BRIAN'S POV

Do that to me one more time
Once is never enough with a man like you

There are so many things wrong with this picture.

It’s just not right to be washing spunk off of your (much younger and very hot) boyfriend’s stomach…

while he sits (naked) on the bathroom counter of a luxurious hotel…

filled with bible buyers…

talking your four-year-old son down from a “Why can’t I take the kitten to the grocery store? I took her to a pet store. What’s the difference?” ledge…

while you try to act like you don’t know that there’s going to be a knock on the door in, oh say, six minutes.

He flips my phone shut and puts it on the counter.

“I explained it to him. He calmed down, and Lindsay’s happy. It’s very nice of you to clean me up, but I can do it myself, you know.” Right, like this would get done if I wasn’t doing it. We’d be fucking again. Please stop licking my ear.

“It’s the least I could do since my son has no use for me anymore. He wants ‘Mr. Justin.’” I toss the washcloth in the sink and plant my now cold hands on his thighs. “Apparently, all I’m good for is fucking you and cleaning you up.”

“Oh, you’re such a big baby. It’s unbelievably cute when you get jealous over me and Gus.”

“You’re unbelievably cute sitting on this bathroom counter when I can see your pretty ass in the mirror.” I yank him closer to me, wrapping his legs around me. His skin is warm, this counter is cool, and, oh fuck, I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

“Ow, that hurt.”

“Yeah, right. You loved it.” He reaches behind him and pulls one of my hands off his back, glides it down his chest, right over his rock hard little nipples, and plants it on his cock, which is painfully hard. That’s what hurts. He licks his lips and looks at me from underneath those long eyelashes. He has no shame. His hand covers mine, gripping my fingers and moving it the way he wants it, my thumb swiping the beads of fluid beginning to spill out.

“Is somebody knocking on our door?” Forehead to forehead. Hand in hand. A true team effort.

“Quite possibly. You should put some clothes on.” He starts pushing me faster, his grip on my hand getting tighter, everything getting much more slippery. I let him lead for a little while longer, closing my eyes and listening to all the little sounds he makes when he jerks off. I wonder if he says my name this many times when he’s all alone. Fuck, that's so hot.

“I thought you put that sign up—that we’re not to be disturbed.” He’s leaning against me now, tucking his head in the crook of my shoulder, his legs holding me against the cabinets below us. The drawer pulls dig into my thighs, even through my jeans. He’s getting close.

“I guess someone can’t read.” My free hand spreads out on his chest. “Let go. Lean back. Now.” His arm falls from me as I push him back against the mirror and lean down to suck his orgasm right out of him. He props himself on his hands, arching his back to stay off the cold mirror, one foot struggling to find the edge of the counter, the other dangling as my palm pins his thigh next to the sink. My hand's firm on the small of his back as he fills my mouth with the sweetest stuff that has ever gone down my throat.

“Oh my god, my god. I didn’t know you were going to do that.” They ought to serve him in one of these restaurants; he tastes that good.

“I didn’t want to have to clean you up again.” I suck every last drop out of him before I pull him away from the mirror to kiss me; I love his disoriented little face.

“Fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair as I help him off the counter. “Who the fuck's banging on our door?”

“If you don’t get dressed, you’ll never know. Now go.” I swat him on the ass and push him into the bedroom. “Hurry up.”

Fellatio-boy, my ass. That ought a hold him for a while. I close the bedroom door behind me as I head into the outer room.

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

'Cause we are living in a material world
And I am a material girl

“Praise holy Jesus hallelujah! Somebody finally opened the fucking door!” Emmett’s shirt looks like Debbie’s curtains. I hope my money didn’t pay for that.

“See, I told you they were fucking. You owe me twenty dollars.” Theodore looks mildly pleased with himself.

“We weren’t fucking. I was enhancing his masturbatory experience.” I hate fags with limited sexual repertoires.

“God, I want that.” Theodore’s face gets all dreamy for a second. “But not with you. I didn’t mean with you.” Ah, the end of a fantasy. Sad, really, and well, just sad.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did. I wasn’t offering.”

