Daphne took a swallow of her sludgy, brownish, wheat germ protein shake and grimaced in disgust. She couldn't begin to describe the vile taste - maybe decades-old buffalo chips? Shaking her head, the young woman decided she really must have been out of her mind when she'd listened to Brian's advice on healthy, energizing drinks. Either he'd been taking the piss with her - as she strongly suspected - or he'd been trying to figure out how to market another unpalatable drink. Maybe Brian would turn this sewer water into the next Pool Boy.
Daphne dumped the brown gunk down the kitchen sink and poured water into her French press to brew a cup of coffee. She didn't have access to Brian's alternate protein source - the one only Justin could supply - so Daphne would have to rely on frequent infusions of caffeine to invigorate herself. Then, if she devoted most of the day to reviewing for her neuroscience final, she'd be able to meet her boys at Woody's that evening.
Daphne settled in at her desk, steam rising from her favorite Freudian Sips mug, opened her textbook, and powered up her computer to log into the class chat session. As she was entering her student ID and password, her ditzy blonde neighbor, Sherry, rang Daphne's doorbell and then barged in without waiting for a response.
"Hey, Daph. You got some brown sugar I can borrow?" Sherry headed straight for the kitchen and started looking through Daphne's cupboards. "I'm making hash brownies for me and Gustav. I'll save you a couple if you'd like."
Nonplussed by her neighbor's rude behavior, Daphne just stared at Sherry while she engaged in what the diligent student knew would be a futile search. Why Sherry had thought she would have brown sugar, Daphne had no clue, since she never had any time to bake or cook. She was in her fourth year of an accelerated psychiatry program at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, the foremost psychiatry institute in the nation, and all of her time was devoted to her studies. Well, except for those occasions when she could sweet-talk Justin into cooking for her at the loft he shared with Brian - her two favorite studs were always worth blowing off her homework for a bit.
Daphne still didn't utter a word as Sherry rattled on and on about her loser boyfriend and how she wanted to make up with him after their last spat, despite how horrible he'd been to her. Instead, the mahogany-haired lass ignored her obnoxious neighbor and reminisced about her night with the boys a month earlier. They'd all gotten high on Brian's stash, cackling like hyenas as they then dug into the jambalaya Justin had simmering on the stove. Brian had carried the steaming pan over to the coffee table while Justin and Daph followed along behind him with bowls, utensils, a platter of fresh, crusty sourdough bread, and more bottles of Roundabout Brewery's premium IPA. Regular, weekly deliveries of that palate-pleasing beverage were dropped off on Friday afternoons, ensuring that Brian and Justin never ran short, regardless of how much company the two men invited to the loft. Roundabout had signed on the dotted line with Kinnetik a mere six months earlier and - to express their satisfaction with the imaginative and creative print, television, and social media advertising - had offered a regular supply of Roundabout to the agency's execs as well as the artist who'd translated the campaign's concepts into beguiling technicolor. Since Brian and Justin didn't need quite that much beer, they'd sent Emmett into paroxysms of delight by offering him Justin's share. To Brian's displeasure, that meant he had to spend even more time removing Emmett's hands from various parts of the blond boy's body whenever Em came to pick up his beer. He always scoffed, dismissing the flaming queen's protestations that he was just thanking his Baby.
Brian, Justin, and Daphne had sprawled out on the thick Turkish carpet that surrounded the Mies Van Der Rohe chrome and glass coffee table - Brian for once utterly indifferent to spills and stains. Pot definitely mellowed him out. As the voracious carnivores rapidly decimated the pan's contents, the initial feeding frenzy had devolved into Justin and Brian pulling off each other's shirts and serving up spoonfuls to each other, slurping up the sauce that dripped down their chins and onto their torsos. They hadn't cared that Daphne was watching since she was their fag hag and always very appreciative of their performances. They even tolerated the Lap Rocket, aka Just Thrusty, Daph's favorite dildo, which almost always accompanied her on her forays to the loft.
