BRIAN'S POV

Well, please don't ask me what'sa on my mind
I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine
When I'm near that girl that I love best
My heart beats so it scares me to death

10:42 a.m. Saturday morning

Daphne has arrived, in more ways than one, and right on schedule.  I’m waiting for her outside my building.

“You look hot, Brian.  Those are my favorite jeans on you.”  Daphne—sweet and enchanting as usual.  She leans in to me, on her toes, and kisses me on the cheek.

“Thanks.”  Why did she have to compliment me first?  Now, I’m totally off my game.  Shake it off, Kinney.  “Slight change of plans.”  I put my arm around her and lead her towards my car.

“Why?  I thought I was supposed to come over here at 10:45 sharp and surprise Justin and take him to lunch—or brunch, I guess.”

“You are, but he’s not ready.  Get in.”  I open her door for her.  “I’m going out for cigarettes.  We’re all out.” 

“So he’s still in the dark?”

“Yeah.”  She opens her purse and pulls out her cigarettes, offering me one.  I accept.  I light hers and mine while we stop at a traffic light.  “So, did you fuck that guy two nights in a row?”  I smirk at her.

“What guy?”

“That guy you were talking to Justin about on the phone the other night.  The one he was telling you not to fuck-“

“Oh, him, Andy, god, no.  He’s history.”  I knew there was a reason I liked this girl so much.  Justin has the best hag.

“Why’d you dump him so fast?”

“He had a lot to learn.  Let’s just leave it at that.”  She cracks her window, blowing her smoke out.

“Like what?”

“Like none of your business.”

“Oh, come on.  “You can’t just tell me ‘he had a lot to learn’ and leave it at that.”

“You are worse than Justin.”  She rolls her eyes.  I’m probably better than Justin at some things too.  I’ve always been so curious about that, about how Justin was with Daphne. I don’t know why I’m wondering about that this morning.  “All I’m going to tell you is that he should’ve keep his mouth shut.  They way he carried on, you’d think he knew a lot more about…well, you know what I mean.”

“About pussy.”

“Right.  I can’t stand guys like that.  Seriously, he should’ve kept his mouth shut—for both reasons--because, quite frankly, you probably know more about it than he does.”

“I’ll have you know that Justin and I picked up some pussy last night.”  I’m going to get so much mileage out of this kitten.

“Did you eat it?”

 “Um, no.”

“Well, then, the three of you have something in common.” Justin’s taste in women impresses me more and more every day.  She kills her cigarette as we pull into the store parking lot.  I need to stop hitting on this girl for sport; she’s totally out of my league.

“I’ll be right back.”

Daphne is on the phone with one of her girlfriends when I get back to the car.

“What am I doing right now?  Riding around town trying to score cigarettes with the hottest uber-gay guy you’ll ever meet.  No, you don’t know him.  No, not Justin—Justin’s evil-half.  I’ll call you later.  That guy you set me up with tonight better not be a troll.  Later.  And if he’s even remotely a troll, he better pay for dinner.”  For some reason, I want to give her fifty bucks, just so she’ll call and tell me all about it.  “Okay, so tell me what’s the big secret?  What do you have up your sleeve?”  She turns in her seat to face me, all excited.

“This.”  I open the glove compartment and hand her the brochure with everything in it, the reservation, the details for today and tonight.  She looks a little stunned.

“Wow.  This is really nice.  I can’t believe you’re doing this for him.”  She looks at me.  I look at her.  She knows I can’t get emotional right now.  She doesn’t want to either.  “You know that there’s a huge bible convention or something going on there this weekend, right?”

I didn’t know that.  “No.”

“Yeah, one of my girlfriend’s fathers owns a Christian bookstore.  This place is going to be packed.”

“So?”  Bible-beaters aren’t my style, but I’ve been known to unbuckle a bible-belt or two.

 “So, it’s going to be almost impossible for you to drop him off in the front, with all of the buses and everything.”

“I wasn’t planning on dropping him off in the front.”  Why would I?

“Well he isn’t going to be able to go with you into the parking deck.”  She looks at me like I’m crazy and then it sinks in.  “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

“Told me what?” 