Emmett pushes past me into the room. “Okay ladies, Paul’s on the clock here. Let’s get moving. Chop, chop! Where’s Barbie?”

“I think you mean Skipper.” Ted Schmidt’s sarcastic sideshow.

“Oh no, honey, I’ve seen this boy naked. He’s no Skipper.” Emmett shields his mouth with his hand and whispers. “Trust me.”

“Why the fuck do you two whisper when I’m standing right here?” Paul stays above the fray as I help him set everything up. “And when the fuck did you see Justin naked?”

“He’s seen me a million times, in the backroom at Babylon, just like everyone else.” Justin's standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking confused, dumbfounded, and maybe slightly pissed. “What’s going on?”

I guess I don’t answer him quickly enough for Emmett. “We’ve brought you a little surprise sweetie!” He starts out full of piss and vinegar, gesturing all over the place, and then just sort of falls flat.

“Surprise.” Thank you, Ted. Justin gives them a weak smile and looks at Paul.

“Who are you?”

“Paul. I’m a friend of Brian’s.”

“I’m Justin.” He gives him that little wave he gives to people when he really doesn’t want to wave to them at all.

“It’s nice to meet you, Justin.”

“You, too. Brian, can I talk to you for a minute?” He walks back into the bedroom. I follow him and close the door. “What’s all that?” He leans against the bedroom door, his hand tucked behind him, clutching the doorknob.

“Just a little something I whipped up.” I stand right in front of him, my hands in my pockets.

“With Em, Ted, and that other guy?”

“Yes. They did most of the work actually.”

“Is that what you were doing yesterday?”

“Mostly.”

“What is it?” He’s trying to keep his jaw firm. He’s trying to pretend he’s mad at me. I can respect that.

“A transformation. You’re going to California to work in the movies. I think you should look the part. I think you should look like who you really are.”

“Who I really am?”

“Right.” I reach behind him and dislodge his hand from the doorknob and put his arms around my neck.

“Like what? A guy who’s dropped out of school umpteen times, illustrates comic books with gay story lines, so he can feel like he’s always fucking his boyfriend even when he’s not, and, by some stroke of dumb luck, gets a picture deal? I should look like that?”

I kiss him so he’ll shut up. “No. Who you really are. Like I told you the other night when we were on our excellent adventure---a strong, smart, beautiful man who just happens to be the Assistant Art Director of a major motion picture.” He looks at me like I’m the strangest person he’s ever met.

“I’ll never understand you.”

“It’s a waste of time. Trust me.” I unhook his hands from around my neck. “Now let’s go out there. Paul’s waiting for you.”

“Who’s he anyway? An ex-trick?”

“No.” I don’t fuck everybody I know. Jesus. “One of my tailors.”

“Oh my god, he’s like royalty.”

“See, you do understand me.”

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

you better work ( cover girl )
work it girl ( give a twirl )
do your thing on the runway

I never really realized how much I like to watch—happens in the backroom all the time—half the thrill's getting your dick sucked, the other half is watching everyone else get it, too. It’s happening now.

I’m lying on the unused sofa in our suite watching Emmett fuss over Justin, watching Ted reorganize everything that’s already been laid out, and watching Paul get everything ready so he can start this transformation I’m bank rolling. God, this is worth every penny. If they stay this focused on what they’re doing, I’m jerking off.

Scratch that. Emmett's looking at me. He fucking knows me too well. He glances in my direction and then turns his attention back to Justin. His words, however, are for my benefit.

“Okay, Justin, honey, what we’ve done here, and, by we, I mean Brian, and the three of us, of course, is try to put together a new wardrobe for you. Something a little more grown up, 'ready for the real world,' 'look out world, here I come,' 'Justin Taylor, this is your life'………..”

“I think he gets it ‘Queer Day.’ Let’s move things along.” Emmett flips me off.

“It’s ‘Clear Day,’ but I’m not going to be mean to you because you’ve never gone through the pain of a broken heart before, so I’m just going to chalk that comment up to your aggravated emotional state.”

