A visit to Gillian’s.

Justin had had to literally beg the guys from Pittsburgh to take his painting to Plexus. They had been pissed already by the extra stop they had to make at Pratt, which took them way into the city, was going to significantly delay their return, and had been dropped on them at the last moment.

They had not known Justin was the artist whose work they were picking up, thinking he was just some kid, hired to open the door and point them in the right direction, and he decided it would be wise not to enlighten them. He was glad he hadn’t, able to make the request of yet an extra stop on account of someone else, and putting on an act of being anxious of the consequences if he did not convince them to drop the big 10X8 off.

Finally, they took pity on him, but were not about to go out of their way to make room for him to ride along. He just hoped Brian would be there at the other end, and would maybe give them a tip.

He dragged himself to the subway for the long ride back, but on the way, stopped by his bank to deposit his check. $3000.00. He couldn’t believe it. It was fabulous, just in time for him to do some Christmas shopping. He treated himself to a foot long hotdog before heading back down into the bowels of the city.

The snow on the sidewalk was mostly melted into a disgusting brown mess, but the sky was sparkling blue, the sun on the snow covered roofs brilliant. The light in the studio had been beautiful, and he had just ached to forget about work and spend the rest of the day painting, but he knew how tight the Art Department was for manpower right now, and really had to get back.

He got to Plexus at 3:30, and stopped in his tracks as he entered the lobby. His painting was already hung, and looked as if it had been there forever. It was amazing. He felt his face split into a huge grin. This was the first thing people coming to Plexus would see from now on and it really was perfect for the space, perfect for the image he had of the company.

“It’s big, isn’t it,” said Sarah, the receptionist, seeing him stare.

“You don’t like it?” asked Justin, a little hurt.

“It’s all right, I guess. All the partners were just here, and they couldn’t stop raving about it, so it must be good, you know? I just don’t really get it. I like Thomas Kinkade,” she added, as if that was enough of an explanation, and Justin mostly thought that it was.

“It’s the city,” he explained, needing for her to understand.

She frowned at the painting. “It doesn’t look like a city.”

“No,” agreed Justin. “No, it’s supposed to feel like the city.”

Sarah stared at the new painting some more, and suddenly her face seemed to light up in understanding. “Oh! I get it now! It does feel like the city! All busy, busy, busy! Yeah! That’s why it’s so big!”

“Right,” said Justin, grinning. “Exactly.”

The phone rang.

“Plexus Advertising Agency, this is Sarah, how can I direct your call?” but the whole time, her eyes were on the painting, and she was smiling.

Justin made his way to the elevator, and headed back to work.

It was eight o’clock by the time he finished for the day. Julie and her team were still working, and Sam was on the phone. Justin felt wrung out, and his hand, hell, his entire arm, was cramping. He had spend the last hour and a half working left handed, and was getting faster at it, but it was ridiculous.

He couldn’t believe the others put up with the hours and the stress they were all under. He wondered if it was the same everywhere, if designers habitually put in sixty-hour weeks. He hoped their pay reflected their efforts and passion.

Justin really wanted to go up to see if Brian was still here, but felt pretty awkward about doing so. The elevator doors closed, and he stood there, undecided, wondering whether to push L or 3. The decision was made for him when the elevator started going up, responding to a call. It opened on 3, and Brian got in, wearing a camel coat and a black scarf over his suit, acting for all the world as if Justin was not even there. He pressed L and just stood quietly, black-gloved hands behind his back.

Between 2 and 1, he calmly pulled the emergency stop, turned to Justin with a predatory grin, grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him close. Brian’s gloved hand in his hair, the other one on his ass, Justin found his mouth being attacked in a hungry kiss. He responded enthusiastically, as his cock went from soft to hard in about fifteen seconds. After about five minutes of manhandling, Brian stepped back, leaving Justin breathless, and pushed back the emergency stop, resuming the ride.

Wiping the corner of his mouth with a gloved finger, he asked nonchalantly, “So, Taylor, were you on your way to see me about something?”

