A wise man should have money in his head, but not in his heart. ~ Jonathan Swift

*****

Sunday, February 13, 2005

The moment that Brian closed the door, Justin stormed toward him. "I know I'm just a fucking rent boy to you, Brian, but you don't have to be cruel to me!"

Brian brushed past Justin and removed his shirt. "So, are you ready to fuck now?" he asked, acting as though Justin had not spoken.

"Why?" Justin demanded. "I am human, Brian. Just because I give up my fucking shell to perverts like you doesn't mean that I don't have a fucking heart."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Brian replied, uncomfortable with Justin's outburst. He continued to take off his clothing, throwing it around the room.

"Yes, you do, asshole! You knew that I was trying to avoid talking about my past, Brian. I was happy. I was actually fucking enjoying myself, feeling like a normal fucking person. I felt that way with you, of all people. But you had to ruin it with that asinine question!"

"The question wasn't asinine if it's upset you so much," Brian snickered.

Justin turned away from Brian, who was now completely naked. He hated that even when he was pissed at the man, he still turned him on. "You don't get it. You just don't get it! I'm just your paid whore," he turned to Brian. "Right?"

"Right," Brian answered, the word burning his tongue as soon as he spoke it.

"Then you don't need to know a fucking thing about me," Justin reasoned. He tore off his sweater and shucked his jeans and underwear down his legs. "Here I am then, Brian. You don't need to know anything except that I give a great blowjob and I have a tight ass." He stormed into the bedroom, crawled on the bed, placed his face down and prayed that the pillows would absorb any of the tears that escaped his eyes.

Brian wasn't sure what the fuck had just happened. A sensation crawled up his spine that he couldn't place, bestowing upon him a cluttering range of emotions. He looked into the bedroom and saw Justin on his hands and knees; face in the pillows just like the first time the blond was in his bed.

Justin shivered as he heard Brian walk into the room. He tried to keep as still as possible, not wanting to participate in the fuck he knew would was about to happen. Justin berated himself when he jerked as Brian touched his elbow. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He knew that he shouldn't have given a fuck what any man did to him or said to him! They were no one to him. He was no one to them. He loathed himself for allowing a lapse from the reality of the situation, even more so because he'd actually showed Brian his pain.

Justin's shaking was barely visible, but Brian felt it. The vibrations transferred into his fingertips, up his arm and over his chest, over the heart he rarely acknowledged that beat within him. "No one is just a body, not even me," Brian divulged, each word aching with apologies. "I shouldn't have done that to you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he ran his hand up Justin's shoulder and into his hair. "I'm an asshole."

Justin blocked out Brian's words while he hummed silently to himself, but he couldn't ignore Brian's touch. It was different from before, it was deeper, and when he began to massage his scalp, Justin keened and pushed his head into the caress. He began to lose his grip on his defenses.

Brian crawled so his body was lying beside Justin's and continued to move his hand on the younger man's head. A relieved smile graced his face as he realized he was receiving happy moans from the blond. He whispered in the blond's ear, "I don't know much about you, but I'm pretty sure you're damn smart. I just don't get why you'd choose to do this to make a living. I don't fucking care about most people, Justin, but my best friend took in a teenager whose mother forced him into hustling at twelve years old. Being around him and seeing the young man that he really is makes me wonder if you have a similar story."

Brian's words flooded into Justin's ears as non-stop tidal waves of emotions that demanded reaction. He rolled to his side and forced himself to look up at Brian who looked back at him with an expression he had yet to give him, one that left Justin feeling very uneasy. "So... you're saying you do...give a shit about me?"

Brian pressed his lips together and thought about his next words carefully before speaking. He didn't want to be an asshole, but he felt uncomfortable with the nagging answer he'd almost immediately given Justin. "If you would've only been here one night, I may not have ever wondered what your story was, or cared. I would've grouped you in with the scores of hustlers that are out on the street because somehow they chose that. You were right, I don't deserve to know a fucking thing about a hustler's past, but I want to know about yours, Justin."