“Oh shit.”  She sighs and lays her head against the back of her seat.  “That he won’t, can’t, go near a parking garage.  I shouldn’t have told you this.  You didn’t know, did you?”

My hand is on her wrist.  I want her to look at me.  “Whatever you’re talking about, he hasn’t told me.”

“Probably because he’s embarrassed about it, and afraid—that it will happen again.”

“That what will happen again?”  I pull the brochure out of her hand and throw it on the dashboard.

“He has pretty severe panic attacks Brian.”  She looks at me for my reaction.  “He’s very ashamed of them.”

“Since when?  He was walking around with a fucking gun Daphne.”

“I know.”

“I mean, he has nightmares, and I think he still has flashbacks sometimes, but when did this start?” 

“I don’t know how many he’s had, but the first one I know of was the first time he went to a follow-up appointment at the hospital by himself, you know, without his mom.  And you know the way that hospital is set up.  You have to walk through the parking garage and over that covered walkway to go in, no matter what.”

“I know how that hospital is set up.  It’s fucking stupid.”  I know that place like the back of my hand.

 “Well, he took the bus there that day.”

“And what happened?”

“All I know is what he told me.  He freaked out in the parking garage after he got off the bus.  He couldn’t even get to the walkway.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move;  felt like he was going to die.  He said all of the smells and noises echoing made him feel like everything was crashing down on him—something about being in that claustrophobic space, you know.  He felt like he couldn’t get out, like he was lost in a maze.   It was so bad that another person who was trying to find a parking spot saw him, thought he was having a heart attack or something, found an attendant, and they called the paramedics.  He won’t go near one now.   It makes him feel out of control, or something, I guess.”

Fuck.  “He told you about this, but he didn’t tell me.  Why?  Why didn’t he tell me or ask me to go with him?” 

“You guys weren’t together then.  He was with Ethan.”  Her voice fades away as she tells me this, and we are both quiet for a few seconds.

I'm fucking going to kill him.  “So he didn’t tell me, or his Mom?”

“Apparently not.”  She looks agitated, like she’s done something wrong, but it’s not her fault.  Justin's the most stubborn person I know, except for me. “He’s embarrassed, I guess.  And don’t take this the wrong way, Brian, but he knows that you see things in a very black and white way sometimes, and he just can’t.  It’s not something that he can just snap his fingers and fix, so he hides it.  And since he refuses to go back to the hospital, he hasn’t gotten any treatment for them either.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense.  I know he’s been in a parking garage since the bashing.  You guys go to the mall.”

“I drop him off out front and meet him inside.  His mother does, too; she doesn’t ask questions.  He’s very, very creative about figuring out ways to avoid them.  And honestly, Brian, now that I think about it, I think he just doesn’t bring it up with you because he knows that the whole subject is painful for you too.  He doesn’t want to make you remember it any more than he does.  He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he just keeps it bottled up, until-.”

“Until something sets him off.”  Like Thursday night.  “And then the damn breaks.”  This is why he’s so nervous about going to L.A. by himself.  I wish I could stop all of the thoughts that are flooding into my head right now.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  You told me about that posse crap.”

“I wasn’t sure that he hadn’t told you for one, and, two, he hasn’t said a word about them in months.  I think he basically ignores the problem until he can’t.  I know that he was with some friends at PIFA one day who wanted to go have lunch, and they all started walking out to their cars, and he begged off.  He can’t deal.  I just didn’t know that you didn’t know.  I mean, I figured with all this, this new job and all, that he would have told you by now.”

“I don’t know whether to go ring his neck or yell at him or…” or just go back to the loft, cancel everything, and just do whatever it takes to convince him that he’s okay, that everything is going to be fine.  We can spend the rest of the weekend walking up and down every parking garage in the fucking city if we have to.  We're back at my building.  I stop the car.  She’s watching me.

“Brian, I can’t tell what you’re thinking.  I can’t tell if you’re really pissed or really worried.”

“A little pissed and a lot worried, but I’m glad you told me because I would’ve had a fucking disaster on my hands.”

“Well, you can’t be that pissed, Brian.  You wouldn’t even tell him you were having a testicle removed.  You two deserve each other, if you ask me.”  I want to give her a dirty look, but I can’t.  She’s right.  Sometimes Justin and I are more alike than I ever realize.  “You aren’t going to cancel your plans are you?”