“No, actually, I was just coming up to see Alan.”

It was worth it, just to have Brian turn around in surprise, and to laugh at him.

Brian smiled. “Nice one. I’ll have to get you back for that.”

“Promises, promises,” said Justin, feeling bold. They reached their floor, and walked the corridor to the lobby. Both stopped to stare at the painting, then turned to each other and grinned. Brian opened the door to Justin, who stepped out into the positively frigid night.

“Ready for the long subway ride home?” asked Brian annoyingly. He stepped to the curb and signaled a passing cab, which pulled up instantly. He turned away from Justin, who adjusted his scarf against the biting wind. Justin did have 3000 dollars in the bank. Maybe he would get his own cab. He was about to head out when Brian leaned out of the taxi. “Justin, you coming?”

Not having any idea what it meant, Justin got in the cab with Brian. Was Brian giving him a ride back to the brownstone? Was he taking him somewhere? Was he taking him to his place?

The cab pulled away, and the cabbie inquired: “Where to, gentlemen?”

Brian turned to Justin, and raised his eyebrows. “You heard the man, Justin. Where to?” Brian knew his address by now, so the question was a different one entirely.

Justin smiled at Brian and told the cabbie, “I’m going with him.”

“Good boy,” said Brian, and gave the cabbie an address.

They rode in silence, Brian’s gloved hand playing distractedly with the tip of Justin’s scarf, Justin trying to keep track of where they were going but soon lost in an unfamiliar part of the city. The cab pulled up on the side of a tall red brick building.

“Keep the meter running,” said Brian, and then to Justin, “I’m going home to change. Do you want to come up, or wait here?”

Seeing where Brian lived was incredibly tempting, but could also lead to amazingly stupid things, cab waiting or not, so he smiled and demurred.

Brian gave him the annoying knowing smile he hadn’t seen in a while, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

He was true to his word, back in about ten minutes, having shed his business skin, and dressed in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. He gave the cabbie another address, and they were off.

They stopped in front of what looked like a residential building, with a liveried doorman who opened the cab door.

“Mr. Kinney,” he said.

Brian paid for the cab, and guided Justin through the front door, held open by the same doorman, with a hand on Justin’s lower back.

The inside of the building was plush and quiet, and blessedly warm. Some kind of a butler came, and Brian took off his jacket, gloves and scarf and handed them over. Justin followed suit, also ridding himself of his bulky messenger bag.

They stepped through double doors into a halfful dining room, where they followed a Maitre d’ to a small table for two.

“I assume you’re hungry?” asked Brian as they were seated.

“Starving,” admitted Justin. He had eaten that foot long hotdog at 2:00, and the contents of his lunch bag around five, but still. The menu read like that of some fancy steakhouse, except that there were no prices.

He looked at Brian. “Where are we?”

“Gillian’s. It’s a private club,” Brian explained. “Do you play pool? They have tables, upstairs.”

“I’ve played before,” answered Justin, remembering Woody’s at Thanksgiving, “but I’m not very good.”

“We can go up and try it after dinner, if you’d like.”

This was so weird. Was this like a date? Dinner, and a game of pool? That seemed so unlike Brian.

When the Maitre d’ returned, Justin ordered a filet mignon with all the trimmings. He hadn’t eaten filet mignon since his dad had thrown him out, and he loved it. He felt really bad when Brian only ordered a green salad, with no dressing, and a beer. It must have shown because Brian explained, ”I don’t eat fat or carbs after seven. Don’t worry about it.”

The food arrived quickly, and it was fabulous. Justin couldn’t help a moan of appreciation when he took his first bite of the meat, perfectly seasoned and melting on his tongue. Brian laughed. “Do you need some time alone with your steak, Justin?”

Justin grinned. “This is so good. I haven’t eaten steak in… forever. We’re kind of on a budget at the house…”

“Please go on,” said Brian. “I’ll just enjoy it vicariously.”

Justin tried to keep his appreciation quiet after that, but the filet was gone in five minutes, it was so good. Everything else was delicious as well, and was also put away in record time.