She'd more than once had to ignore Justin's sardonically lifted eyebrow in regard to Just Thrusty's appearance. Really, did he have to pick up that habit from the older stud? She'd privately dubbed her favorite dildo Just Taylored, a clever play on Justin's name even if she was the only one in the know. C'mon, it had been completely natural for Daphne to name her dildo after her best friend, right? He was the one who'd de-virginized her back when she was all about hearts and flowers and happily-ever-afters. Even if she'd already been interested in playing the field when she was seventeen, she still would have wanted her first time to be with her best friend. So it wasn't all that odd that she'd named her favorite dildo after him.
Although Justin's rocket wasn't quite as long as Brian's, it was thicker and - once she'd gotten past the pain - had been incredibly stimulating for her first venture into sex. Everyone since had come up short in comparison to Justin. The young woman had wistfully longed for the umpteenth time that she could be in the middle of a Justin-Brian sandwich or at least reprise her adventure with her bestie. Alas, that wasn't meant to be. But as long as they didn't glimpse any female parts, the boys sometimes allowed her to indulge her voyeuristic tendencies and watch them while also entertaining herself.
Yum! The way that shrimp had slithered down between Brian's nipples, across his stomach, and then cockward down his treasure trail, with Justin's tongue following along, licking up every droplet of saucy shellfish, had definitely been stimulating. The sassy blond had detoured briefly to swish his tongue around each nipple, biting gently at the sensitive flesh, before resuming his netherward spiral - accompanied by pleading grunts and groans from his willing brunet victim. Justin had popped open the buttons of Brian's fly while licking his way down, the brunet obligingly lifting his ass off the rug to accommodate the blond's efforts. Then, Justin had slid Brian's jeans down to his knees before leaning over Brian's lap and burying his face in those auburn pubes, inhaling a deep breath of that always-appealing, musky aroma. "Mmph, Twat," Brian had half-growled, "what happened to lapping up that sauce? I can see a bead you missed, right at the end of this tasty delight." With that, Brian bucked up toward his boy's mouth, seeking some immediate relief.
That had earned the brunet a smothered chuckle and then a sunshiny grin as the blond twat raised his head from Brian's lap. "Patience, Master," the impish young man teased; "don't you always tell me that a blow job should be savored and not rushed?"
"Fuck patience, Sunshine; wrap that mouth around me now!" Brian had demanded. "You've already been tormenting me for hours, sashaying around the loft, wiggling those hips, and brushing up against me every chance you got. You thought I didn't notice?" the older stud queried, quirking an eyebrow in question.
At that, a boyish giggle had issued from Justin's mouth, causing the brunet's painfully-hard rod to stiffen even further. "Just showing you how well I've learned my lessons," the blond had baited his lover before taking pity on his quarry and leaning over to lave a wide strip from Brian's balls to the tip of his dick. "Mmm. You taste so good," the blond murmured, running his tongue under the crown of Brian's cock and then suddenly deep-throating him.
Brian's head had fallen back - displaying his long, sexy neck - and he begged shamelessly, "Ahhh! Don't stop, Twat." In response to the brunet's pleas, Justin had wrapped one hand around the base of Brian's cock. His other hand drifted downward while he gazed at the older man through slitted eyes, Justin's fingers brushing along Brian's sac, and then circling Brian's pucker.
The brunet's head had snapped back up and he glared in warning at the brash blond. The brat knew better than to tease at his hole when anyone else was present! Even Daphne wasn't allowed to witness that aspect of their private relationship.
Since his mouth had been stuffed full, Justin had conveyed an impish, unrepentant grin with his eyes. His fingers had circled around Brian's pucker one more time, before they drifted back toward Brian's perineum. Then, while cupping the stud's balls in the palm of hand, Justin had massaged that spot with his fingers.
Daphne hadn't really been able to see what her bestie was doing with his fingers, but she'd nevertheless sighed in disappointment when the base of Justin's hand re-entered her field of vision. Not that watching him fondle Brian's balls wasn't a turn-on, but she'd really hoped those fingers were busy elsewhere. She heaved another big sigh. Someday... maybe... she'd be treated to at least a little taste of Bottom Brian.