Justin fought with the fortress he'd built from years of pain. He didn't want to compromise his closely guarded secret feelings, only to become encompassed by more betrayal from the vicious truth of the past he ran away from on a daily basis. There was a huge possibility that Brian would not believe him and inflict more pain into his heart once he opened himself up for it, and Justin wasn't sure he wanted to allow for that. "I'm not a liar," Justin said.

"I didn't say you were," Brian replied. He saw Justin shiver and drew the blanket up around the both of them. Propping himself up on his elbow, he curled his fingers in Justin's hair and assured him, "I'll believe you. You've not shown me any reason to distrust you."

Justin let out a relieved, shaky breath, took a deep breath in and pushed it out again. "I don't think I can trust you."

Brian didn't say anything back and his facial expression didn't change. He just moved away from the blond, stood up and walked into the other room.

Justin closed his eyes, and reprimanded himself for being such an idiot. He wanted to know what it was like to trust someone. He guessed that Brian was probably just as afraid of opening himself up but he had given Justin an opportunity the blond doubted he gave many people at all. Justin knew that he had to take the risk, just this once. Come tomorrow, he wouldn't see Brian ever again. He'd go back to his life and Brian would go back to his own, but the question was, did Justin want Brian to go back home believing that he was just another prostitute? Either way, Justin struggled with why he cared to tell the man otherwise. However, his debating did nothing to stop him from bolting from the bed and creeping into the living area.

Even though Justin's footsteps were silent, Brian could sense it when the other man stood behind the couch. He didn't turn and look at him; he was too busy trying to get back to the plane where he cared nothing at all for Justin. That place served him well over the years of dealing with people, the inner sanctuary he knew and loved, but hearing Justin's intake of breath made him almost lose his way there.

"The first assignment I had for my Art History class at The Institute was to recreate one of Monet's paintings," Justin began speaking. "I chose La Promenade because it was one of my mother's favorites and I wanted to paint it for her as a birthday present. I had painted many of the great artists' work in my Art History class in high school. I studied so many of their techniques in my own time so I was thrilled when my professor picked me out for his special project. He asked me to create a series of twenty-four paintings that the school would hang in the halls of the new art wing they were in the process of building." Justin ran his hand along the back of the couch as he walked around it and sat beside Brian.

Brian turned toward Justin, wondering what this story had to do with him becoming a hustler. "That's a pretty big project to give a freshman," he commented.

"It was, but he used the paintings as grades for his class too, so I didn't get overwhelmed. I thought it was awesome. He even allowed me to use his studio space off campus and wrote me checks for all the supplies I needed. I was so excited at the prospect of having my paintings in the school so I stayed through the summer to complete them faster."

"They let you stay in the dorms for that?" Brian asked.

"No, Professor Alby's studio had a bedroom and bathroom in it, so I stayed there. He wrote me checks so that I could buy food during the summer and by the end of it, I'd completed fifteen of the twenty-four paintings. He paid for me to take some additional technique classes that coming fall, along with my other classes, and by the time the Spring semester came, I had three paintings to go. I didn't have much of a social life, but I didn't care. Painting was everything to me and Reed, um... Professor Alby, let me use the supplies for the school's paintings. I got to use much better paints, canvases and tools than I'd ever dreamed of using."

"So you weren't a starving artist then?"

"No," Justin laughed dryly. "I had everything I needed. I went home for spring break and when I came back, the first place I went was to the studio. They were waiting for me there."

"Who?" Brian asked, feeling dread coil up his spine as he saw tears pool in Justin's eyes.

"The police," Justin answered, rubbing the tears away. "It all happened so fast after that."

"Were you and that professor fucking around or something?"

"No," Justin told Brian laughing sarcastically. "But that's what I thought they were there for at first."

"What the fuck did they want?"

"Alby was ripping people off, auctioning off my paintings to the highest bidder."

"Everyone knows that paintings by the masters are too hard to acquire..."

"Of course," Justin interrupted. "But he had these people snowed into believing that they were apprentice paintings."

"What the fuck is that?" Brian asked, he'd never heard of such a thing.

