at 5:00. Since there was nothing needing urgent attention, he told everyone else to go home as well. He would see them in the morning. They were happy enough to have a department head who didn’t expect them to work once he left, as apparently Carrie had. So far, so good.