While massaging Brian's balls and tapping rhythmically at his perineum, Justin had sucked away at that engorged, purplish-red lollipop, hollowing his cheeks and pulling upward before plunging downward - again and again - gradually increasing the tempo.
"Gah-ahhh-ahhh!" Brian had suddenly screamed in ecstasy, the arch of his neck once more exposed, as he flooded Justin's mouth with the richest, most delectable cream imaginable. Brian had flopped backward, his head landing with a muffled thud on the thick rug. Depleted of energy, he watched as a smug, smirking blond had slithered upward along his torso to share the remnants of Brian's come in a deep, satisfying kiss. Brian had mumbled something into Justin's ear, but it was too indistinct to decipher. Their trusty fag hag, though, had made an educated guess that it was those three little words that the stud had resisted uttering for nigh on five years. Brian still guarded the words like pearls, but he was an expert at expressing them through his actions.
With his ‘no locks on our doors' policy, however, the brunet stud occasionally threatened to give himself an ulcer, worrying that his blond might leave him. At such times, the ‘love yous' might flow more freely. More likely, though, he would come up with some ridiculously romantic gesture that figuratively declared ‘I love you' in gigantic, blinking, multicolored neon lights.
For all that she wasn't interested in romance for herself, at least not for the foreseeable future, Daphne was invested in her boys' relationship. And it wasn't the grand gestures or the ‘I love yous' from either man that made her go all gooey inside. No, it was the small, unconscious, everyday actions - massaging a hand that was cramping, adding a bit of coffee to a cupful of sugar, holding hands as they walked down the street.
As she had thought about going gooey, Daphne finally remembered to breathe, gasping for air as she jerkily inhaled and exhaled. Ugh! Her French-cut underwear and the crotch of her jeans were soaked through, and she'd probably blemished the carpet as well. Well, fuck. It was to be expected after three chain-reaction orgasms during the endless suck-off. She'd really hoped Brian wouldn't notice the smudge because, even in his sated state, the stud would have felt compelled to make a snarky remark. Heck, he might even have insisted on sending Daphne the rug-cleaning bill. He'd have reimbursed her, of course, but she'd have had to endure endless mocking before he finally relented.
Just then, Daphne was rudely jerked out of her daydream about the sexual shenanigans of her two favorite men and thrust back into the one-sided conversation with Sherry. Her neighbor grabbed her by the arm and exclaimed, "That's it, Daphne! I don't need to bake the brownies. We'll just lick the batter off one another. Thanks! You're a lifesaver!" the ditzy girl called over her shoulder as she bustled out the door, apparently forgetting all about her quest for brown sugar.
What the heck? Daphne wondered whether she'd started mumbling about jambalaya and pot and had somehow inspired Sherry's plan to lure Gustav the Greasy to once more lay his head on the blonde's decidedly-flat bosom.
Daphne double-checked that she'd locked the door behind Sherry since she didn't want anyone else to waltz in unexpectedly. The conscientious psychiatry student then tried to block out her neighbor's visit so that she could focus on her studies. She stopped in the kitchen to top up her coffee on the way back to her desk. Forty minutes after she'd immersed herself in cognitive development and how nervous system functions affect learning, someone again leaned on the buzzer outside her apartment. Grumbling, she stomped over to the door and threw it open. This time, some smarmy salesman wanted her to subscribe to the local cable service. She didn't even catch the name of the cable company because she was so distracted by the scraggly patch of hair that stuck out horizontally from the guy's chin, bobbing up and down as he spoke. Blech! He reminded her of the unwashed Ian, who, thankfully, had been history for years.
Daphne suggested to Mr. Chin Rat that he go next door to apartment 5B. She told him she'd heard 5B was looking for a new television provider. Hehehe. It was Sherry's turn for an interruption. Maybe she was even doing her neighbor a favor since the blonde ditz was drawn to just that sort of loser. Daphne speculated briefly as to whether Greasy Gustav or Sleazy Cable Guy would be the recipient of Sherry's affections. Maybe both? Yech! She desperately needed brain bleach after entertaining that possibility. The salesman was far too similar in looks to Ian for her peace of mind. She'd endured Justin's relationship with that loser for months before her pleas to a merciful god had been answered. At long last, the fiddler had fallen off the roof, which had almost been enough to make the young woman into a true believer.