"Most of the artists I copied had apprentices, all of them suspected to have recreated many of their master's works. Sure, they wouldn't go for top dollar, nowhere near that, actually, but that made them easier for Alby to sell. Apparently, he sweet-talked a bunch of high profile Chicago millionaires into buying them. One of the men he tried to con was a relative of Louis Markoya, who served as an apprentice to Salvador Dali in the sixties. He knew that his relative had never recreated any of Dali's work, but did not let on that he knew this to Reed. He bought the paintings and then informed the authorities."

"Stupid move for an Art History professor," Brian grumbled, still not coming to the full impact of the con.

"If he would've told me what he was doing, I would've told him about that," Justin said. "But of course I knew nothing of this. I never would have disgraced those artists or my talent by doing something so fucking stupid, but I was the artist. I was the paid artist who committed forgery and profited from it."

Brian's hazel eyes widened, then quickly narrowed in anger. "But you were just a kid, conned by that asshole!"

"Yes," Justin admitted. "I was. But no one believed me."

"How could they not believe you? You didn't get any of this money that Alby made from them, did you?"

"Of course not," Justin said adamantly. "But that didn't matter because Alby told them he paid for me to work on them. He said I knew what I was doing and that I was promised half of the earnings once I graduated from The Art Institute."

"How could they believe that?"

"I don't know," Justin whispered in defeat. "But they did, mostly."

"What do you mean, mostly?"

"My father did what he could to afford a decent lawyer, but even he didn't think that with the mountain of evidence against me that I'd get away from the fraud charges. He did his best and got me a separate trial from Alby. He was the one that was big in the news, so no one really cared about me, not until after the trial; that's when the media started hounding me. They didn't stop until a little while after Alby's sentencing a few months after mine. Anyway, the jurors believed my story a little bit, they gave me a much lesser sentence than what Alby got from his jurors. I was fined one million dollars to be..."

"What the fuck?" Brian yelled, hopping off the couch. "Are you fucking kidding me? Did you just say a million fucking dollars?"

Justin shook his head. "I wish I were kidding you. The judge reduced the fine to five hundred thousand dollars, to be paid by January, 11th 2006."

"They expect you to fucking pay back half-a-million dollars! When did they fucking sentence you?" Brian demanded, pacing back and forth in front of the blond.

"They sentenced me in January of 2003," Justin, answered Brian. "The judge reduced the fine, given that I comply to pay back the money in this time frame. But, I don't think he really expected me to be able to pay it back because if I don't, I'll be going to prison." The blond revealed the last statement with a whisper full of despair.

Brian fumed for Justin. He couldn't believe what injustice had been done to the blond. He stopped his pacing and looked down at Justin, really looked at him. He could see the layers of pain, strength and courage that hid Justin's innocence and wondered how in the fuck anyone could have taken such atrocious advantage of him. Furthermore, he wondered how anyone could believe that he would compromise his future at such a young age when he had a damn promising one. "You've been hustling yourself for money to pay this off," Brian assessed rhetorically.

"My mom and dad sold their house and moved into a tiny condo. They took the profit from the sale to pay my lawyer and the money I was going to use for the last two years of school they gave me to pay off some of the fine. The last time I saw my father, he handed me a check for one-hundred and eighty thousand dollars and told me that I was no longer welcome in my family's lives."

"They didn't believe you?" Brian asked in disbelief, sitting down beside Justin.

"They acted like it at first. But then again, they couldn't afford the million-dollar bail so I didn't see them much while I was waiting in jail for my trial. I guess they probably believed all the things the press released about me."

"Like what?" Brian asked, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"I don't..." Justin closed his eyes and pushed those memories away from him. "I can't talk about that, not right now. But it led to my parents thinking that I'd been doing drugs and even though Professor Alby was married and denied it, I think they believed the general consensus that we were also having an affair. My dad never wanted me to go to art school and the only reason he allowed me to go was because of...what I don't want to talk about."

Brian nodded his head in understanding. He had his own demons he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to reveal. "So they don't know what you're doing to earn the money, do they?"