“Anything else?” asked the Maitre d’ appearing out of nowhere.

“No, thanks.” However tempting, Justin wasn’t about to have Brian watch him while he ate a solitary dessert.

They got up, and took an elevator to a floor upstairs, where there were several pool tables, a few of them occupied. It was obviously a bar also, and there were even some darts being played. Brian got another beer from a passing waiter, and Justin joined him. He didn’t drink much, but should be able to handle a single beer, especially with half a cow in his stomach.

It didn’t take him long to realize that this was more than your usual gentlemen’s club, since there were a couple of men openly kissing at the bar. Actually, at one of the booths, one guy was on his knees, giving another one head. Now, that seemed a lot more like Brian’s kind of place.

They started a game of pool, and he was as bad as advertized, only managing to sink two balls before Brian finished.

Brian set up again, and after breaking, helped Justin set up his shots and analyze the game, even correcting his stance and his cue hold. A couple of times, in the process of helping Justin line up his cue, he pressed his body against his, and Justin could feel his erection against his ass.

He had been hard off and on since the kissing in the elevator, and was grateful he was wearing underwear, as he knew his jeans would have shown a wet spot otherwise. He, however, managed to concentrate on the game.

Outside of having occasional problems with his hand, Justin had excellent hand-eye coordination. Under Brian’s tutelage, he was improving very rapidly.

A couple of guys approached them during their third game, where Justin was doing much better. The taller of the two leaned on the side of the table.

“How about a friendly game?” he offered. “Winners fuck the losers.”

Brian didn’t even look up from his shot. “Not interested,” and sunk his ball after calling the pocket.

The guy pouted. “How about losers blow the winners?”

“Not that either,” said Brian, once again sinking a perfect shot. He looked up at the guy with a forced smile. “Bye, bye.” Then got back to the game.

The guy shrugged, and he and his companion walked away. Brian finished the game, and came to stand very close to Justin.

“I hope you don’t mind that I turned them down. We could have taken them.”

Justin rose on his toes, and answered against Brian’s mouth. “I don’t mind.”

Brian licked Justin lower lip, captured it in his mouth before dipping in quickly for an open mouth kiss, then whispered in his ear, “Let me show you the rest of the club.”

They went up one floor, and Brian walked him through a locker room, pointing to a workout and a steam room, and then entered another large area, bathed in low light. Once Justin’s eyes adjusted, he saw that there were beds and couches everywhere, and people fucking to Enigma, a French group whose music he loved. It was more than a back room, or a lounge. The men on the beds were fully naked, taking their time. There were a few threesomes going, and there were naked men just watching other couples or walking around and joining in. He felt himself blushing as the sights and sounds had a definite effect on his already erect cock.

“What do you think,” asked Brian. “Wanna get naked?”

Justin looked at him, uncertain of what to say, but Brian looked totally serious.

“This is a little too public, for me,” he answered finally, extremely uncomfortable at the idea. Was Brian seriously talking about breaking the rules? About them actually fucking on one of these beds? He was definitely not ready for that, and was amazed Brian would even ask.

“Thought so,” said Brian rolling in his lips. Then he leaned to Justin, a smile playing in his eyes and said, in a falsetto voice, “I was just coming up to see Alan…” and Justin realized Brian had just gotten him back.

He grinned and said, “Jerk,” but without much venom, he was so relieved.

They left, and went back to the elevator, where Brian held him against his body, still chuckling, occasionally kissing his hair, going up one more floor. Through two sets of thick double doors they entered a packed dance club, smaller than Essengy, but in all other ways similar to any other gay dance club, with go-go boys, platforms, and balconies.

After the subdued sounds in the rest of the place, the music sounded extra loud to Justin. The beat caught him immediately, and he smiled at Brian, who guided him to the middle of the crowded floor, and started dancing with him.

“I need some water,” said Justin, after a minute. The truth was, he wanted to kiss Brian, and was conscious of the meal he had eaten and the beer he had drunk. His mouth did not feel very fresh. They made their way to the bar, and both of them emptied small water bottles.