After that, Daphne actually managed to study for nearly two hours before the phone rang. It was her mother. Naturally. She really wasn't in the mood for another undoubtedly lengthy conversation, but she couldn't blow her mom off since her parents paid her tuition and subsidized her apartment. "Yeah, Mom. Of course it's great to hear from you." She smothered a yawn. "...Jodie's getting married? Oh, yeah, incredibly exciting. And she wants me to be a bridesmaid?" Daphne rolled her eyes as she faked enthusiasm, "Wow. Can't imagine anything I'd want more, Mom." Since her family didn't give her much choice, Daphne had decided to embrace the idea of being a bridesmaid - never a bride, please! - although having to trot down the aisle for so many cousins was becoming incredibly tedious. She puzzled yet again over whether her Aunt Darcy had ever heard of birth control. Nine kids was at least nine too many.
Personally, Daphne was far too busy playing Pittsburgh's femme fatale to consider settling down. After kowtowing to Boring Brad during most of her freshman year at university, she'd had enough of relationships and expectations that she'd put someone else's needs above her own. Besides, she didn't have time to cater to a boyfriend if she was going to excel in her studies and her chosen career path. She particularly wanted to make a difference for teens who were victimized by bullies.
Daphne had already been considering that direction for her studies before Justin was bashed, but that experience had intensified her focus. Never again did she want to feel as unequal to the task of helping someone as she had during the days, weeks, and months of Justin's hospital stay and recovery. It wasn't until she had begun her freshman year that Daphne realized that she, too, was suffering from PTSD, frequently awakening from nightmares in the months following the prom. Her PTSD had been mild, however, in comparison to that sustained by Justin and Brian.
If her boys hadn't had each other to turn to, she wasn't sure either of them would have survived. That PTSD still reared its ugly head occasionally, which made her especially grateful that Justin hadn't taken long to decide that Pittsburgh, not New York, was the place he wanted to be. Plain and simple, they needed each other to be truly happy.
After ditching Brad, Daphne had decided to take a leaf out of the Brian Kinney Operating Manual and avoid relationships. Maybe she'd be as successful at that as the brunet stud had been for so many years - at least until she met a hetero Justin Taylor or Brian Kinney - which she couldn't imagine happening anytime soon. Getting in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit was working out quite well, allowing her to take full advantage of her finite free time.
The young woman did begrudgingly allow repeats when her busy schedule limited her options. Matt, one of the other students who'd started the psychiatry curriculum at the same time as Daphne, was tolerably decent looking and had a stout cock. That sizable schlong usually made up for his less than adventurous outlook, especially when she needed a quick fix between classes.
Once she'd convinced Justin to take her virginity, Daphne wasn't able to stop lusting after thick dicks. Damn, but that boy was hung! She'd seen him naked before that since neither of them was overly modest; they'd often changed clothes together in one of their bedrooms. Even in a flaccid state, his cock was impressive, but fully erect it was mouth-watering.
No question - she was a proud size queen! The only other reason to go back for seconds was if a guy put on a stellar performance, particularly if he knew how to use his tongue and was passionate about doing so. Way too many fish in the sea, though, to go the one-man-only route. Fuck buddies, fine. One Steady Eddie, no way.
Daphne briefly tuned back into her mom's enthusiastic recital of Jodie's wedding plans. The young woman futilely hoped her mom wouldn't try and set her up with a blind date for Jodie's wedding; the last wedding escort her mother had found for her had been such a bore that she'd fallen asleep during the reception and had ended up tilting forward into her slice of wedding cake. Those chocolate and raspberry smears on her face really hadn't been attractive although, in her opinion, they had immeasurably improved that ruffle-bedecked pink monstrosity of a dress she had been forced to wear.