"No. They probably wouldn't care if they knew, other than to damn me for shaming them more than I already have."

"They're the ones that should be ashamed," Brian replied, bringing his hand to Justin's head and curling his fingers in Justin's hair. "You were only a kid, they should've stuck by you, helped you."

"Parents rarely do what they're supposed to do," Justin spoke and saw Brian nod in agreement. "I think they knew that I'd have to do something practically illegal to get the rest of the money and they wanted no part in it."

"How much more do you owe?" Brian asked worriedly.

"I've managed to pay four-hundred and forty thousand, but I probably won't get enough to pay everything off by next year unless I get lucky and have a bunch of clients like you," Justin teased.

"I'll fucking give you the rest of the money," Brian said, before he could think about what he'd offered.

Justin laughed. "You can't, how would I explain that to the government?" Justin asked. "I'm not even sure how I'm going to legally accept the ten grand."

"How in the hell do they think you're making money?"

"The escort service is one fixed fee for every date. It's legal. They would've arrested me a long time ago if it weren't."

"What if I bought a painting from you?" Brian asked.

"You can't," Justin snickered. "That's why I stopped selling my sketches in the park, it got too risky. One of the terms of my sentence is that I am not allowed to sell any artwork without a reputable agent, and only after the fine is paid off."

"I'll cash the ten grand myself and you can use that to live off of," Brian concluded. "Will that help you?"

"Yeah, it will." Justin reached his hand up and put it over Brian's, stilling the man's fingers in his hair. "I don't want to think about it anymore, okay?"

"Okay," Brian agreed.

"You can fuck me now," Justin whispered, drawing the man's hand down his chest and to his hardening cock.

Brian laughed. "How is it that I forgot we were naked?"

Justin stood up, holding Brian's hand he pulled him off the couch and led him into the bedroom.

Brian turned Justin onto his back. "Like this," he demanded huskily. "Face to face."

"I've never done it like this," Justin admitted in a quiet voice. "I always hoped my first time would be like this though," he said, spreading his legs for Brian to get in between them.

Brian painted a path from one of Justin's clavicle's to the other and then placed his mouth against Justin's open, moaning one, imagining how sweet and innocent Justin probably was when he gave up his virginity. "What was your first time like?" Brian asked.

"My friend at the agency, Luke, he fucked me so that I could..." Justin kissed Brian then, he didn't want to think about that. It was his last night with Brian and he doubted he'd see the man in the future. He wanted to experience pleasure he knew he never would again, without thinking about his past or future.

Brian held Justin's face as he gave into the urgency that the blond's kiss coerced from deep within his body. Justin's fingers danced up and down his back while his palms kneaded Brian's muscles in unison. Their cocks were hard and wet as they slid against each other. Brian explored Justin's mouth and found that it tasted like the honey that had dripped across his dessert plate; it now splashed into Brian's mouth and further fueled the fire ignited around them.

Overwhelmed with his desire to be inside Justin, Brian was anxious to move to preparing the blond's asshole. His mouth watered as he flattened his tongue down Justin's chin and moved his body backward, leaving a trail of saliva down Justin's neck and chest and pooling in his belly button where he ended the licking and momentarily rested his head against Justin's thigh. The smell of Justin's sex, the feel of his hard cock arching and burning against his skin drove Brian on.

Justin's head spun as Brian lifted his legs onto his shoulders and expertly licked the skin just around his hole. "Lick me, Brian," he pleaded desperately.

Brian leaned his face against Justin's inner thigh and smirked up at the younger man. "I was licking you," he teased in a throaty whisper. "Is there a particular place you'd like me to place my tongue?"

"My hole," the blond pleaded and wantonly thrust his hips up.

Brian placed one hand on Justin's hip to keep him steady and used the other to part one of Justin's ass cheeks. He licked under Justin's balls, one long stripe down to his center where he then eagerly obliged the boy's request.

*****

Brian almost laughed in wonder when Justin came. They'd fucked near a dozen times at that point, but never had he heard the blond be so loud and uninhibited. Justin's begging and demands broke through the sound of their slapping bodies, whispers of direction and quiet moans of havens reached time and time again, guiding them to the precipice of climax.