“No.  I was planning on telling him where we were going, but I’m not going to now.  I’ll just pick him up from the diner, and he’ll just have to be none the wiser for a little while longer.”  I was getting excited about telling him too.  “I don’t want him to know that I know all this.  Not now.”  I’ve learned more about Justin in the last forty-eight hours than I have in four years.  Not to mention that I’ve got the wrong list my wallet.  I don’t need a list of neurologists; I need a list of psychiatrists.  That ought to be a fun conversation.

“Yeah, that might put a damper on things.”

“I guess I’ll just call the hotel before I get to the diner and tell them I need curbside valet service.  I wasn’t planning on spoiling him that rotten.”

“Aw, he’s worth it.”  She’s smiling again.  She’s right. He is.

“We better go back in.  He’s going to call me any minute.  It doesn’t take him long to look pretty.”

“I know. I hate blonds.  He looks prettier than me half the time.”  She makes me laugh.  “I won’t miss walking down the street and having everyone gawk at him instead of me.”  Her face gets a little more serious as she looks out the window. 

I will.
*********************************************

Come on baby I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking

11:04 am

Justin isn’t ready for shit, unless the ‘shit’ is Captain Crunch and cartoons.

“Why aren’t you dressed?”  Daphne's right behind me.  He hasn’t noticed.  Why would he?  Josie and the Pussycats is much more intriguing.  I always know when he’s bummed out because he watches Boomerang--some network where really old cartoons go to die.  One Saturday morning, he made me sit through three hours of that crap and listen to him pontificate about the rampant latent homosexuality in early American animation.  I got so sick of it, I picked him up, carried him back to bed and fucked him one time for every episode of Yogi Bear he made me watch.  He told me that just proved his point.

“I told you, I want to take a shower with you.  I could give a fuck about cigarettes.”  He looks up.  “Daph.  What’re you doing here?”

“I ran into her when I was coming back in.  She came to take you to lunch.”

“I’m not really hungry now.”  Daphne plops down on the sofa beside him.  “Why didn’t you call?”

“I wanted to surprise you.  Plus, it was kind of a last minute thing.  I had a date last night that I thought was going to run late, but it didn’t, so here I am.  Go get dressed!  I’m hungry!”

“Look, Daph, it’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you because I do; I just really wanted to spend this day with Brian.  We can have lunch tomorrow, if you want.”  He looks over at me like ‘back me up on this, okay?’

Now I know exactly how Debbie feels when she slaps Michael upside the head.  “Justin, turn off the fucking cartoons and go take a shower.”  He looks at me and rolls his eyes.  I walk into the bathroom and start the shower.  That will get him going.  He joins me under the water in less than a minute.  I know him so well.  “What the fuck is your problem?”  I pour shampoo into my hands and start washing his hair.  He’s facing me, his hands on my hips.

“I want to spend the day with you, okay?  I didn’t even want to get out of bed.”

“You have to eat.”

“So order out.  She can eat with us.”  I tip his head back and rinse his hair.  I use the conditioner he likes.  Mine.  It smells so good.

“She wants to be with you.  It’s not going to hurt you to spend an hour having lunch with her.”  Rinse again.  Lathering hands with soap.

“Brett sent my e-ticket.”  So that’s the problem.  “My flight leaves at 8:47 am on Monday.”  He can’t see my face.  I’m washing his back.

“Well, that works out well because I have a presentation at 10:00.”

“We’ll have to go early for security and all that stuff.  Plus, it’s Monday morning and that’s a busy day for business travel.”  He’s watching the water go down the drain.

“We will.”

“I called my mom.  I told her that I wanted you to take me, that I just wanted it to be me and you.”  I think I’m done washing him, that I’ve done everything.  Fuck, I can’t remember.  He turns around in my arms.

“She’s okay with that?”  He takes the soap out of my hands, lathers up, runs his soapy hands over my body.

“Not really, but she’ll get over it.  That’s why I called her now—to give her time to get over it.  She sounded weird on the phone anyway, like she wasn’t alone.  My mom has about five different voices.  There was someone there with her this morning when I talked to her.”

“Maybe it was Molly.”