Daphne glanced at the clock, worried that it would be at least an hour before she'd be able to get back to her neuroscience studies. Telling the older woman that she needed to study had never been very effective in derailing her mother's chatter. Mrs. Chanders knew that Daphne had always excelled in her classes and didn't expect that to change. Both her parents were exceedingly proud of Daphne for getting into the top institution for psychiatry in the country - as they always bragged to their country club pals - but neither of them seemed to grasp how much effort their daughter had to put forth in order to maintain her standing at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.
Daphne toyed - for the third time in as many calls - with telling her mom that she was too busy writing gay porn to talk any longer - and that her readers were waiting with bated breath for the next scene. Couldn't take the chance, however, that her parents might cut off funding for her studies. Even worse, her mom might show up on her doorstep to offer ‘helpful' suggestions as she crafted the porn that was, so far, entirely imaginary. Not that she didn't have plenty of fodder for said stories. And she knew Brian and Justin would be more than happy to help with research as well as being the stars of her tales, but she wouldn't have the time to pursue that endeavor until she'd finished her studies and her residency.
"Tell Jodie to give me a call, Mom. Doubt I'll be able to go shopping for bridesmaid's dresses with her, though. Too many midterms coming up in my classes as well as research papers to write. I'm sure whatever she, Delilah, Theresa, and Heloise choose will be just the thing." The most horrible ‘thing' possible, Daphne remained convinced. Heloise had phenomenally bad taste but probably couldn't help it, burdened with a name like that. Most of the family, nevertheless, listened to Heloise as though she were the second coming. Whatever. Daphne would only have to wear the fuchsia gunnysack for one day and would donate the dress to Goodwill afterwards, just like she'd done the four times before. It wasn't as if she'd be showing the photos to prospective bridegrooms.
Once her mom finally rang off, Daphne returned to her desk, but she hadn't been sitting there for more than five minutes when the knocking started at her door. She tried to ignore it, but that persistent, irritating noise wouldn't stop. She threw her hands up in exasperation, stomped over to the door, and yanked it open, glaring at the two hapless young men on the other side who looked like they were desperately in need of fashion advice. So straight-laced. Utterly boring. Daphne groaned inwardly because it was so clear they were from the Church of Latter-day Saints that the duo might as well have had ‘LDS' stamped on their foreheads. They were attired in nearly identical clothes, nametag, notepad, and pen weighing down their shirt pockets, Mormon bibles and brochures in hand. And they were both sweating profusely in the warm weather but not compromising on their outfits, except for the redhead wearing a short-sleeved white shirt - possibly indicating he was the senior LDS missionary.
Dialing down the glare because she pitied these novice priests in the Latter-day Saints' hierarchy, Daphne took a better look at the two men. Hmm. The dark-haired guy wasn't so bad. He might even be cute if he lost the fugly clothes and keychain, styled his hair, and left the Book of Mormon at home. Didn't look like there was much hope for the redhead, however. That severe side part in his hair, the constipated separation of his lips that was supposed to pass for a smile, and the bit of flab around his belly... Yikes! He'd never gain any converts with that demeanor.
Daphne decided to take pity on the miserable-looking creatures and be polite. Compared to some religious zealots, Mormons could usually take a hint, so they should soon be on their way to try and convert someone else. The redhead might not be that easy to get rid of, however; he'd stopped smiling and was casting a judgmental look her way. What the fuck? No new zits, the young woman was sure; she'd checked in the bathroom mirror that morning. Her apparel - a blue, short-sleeved, crew-neck tee; grey, sweat-style shorts; and flip-flops - shouldn't be drawing such a disapproving stare. So what if the tee and shorts were figure hugging? They weren't at all obscene. Even if she'd looked like a hooker, Daph wouldn't have cared. She was in her own home and could dress how she wanted. It wasn't as if this pathetic prude had the power to turn her into a pillar of salt; Daphne was convinced Lot's wife had gotten a bad rap anyhow.
Mr. Prim and Proper once more flashed his constipated half-smile and introduced himself and his companion. "I'm Decken and this is Truesen. We're from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We'd like to give you a copy of the Book of Mormon, tell you about the one true Church, and help you find the path to salvation."
