Let's Dance

His growling stomach awakened Justin before the alarm went off. It was 5:30. He thought of the empty cupboard and smiled to himself. This boy needed his protein. He rolled out from under Brian’s arm and pushed him lightly so he would lie flat on his back. Then he found his way under the sheet (the duvet was somewhere on the floor) to Brian’s sleeping cock. The same cock that had made him come three times last night. He loved that cock, and showed it so. The alarm was set for 5:45, so he only had about ten minutes left for ‘breakfast’. Plenty of time. Yum. Oh! Seems Brian was awake now!

He was just sucking the last drop of come out of Brian’s happy dick when the alarm rang. Brian took his hand out of Justin’s hair to reach over and turn it off as Justin made his way up his body. Brian’s hair was messy and his jaw was scratchy with beard, but his smile and their good morning kiss were very nice. In the shower the scratchy cheeks added a lovely dimension to his pleasure when Brian mouthed his freshly waxed balls in the process of returning his blowjob.

Justin had had his first wax when he was seventeen, right before his first foray onto Liberty Avenue, quite uselessly, as it turned out, since he had spend the next few weeks in a coma. After an hour of paging through different magazines he had no interest in, he had bought an issue of ‘Gay Pittsburgh’, trying to act debonair, never mind the fact that his hand was shaking and that his bills were soft with sweat when he’d handed the newsagent his money.

He’d read a very educational article (by flashlight, under the blankets) about the importance of a ‘well tended garden of Eden’ if one expected one’s partner to spend much time in it. The idea of someone spending time there had forced him to delay finishing the article, as of course he’d had to jerk off.

Twice.

Then he had gotten absorbed in the examination of the different pubic trims (the hair allowed to remain around the base of the penis and on the lower belly, a completely bald crotch being generally considered esthetically unsatisfactory) from a narrow band (weird) to a triangular shape (girly) to the more natural rectangle (his preference), or an oval shape (not bad).

Following the article were many ads from salons offering male waxing, including a few that offered scrotal waxing. Believing in being prepared, he had called the next day to make an appointment for what turned out to be a mortifyingly embarrassing and incredibly painful experience. It was, however, well worth it, as that night, he could not get enough of caressing his completely smooth bum, anal area, perineum and scrotum as he imagined someone else doing so.

With the years, the hair in the area had gotten much less coarse, and whether because he had gotten used to it, or whether the hair was less profoundly anchored, the whole experience had lost most of its excruciating edge, especially if one didn’t let things get out of hand. As soon as he detected the presence of some soft peach fuzz, Justin went for a wax, about every couple of month. Brian obviously did the same.

Justin dressed quickly while Brian shaved, but lingered in the bedroom while Brian dressed. His business skin went on with an economy of movement born from years of practice, as he transformed from Brian, Justin’s lover, to Brian Kinney, ad exec, both equally gorgeous in Justin’s eyes.

Brian was fully aware of being observed, but still moved without any self-consciousness, comfortable in his own attractiveness. He smiled at Justin as he tied his tie and Justin smiled back.

“We should go shopping for you,” said Brian. “You look beautiful in black. And you have a real job now.”

Justin laughed. “Half the people in the Art Department wear jeans to work.”

“Not the managers. They often meet the clients.”

It was true. Sam always wore a shirt and tie, though without a jacket, Randy had an artistic New York look, in black turtlenecks and black pants, and Julie seemed to own an endless collection of pretty dresses.

“I hate shopping,” said Justin cringing.

Brian smiled evilly. “I’ll make it fun for you.”

Thoughts of Brian fucking him in a dressing room made Justin suddenly want to run to the store. He smiled back but then said with a heavy sigh and a martyred look, “I guess, if we have to, we have to.”

Brian laughed. He picked up the phone and called a cab, hung up, dialed again and ordered a triple espresso, a tall latte and a muffin and hung up once more.

“I didn’t know Starbucks took phone orders,” said Justin.

“They don’t. But the pusher who loiters at the Starbucks corner does, for a ten buck tip.”

Justin smiled. Life with Brian certainly was interesting. They were sharing the cab to Plexus, and Justin was then continuing alone to the airport. He would meet Brandon in the luggage area, and Jessica would wait for them outside, in her limo.

At the Starbucks, Brian told the cab to pull up to the corner, where a handsome black guy in white do-rag handed him a tray with the drinks, the muffin, and about ten sugar packets in exchange for a twenty. Justin had never been so happy to see a muffin in his life and ate the cap off of it in about twenty seconds.

Brian laughed. “I think we should get food for the loft,” he said as he tore open six packs of sugar in a well-practiced move, and dumped them in his espresso.