“Both of you, cut it out.” Justin gives both of us a warning look. “This is about me. Remember?”

“You’re right. I apologize Justin.” Emmett's such a fucking goody-goody. “Let’s look over these lines that Paul brought.” They walk over to the racks Paul set up. “Okay, now Brian really wanted you to go with the Armani line, naturally; he wants you to look like him. But, the three of us talked about it, and we brought some cut sheets and a lot of samples from the Calvin Klein and Dolce & Gabanna lines because, let’s face it, you’re not over thirty.”

I don’t feel like jerking off now. “Let me see.” I poke myself into their huddle.

Theodore inserts his logic into the mix. “Em’s right, Brian. No offense, but he’s young, and he’ll be in L.A. Styles there are more casual, more laid back.”

“How would you know?” I shoot him a look.

“I watch E!”

Whatever.

“You don’t buy trendy suits. Trends go out of style. You buy classics.” Trust me. I know.

“Brian, I like this, a lot.” Justin's enamored. He’s been ignoring us and flipping through the Dolce & Gabanna line this whole time. “These suits are fucking hot. And look at these!” He points me to these very sleek denim jeans that are hotter than hell, the model wearing this corduroy sport coat with a dress shirt that’s open, no tie, and this fucking fabulous belt.

“Look at that belt.” We say it unison. His face lights up like a Christmas tree when he realizes that I like it, too.

“You’d look unbelievable in something like that. Paul, did you bring samples from this line?” Now, I’m interested. I can jerk off later.

“Absolutely. It’s popular among our younger customers.” Yeah, the ones with money. Paul looked like he wanted to choke before he admitted to me that I wasn’t one of his “younger customers” anymore. I guess it’s time to pass the gauntlet. “And we took the liberty of picking the one for tonight out of that line as well. I hope you’re okay with that.” He pulls the dark navy suit out of the bag it’s hanging in. It’s not what I asked for, but they’re right, it does suit him better.

Justin takes it from Paul, his mouth hanging open. “This is for me, for tonight?” There’s a white D&G shirt behind it, a belt, everything.

“Yeah, Brian gave me your measurements, and we altered one for you for tonight. Why don’t you go try it on, so I can be sure it fits?” Justin takes everything into the bedroom. I stay with Paul, flipping through cut sheets, looking through neck ties, listening to Ted as he points out what he likes from both of the younger lines. His taste has improved dramatically.

“Brian, I think it’s really nice of you to do this for him. Flip back one page. Yeah, that page. That’s the one I like. Those pants with that jacket look really nice. Don’t you think?”

“He deserves it. I like this jacket too, although that fabric might be too heavy out there.”

“Look at sixteen. This ensemble is really hot. You could wear this to work and then straight to a club. He’ll be beating them off in something like---"

Emmett interrupts us to announce Justin’s arrival back into the room as the D&G boy. I watch Justin as he walks over to the mirror, turns around a couple of times, lifts the jacket to check out his ass, and smiles with immense satisfaction. He turns to me. He wants to know.

“Brian, whadda’ya think?”

I’m literally at a loss for words.

Whoa.

“Brian?” There he goes lifting up that jacket again. “Answer me. You don’t like it?’

“I think you should pick something that doesn’t accentuate your ass so well.” He smirks at me. “But I’m just being selfish.”

“Fuck that. I love my ass.” Join the club.

I don’t remember much after that...

I know that there were numerous things tried on and marked, arguments about how pants should fit, when and how you should tuck your shirt in, how unbuttoned is too unbuttoned...

I remember Emmett giving Justin a bunch of D&G underwear, and Ted giving him an Armani wallet. “Something to hold all the money you’ll be making.” It was monogrammed...

I remember helping them pack everything up and get it in the elevator, and Justin being gracious...

I remember Emmett saying that he had six pairs of pants on hold with Paul because he couldn’t decide which ones he wanted, that Ted’s new threads were already bought and paid for, my gift to them for doing this for me...

I remember Justin closing the door to the suite and looking at me in that lusty way he looks at me...