Dick-in? True-sin? Wait till she told her boys about this. They were going to laugh themselves silly. Daphne swallowed a snicker, barely managing to turn it into a cough. "Uh, gentlemen. That's a very generous offer, to be sure, but I'm Methodist. Born and bred. Not interested in converting." The mahogany-haired beauty believed the church in which she'd been raised had to come in handy once in a while. Except for four family weddings and a funeral, she hadn't set foot inside a Christian house of worship since she learned how indifferent God was towards the hate crimes directed at the LGBTQ community. The United Methodist Church preached that ‘the practice of homosexuality was incompatible with Christian teachings,' which made the UMC incompatible with Daphne. Since she had been raised in the church, however, she figured that would help her get rid of these deadly dull missionaries.
"Miss, as a true Methodist, your beliefs aren't all that different from ours," the not-quite-as-dorky Truesen stated somewhat diffidently. That earned him a sidelong scowl from Decken, who apparently didn't believe that any other church's teaching could be favorably compared with those of the LDS. "We can show you a better path to God's grace, though, and teach you how to lead an exemplary life." Truesen tried to push a copy of the Book of Mormon into Daphne's hand, but she refused to hold onto it, letting their holy book drop onto the ground.
The two young proselytizers emitted twin gasps of outrage and looked at Daphne in horror. "How could you do that?" Decken shouted semi-hysterically. "I don't think even a heathen would have acted so reprehensibly." He gripped Daphne by the arm and shoved her backward a step. "We'll come in and pray with you for forgiveness and enlightenment."
Enough with the forbearance and understanding, Daphne decided. "Sure, why not? You look like a likely pair of lads for a gay porn story I'm writing," the lass averred in a suddenly salacious voice. "I'm in the process of composing a sex scene in which the more slightly-built man manhandles and tops the bigger, stronger dude. I can't get the mechanics quite right. Would you mind performing for me?" she asked with a bright smile, stepping to the side, and inviting them to enter with a wave.
What did that fleeting look that had crossed dark-hair's face mean? Daphne conjectured. She'd anticipated similar expressions of abhorrence, but True Sin almost seemed... intrigued. Daphne shrugged infinitesimally; it didn't really matter to her. It could even have been a figment of her imagination since the shorter guy's expression now mirrored his partner's gaping horror.
The two men, who'd been frozen in place by the unholy nature of her request, began backpedaling away from her door. Decken lost all awareness of his surroundings and went tumbling down the stairs. Daphne could have sworn that she'd seen another flicker of interest in Truesen's eyes before he hurried to help his colleague stand up and brush himself off. "You're going to be banished from God's light forever, young woman, if you don't mend your ways!" Decken declaimed over his shoulder, shaking a bit with righteous anger as he leaned on Truesen and limped away as fast as possible.
"I'd rather dance with the devil and party with my friends in hell than spend an eternity of boredom with you and your ilk," the feisty lass shot back. She cackled as the lads skedaddled, sparing not an ounce of charity for either man, particularly the pompous, pedantic redhead.
That evening, Daphne was primping in front of the bathroom mirror, getting ready to head to Woody's to meet Brian and Justin for drinks and a game of pool. She hoped Emmett would show up too since she wanted to confer with him about her outfit for the gala celebration of Kinnetik's second anniversary. It was less than two weeks till the big celebration. No surprise that Brian was going all out. All the Pittsburgh movers and shakers, including Mayor Deakins, would be there, along with clients from Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. For such a young, relatively-small, boutique company, Kinnetik was attracting nationwide attention within the advertising industry. There were even rumors - which Daphne knew were true via Justin - that they'd soon be marketing Asbach Uralt brandies and chocolates in the U.S., for the exclusive distillery based in Rüdesheim on the Rhine, Germany.