Justin's back arched and jolted repeatedly while his mouth poured out sounds of pleasure Brian had never awoken in anyone before. He wrapped his arms under Justin's back and pulled him flush against his body so he could feel the blond's release completely. Justin's fingernails bit into the flesh of his arms and the sting sent a direct current to his cock, triggering lights to flash behind his eyes. His body turned into percussions of energy, bounding out from within him, his heat flooding into Justin's passage, the latex barely separating his release.

Justin breathed in everything. The smell of the thick air, the sounds of the bedsprings settling under their twitching, tired bodies, the colors that flickered behind his eyes, made tangible by the aftershocks of his orgasm. He gave into the whole experience, held onto every sensation as his mind unwound from the tight ropes of pleasure heeding themselves into his long-term fevered memory. While he was still absorbing the aftershocks, his cock painted with his emission, became rigid between his and Brian's muscles once again.

*****

Justin placed the second condom on Brian's cock much quicker than he'd placed the first. There were only small traces of lube left from their first round in his ass. The sweat dripping down Justin's crack was gathered as thought it were dew, slicking the sheath around Brian's cock before he slid inside Justin's needy hole.

Once again, the previously mapped course began, different roads taken, leading to exciting pathways to bliss. Twice more the blond and brunet traveled into the infinity of one another's bodies. When both men were exhausted, sleep came quickly for Brian as their bodies separated for the final time that night.

The snow stopped falling the instant that Justin opened his eyes to see Brian had fallen asleep. He kissed Brian's lips and wondered if the morning's impending separation would be enough to keep him from falling for Brian Kinney.

*****

Monday, February 14, 2005

In the morning, after both men took separate showers, Brian insisted that Justin stay for breakfast. He reasoned that they would avoid the bank's rush. Justin agreed to stay for the meal and glanced through his Art Forum while Brian read the newspaper.

The airports opened early that morning and most of the roads in the main city blocks were open, but there was a problem with the ‘L' and Justin wasn't looking forward to paying the high price to take a cab out to his apartment. He could've taken a bus but didn't want to deal with waiting in the cold between each transfer. Brian called and arranged for the cab while the blond packed his clothes into one of the shopping bags. All morning the air sparked with tension and quiet words working to diffuse it, but not making much headway.

Brian placed his business card on the bank's counter as the teller went to find the manager to make the needed transaction. He took out a pen from his pocket and wrote on the back of his business card. 

Justin, if you are in trouble and you need anything, please call me. If you are unable to pay the fine, I will figure out a way to make it look legal and I will pay it off. Or if there is anything else you need I will figure out something to help you. ~ Brian

"Mr. Kinney, I'm Fredrick Westfield, the manager of U.S. Bank," a short, old man who barely looked as though he could see over the counter held his hand out to Brian.

Brian shook the man's hand. "Please call me, Brian. It's nice to meet you."

"Brian, would you mind stepping into my office for just a moment?" the man asked.

"Of course," Brian replied, following the man down a short hallway and into his swanky office.

"Please take a seat." Fredrick motioned Brian toward one of the chairs in front of his desk as he sat in his leather chair behind it. Once Brian was seated, the man began to speak, "You've requested to withdraw a substantial amount from the bank."

"Is there going to be a problem with that?" Brian asked in a clipped tone. "I have been a highly valued customer of this bank for some time now. I opened up my first savings account here when I was twelve."

"I suppose in that time you have not asked to withdraw cash in any amount over two-thousand dollars?" Fredrick asked.

Brian couldn't think of a time when he had. "No," he replied, aggravated.

"We prefer to take care of these large cash transactions in private. I do not mean to inconvenience you; we value your safety and commitment to this bank. We do not count this money in the lobby with one of those tellers and all the people looking on. I hope you understand."

Brian sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Mr. Westfield. I appreciate the extra precautions."