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

Man it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
I hear you whisper & the words melt everyone
But you stay so cool---

a little later …

“Seven o’clock. The name’s Kinney. K-I-N-N-E-Y. Yes, for two. Justin, seven okay?”

“Sure.”

“Seven. Thank you.” He hangs the phone up for me. “You could have done that for me, you know.”

“It was so much more fun watching you do it.”

“Please untie me. I want to hold you.”

“That’s the best reason you’ve had so far.” He ponders my request. “But, no.”

“This is ruining these neckties.”

“We’ve got more than twenty in here. Ties can be replaced. Stop arguing with me.” He opens the nightstand drawer and puts condoms and lube on the bed.

And then he’s back on top of me again, running his lips all the way from my wrists, bound to the bed frame, down to my shoulders as I lie on my back, moaning like a French whore underneath him. The fact that I can’t touch him makes everything he’s doing feel a million times more intense. I really want to touch him and he knows it. He’s exploiting it. Little evil bastard.

“Brian, do you want to touch me?” Yes. Fuck yes. I’ve practically been begging.

“Yes.” I give him my best, “I’ll do anything you want. Really, I will.” look. “Please.”

“Find another way.” Ugggggggh.

“While I’m thinking about that, could you at least blow me?” He laughs as he leans down to kiss me.

“No.” He meanders down my torso, sucking on my chest. He’ll suck on that. I throw my head back, looking at the ceiling for inspiration. He knows I’m getting nowhere. And then he’s looking in my eyes again, shaking his head. “Somebody needs to mark this date and time down in history. The first time Brian Kinney hasn’t had a brilliant idea right off the top of his head. I’m going to help you, just because I feel sorry for you.”

Pity. I’ll take it. Damnit.

“Okay, Brian, why did I tie you up in the first place?” Oh boy, twenty questions. I thought he meant he was going to untie me. Wrong.

“Because by day, you’re a magnificent cartoonist, and by night, you’re a little kink mister?” He pinches the shit out my left nipple. Fuck. “Okay, okay. Because I made you mad.” And because you’re a little kink mister.

“Be specific.”

“Because you looked so fucking hot in your new D&G suit and crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned a little too much that I became over-stimulated and tore it off you. Is that specific enough?”

“And then what.”

“I let it hit the floor.”

“That’s bullshit. You threw it on the floor.” It’s true. I did. Justin and his little “details.”

“It was a crime of passion. There were mitigating circumstances.” His tongue is mitigating its way into my mouth right now. God, I want to suck his face off.

“What mitigating circumstances?” I could concentrate a helluva lot better if he would quit asking me these questions and nibbling on my ear at the same time.

“You looked like supercalifragilisticexpialidociously fucking hot in it, and I’ve never seen you,” Oh my god, “Can you please stop sucking right there when I’m trying to talk?”

“No. You’re being punished.”

“And I’ve never seen you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a sharp-dressed man. It made me temporarily insane.” Yeah, I’ll plea that. Fuck, I need a lawyer.

“It’s a double standard. You practically ground me if I let any of your ‘gay apparel’ come in contact with the floor.”

“It’s a first offense. I have no prior record. You should forgive me. Let me hold you and make it up to you.” I'm so fucking pathetic right now. Since when did my dick become my court-appointed attorney? I would never beg like this.

“Well, since you did pay for the suit, I could take that into consideration.” Please...

“I’ll make love to you.” I cannot believe my dick just said that.

“Now you’re just acting desperate.” I am desperate. “Okay, I’ve got it. I’m going to help you allocute.”

What? “Come again?”

“I want you to allocute for your crime, but I’m gonna help you. Then, we can talk about untying you.” How can you say no to somebody when he keeps kissing your balls?

“Can you please stop using big words? They make me excessively horny. They make me want to fuck you on stage at a spelling bee while they give you your trophy.” While you wear your new D&G suit.

“I have a trophy from a spelling bee.” That figures. “Okay, are you ready?”

No. “No.” I lean up to kiss him. “Can’t we fuck first and allocute later, like over dinner?”

“Nope. Now.” He props his elbows on either side of my head. “Okay, repeat after me.” Oh god. I really should be represented by counsel. Good counsel. Not my fucking dick.