“Uhuh,” Justin agreed, his mouth full. He took a swallow of latte. “I can shop at some point today. Is there a grocery store near the loft?”

Brian took out his wallet and handed him a card with drawings of dancing vegetables and a smiling truck, a truly horrible example of advertising gone wrong.

“Go to this site, and have the groceries delivered. They have a special code for the outside door.”

“Don’t the groceries cost a fortune though?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s convenient.”

Justin smiled at him and handed back the card. “I work part time. I can’t afford convenient. I’ll shop and carry.”

Something in the way Brian looked when he took back the card told him this conversation was not over, but the cab pulled up in front of Plexus, relegating it to a later time. Brian got out and leaned back in to kiss him goodbye. It was delicious, all dark espresso and sugar, with his soft caressing tongue. God, he loved that man. “Later” said Brian, smirking, evidently fully aware he’d just given Justin a hard on.

“Later,” replied Justin, licking his lips and tracing his hard on with both hands, making obvious the fact he was going commando. Brian looked at his mouth, then stared at his crotch for a few seconds and backed out of the car, hitting the back of his head as he straightened out. He rubbed it as Justin smirked at him. Two could play that game. Brian chuckled as he turned away.

*****

Brandon’s flight was right on time. When he arrived in the luggage area and saw Justin, his face lit up with a smile. Justin’s inside did a little flip. He belonged to Brian, heart and soul, but one would have to be made out of stone not to feel a thrill to know someone like Brandon cared for him as much as he did.

“Welcome to New York,” Justin said.

“What have I gotten myself into?” joked Brandon.

“You’re going to love it,” answered Justin, grinning.

They walked out, and as if by preordained magic, Jessica’s black limo pulled up. She stepped out while her chauffeur put Brandon’s bag in the trunk and extended her hand to him.

“Hello, Brandon Bloomquist. Welcome to New York. Aren’t you indeed an amazingly gorgeous man… “

“Mrs. Hammon, a pleasure. You certainly are a most beautiful woman.”

“And here I thought this was the airport, when it actually is the meeting place for the society of mutual admiration,” joked Justin.

Jessica turned to him, a fake look of concern on her face. “I’m sorry, love. Are you feeling left out?” She smile a patronizing smile. “You are cute too, Justin.”

“Yes, Justin,” Brandon concurred. “Very cute. Adorable, even.”

“That’s it!” said Jessica, nodding emphatically to Brandon. “He is adorable.”

Brandon nodded back. “Cute as a button…”

“I’m so glad I came to ease you two into your first meeting,” said Justin, laughing, “because I can tell already how hard it’s going to be for you two to get along…“

They got in the Limo, and Jessica explained, ”I thought we would go to the Carlton and over breakfast, we can review the contract I have drawn up. I could certainly use a cup of tea, and poor ‘adorable’ Justin looks simply famished.”

“That’s good, thank you,” agreed Brandon. “Apparently, while I wasn’t paying attention, the airlines have stopped serving breakfast, so I could use some food as well.”

Jessica had ended up having dinner with Cynthia the night before, speaking of advertising contracts in general terms, and gossiping happily about Brian and Justin’s love affair.

“So glad we provided entertainment for the two of you,” said Justin.

“One takes one’s fun where one can find it.” Jessica smiled sweetly. “If you really want to entertain, you could regale me with the romantic details…”

“Jessica,” Justin interrupted, “did you ever see the movie ‘From here to Eternity’? You know, that scene on the beach?”

“Who hasn’t?” She shrugged.

“Well. It was exactly like that.” Justin smiled at her, innocently.

“In New York city…”

Justin nodded emphatically.

“In December…” she continued, and Brandon cracked up.

“Go figure,” said Justin, grinning into his menu.

The conversation returned to business. Jessica had called on a vague acquaintance of hers who wrote contracts for well-known actors to endorse products. She had gotten a lot of information in exchange for an introduction to a friend of hers who might promote the acquaintance’s career.

She had come up with a finished product that she explained to Brandon, as he ate an egg white omelet and non-fat cottage cheese.

“Wow,” said Brandon, noting the large fee she demanded on his behalf. “That’s a lot of money. How much do you actually think I’ll get?“

“Exactly this, minus my exorbitant fees, and Justin’s finder’s fee.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Brandon, she’s pulling your leg. I don’t get a finder’s fee.”

“It’s all right, Justin, I’d be glad to pay it in services rendered,” answered Brandon, smirking suggestively.

“Really?” teased Justin. “You’d clean my house? All right!”

Brandon chuckled then asked Jessica seriously: “How much are your exorbitant fees?”

“Well, there is a retainer. Then I want to watch the whole thing being made. I think it’s going to be really fun.”