*****

Brian slipped his business card inside the money envelope as he walked back into the lobby, then placed it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He walked toward Justin, who sat on one of the benches waiting for him. "Hey," he whispered, touching the blond's shoulder.

Justin stood up and gave Brian his best smile as the man walked around to face him. "Did everything go okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Brian replied, stepping closer and embracing Justin. He held onto the man tightly and whispered in his ear, "In the left inside pocket is the money, take it out and put it in under your sweater in your waistband. You don't have to count it; I promise it's all there."

Justin listened to Brian's directions and placed the envelope in his waistband. "I trust you," he said, turning his face up and placing a kiss to the man's lips. Just before the kiss turned too passionate for public display, Justin pulled away from Brian. "Thanks," he whispered and picked up the bag at his feet.

Brian looked at his watch. "You still have about fifteen minutes before your cab gets here," he informed the younger man.

Justin shrugged. "I think I'm going to wait in the café and get a hot cocoa to warm me up before I head out in the cold."

Brian swallowed around the pulsing lump that formed in his throat. He cast aside the melancholy threatening to invade his mind and forced out one whispered word, "Later."

Justin begged himself to speak his reply strongly. "Later, Brian." He didn't know if he'd succeeded, so he quickly turned away before he could watch the other man walk away from him.

Justin's legs felt like lead as he walked to the café. As he sat sipping his cocoa, he wished his heart had remained made of iron and loathed his weakness. He tapped his feet on the tile floor nervously, looking outside and wishing that his taxi would arrive. The anticipation to get away from Brian was as great as the desire to stay with him, which was exactly why he needed to leave.

"Justin?"

Justin heard an older man's voice call his name beside him, and he readied himself to look at who was probably a previous customer. He took a moment before turning away from the window and toward the voice, realizing that not many of them knew his name, so it could be one that adored his services.

"Sorry to bother you," the gray-haired man spoke.

Justin felt completely confused. Sure he didn't remember all of his past customers, but he was pretty sure the man standing above him was not one of them. "Do I know you?" he asked carefully.

"May I sit down?" the man asked.

Justin shook his head, "Not until you tell me who you are."

"I'm Randall Lewis," the man replied through laughter. "I suppose I should've introduced myself first. That wasn't very good manners, was it?"

Justin's eyes widened, as he comprehended who the man was. "Oh, sure, sit down, this is after all, your hotel," he spoke apologetically, giving the man his best smile.

"So your fiancé has spoken of me?" Randall asked happily.

"Uhmm..."

"Brian Kinney," Randall explained, taking a seat across from Justin. "You are the Justin that is engaged to Brian, correct?"

Justin couldn't believe he was about to lie for Brian, and without being paid. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I'm a little tired this morning so I'm a little slow, but yes, Brian has mentioned you. You were so kind to meet with him so that I could also see him this weekend," Justin praised the man, pouring it on thick.

"My wife and I arrived just a few moments ago. My sister-in-law, she's the clerk at the AX store, and she was gushing to us about how in love you and Brian are."

Justin grinned. "We are," he affirmed, silently pleading with the man to leave him alone.

"Knowing how booked up Brian is with his work, I'm sure you two have your wedding date scheduled. He said you two will be going on vacation the 21st." Randall inquired, "Does this happen to be the honeymoon?"

The date clicked in Justin's mind and he enthusiastically nodded his head. "Yes, actually we're getting married on my birthday which is on the twentieth."

"You are?" the man grinned. "That's very romantic. Oh, I see my wife; I have to introduce you to her. I'll be right back, Justin."

"Okay," Justin said, trying to keep his voice happy. As the man walked away, he was sure that instead of helping Brian, he might have fucked things up for the man. Justin touched his stomach feeling the wad of cash inside the envelope and debated whether to run out the door while the man's back was turned, or to wait it out and then make his way back up to Brian, so that he could tell the man the added parts to the lie.

Just when Justin rose from the table, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis joyfully entered the café. The woman had the arm that wasn't in a cast wrapped around her husband's waist. Justin thought they looked too excessively happy and in love for old people. The blond plastered on another smile as he picked up his bag and walked toward them.