“No, not that kind of weird.  She was using her:  ‘Oh, that’s nice honey, but I really can’t talk right now, can I call you back later? Love you, too.’ voice.”  I laugh at his impression of his mother.  “Turn around.”

He washes my back.  I ask for shampoo.  “So are you getting excited?”  I could never pull off this question if I was looking at him.

“Sure.”  Somehow I think the same of his answer.  “So what are you going to do while we’re having lunch?”

“I’m going to turn this place upside down until I find my little black book.  Once you leave, I’m going to have a helluva time re-establishing my status, that I’m back on the market.  You’ve fucking ruined that for me.  I’ll never get a blow job in this town again.”

“They’ll blow you once they realize I’m really gone, that I’m not going to walk around the corner and tell them to fuck off or that you’re not going to abandon them with their pants down in the backroom because they’re playing my favorite song.”

Yeah, that was funny as shit.  “You dared me to do that.  That doesn’t count.”  I turn around to face him, laughing at the memory of that guy so fucking pissed at me, of Justin waving good-bye to him as he stormed out of Babylon, at the fact that he didn’t come back for at least at month.  I pull him to me.  “That guy was an annoying gnat that wouldn’t leave you alone.  It had to be done.  You know what they say:  ‘sometimes a gay man’s gotta do…”

“’what a gay man’s gotta do.’  I know, and I just wanna fuck, okay?  All day.  That’s all I want to do.”  His hand is on my cock.  My arms hang loosely over his shoulders, the soap suds trailing down his back and onto the tile as we kiss for a minute or so.  I’d love nothing more than to stay like this, but we’ve kept Daphne waiting long enough, and we’ve got bigger and better things to do, that will eventually lead to the fucking.  All roads lead to the fucking. 

“Listen to me.  Are you listening?”  Our foreheads lean together, my wet hair plastered between us.  “I gave up Rage to be Elvis right?”

“Right.”  The rolling eyes of a skeptic. 

“And Elvis is the King right?”

“Right.  Is this a ‘degrees of separation’ thing?’
 
“Shut up and listen.  And if I’m the King, you have to do what I say, right?”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me.”  I smack him on the butt.

“Fine.  Right.  Whatever.”

“You’re going to go have lunch with her for an hour.  Then when you’re done, she’ll bring you back here, and I’ll fuck your brains out all day long.  I’ll fuck you so hard you will need that entire tub of butt stuff just to get ready for tonight.  He slips his tongue in my mouth.  Devious.  “And if you’re really good, I’ll give you a coupon from the Topping Fairy that you can redeem before you....go.”

He moans in my arms and for good reason.  I wasn’t even paying attention.  I was jerking him off through that whole conversation.  He just came in my hand. 

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’s just for an hour Justin.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

 I know. 
*************************************************

He’s all smiles getting dressed.  I want to think it’s because I jerked him off or because he’s excited about the afternoon fuck-fest he thinks he’s getting, but I know it’s because it’s time for lunch.  His blond head pokes through his black turtleneck sweater.  He knows he looks so fucking hot in that sweater.

“Do you want me to bring you something back?”  Always wearing sneakers.  I’ll never break him of that habit.  I hand him his wallet.  He stuffs it in his jeans.

“Yeah, a sandwich or whatever.  You know what I like.”  He buttons my shirt as I zip my jeans, looking up as I lean down to kiss him good-bye.

“Yeah, I do.”  He flattens his hand against my chest and pushes me a little as he walks away.  “Come on Daph.  I’m ready to go.”

*************************************************

It doesn’t take me long to pack what we need and check in with Laverne and Shirley and make sure they’re on schedule.  I call Ted’s phone, but Emmett answers.  I guess he knows it’s me.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Let me speak to Theodore.”

“Hold, please.”

“Teddy, Brian would like a word with you.”  I hear a lot of rustling.

“Ted Schmidt.”

“No shit.  How’s it going?”

“As well as can be expected.  Emmett’s a little, well, opinionated, but he’s getting over it.”

“Keep it simple.  Tell him to let Paul do his job.”

“That’s what I’m doing.  We’ll see you at the Fairmont.”

“Don’t forget to come by here and pick up my suit.  It’s in a bag in the closet.”

