**Justin’s POV**

Melanie blew out a plume of smoke and angrily wiped her red nose with the wadded up tissue in her hand. “I swear, I don’t know why I thought that a place like this was going to help me. I’m just wasting my time.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Don’t let the rantings of one insensitive asshole destroy the progress you’ve made here.”

“But I’m not making any progress!” she yelled, followed by a hiccup. “I couldn’t go more than a day without… you know.” She sniffled hard and took another hit off her cigarette.

Brian, who was sitting at the picnic table across from us, blew out some smoke and said, “Mel, we’ve only been here for two days. I’ve had some breakthroughs with Sun- uh, Justin in our two sessions, but still, if I had the chance, I’d gladly fuck just about anything with a dick attached to it right now.”

I stifled a giggle. “Yeah, you can’t expect immediate results,” I said to Melanie. “It will probably take months with a support group and out-patient treatment before you can resist your urges to… you know.”

“But masturbating is a normal part of life, just like sex is,” Brian pointed out.

“Yes, but the goal of sex-addiction treatment is to make sex and masturbation anormal part of your life,” I clarified. “You’re both here because your sexual urges are out of your control. It will take some time to get back on track.”

“It’ll take a little time, might take a little crime…” Brian sung softly.

I smiled and finished, “To come undone, now we’ll try to stay blind…” We both laughed as Melanie looked at us like we had both lost our minds.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked.

“Duran Duran’s ‘Come Undone,’” I answered.

Brian smiled at me and said, “I’m surprised you’d know that song; it doesn’t seem like your kind of music.”

“It came out when I was like, ten,” I said. “What kind of music do you think I like?”

“If I answer, do I get to ask you a question?” he asked in a flirtatious manner, obviously referring to our little game from our session earlier.

Melanie was looking at the both of us, baffled. She stubbed out her cigarette and got up. “I’m gonna go wash my face, then go back to the meeting. Play nice, boys.”

After the door closed behind her, I looked at Brian and said, “I’m still on the clock. Go.”

He chuckled and said, “I thought you’d like that rap shit that kids listen to these days.”

I laughed and said, “I’m twenty-two; I’m not a kid.”

“After you hit thirty, you’ll consider anyone younger than you to be ‘a kid,’ trust me,” he said.

“Well, I do like some of that ‘rap shit,’ but I like rock and pop music, too. What was your question for me?” I asked before taking one last puff of my cigarette.

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me after you’re ‘off the clock’ this evening.” He stubbed out his cigarette and lightly drew a circle on the back of my hand with his fingertip. “We have a choice of vegetarian lasagna or pork loin and garlic potatoes.”

I shivered from his touch and the sexy tone of his voice. Go away erection, go away! “Brian… that’s not a good idea,” I answered, pulling my hands out of his reach.

“Why not? It’s not like it’s a date… we wouldn’t fuck after.”

I chuckled and said, “Do you only consider it a date if it concludes with sex?”

He snorted. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve only been on one real date, at least five years ago, because the guy was really hot and said he’d only let me fuck him if I bought him dinner. I snuck off after we finished our salads to fuck the waiter in the coat closet, then I took my date home, fucked him until dawn, and never saw him again.”

“Wow,” I whispered. What a pig. I looked down at my watch and said, “The session’s over in fifteen minutes. We need to go back.”

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

I parked my Prius next to Daphne’s red Honda Accord in the small resident parking lot behind our apartment building and let myself in. I slowly made my way up the stairs to the third floor and opened the door, where I was nearly knocked off my feet from the smell of curry.

“Christ, what the fuck are you cooking?” I yelled out as I walked into the living room.

“It’s this chicken recipe I got off the internet,” Daph answered from the small kitchen. “It just got done.”

I walked into the kitchen and looked over Daph’s shoulder at the yellow-brown mess she was stirring in a skillet. Despite the fact that all I had eaten that day was a bagel before the morning group, I’d rather starve than eat that. “It looks like baby shit. I’ll pass.”  

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked as she finished spooning out a portion for herself and covered the baby shit with a lid.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the refrigerator. “I insult your cooking all the time, why should there be anything wrong?”

“You usually insult my cooking in a loving manner. I’m not feeling any love, plus I’ve seen that ‘I’m not happy’ look on that pretty mug of yours many times before.”

I turned around and pulled the refrigerator door open, mostly so she couldn’t see my face. “What look? I’m not making any look.” I then reached in and grabbed a Diet Coke.

“Something’s bothering you,” she insisted. “Spill.”

I sighed and opened the can. I can’t hide anything from her. “Well, for one thing, I found out that Chris Hobbs just got hired on at the treatment facility as a janitor.”

