A Conspiracy of Justins.

After being blown off by Justin yet again, Brian drank his scotch in one swallow, and Mark served him another, which Brian contemplated a good ten minutes before tossing it back as well.

By the time he turned back to the dance floor, he caught a gleam of blond hair heading for the VIP room. That someone else was going to enjoy the hard on he had created annoyed him beyond words. He walked up to a skinny blond who looked a little high and had been cruising him invitingly earlier.

“I want to fuck you,” said Brian.

“Okay,” answered the blond, looking quite pleased about it. He was nowhere near as pretty as Justin, but so much more willing. Brian grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the dance floor. It took him only a couple of minutes to find Justin and his trick. The guy was sucking him slowly but deeply, a technique of which Brian heartily approved, and Justin’s eyes were closed. Brian had no doubt it was him and not his trick Justin was thinking of behind the lowered lids.

He turned the skinny blond so he was facing the wall, close enough to Justin to reach him with the tip of his fingers if such an idea had ever entered his mind. He prepared the blond to three fingers quickly, nuzzling his neck, tweaking his nipples and playing with his cock, making sure he was really gagging for it, and entered him in one quick motion. He stopped moving for a moment, allowing the trick to adjust to nine and a quarter inches of cock being suddenly shoved up his ass. Apparently he could take it, and started squeezing Brian’s cock with his sphincter in an obvious bid for some motion.

Brian began moving in and out in the same rhythm as Justin’s cocksucker’s mouth, plunging deeply every time, hitting and rubbing the blond’s prostate with every pass. Soon the guy was babbling in pleasure and calling him God, as in, “Oh God, oh God, your cock feels so good.“

Justin’s eyes opened at the racket, only to meet Brian’s and hold them, through Brian’s trick’s first orgasm (he came completely untouched), to his second one, when Brian came as well, deep into his ass while fisting his dick.

That Justin and he came at the same time did not surprise Brian at all, considering that was his goal and that their eyes had never left one another. He loved the way Justin bit his lower lip as he shuddered, and wished he had set himself up just a little closer so he could have bitten it for him.

He broke eye contact with a self satisfied smile he knew would piss Justin off, pulled out of the guy’s ass, slipped off the condom, pulled his pants up and left, making a point by leaving his trick to catch his breath and recover alone, his pants around his ankles. By the time Justin came out of the VIP room, Brian had already left the building.

Brian had voluntarily stayed away from Essengy for almost five months, trying to forget the perfect ass that had turned him down, but it seemed he was to be constantly reminded of the little fucker.

The name Justin was apparently the “Michael” of the nineties. His drug delivery boy’s name was Justin. The new personal trainer at the gym was called Justin. His favorite actress was dating a Justin. The designer of one of the most beautiful logos he had ever seen (and whom he still could not find any trace of) was a Justin, and the LA artist, whose exquisite work Brian had finally obtained photos of by contacting the owner of the small LA gallery was named Justin. It was a fucking conspiracy.

On one of the most sweltering days of the year, he had gone back to what used to be his favorite club, telling himself the little fucker would not be there, but of course he was, right in the middle of the main floor, dancing alone, his eyes closed, wearing clothes that made him look fourteen. He was deliciously sweaty, and his amazing white blond hair had grown so it curled at his neck and covered his ears.

He appeared to be completely alone in his own little world, and Brian had only to take one look at that ass to know he wanted to fuck him as badly as ever. He had wrapped his arms around him from behind, to rub his erection in his crack and lick the sweat from his neck, and Justin had pushed back against his cock and leaned into his nuzzling like a man starved, evidently not caring who was manhandling him.

Brian could see the impressive bulge of his erection forming in his ridiculous shorts, and had reached in to weigh it and measure it in his hand, but the little fucker had turned into his arms and melted against his chest.

Justin had opened like a ripe peach into his kiss, and Brian had imagined his entrance would be just as welcoming, opening without resistance under his tongue and lips, were he ever lucky enough to get them there. He had never wanted to rim an ass so badly.

But then Justin had backed off, like the coward he was, to go get a cooling drink and a soothing blowjob from someone else. Brian wasn’t fooled. He had seen how the boy looked at him hungrily, had seen his yearning eyes go down to the bulge in his own pants. He would get him yet. It was only a matter of time until the boy gave in, and revised his ‘I don’t do one offs’ policy. And that day Brian would be waiting, cock up and arms open.

***

September rolled in, and as was the case every year at Plexus, it came with a crop of interns who were working towards their master’s degree. They were both a curse and a blessing. They worked for next to nothing, were generally full of enthusiasm and creativity and were in awe of the senior partners. On the other hand, they were potentially a security risk, running their mouths off about the campaigns they helped with. They also sometimes fucked up royally, and therefore, at least at the beginning, required constant supervision and they occasionally pushed the awe a little too far and became freakishly stalker like.

Cynthia and the other partner’s assistants had reviewed their CV and selected the lucky few from the many candidates and these got to each meet one of the partners for their final interview. She had set up all four of Brian’s bright and early on a Monday morning, no doubt expecting the candidates who made it to proceed and work a full day. Two were hoping to join client relations, and two were interested in the Art Department. He needed to eliminate one of each.