“We won’t.  Don’t worry.  We’ll see you soon.”
*************************************************************
Justin is surprised when I walk into the diner, grab my lunch, and say, “Come on.”  He tells Daphne he’ll see her tomorrow and follows me out to the car with a quizzical look on his face.  It doesn’t take him long to realize that we’re not driving towards the loft.

“Where are we going?  You promised me that we could stay in the loft all afternoon and fuck.”

I scarf my sandwich and enjoy his mild aggravation at me.  “Did you have a good time with Daphne?”

“Don’t change the subject.  Answer me.  Where are we going?”

“Do you want to spend a lot of time fucking this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then fucking quit asking me that.  If you ask me again, I’m going to blindfold you and put you in the trunk.”  He cuts his eyes at me, which he knows I see, and then revs up one of those trademark little grins that make his eyes twinkle and make me sorry I wore these jeans instead of the looser ones.  I want to stop the car and fuck him right now.

We turn onto the street that the Fairmont Hotel is on, and Daphne wasn’t kidding.  The traffic is bumper to bumper with bible-beaters and their buses.  We aren’t going anywhere fast, but Justin keeps himself busy, as usual.

“Oh my god.  Look at all these cars.  What the fuck is going on at the Fairmont?” 

“I have no idea.”  I watch him turn around in his seat.  Nice view. 

“Every church bus from the state of Pennsylvania is in their parking lot Brian.”

“Maybe Jesus is here doing a book signing.  I hear his original signature goes for a lot on e-bay.” I see the valet a few hundred feet ahead of us.  He sees my car.  He’s patiently waiting while we inch forward in this traffic, enjoying the smoke break.  I’ve had enough business meetings and conferences at the Fairmont to know the staff fairly well.  They’re top notch; they take care of their customers.  Justin is still turned around in his seat counting buses.

“There are at least nineteen different churches here, and I’m sure I missed some.  Holy Jesus.”

“He’s the reason they’re here.”  And we’re about to be.

“Thank god I don’t have to be anywhere near this place.  Bunch of hypocritical lunatics.  I’ll bet Reverend Tom and your mom will be here.”

I really needed to hear that.  “Don’t thank him too soon.”  I pull over to the side of the road where John is standing, no cigarette now, looking like a crisp, clean Fairmont Hotel professional.  Daphne was right.  There’s no way in hell I would’ve ever gotten into the entrance.  I put my hazard lights on and get out.  “Justin, this is our stop.  Get out of the car.”

I dart around to the trunk to get our stuff and then around to get Justin out.  He still looks dazed and confused.  “Justin, come on.  We’ve got to get out of the way.”  I hand John my spare key.  “You can leave it at the desk.  I’ll get it later.”

“I’ll leave the garage location with it, Mr. Kinney.  Enjoy your stay.”  And he’s gone.  I put my arm around Justin’s shoulder and lead him into the lobby, his head turning all over the place, taking in the bible-beaters, the convention hoop-la, and then the lobby of the Fairmont.  I don’t think he’s ever been here before.  It’s a little bit breathtaking your first time.  I feel like I’ve got Gus at Disneyworld.

“Holy shit!  This place is incredible.  What are we doing here?”

The lobby is packed, and it’s almost impossible to stop walking, so we don’t.  “We’re celebrating.”  I bend my head down to his, his tucked underneath my arm.  He looks up at me like he doesn’t understand, but I don’t have time to explain it to him right now because I’m too busy steering him through this crowd of cross-wearing, bad-dressing propaganda pushers.   

We’re at the counter when I feel him leaning against me as I check in, the newness of this place wearing off a little, I guess.  “Here, take this.”  I hand him the room keys and some paperwork.  I’m carrying everything else. 

“If you need anything Mr. Kinney, just let us know.  Your suite is ready.”  I give Justin one of my, “So, whadda’ya think” smiles,” and he wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in a year.  I don’t think the Christian cronies appreciated that very much.  The clerk behind the desk found it rather amusing. 

“Brian, which elevator do we take?”  He’s walking ahead of me.  There are four to choose from, and I have no idea off the top of my head.  He figures it out.  “You have to take this one to the fourteenth and then you have to get off and take this one to the twenty-eighth.  We’re almost on the top floor!”