“I thought he was going to Notre Dame to be an architect or something-or-other.”

“He was, but he lost his football scholarship for using cocaine and had to come back here.”

Daph snorted in amusement. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Yeah.” I took a huge gulp of my soda and let out a burp.

“You’re such a fucking lady,” Daph commented with a smile. “What else?”

I leaned back on the fridge and close my eyes. “Brian.”

“Mr. Will-fuck-any-man-with-a-pulse?” she asked as she picked up her plate and carried it over to our small kitchen table.

“Pretty much, yeah.” If he’s bored and drunk enough, it doesn’t even have to be a man.

“What about him?”

I walked over and sat down in the chair across from her. “I don’t think I can continue being his counselor, since he has made it very obvious that he wants to fuck me.”

Daph stabbed a steaming chicken chunk with her fork and blew on it. “Why? Did he make a pass at you or something?”

“Well, he’s asked me a lot of personal questions; things about my sex life.”

“Isn’t he there for you to ask him questions about his sex life?” she asked before putting the chicken in her mouth. She chewed it a couple times before spitting it back onto her plate. “Blech! That shit’s nasty!”

I laughed. “It looked and smelled nasty, why would it taste any different?”

After taking a few sips of my Diet Coke, she got up and scraped the baby shit into the trash can. “Anyway, you don’t have a sex life, so why is that a problem?”

I groaned, since we both knew it was the truth. “It’s that I’m allowing him to ask me those questions, which is totally unethical for me to do.”

“Well, what did you tell him? That you haven’t had sex in like, six months?”

“Yeah… and that I was versatile, and that-” I sucked in my lips and looked down at the table.

Daph put her plate and fork in the sink and walked back over to the table. “That what?”

I sighed and said, “That we fucked on your eighteenth birthday.”

Just as I thought, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You told him what?” she yelled.

“Hey, you told all your little girlfriends about it,” I reminded her. “And anyway, me telling him that made him admit… fuck, I’m not supposed to be telling you this stuff; it’s supposed to be confidential.” I reached into my front pocket and pulled out my cell phone. “I’m ordering a pizza.”

“What? Did he fuck a girl before?”

I nodded as I hit the speed dial for our favorite pizza place.

Daph chuckled. “Well, hopefully he requires a pulse, at least.”

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

“And I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for me to continue to be his counselor,” I said into the phone as I sat in my chair at my small bedroom desk.

“Look, Justin,” Dr. Vic said back to me. “I’m not at all surprised that he would try to flirt with you like that, but I wanted to place him with you because I thought that he would be able to relate with you better than he would with me, Connie, or Eric.”

“Why, just because I’m gay? You’re gay, why couldn’t you have taken him?”

Vic chuckled. “Trust me kid, guys like Brian don’t talk to old queens like me unless they absolutely have to. I think that you should keep meeting with him for a couple more days, and if he doesn’t calm down, you can give his file to me. Now that Cameron has left the program, I only have two other patients.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t very surprised that he decided to leave. He wasn’t there because he wanted to get better; he was there to appease his girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t surprised, either,” Vic admitted. “So just hang in there with Brian a bit longer, okay? You said that you’ve been able to get him to open up to you, so at least you’re making progress with him. He’s beginning to trust you, which you know is important between a patient and their counselor.”

“That's true. Okay, I’ll give it a couple more days.” Just then, my phone beeped, signaling that I had another call. I pulled the phone away from my ear long enough to glance at the caller ID. Speak of the devil… “Hey, there’s someone on my other line. I’ll see you tomorrow, doc.”

“Alright, son, take care.”

“You too,” I said before hitting the button to answer the other call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sunshine,” the smoky voice said.

“Hey,” I replied, my cheeks suddenly burning up. “So which one did you choose, the lasagna or the pork loin?”

“The lasagna, which was very good.”

“I ordered us a pizza, because the dinner that Daphne made was inedible.”

He laughed and said, “Sounds like the kind of stuff my mom used to make. I grew up on peanut butter and jelly.”

“Oh, I’m sure a strapping lad like yourself had to have someone feeding him better than that.” What the fuck did I just say? Strapping lad? Wasn’t I just complaining to Dr. Vic about him flirting with me?

He’s laughing. Good. “Well, my friend Michael’s mom- you know, Debbie, the one that I told you about that’s in PFLAG? She’s a great cook. I became friends with Michael when I was fourteen, and I spent more time over there than I did at my parent’s house. I still eat at her house every Sunday evening, and I eat several meals a week at the diner where she works as a waitress.”