“OK. What’s the retainer?”

“One dollar, and actually, you’d better pay up before we go any further, to make things legal.” Seeing Brandon’s disbelief, she added, “Brandon, I’m retired, richer than God, and bored to tears. Now pay up.”

Brandon looked to Justin for confirmation. Justin had not been sure what financial arrangement would exist between Jessica and Brandon, but since this was exactly what his had been with her, he nodded to Brandon with a smile. Brandon dug in his pocket and got out a dollar. Jessica dropped it in her hard sided purse and snapped it shut.

She went back to the contract. “Your fee for the commercial is non negotiable. We have them by the ba… short hairs, and this is actually fairly middle range.” She looked at him apologetically. “You’re not Brad Pitt…”

He smiled and nodded.

“Under normal circumstances, we would aim for half of this, when the negotiating was over. But they don’t get to do that this time. What we will lose is the chauffeur and limo, they’ll tell you to keep your cab receipts, and your stay at the Plaza Hotel. They’ll put you up at The Carlysle, apparently they have a contract with them. It’s very nice. I just threw those in so they wouldn’t feel completely helpless, but let’s face it… They probably have the camera crew on standby, and a dance studio rented. They’ll sign.

“They will probably ask for unlimited hours. I have you at ten hours a day. We may have to go up to fourteen. They are really in a crunch. How much sleep do you need per night?” she asked Brandon.

“Six to eight hours, when I’m dancing,” he answered.

“Yes. So fourteen is our absolute maximum. Any special food request? I put it in just in case.”

“Yes. No fat, low carb, mostly protein. I’m allergic to shellfish and hate anything in the brassica family.”

Jessica took note, saying, “I’ll try to remember not to call you ‘mon chou’, then. OK. Finally, I have ‘No’ to full frontal nudity, ‘No’ to questions about sexual orientation, and a request for your pre-approval of any images used. We will get the first two. Forget the last one. They never give that one, not even with huge stars.”

“I don’t mind full frontal, or admitting I’m queer,” observed Brandon.

“If they wanted full frontal, which they won’t, we would double your fees. And not talking about sexual orientation means they cannot ask you to lie and pretend you are straight… Which they might otherwise.“ Brandon nodded in understanding.

“I think we are ready. Are you done with your breakfasts?”

Justin had just finished the most wonderful eggs benedict. He felt revived. Brandon was done as well. Jessica smiled at Brandon as she stopped Justin who was reaching into his wallet.

“Brandon gets to pay, and then gets the money back as a business expense,” she said. “Isn’t it great?”

*****

On the way to Plexus for the 10:00 o’clock meeting, Jessica answered her cell phone. As she started a rather animated conversation, Brandon leaned over to Justin.

“Did you hear that tone?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah.”

They cracked up. Jessica’s ring was AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell”. They both shook their head in wonder.

Brandon handed Justin the data carrier containing the taping of the previous night’s The Nutcracker. He said he had been amazed at the efficiency of the crew, who had come, talked to the stage manager and set everything up in less than ninety minutes.

“You don’t want to wait until after you sign the contract?”

“Why? We all pretty much know I’m doing this, so I might as well help out. The sooner they review this, the better.”

“They are going to want to film the same moves in “Practice” as you do on stage, from the same angles, and probably with similar light, so I’m sure they’ll be really happy to get their hands on this as soon as possible. How did it go last night?”

“Really well. After a few minutes I forgot they were filming, really. When I dance, I usually lose myself in it.”

“Usually?”

“Well, there was that one time when I kept checking out a guy in the front. It was distracting, so I ended up pretending I was only dancing for him. It was one of my best performances of the season…”

Brandon was looking at Justin with open yearning, and Justin felt himself blush. Brandon shook his head. “I’m sorry, Justin. Ignore me. I won’t do this again.” He took a deep breath and smiled at Justin. “Friends?”

Justin, relieved, smiled back. “Friends.” Brandon was sweet, and gorgeous, and funny and hot, but Brian coursed through his veins like his very blood, present in every beat of his heart. ‘Friends’ was the best and only thing he had to offer. They both noticed a little too late that Jessica had ended her phone call. She was looking at them knowledgeably but carried on, as if she had witnessed nothing.

“That was Jason, Justin. We usually do lunch on Mondays. I told him about the recent excitement in his poor old mother’s life, and he’ll meet me wherever we will be for lunch. He is glad you are back. He wants to speak to you about something. Will you join us?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if Sam or Brian will need me for something. Is it all right if I tell you later?”

“Sure. We’ll see what develops.”

They parted ways in the elevator, Justin going to the Art Department to find Sam, and Jessica and Brandon going on to the conference room on the third floor.