Cynthia had their names and departments on sticky notes next to their appointment times in his diary. His eyes fell on the third one. Justin Taylor, from the Pratt Institute, for the art department. Son of a bitch. No wonder he had not been able to find anything about the designer of Essengy’s new image. It was a fucking student. Unbelievable. Brian started to get excited. This was excellent news. They could expect great things from this candidate. He loved being surrounded with gifted, creative people, and if Essengy’s new image was to be believed, this one was both.

His first two interviews were run of the mill. Bright, eager kids who needed to go through their internship to get their degrees, and wanted to learn as much as possible in the process. Perfect.

He had rushed through those a little and was ten minutes ahead of schedule. He rang Cynthia.

“If Justin Taylor is here, send him in.”

“He’s here.”

Brian actually got up to welcome this one, though he fell right back into his leather chair when the potential intern entered his office. He’d gotten a haircut and was wearing a suit, but nonetheless, the blond hair, the lush lips, the blue eyes were unmistakable: It was the little fucker from the club.

Taylor certainly had poise. He walked in, approached Brian’s desk, coolly shook his hand.

“Mr. Kinney, I’m Justin Taylor, thanks for seeing me.”

Without batting an eye, he sat down in the chair across from Brian. Who could not fucking believe it!

The strangest thoughts raced through his mind.

The kid was in the Pratt Institute master’s program, which made him 22 at the very least and yet, even in sharp daylight, he still looked 17.

And he realized that he had seen that ass before: On a plane from Pittsburgh to New York, a kid in line in front of him, having a great time with his dad, who then turned out not to be his dad after all.

Justin Taylor must have traded his designing talents for an Essengy club VIP membership, which explained why he always saw him at Essengy, and never at any other clubs.

He had seen how beautiful that face looked in the throes of orgasm.

Finally the all important fact that the internship lasted three months registered. He would never fuck an intern, it was career suicide, so, though he was sure the little fucker was close to giving it up, he would have to wait three more months to even think of getting in his pants. That was NOT acceptable. Brian regrouped and cleared his throat.

“I am sorry, Mr. Taylor, but I do not think Plexus is the right place for you.”

“Is there a problem, Mr. Kinney?”

“There are many other ad agencies in New York City. I suggest you apply to one of them.“

“Because of our prior encounters?”

Brian just looked at him, saying nothing.

“That’s not fair. Plexus is the one I want. I was accepted here solely on my merit. It has nothing to do with you.”

“And so, I should get to see you around here everyday?”

“I didn’t realize that being turned down by a trick was such a blow to your ego that you couldn’t handle being reminded of it by seeing my face every day.” The little fucker certainly had balls.

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“What then? Are you concerned about problems that may occur between us due to unresolved sexual tension?”

Brian stopped staring at the gorgeous mouth, and tried to concentrate on the clear blue eyes. Amazingly blue. He had never realized that in the lights of the club. Completely innocent and unveiled. Under their gaze he had problems thinking clearly.

“Do not flatter yourself,” he answered dismissively. After all, how often did he find himself in the art department? He could manage to go the entire three months without seeing him.

“Then I really see no reason why you would object to my working here. Unless…”

Brian raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Unless you are concerned about having to delay your sexual gratification for three month from fear of a sexual harassment lawsuit.“

Justin looked at him questioningly. Smart little fucker. He’d hit the nail on the head in three tries. Brian made sure to keep his face expressionless, but must have failed as Justin continued:

“Well, let me reassure you on that account, Mr. Kinney. My working here will in no way delay your ability to fuck me, as that is something that is simply never going to happen, regardless of whether I work here or not.”

Brian smiled, frankly unconvinced. “Never? That’s a very long time, Mr. Taylor.”

“Never. I do not want a one-off with you, Mr. Kinney. And that is NEVER going to change. Therefore,” Justin looked up slowly, and smiled lightly, “you should erase the idea that my working here might delay the reaching of your…” he paused momentarily, “sexual goals completely from your mind.“

“I see.” They would just have to see about that. It was very clear, though, that if Brian denied him the internship Justin rightfully deserved, the kid would never put out. Brian just stared at him.

Justin remained completely cool under pressure. After a minute he asked, “So… Do I have the job?”

You had to hand it to him. He’d won that one fair and square. All the better for Plexus, Brian consoled himself. “I see no reason why not.”

They both rose, shook hands again and Justin made his way towards the door.

“Mr. Taylor?” Justin turned questioningly. “Do not expect any special treatment.”

“Of course not, Mr. Kinney.”

And he left Brian’s office, demonstrating that a well-cut suit does not in any way hide a man’s assets. His glorious ass looked as good in it as it did in jeans and in shorts. An ass that Brian, according to Justin Taylor, was never to be more closely acquainted with. Brian considered that for a few seconds. There was simply no way in hell that could be true. He would fuck that ass, or die trying.

He got through his last interview, and called Cynthia in.

“We are keeping Adamson and Taylor, send the other two home with our thanks.”

She looked pleased.

“What are you so happy about?”

“I am glad you picked Justin Taylor. I like him.”

“He is an arrogant little shit.“

“Gifted, driven, handsome, cocky. He reminds me of you.”

Brian gave her his forced smile.

“But he can’t fire you, and I can.”

“Right,” she smiled. “Moving right along…”

He sighed, and started working on the Vuarney campaign.