“Yeah, well the top floor is the honeymoon suite.  I’m not staying in a honeymoon suite.  Too much pink.”  He laughs.

“Come on.”  The first elevator is packed.  Justin tells me that he figures many more people stay on the first fourteen floors because they're cheaper, so this elevator will always be more crowded, statistically.  Sometimes I think he thinks I’m an idiot and can’t figure these things out on my own.  “Oh my god, this isn’t the place that you almost fucked that client is it?”

“Not above the fourteenth floor.”  I wink at him.  He rolls his eyes and looks a little amazed and proud. The things that make him happy sometimes….

The second elevator clears out by floor nineteen.  It’s just me and him.  “It’s nice that there isn’t a doorman in this elevator.”

“I requested that.  Cost me a little extra.”  He presses his body against mine as I lean against the back of the elevator.  We’ve just passed floor twenty-one. 

“I don’t know why you did this for me, but I don’t really care right now.  I’m just very, extremely, fucking horny.”  I close my eyes for a second and inhale the scent of the shampoo I used on him this morning.  Floor twenty-three.

“Um, so am I, and if you don’t get your sweet little lips off of my neck and your hot little hand off my dick, you’re going to have to clean this elevator because I’m going to come all over it.”  Twenty-four.

“I don’t care.”  That’s because you won’t be the one paying to get jizz out of the brand new carpet.  His palm makes repeated runs over my denim dick.  I lick my lips.

 “I’m not kidding.  You know I go bananas when you do that.”  Twenty-five. 

“Tell me what you’re going to do me.  I want to know.”  Keep one hand on the luggage and the other above his waist.

“What would Jesus do?”  Twenty-six.  Dear Lord, deliver us from evil, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.  God was comforted by a rod?  The man is no help.

“What would Justin do?” 

“What wouldn’t Justin do?”  Twenty-seven.

“Nothing.  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”  He unzips my jeans, slipping his hand inside.  Sweet Jesus. 

“I can think of one thing you won’t do.”  I look down at him as he starts lowering himself to his knees.

“What?”  He looks up at me. 

“Get the fuck off the elevator.  We’re here.”

Twenty-eight. 

Salvation.

*********************************

1:07 pm

He opens the door to the suite, and I hear “wow” come out of his mouth as I close the door.  The place is really too gaudy for me, far too Victorian and feminine, but it’s luxurious and private and ours and that makes it pretty much perfect right now.  He’s looking out the window, commenting about all of the traffic, more about the convention, and I just wait for him to turn around, to realize that I’m just standing here, holding the luggage, waiting to go into the bedroom. 

He turns around.

“Are you waiting for me?”  He looks almost shy, maybe, not quite.

“Yes.”  He walks over to me, and I point him in the direction of the bedroom, following his footsteps.  I place our bag down on the luggage rack while he looks around.

“We’ve never had a bed like this before.”  He runs his hand up one of the four posters. 

“I know.”  I stand beside him.

“I like this.”  I turn him around.

“I thought you would.”  I close my eyes for a brief second as his fingers fold together behind my neck.  “Don’t you want to look at the bathroom?”  I press him against the poster.

“Not right now.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I can’t think of a damn thing.”

“Me either.”  We kiss for what seems like a really long time; we kiss until he pulls away.

“I’m going to go look at the bathroom now.  I have to pee.”  I release him from my arms.

“Okay.”  I unzip our bag, having only brought one for the two of us, and unpack the things I brought.  I hang a couple of things in the closet, stock the nightstand with condoms and lube, and put our personal things on the dresser.  He emerges from the bathroom.

“You brought my sketchpad?”

“Yeah.  Two of them.  The big one and the small one.  I didn’t know which one you’d want.  And your pencils.”  I pull them out of the bag and lay them on the dresser.  “The bathroom’s huge isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing.  This whole place is amazing.  So what’re we celebrating?”  He takes his sketch pads and flops down on the bed, flipping through them to see if they have any blank pages.  I already made sure they did.

“Your achievement.”  I take the pads off of his lap and flop down on top of him.  “I already made sure they had blank pages in them.  You don’t have to check.” 

“Well, I need a pencil sharpener.”