Sam was thrilled to get his hands on the footage so early. Their still photographer, Phil Heartman, and Adam Jewett, the director for most of their commercials were there, with their favorite cameraman, Roderick “Spaz” Spencer. Spaz was brilliant, but unless you knew him, his surfer speech and pothead intonations did not make the best impression…

The five of them watched the footage on a large screen computer, very worried at first, since the Christmas party was somewhat out of focus. However, the Pittsburgh crew had taken the injunction to concentrate on the male lead seriously. As soon as he appeared, the focus was perfect, as was the lighting. They had three different cameras on Brandon at all times, with closeup shots when he was alone, and even close in shots of his facial expressions when he was not.

Justin was impressed by the ease with which the four others were able to immediately recognize the best shots, the best angles. The director and Spaz’s technical jargon, interspersed as it was with “Awesomes”, “Dudes” and “Rads”, quickly lost him.

The seven second sequence that would be the end of the commercial was chosen, cut, and “Tanked” in no time, and the shots Spaz would have to reproduce were numbered and classified by shot angles. They had selected twenty, though in the end they would need only six.

Shortly after eleven, Sam’s phone rang. The contract was signed. They were very excited, having expected it to take a lot longer. It was time to go to the dance studio Betsy had rented, and start filming the rehearsal scenes.

“Taylor? Mr. Kinney requested you come along. Bring your sketch pad.”

Justin rode with the Art Department crew, Erica, the make up artist, and enough leotards, leg warmers, footless tights and other dance equipment to outfit a ballet school. The studio had been chosen because it had only two adjacent walls of mirrors. Two other walls, including one with a bar were devoid of them.

They had been repainted early that morning in a quick drying dove grey, which Phil had recommended for background color. Apparently it would emphasize Brandon’s own colorings. Then they had aged the new paint with nicks and marks that made it look as if the studio had been well used since the painting.

They’d also brought in a baby grand, which sat in a corner, and hired an actress who looked like a very proper retired grade school teacher, grey haired bun, pale blue sweater, and white round collared shirt, to pretend playing it.

Brandon, who had arrived in Jessica’s limo, had brought a lot of his own dance clothes as well, and changed quickly into some which complimented the color scheme and satisfied Phil, Spaz and Erica. As they waited for the lighting to be installed, Brandon joined Justin.

“How did the negotiations go?” asked Justin. “She’s brilliant, isn’t she…?”

Brandon laughed. “She's scary is what she is. She told this Bower guy right off that the fee was non-negotiable, though the rest of the contract was, but the guy kept harping on it, so she told him something like ‘Since regardless of my several reiterations that this number is non-negotiable, you continue to act as if it is, let’s make you happy. The amount is, from now on, subject to change. However, it will do so only upward, and in ten percent increments, every time you mention it. We, Mr. Bower, have you by the small hairs. Please be so kind as to stop pretending otherwise, and let’s move on.’ He completely caved in. I can’t thank you enough for hooking me up with her. She’s fantastic.” Brandon had accompanied his imitation of Jessica’s cool tone with the graceful hand gestures that emphasized her speech. He was an amazing mimic, and had Justin giggling.

It was time for Brandon to warm up. They were filming everything he did, just in case it might be needed, as he stretched and went through his normal routine. Brian finally showed up, a Starbucks cup in hand. As soon as he entered, he scanned the room until his eyes found Justin’s and he smiled. Justin smiled back, loving him. Brian spoke to Sam for a few minutes and came to join Justin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I heard the negotiations went well,” said Justin.

Brian laughed. “Your attorney is a menace to society. We should get her and Mel together. She had Gerard and Bower running scared and chasing their tail. She'd asked that Brandon be lodged at the Plaza. You should have seen their faces… Then she gave this long spiel about why her client refused to do full frontal nudity, knowing full well we didn’t need that anyway. She had them feeling like depraved porn addicts. It was classic. She got everything she really wanted, of course, and was quite sweet backing down from the crap she put in there just so she would appear reasonable. It was an education watching her. I still don’t know how she projects the fact that she is laughing at you without any external signs of it. I’d pay good money to find out.”

“You could just ask her.”

“Where is the fun in that?”

As they spoke, they were looking at Jessica. She was comfortably ensconced in the only chair available, the one that said ‘director’ on the back, as Adam seemed perfectly happy to crouch next to her and explain what was going on.

“How did your earlier meeting go?”

Brian answered, “That, too was an experience…” but did not elaborate, so Justin let it go.

The filming of the sequences they needed started. Brandon was awesome, his grace and control astonishing, as he repeated the same ‘Pirouette’, the same ‘Grand Jete’, the same ‘Fouette en tournant’ again and again to allow Spaz to get the right angles to match last night’s performance.