“It sounds like she pretty much adopted you,” I said. “Did you mother ever resent the relationship you have with Debbie, or did she even care?”

“Is this becoming a therapy session? Because you’re off the clock, Dr. Taylor.”

I chuckled and said, “I won’t have my doctorate for another three years, unfortunately. But no, this isn’t a therapy session. We’re just chatting.”

“Good… but no, Saint Joan was always too busy with church shit to worry about where I was or who I was spending time with. Sometimes, I wouldn’t come home for days and when I walked in the door, she’d just go, ‘Oh, hello dear,’ and go back to reading her bible.”

“That sucks. If I ever left the house for more than a couple hours without her knowing, my mom would always give me the third degree when I got home.” I imitated my mom’s WASP-y feminine voice: “Justin, where on Earth have you been? I’ve been worried sick! I was about to call the hospitals! Where did you go? Who were you with? What did you do? Why didn’t you call?”

Brian laughed and said, “I don’t know which one of us had it worse, because Joan would have lit every candle in town if she knew what I was doing. And, she would have given me a lecture about how I was going to hell, and blah blah blah.”

“Is that what she did when she found out you were gay?”

“Yep. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing is a sin. The bible is clear- you’re going to hell,’” he said in a gravely voice.

I let out a “whew,” thankful that my mom was so supportive of my lifestyle. “So, are you in your room?”

“Yeah… why? Are you in yours?” he asked, his flirtatious, sexy voice returning with the second question.

I giggled nervously. “Yeah, Daphne is in the living room watching some crappy movie on Lifetime. I was wondering whether or not Melanie was in there with you.”

“No, she’s in the Commons, watching the Yankees game with the guys- minus Emmett, of course.”

“You’re a guy, why aren’t you watching the game?” I asked.

Brian scoffed. “Because I’m in my room talking to you, silly.” I laughed, and he added, “Plus, baseball bores the shit out of me. My old boss had company seats for the Pirates, and I sometimes had to take potential clients to the games to schmooze. It was about as exciting as watching grass grow.”

“I agree. My dad is a Mets fan, and he took me to a few games when I was a kid. He tried to get me interested, but he eventually gave up. Do you like any sports at all?”

“I played soccer when I was a kid, but I quit because I didn’t want to be a ‘jock.’ I fucking hate jocks.”

“Me too,” I said, remembering Hobbs. “Jocks are assholes.”

“But there was that time I blew my gym teacher…”

“What? You did not.”

“Oh yes I did. I was fourteen, and I was a lily-white virgin. Hell, I had never even had a real kiss before. He was about thirty, and I had always gotten a gay vibe from him. I saw him in the locker room one day after school, showering, and I went in there with all my clothes on and swallowed his monstrous cock.”

Lucky guy… although I’m pretty sure that little act broke a law or two. Still, I could feel the blood rush to my dick, just thinking about a teenaged Brian on his knees, giving someone head. Does that make me a pedophile?

“Tell me about your first experience,” he said.

“I thought that we established that this wasn’t a therapy session. There’s no quid pro quo here.”

“Oh, come on… you want something juicier than that? Alright: I lost my virginity to an alter boy at my mom’s church about a month later on Easter Sunday.”

“No way!” I said, laughing hysterically.

“Yep. My mom taught Sunday School, and I went in early with her to help set up for the main service. The guy gave me the ‘come hither’ look, and I fucked him in a confessional booth.”

“Wow.” I sighed and said, “Okay… when I was seventeen, I had Daphne drop me off in front of a gay bar in Chelsea. I had just gotten my first fake ID, and I was planning on trying to get into the bar when I saw this guy leaving the bar. He was absolutely gorgeous, and hardly said ten words to me before I was in his car. He took me to his place, fucked me a bit too roughly, although I told him that I was a virgin, and threw me out right after he came. I had to walk several blocks to a bus stop with a sore ass, and I cried the whole way back to Daph’s house in the Upper East Side. That was the most humiliating experience of my life.”

“Damn, that must have sucked.” He brought that sexy voice back and said, “If that had been me, I would have taken you home, rimmed you until you passed out, then after you came to, I would have-”

“Brian!” I nearly yelled. “We’re way past inappropriate now. I shouldn’t have told you that.” Christ, we’re almost in phone sex territory… and my cock is painfully hard, at this point. “I… I really don’t think you should call me anymore, unless you’re in some kind of crisis mode and need my professional advice or guidance.”

He sighed deeply. “Alright…” I could almost see him rolling those hazel eyes of his. “I guess I’ll get off of here. Oops, I said get off.”

“Brian…”

“Later.”  And he hung up.