“Okay. I, Brian Kinney.”

“Okay. I, Brian Kinney.” He flicks my head. Fine. “I, Brian Kinney.” He better let me in his ass after this.

“do solemnly swear…”

“do solemnly swear…” while I roll my eyes. I feel like I’m in a fort with Mikey again, or boy scouts. Uniforms….

“that I will never…”

“that I will never…”

“bitch at, chastise, or otherwise scold Justin Taylor…”

“bitch at, chastise, or otherwise scold Justin Taylor…” He’s enjoying this way too much.

“for throwing my gay apparel on the floor…”

“for throwing my gay apparel on the floor…” Fa la la la la la la la la.

“when he’s in the throws of unmitigated passion…”

“What did I say about vocabulary words?” He knows I’m hard as granite; he’s stroking me.

“Say it Brian.”

“when he’s in the throws of unmitigated passion…”

“that I, Brian Kinney, have caused in the first place.”

“that I, Brian Kinney, have caused in the first place. Now please untie me. Pleeease.”

“Only if you promise to finish because I’m not done.” Oh my god, he’s not done. Fine.

“Okay.”

“Promise.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Don’t say that.” He drives me bonkers.

“Cross my heart and hope to fuck.”

“Much better.”

“Now, untie me.” Ah, finally, freedom. Damn, my arms hurt. “Okay, now I’ve got you. What the fuck else do you want?” I give and give and give and all he does is take, take, take.

“Let’s get under the covers.”

“If we had a flashlight, it would be like a real fort.” He flicks me again. Now he’s on top of me of again, the blood is rushing back to my arms, and he’s in them, so, all in all, I’m much happier. “Carry on.”

“Okay, where was I? that I, Brian Kinney, have caused in the first place Oh yeah. ‘And that I, Brian Kinney….”

Just a minute, I’m kissing you……………….. “And that I, Brian Kinney…” His ass is freezing. I’ll warm it up. Get it ready.

“as an expression of my deep, passionate, and never-ending…”

“as an expression of my deep, passionate, and never-ending…” It warmed up quick.

“love for Justin Taylor…”

“love for Justin Taylor…” I wonder if he can go to California, and I can just keep his ass here?

“will hereby not consider…”

“will hereby not consider…” When did he put a condom on?

“the mind-blowing fuck that I am about to receive from Justin Taylor as a redemption of the coupon I gave him in the shower this morning.” He could not have said that any faster or be smiling any brighter. He kisses me before I can say anything. Never represent yourself when you’re up against the kink mister.

“I admire your subtlety. It’s very sexy. You’ve got some smooth moves.” And manners. His hands are warm, the lube is getting there.

“See what happens when you dress me up?” If this is what happens, I’d have done it a lot sooner. This is actually kind of nice.

“Kiss me while you’re doing that. Haven’t I taught you anything?” His tongue begins to explore my mouth as he begins to explore me, as I realize that I’m in his arms now. My body ignores the conflict stirring in my mind, and yet he doesn’t. He fucks one and makes love to the other.

“You’ve taught me everything.” He means it, but I don’t know when that happened. I don’t when he went from a boy in sneakers with ‘no place special’ to go the night my son was born--to a hot, successful man who has a million places to be, but wants to be with me. I don’t know when I taught him to touch me like this. I don’t know when he learned how to listen to me when I was sure I had nothing to say.

“Take your time and show me.” I don’t know that we’ve ever been face to face when this has happened, or maybe I’m just seeing it for the first time. Maybe my eyes are just fooling me. It’s really dark in here.

“Brian, it’s okay. Let go. Relax.” His eyes look so dark, so sure. “I want you to hold me. Put your arms around my neck.”

“Just go slow.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, I want it to last.”

He kisses me, as he makes me take him, his hand trailing down my face, as he forces his way inside. The real resistance, both of us know, has nothing to do with anything physical. The real pleasure, however, gladly stolen from it.

“Don’t worry Brian. I’ll make it last.”