“He’s amazing,” said Brian.

“Yes, he is.” One could not but agree.

Brandon did a change of clothing, to make it appear as if it was a different day, and started again. They stopped to watch the takes. Brian and Justin joined the film crew, looking at the big screen laptop. They looked fantastic.

“Something’s missing,” said Brian, frowning.

“What?” asked Sam, who always trusted Brian’s instincts. They watched the takes again. Now that Brian had mentioned it, Justin agreed. Something was missing.

“Do you always practice alone?” Brian asked Brandon.

“Yes. Then there are the rehearsals, with the rest of the company.”

They watched the takes again. Suddenly, Justin knew what was missing. When Raines had trained, he’d had his coach present, commenting, chastising, encouraging. Brandon was alone and the perfection of his dancing made him hard to relate to, unattainable.

“We need a ballet teacher,” said Justin. “That’s what’s missing. Brandon is too alone, too self sufficient, too finished.”

Brandon laughed. “I haven’t had a ballet teacher in six years, since I graduated from the academy.”

“This is not reality, Brandon,” explained Adam. It has to do with people’s perceptions. Taylor is right. We need a teacher to replace the coach.”

“Shit,” said Sam. “He is right. We do need a ballet teacher. Damn. I thought we’d thought of everything. We need to call the agency, have them send actors to screen. It’s going to take forever.”

Brian went to look through the dance clothes the Art Department had brought. He picked up black tights, short black leg warmers, and on second thought, another set of black tights. Justin was watching him, puzzled, until Brian walked to where Jessica was sitting. Then he chuckled, and gestured for Brandon to come with him. They joined Brian.

“Mrs. Hammon,” Brian said with his most charming smile. “We need a dance teacher. You are it.”

“Pardon?” asked Jessica, nonplussed.

“Brandon looks too self contained, too unreachable, too perfect. We need a teacher to cut him down to size, make him more human,” explained Justin.

“Thanks,” said Brandon, laughing.

“I’ve never even taken a ballet class,” said Jessica, dismissively.

“Repeat after me,” said Brandon: “Five , six, seven, eight. That’s all you’ll need.”

“Please,” said Brian. “You can keep your lovely black turtleneck on. Put on these tights, tie your beautiful scarf around your hips, and let Erica put these other tights around your head to make some interesting head wrap. Then come in, do the counting thing, and tell Brandon to ‘please concentrate, dear, you look terrible’.”

She was staring at the three of them. “You can’t be serious.”

“Eema, just do as he says. You know you want to!” Jason had arrived at the studio to take his mother to lunch, and caught the conversation. He was grinning at Jessica. She grinned back.

“Oh, all right.” She looked at Brian. “You will owe me for this, Mr. Kinney. And do not think a cup of Earl Grey will suffice, this time.”

She grabbed the clothing from him, and walked to Erica.

“Excuse me, my dear. It seems I am required to become a dance teacher. Would you be so kind as to assist me in my transformation?”

“Of course!” said Erica, grinning. She grabbed her bag, and they headed to the changing room together, chatting away.

“Hi, Jason,” greeted Justin. “Thanks for your help in convincing your Mom.”

“She was just playing hard to get. She was dying to do it,” said Jason, laughing.

Justin introduced Jason to everyone.

“And you may remember Brian Kinney. It was at Pratt when you came to see my paintings.”

“How could I forget? Mr. Kinney. The new owner of your best piece, which you felt necessary to just give away.”

Justin blushed. He’d forgotten the little tug of war between Jessica and Jason regarding the painting, and Jason requesting to at least know where the painting was going so he could try to borrow it back to show it when he got Justin an exposition. As they were standing next to each other, the back of Brian’s hand ‘inadvertently’ brushed Justin’s.

Brian smiled at Jason. “It is a beautiful painting, isn’t it. I love it. Mr. Taylor was exceedingly generous.”

Jason could take a hint and nodded discreetly. Brandon had gone back to stretching, not wanting to cool down too much as he waited for the next takes.

“He is very good, isn’t he?” Jason said to Justin.

“Yes, he is the first dancer of the Pittsburgh Ballet Company. He is amazing to watch.”

Jason seemed to hesitate about something but then asked anyway.

“Mr. Kinney? Justin? Could you come with me? I’d like to talk to the cameraman and the director for a second, and I’m afraid they have no reason to pay attention to what I say, but I think if I don’t talk to them you may miss an opportunity.”

The three of them walked to Adam and Spaz.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jewett? Mr. Spencer?” said Jason.

“Spaz,” Spaz corrected.