Justin was grateful to see a glass bowl full of gum, and grabbed a piece. It had a very strong minty flavor. He was surprised to see Brian chuckle as he popped two pieces in his own mouth. As far as Justin was concerned, it was just what he needed. He certainly was not worried about his breath anymore.

It was strange gum. It seemed to get smaller, and just melt away. He and Brian started dancing again. The gum was completely gone now, and when Brian leaned towards him, Justin happily welcomed his kiss. God, he loved kissing Brian, loved Brian’s hands on his body. He started to pull off his t-shirt, wanting to feel Brian’s hands on his skin. Brian helped him, and threw the shirt to the bartender.

Brian lifted him off the floor, and brought him back down held tightly against him, licking his nipple, his neck, his jaw, before taking his mouth again. Justin suddenly realized he was high. Not as high as when he had taken that pill off of Brian’s tongue, but definitely not sober.

The world was spinning, but in a very good way, and Brian was holding him tight, and kissing him and he felt really, really good. He wanted Brian, wanted Brian to fuck him, and he moaned as he rubbed himself against him.

Brian took his hand, and pulled him to the back room. This was just a regular back room, not the orgy room they had seen earlier, though there were couches here and there.

Brian sat him on one of them, and Justin leaned his spinning head against the back as Brian kissed his exposed neck, his collarbone, and sucked on his nipples. It felt like heaven. Then Brian was unbuttoning his jeans, freeing his cock, and Justin sighed in relief. His underwear was wet with precome, and Brian pulled them and his pants down, in a practiced move, to the middle of his calves.

Before Justin had time to think about what was going on, Brian was taking his cock into his warm wonderful mouth all the way to the base. What followed was the most amazing blowjob Justin had ever had. Brian kept him on the edge, letting him calm down, and then bringing him seconds from exploding, and doing it again.

It felt… unbelievable, and Justin never wanted it to end. His hands were in Brian’s hair, not guiding or pushing, just feeling the up and down motion, cradling his head in gratitude. There was just the two of them, with no place else to be, nothing else to do than this, this never ending bliss, Justin's only reality.

Finally, Brian sucked, hard, literally pulling his orgasm out of Justin. He knew he was screaming, and he didn’t care, as wave after wave of delight rushed out of his cock with jet after jet of come. He had never come so hard, or so long, in his life. Brian drank every last drop, and licked him fully clean, as he caught his breath.

He realized that whatever drug had been in the gum was short acting. He was completely sober again, and so desperately in love with the man who had just pleasured him he could cry. He pulled Brian up to him and kissed him, putting everything he couldn’t say into his kiss, and Brian caressed his face gently as he kissed him back. It was too much, too much.

He brought his hand down to Brian’s fly, intending to reciprocate, but Brian chuckled in his ear. “Too late, Justin. You already got me, just from the noises you were making.” And indeed, Justin could feel the dampness on Brian's crotch, and his softened cock. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed, but from the way Brian was kissing him again, tenderly, softly, it was obvious he didn’t mind.

They made it back to the lobby where their outer garments, as well as Justin’s folded t-shirt and his bag, were returned, and when they walked out, a cab was already waiting. It was snowing thick flakes, and it was sticking. In the taxi, Justin leaned on Brian who held him in his arms as usual. Justin turned his head to bury his nose in Brian’s neck, breathing in his scent, between his collar and his ear. Brian combed his blond hair back with his fingers and kissed his forehead, holding him tight all the way to the brownstone. Justin was already out of the cab when he leaned back in and kissed Brian’s lips. Brian smiled at him.

The cab pulled away, and Justin watched its red lights until they got lost in the flow of traffic, and climbed the stairs of home, feeling a sense of disbelief at the entire evening. He took a hot shower, brushed his teeth and put on some clean underwear and a t-shirt before sliding into bed. He had meant to think about the evening and try to make sense of it, but he was asleep in seconds.