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

JUSTIN’S POV

Love in an elevator
Livin' it up when I'm goin' down

6:49 pm

Brian looks amazing in his Armani suit. I think I look better. I beat him to the down button.

“Don’t think you’re gonna blow me in this elevator, Sunshine.”

Somehow I feel above that now.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Let’s go.”

“You’re just hungry.” No kidding.

I’ve never stepped off an elevator looking as good as Brian, not to mention smelling as good. He knows exactly where we’re going. I’ve got it written down in my pocket.

“I think it’s that one, Brian.”

“I know which one it is. I’ve eaten there before.”

“When?”

“Work related.” He puts his arm around my shoulders as we walk inside. It’s pretty busy. There are a few straight couples ahead of us. We wait about five minutes. I’m looking around at everything and caught off guard when Brian takes my hand. It’s our turn. “Kinney. Two. Seven o’clock.”

Kinney. For two. That just gave me chills.

“Right this way, sirs.” Brian motions for me to walk in front of him. I do.

Our table is fairly private, I guess. There are maybe five other tables around us that are all filled, but we’re kind of in the back. This place has nice ambiance. There’s a candle on the table, a white tablecloth, and I can see out into the hotel’s huge lobby. We’re seated in the inner ring of the restaurant. Beats looking out over the parking deck.

“So, are you having a good time so far?”

“Huh?”

“I said, 'Are you having a good time so far?'” So far?

“Yeah, I’m having a great time.” I undo my napkin and put it in my lap. “It’s so nice not having to cook for once. Not to mention having a night away from the kids.” I’m straightening the sugar and artificial sweetener packets. I hate it when they’re all mixed up and not facing the same direction.

“Those brats get on my fucking nerves, and I'm so fucking sick of your 'chicken surprise casserole.' If you weren’t such a dynamo in bed, I’d have divorced your ass by now.”

“You signed a pre-nup. You’ll get nothing. You stay for the rim jobs.”

“True. The gardener’s getting really good at those. Have you been spending extra time with him behind my back?”

“A rim job behind your back? Is that a joke?” He broke first. I win. “Seriously, there aren’t going to be anymore surprises, are there?”

“Just one.” He’s leaning in towards me with a very serious look on his face. Oh my god.

“What?”

“I bought you a plane.” Asshole.

“Very funny.” He’s laughing at me.

“I’m not kidding. I did. It’s really nice. It came with these really hot flight attendants in these really nice D&G uniforms, and when they push the little cart around, you can get anything you want.” Someone just brought us water.

“Thank you….So they’re basically fellatio boys. You just stole my idea and put them on a plane.” Busted.

“Well, it’s your plane.”

“When do I get it?”

“Not for a while. It’s on layaway.”

“Having financial problems?”

“Just recently. This guy I’m seeing is a demanding little princess. But what can I say? I’m just a sucker for his hot little ass and his huge coc—“

“Hi, my name’s Audrey. I’ll be your server this evening. Have you had a chance to look over the menu?” Not the one on the table. He’s looked at everything else.

“Hi.” I'm so embarrassed. “We need a few more minutes. Thank you.” I give Brian the evil eye. “Brian, you saw her coming! Fucking don’t do that again.” I kick him under the table—hard.

“Fuck. That hurt!” Good.

“This is why we don’t go out. It’s not because you don’t ‘do dates.’ It’s because you can’t behave yourself. You act like a ten-year-old.”

“It’s my reverse aging process.”

“Read your fucking menu.” He tucks his face behind his menu like my harsh whisper scares him.

When Audrey returns, Brian's on his best behavior. He lets me order first, picks out this really nice red wine—I don’t know shit about wine—and barely hits on the wine steward when he brings it to us to see if it meets with our (yeah right, Brian’s) approval. I don’t think that guy had any idea that when Brian told him, “It’s perfect.” –that he was talking about his ass, not the wine. He better not follow that guy into the bathroom.

“Not everybody likes to be hit on Brian.”