“Yes, of course, Spaz. You might want to keep your camera rolling and catch my mother’s entrance. You see, she comes up with her best lines when she is a bit self conscious, which I am sure she will be, coming out. Whatever she says, it might not work for you, but then again it might. You don’t want to miss it.”

Spaz looked to Adam who looked to Brian, who nodded, and was very glad he had when a few minutes later Jessica made her appearance. She looked amazing. Her habitual perfect posture screamed ‘Ballerina’. All in black, except for a gauzy scarf around her waist, she looked thin and fit. Erica had done wonders with the second set of tights, now a broad black headband. She had also made up Jessica’s eyes in a slightly diminished but perfectly recognizable dancer’s makeup, the black kohl making the vivid green of her irises stand out. She stepped into the room, put her hand on her hips, and said to Brandon, who had just finished stretching and just sat on the floor, “Arre you planning to just look beautiful today Brrandon orr arre you actually going to dance?”

And Brandon replied, with a cocky and devastating smile, without missing a beat: “I can do both at once, you know.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, and smiled affectionately. “Arrrrogant whelp!”

“And cut! “ said Adam. “You got the whole thing, Spaz? That was fantastic!”

Jason smirked. Jessica was laughing with Brandon. She walked to her son.

“Look what you made me do, Jason!”

“Eema, that’s grandma Rivka’s accent.”

“Well, she may not have been built like a ballerina, to put it mildly, but she was Russian. I think Brandon’s teacher should come from the Bolshoi, don’t you? After all, they are the best!”

They did several more takes, with Brandon’s ballet teacher in the frame. Then they asked her to “criticize” him, so Brandon told her he was going to be a fraction too slow and heavy on his next jete, and as he was jumping, she made this frustrated gesture and said: “ Nonononono, Brrrandon. What arrre you doing? Arrre you channeling a dancing bearrr?”

Brandon landed and went into a fit of laughter. It took him a minute to recuperate. The next one she had to compliment. He executed it perfectly, and a big smile appeared on her face. When he turned to her, she looked almost bored, and said, “Not bad,” waving her hand dismissively. She was perfect.

After another hour, they called it good. They had everything they needed and more. Everybody’s mood was up. They looked at the takes excitedly. They might get it done on time, and it might actually be really, really, good. After “lunch” (It was already 2:30 in the afternoon), they were going to the gym on the 34th floor for a few workout shots.

Not knowing if he was actually supposed to sketch anything or not, Justin had sat in a corner and added a couple of drawings to his Brandon collection, and several of Jessica, the Bolshoi trained teacher. His hand was getting better, and he was getting much more proficient with the left one, able to do shading and general outlines with it. He could draw almost nonstop, now.

He had not been able to resist a quick sketch of Brian on his cell, as he was speaking to the owner of the gym. He was leaning with his back against the wall, one leg folded at the knee, his phone to one ear, and his hand to the other to block out some of the piano music. Even in this contrived looking position, he seemed perfectly relaxed and self possessed, beautiful.

Jason had to leave, having missed lunch, but thrilled to have been there to see his mother’s acting debut. He looked at Brian’s drawing over Justin’s shoulder, comparing it to its model.

“Can I see your pad?” he asked.

Justin handed it over, a bit self-consciously, but the man was his agent, and he trusted him completely.

Jason chuckled at the drawings of his mother in her ballet best, and flicked back through the drawings of Brandon, a few sketches of Gus, a three quarter profile of Brian, a detailed portrait of Hunter, a profile of Daphne in animated conversation, another one of Daphne with a manic grin, a nude of Brian (which he passed rapidly, thank god…), a portrait of Carl, multiple drawings of Brian’s hands, multiple drawings of his feet, Mel cuddling JR, Brian in profile, asleep, Brian smiling, Brian driving the Corvette… Jason closed the sketch book, smiling.

“’Mr. Kinney’ seems to be a recurring theme, Justin. You might want, for discretion’s sake, to use a different pad at work than you do the rest of the time. Your sketches are exquisite. If you are willing to part with a few, I am sure we could sell them at your next show…”

“It might be a while until I get another one,” said Justin. “The one in Pittsburgh was kind of a stroke of luck…”

Jason looked at him with a benevolent smile. “Your next show opens March the twenty-seventh, at the Brice Kindall Gallery in the Village. You will share the floor with a young sculptor, Heather Stokes, who is very good, and a glass artist from Finland whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce. We will need seventeen pieces, and as many of these as you are willing to sell, because I guarantee you everyone of them will.”