“There’s one on the desk.”

“And an eraser.  I need my big eraser.”

“It’s in the bag, in the front pocket.”

“Well, I need a blow job.”

“Let me go look.  I’m not sure if I remembered to bring that.”  I get off the bed and walk over to our luggage and look inside.  “Nope, sorry.  I forgot.  Maybe you can buy one in the gift shop.”  My shirt is off before I’m back to the bed.  I jump back on the bed and lie beside him.

“As fancy as this place is, you’d think they’d be included.”  His button-fly levis only make his life more difficult.

“Why don’t you call the front desk and see if they’ll send one up?  I’ll wait.”  I hand him the phone.  Oh look, his underwear matches his sweater. 

I hope that phone doesn’t automatically dial the front desk when you pick it up.  “Hello?  Yes, this is Mr. Taylor in suite….  What’s our room number?”

“Um, 2821.”  I throw his socks and shoes and across the room.

“Yes, Mr. Taylor in suite 2821.  Could you please send up one of your complimentary fellatio-boys?  Yes.  Right away.”  He looks at me with his self-satisfied grin.  “We require his services immediately.  Thank you.”

“Why don’t you stop pretending to be rich and famous and help me get this sweater off?  I love this sweater, but it’s a bitch to get off.  He’s finally naked and finally against me, and I can finally just concentrate on fucking him.  I have a firm hold on his ass.  “You sounded just like Emmett.  You need to stop hanging out with nelly bottoms.”

“You like my nelly bottom.”

“I’m about to show you just how much.”  I pull him over to the edge of the bed as I get up.  He stands up with me, undoing my jeans.  “I want to take advantage of this nice, high bed.  Turn around.”  He smiles at me as he turns around and lies on the bed, parallel with the headboard, his bottom right where I want it.  His feet barely touch the floor.  I don’t even bother taking my jeans all the way off.   The only nice thing about having to sheath myself is getting to look at his perfect little ass.  “This is what I promised you earlier.”

He bites his lip and bends his knees into the side of the bed as I push inside him, my hand sliding down his back.  His hands ball into fists as he realizes that the lube was for me, not him.  “I love fucking you like this Justin.  Hard.  Fast.  And to the point."  I pull his hips to mine, forcing him to take the rest of me.  He can handle it.  He wants it.  My hands knead his ass as I fuck him, moving him into me, instead of me into him, as long as I can stand it.

He exhales.  I feel it and hear it.  “Uh, uh, Brian.”  His fingers start to straighten.  “Go, please, go.”

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?"

"Yes.  God, yes.  Fucking go."

And I’m gone.  Walking right into the light as it welcomes me, squeezes me, moans for me, and begs for me to fuck it.  And I do.  I fuck the holy shit out of it.  I don’t even stray from the light until I feel him trying to catch his own offering in his hands, trying not to stain the bedspread.  I try to help him as I lie on a heap on top of him, but I don’t think I’m very successful.

“Fuck it Justin.  The bedspread’s white.  No one will ever notice.”

“Yeah, I know.  I gave up.”  He flips over underneath me, and we kiss for several minutes.  “I liked that.  It was yummy.”  Yummy?  Where does he come up with this shit?


“You know what else is yummy?”  I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand.  1:52 pm.  Unfortunately, we’ve got to get dressed.

“You.”  He’s still horny.  He’s like the fucking energizer bunny.

“Besides me.” 

“No.”  I have to keep pulling away from his lips; they’re chasing me.

“This.”  I reach over to grab the leather-bound listing of all of the restaurants in the hotel.

“What’s that.”  He’s not even remotely interested. 

“This is a list of the ten different restaurants they have in this hotel.  One of which we will be eating at tonight.  So why don’t you look through here and see which one you want?”

“Later.  Not now.”

“We have to do it now.  I have to make the reservation.”  He ignores me and continues his assault on my body, but by some incredible miracle, which I can only attribute to the overbearing presence of God in this hotel today, we are saved by the bell, or the buzz rather.

“Brian, either your jeans have a small motor in them or your cell is going off.”  I hadn’t even noticed.  I slide my hand in the front pocket of my jeans and pull it out.  He was right.  I look at the caller ID.

Shit.  This can’t be good.