“Sure they do, if you do it right. It’s just flattery. Everyone likes to be flattered.” That’s Brian’s secret weapon—Flattery. Fuck, it works on me, like a charm. “It’ll work on you a little later when I charm you right out of that suit.” See, I was right. Oh, yummy, this is a huge basket of bread. I’m going to need more butter.

“That’s the only reason you bought me this suit, so you could take it off of me.” He can flatter; I can flirt. That’s my secret weapon.

“And put it on you. I had a really good time putting it on you, too.” Our faces are almost touching over our salads. One glass of wine down—a piece.

“That’s your kink. Washing me, dressing me.” He just kissed me. Whoa. “And kissing me when I’ve got a mouthful of salad.”

“You’ve always got a mouthful of something. Sitting across from you when you’re all dressed-up, fantasizing about what I’m going to do to you later when I get you back upstairs.”

“Not to mention your whole necktie thing. That’s your biggest kink.” I’m giving him my evil grin because even though this shirt looks much better without one, I let him put one on me anyway, just so he could get it out of his system. It’s hanging right inside the suite on our doorknob right now. He wouldn’t let me take it off until we were literally walking out the door.

“Don’t tell anybody. That’s our little secret.” You’d think somebody just gave him another corvette, and he’s just sitting there chomping on lettuce and daydreaming about neckties.

“That’s not the table leg Brian.”

“No shit, Sunshine. Finish your salad.”

“Can I get you gentlemen anything else right now?” I never see her coming. “Another bottle of wine perhaps?”

“That would be great. Thank you.” That’s Brian’s decision. I’m not paying for this.

Our dinner arrives, and I'm mostly just grateful to have food in my stomach to absorb the wine. Plus, I’m just really hungry. Fucking all day takes a lot of energy, even when you’re young. God, Brian must be exhausted.

“It doesn’t matter where I take you, you always order a rib-eye and a baked potato.”

“So?” He sounds like my father.

“You would think with all of your upper-class, country club upbringing, you’d prefer something more exotic once in a while.”

“You sound like my father.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Like he thought I should prefer Dartmouth over art school. Like I belonged there.”

“I’m talking about dinner, not about your education. Don’t be dramatic. Have some more wine. Is your steak cooked to your specifications?” He fills my glass.

“Yes. It’s delicious. I mean, well, he was that way about everything. Food, too. It’s just a touchy subject with me.” This is really good wine.

“I really like this wine.”

“Good. It’s expensive as shit. So, I’m listening.”

“Well, like, on our birthdays, my parents would always tell me and Molly that we could go out to eat—anywhere we wanted—you know, as a family.”

“Right.”

“Well, I always wanted to go to McDonald’s.”

“Because you were a kid, and you wanted a Happy Meal. You were probably a happy little kid who just wanted a happy little meal.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I hated McDonald’s. I was terrified of the Hamburgular; it was a whole different thing. Go on.”

“That’s weird. I almost forgot about him. Okay, so anyway, every year, my parents would ask me where I wanted to go—"

“And you’d say McDonald’s.”

“Right. And then we’d pile into the car, and my fucking father would drive us somewhere else. He wouldn’t even say, ‘Justin, we’re going to go to The Blah Blah Steakhouse’ instead of McDonald’s.’ I’d just be in the car, thinking I was going to McDonald’s, and then, all of a sudden, we’d be in the parking lot of another restaurant, and he’d be yelling at me to get out of the car.”

“That’s fucked up.” He refills my glass and nods to Audrey to bring me some more water. “And more butter too, if you don’t mind, for him. Thank you.” Like she cares who’s going to eat the butter.

“No shit. So, after a few years of this, I wised up. Once I pitched a holy fucking fit on the way home, and my mother made my dad go through the drive-thru and get me whatever I wanted—"

“What did you want?”

“A Big Mac, French fries, and a large Coke. I was up all night—peeing and bouncing off the walls.”

“That’s how I spend my birthdays.”

“Not for the same reasons.”

“True.”

“And then I just started refusing to go, and I would stay home on my birthdays and draw, while my family went out to eat.”

“That’s fucking sad, Justin.”