“I have a show? Oh, my God. A show? In a gallery in the Village? Holy shit. Sorry. Fuck! I don’t have seventeen paintings. Oh, my God. I’ve got to paint. Holy fucking shit. Sorry. Oh God. I only have eight. Plus two started, but one is a gift to someone. That’s nine. Oh fuck. Seventeen? Oh, my god…”

“Justin. Breathe. “ Jason laughed. “Come on. Three deep breaths. Atta boy. The gallery allows you to show up to four pieces unavailable for sale. You can borrow Mr. Kinney’s three, and use that other one you plan on giving away if you run out of time. See, it’s already thirteen. Which leaves you with four to paint in three months. You do more than that for assignments alone. You will be fine. I’m quite sure you will paint a dozen of them between now and then.”

Justin nodded, now too stunned to speak at all. A show. In a gallery. In the Village. In New York City. He was so glad he was sitting down. Jason clapped him on the shoulder.

“I have to run, Justin. I’ll talk to you later.” He chuckled. “Once you recover the power of speech…” He walked out, still chuckling.

Seventeen paintings. A show. In the Village. He started grinning like a fool, looking for Brian. He was busy discussing the takes with Sam and Adam. But Justin had to tell him! Now! Then he smiled and got out his cell. No one was paying him any attention; they were all focused on the takes. He dialed.

“Kinney”

“Brian… No! Don’t turn around! Are you heading back soon?”

“Yes. We are finished here.”

“Can we go now, ride together, alone?

“You need someone from the Art Department? Ok. I can bring Taylor back.”

Brian shut his phone.

“I’ve got to go back. I’m taking Taylor. I’ll see you at the Gym at five.”

He walked to Justin. “Taylor, get off your ass. You’re needed back at the office. We're leaving.”

And just like that, five minutes later, they were in a cab together. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, Brian was kissing him, and Justin thought he was going to melt from the onslaught, forgetting everything. When Brian stopped kissing him and smiled, he could only blink slowly.

“I have been wanting to do this since I walked in that door,” said Brian. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

Justin had found his brain again.

“We don’t ordinarily work in that close proximity.”

“True. Thank you for thinking of calling. I was wracking my brain for an excuse to get you alone.”

The reason for his call suddenly came back to Justin.

“Oh, my God, Brian! Brian!”

“Justin! Justin! What?”

Justin giggled a little hysterically, but could not be bothered to care. Brian was waiting, smiling expectantly, amused by Justin’s obvious excitement.

“Brian! I have a show! In March! In a gallery! In the Village!”

“When did you find out?”

“Jason told me, right before he left.”

“And so you immediately called me on my cell to get me out of there and tell me.”

Justin immediately felt bad. Brian had been working. But apparently he was wrong, because Brian was not acting upset. Quite the opposite, in fact… Brian was kissing him again, and god, it was good. Oh, god. Too good. He could feel his body rejoice, his pleasure build, he really should stop Brian because he wasn’t even wearing underwear, and… oh, bugger that, it was too good, he just let the pleasure rise, loving it, loving it…

“Don’t come,” said Brian against his lips. “We’re going home.”

Justin groaned.

“Then I have no reason not to come, I can change pants…”

Brian, laughing, slid the window open and told the cabbie the change of plans and then whispered in Justin’s ear, “But if you come now, I can’t suck it out of you…”

Justin groaned again, his cock twitching at the thought, and he started palming Brian’s dick through his pants. Brian moved forward on the seat and leaned back, giving himself more space, relaxing and enjoying Justin’s touch. Justin feasted his eyes on his profile, the straight nose, the dark eyelashes, the marvelous lips…

Ten minutes later, they were getting out. Justin dialed all the codes, without problems, and as soon as they closed the door, Brian pushed him back against it, kissing him as he unbuttoned his jeans, and dropped down to take Justin's cock in his mouth. His mouth was warm and wet and sucking and licking and…

“Brian… Brian… oh God, yes, just like that…yes, don’t stop…oh god, fuck, Brian…” and he was coming, feeling Brian sucking out each jet of come as it came and swallowing it greedily and being ridiculously happy to be coming so long and hard and of giving Brian so much of his come to enjoy.

Then Brian was back, pinning him to the door, kissing him deeply as he started stripping off his own clothes. Justin toed off his boots, and wriggled out of his pants. When Brian stopped kissing him for a few seconds, as he took off his undershirt, Justin pulled off his shirt. They were grinning at each other, Brian walking backwards toward the bedroom, kissing Justin again, running his hands up and down over his naked ass and cupping his cheeks.

They climbed the stairs, Brian still walking backwards, and fell into bed. Brian reached under the pillow for a condom and for the lube, handed them to Justin, who was sitting astride of him, and said, “Ride my dick, Justin. I want to lie back and watch you.”

Justin loved this position, because he could watch Brian as he took his pleasure. He rolled the condom on Brian's very ready cock, and slathered lube on it generously. He lifted himself, and grinning at Brian, who was watching him with his hands behind his head, he impaled himself on his cock. Even as completely as he was able to relax to allow Brian in, there was still that delicious burn, and the wonderful fullness that went with it. Then he tightened himself again around Brian, watching Brian’s eyes as he shivered with pleasure. He sat there for a minute, enjoying the sensations, pulsing his sphincter muscles around Brian’s cock, but soon enough, he wanted more and lifted himself up, before settling down slowly again.

Though his cock was hardening anew, his urgency was gone and he could enjoy watching Brian’s face as his pleasure built. His hands on his thighs, he kept lifting up fast, and sinking down slowly, squeezing Brian tight. He loved it when a sheen of sweat appeared on Brian’s body, and when he rolled in his lips, containing whatever sound he might have made. Leaning forward, Justin kept his motions slow and easy as he sucked each of Brian’s nipples in turn.

“Justin, Justin…”

He started moving faster up and down, resting his hands on the mattress for balance, and licking each nipple, one after the other and back again, with a broad swipe of his tongue. Brian keened and Justin felt rewarded. He sped up again, making sure to give his motion as much range as possible, bringing the tip of Brian’s cock to the tight ring of muscle at his entrance before sinking back down as deep as he could go, now sucking on one of Brian’s nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Justin, touch yourself, I want to watch…” Brian's voice was raspy.

Justin put his weight on his left arm, keeping his motions fast and deep, and grasped his cock. There was hardly any lube left on his hand, and the head was still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, so the slide of his slightly callused palm over the ridge of his glans was immensely pleasurable but with an edge, like over-scratching a mosquito bite.

Brian had brought his hands to his own chest, and was playing with his nipples, watching intently as the head of Justin’s cock rose in and out of his fist. Justin changed the rhythm and motion of his hips, alternating three short thrusts, massaging the head of Brian’s cock with the tight muscles of his entrance, with one long deep slide, taking him fully in.

Brian’s eyes rolled back as his mouth opened, and on the fourth slide, he came, letting out quiet rhythmic little growls through his throat, his abs contracting almost violently, causing him to lift his upper body from the bed. When he reopened his eyes again, Justin stopped moving, and with Brian still deep inside of him, slicked his hand with spit, and brought himself off, letting his pleasure show for Brian’s enjoyment, tilting his head back and moaning as short bursts of spunk spewed forth from his cock onto Brian’s smooth stomach.

He smiled at Brian, who smiled back, and slowly raised himself off of Brian’s cock, carefully holding the edge of the condom, as his ass had tightened up around Brian’s diminishing girth and he was too spend for the effort it took to relax his muscles. He lay next to Brian.

Brian removed the condom, tied it off and threw it unerringly into the bin before coming up on his elbow and smiling at Justin.

“You have a show at the end of March in a gallery in the Village,” he reminded Justin, who smiled at him blindingly.

“They want seventeen paintings,” he said. “I only have nine, one of them only half done.”

“Are you worried?”

Now that Brian knew, now that they had made love, and that the first shock was over, Justin realized he wasn’t.

“No. You sell ideas, Brandon dances, I paint. It’s my gift.”

Brian smiled at Justin, combing his hair back from his forehead in that way he had, looking at him with so much love Justin’s body was warm with it.

“Justin. I want you to move in. I want you to live here with me.”

Justin’s mind reeled at the unexpected request and he started to say something, but Brian kissed his lips, stopping it.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and so should you. And if you don’t want to, it won’t change anything and I’ll understand. You love living at the brownstone. I know that. Just think about it. No pressure. When you decide, just let me know.”

He sighed. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be at the gym at 5:00. You can stay here, or come along, or come later. I’m sure we’ll be working very late.”

They went into the shower together. There really was nothing to be gained from Justin’s presence at the Gym. They would probably film there a couple of hours. He could shop for food, eat something, and join them in the Art Department later when he could learn a ton from watching the pros at work.

“I’ll stay and shop, and join you there between 6:30 and 7:00.”

Brian was drying off, and walked around the loft picking his clothes up from the floor. Luckily the superfine wool of his Prada suit did not winkle easily.

“Sounds good. Buy me some skim milk and some Granny Smiths, will you?”

Justin smiled. “OK.”

“And take a cab to work, Justin. Just keep the receipt. It’s in your contract. You never have to ride the subway to or from work again.”

“Really? Wow! I need to finish reading this thing. God knows what else is in there…”

“You have to blow your boss on demand.”

“Sam?” teased Justin.

Brian laughed and kissed him.

“Later, smartass.”

“Later.”

To be continued....