“I know. It really is.” It feels sadder than it usually does. Maybe I’m a little drunk. “Sometimes my mom would go out after they got back, and my dad was committed to his beer and sports, and get me whatever I wanted and bring it back. It just didn’t feel the same, though, you know. She finally quit; I think she could tell I didn’t really want it anymore.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t celebrate your birthday. I didn’t know.”

Shit. “That’s not why I told you that Brian.”

“I know. Your father’s a fucking shit head douche bag.” He might be a little drunk too.

“So was yours.”

“True, but in a different way. Are you going to eat your asparagus?”

“Yes, but you can have some if you want.” He fucking loves asparagus.

“Your father wasn’t cruel to your mother—at least not in front of you.” He just took half of my asparagus. I said some.

“No, he wasn’t. Not that I saw. But she wasn’t always happy. I knew that.” I hope he’s enjoying them. We pause as Audrey returns with water, butter, and another basket of bread. Brian will talk about cock in front of anyone, but not about his father. “What did he do to your mother?” He never talks to me about this stuff. I watch him drain a full glass of wine, refill his glass, and top mine off.

“The details aren’t important anymore. I think the worst thing was being the only boy in a house where the rest of your family's being terrorized and not being able to do anything about it.” If you didn’t know Brian, you’d think that there was no emotion on his face right now, but I see it. I can feel it. He looks away.

“He was terrorizing all of you.” He doesn’t respond to that. “But your sister always seemed like she had a good relationship with him, sort of.”

“That’s not uncommon.”

“And when he died—" He looks at me again.

“Somebody had to take his place. There’s a villain in every family Justin, just like a comic book. And if there isn’t one, people create one. Never underestimate the lengths that someone will go to mold you into who they need you to be—even people who think they love you, even your family.”

“You’re nothing like your father.” I put my fork down. Even if they think you are or think that they want you to be.

“You didn’t know him. I’m more like him than you’ll ever know.”

“I’ll never believe that, not in a million years.” He’s looking at me differently now.

“I hope I never fuck up and show you. Here, finish this.” He empties our second bottle of wine into my glass.

“You can have the rest of my asparagus. I’m going to have dessert.”

“Okay.” He eats them off of my plate. “That’s not the table leg, Justin.”

“I know.”

For a second, I thought the candle on our table was going to go out. Audrey comes back a few minutes later to offer us dessert. Brian tells her to “bring him one of everything chocolate.”

“I’ll be back with the dessert menu in a second sir.” She smiles at me, not Brian, and walks away.

“I think Ashley likes you.”

“Her name is Audrey, you moron. She’s wearing a name tag.”

“I think Audrey has a crush on you. Do you care if I step outside and smoke?” I’d go with him, but I think he wants to be by himself for a few minutes.

“I don’t mind. It’ll give me some private time with Ashley.”

He squeezes my shoulder after he stands up, and I watch him walk through the lobby and out the side door. Audrey returns with my dessert menu and clears everything else off of the table. I can see Brian outside, and I watch him for a few seconds, remembering when I would’ve stared at him the entire time he was out there, so afraid that I was going to miss something—like everything I ever got from him was either something I stole or something he didn’t want me to have. I don’t feel like that anymore.

I open the dessert menu and try to figure out what I want, glancing up at the door again after I decide. He’s gone. The candle on our table finally goes out. I don’t have anything on me to re-light it. I'm out of water, so I chew the ice.

I jump in my chair when I feel his ice cold fingers on my neck, his cold lips on my ear. “Did you have a good time with Ashley?”

“You scared the shit out of me.” He laughs at me, and then immediately composes himself as he sits down.

“Don’t look now, but here comes your girlfriend.”

“Did you decide what you’d like?” Brian's making faces at me and mouthing: She likes you.

“I think I want this chocolate peanut butter cheesecake. Is it good?” That's definitely not the table leg.

“Oh, it’s very good sir. I think you’ll really like it.” She turns to Brian. “Would you like anything for dessert sir?” I grab his foot under the table and threaten to poke him with my fork.

“Oh, I’m having him.” He takes the dessert menu from me, ever so politely, and hands it to her. “To go.”