The Asbach brass had already rejected proposals from three major advertising companies in New York City and just about gave up on finding an agency based in the U.S. They couldn't see how the campaigns that had been pitched would entice enough customers to try their products. One of the artists with ABC Advertising had quietly approached them after Asbach declined their campaign and suggested that they try Kinnetik in Pittsburgh. Stan had applied for a position with the up-and-coming firm, and although he wasn't hired, his name was placed on a shortlist for future openings. Stan had told Mr. Dietz and Ms. Baumbach that Brian Kinney, the founder of Kinnetik, could provide entrée into the gay community as well as giving their products a subtly sexual spin that would appeal to heteros. Dietz and Baumbach had been rather skeptical about using such a small firm, but they decided to give them a try once they discovered that Brown Athletics was one of their clients. Mr. Dietz, it had turned out, was the proud owner of a pair of Brown's running shoes.
The Asbach contingent had traveled to Pittsburgh two days later for what they thought would be a preliminary meeting. They'd been blown away by the sleek, modern premises; the suave, articulate Mr. Kinney; and the energetic, innovative artistic team. They were particularly impressed that Kinnetik had developed an entire marketing strategy without any guarantee that they would get the contract. The boards that Justin designed were a key component, making Asbach Uralt appealing and irresistible to men and women alike.
Dietz and Baumbach had signed with Kinnetik on the spot. They planned to attend the gala and would then return to Rüdesheim with Justin, Ted, and a couple of employees from the Art Department. Brian would join them a few days later after traveling from Los Angeles. Daphne was practically bursting with excitement because Justin had invited her to go with him. Now, that was what best friends were for! Well, that, and mouthwatering gay porn. Now that she thought about it, she needed Emmett's advice on what to wear on her German adventure as well as her ensemble for the gala. Her upcoming evening with the boys would be the only real outing she'd had in the last month. It seemed like she'd been studying night and day in order to carve out time for the trip.
Emmett confided in Daphne that although Brian had entrusted him with providing superlative catering service, the ad exec was still driving the party planner bonkers with his constant checkups and questions regarding the event. "Sheesh," Daphne had muttered to herself. The man hired extraordinarily capable staff; he just needed to let them do their jobs without interference or scathing put-downs. Of course, Emmett had it easy compared to the regular staff at Kinnetik, especially in the Art Department. The only artist who didn't regularly fall afoul of Brian's notorious temper was Justin, who freelanced projects in between his studies at PIFA and painting more masterpieces.
Daphne checked once more that all zits had been concealed - was she ever going to grow out of that damned acne? - applied a final coat of lipstick, ran the brush through her hair again, and declared to her mirror image, "You'll do." She turned off the light in the bathroom and grabbed her wallet and phone, ready to head out for a night out on the town. After opening the front door, Daphne jumped in fright when she came face to face with Truesen.
"What're you doing here?" Daphne yelped in a strangled voice, heart drumming inside her chest. Her hand crept toward the Mace in her purse. No way was she gonna let some religious nutcase molest her.
"P- p- please. Don't be scared," the dorky Mormon implored in a hoarse whisper, his gaze darting all around as if afraid someone was going to espy him at any moment and drag him away by the short hairs. "I- I- I- n- need..." the nervous wreck stuttered.
It dawned on Daphne that Truesen wanted her help. He was clearly terrified that someone was going to see him talking to her. The young woman's momentary suspicion that the raven-haired Mormie wasn't entirely straight came flooding back. "Are you gay?" she asked directly. She spoke quietly, not wanting to make the man tremble even harder.
"Maybe?" The dark-haired bundle of nerves responded in a low voice. "I never considered I might be until you talked about two men acting out a p- porn scene together," Truesen gushed desperately. "I've never been interested in women, but I figured I just hadn't met the right one. I'm from Culdesac, a Podunk town in Idaho, and except for family, was really isolated while I was growing up. My folks home-schooled me because they didn't want to bus me to the public schools, where I might have been contaminated by unbelievers. The church teaches that both men and women should remain pure until they're married." With another furtive look at his surroundings, he beseechingly requested, "Please. Could we go into your apartment and talk more?"
Daphne hesitated for a moment before answering kindly but resolutely, "I can't. I have fag hag duties to perform right now; I'm meeting friends at Woody's on Liberty Avenue. If you have the balls" - Daphne firmly enunciated ‘balls' to see if the mere mention of that part of his anatomy would scare away the young man - "to come with me, you can see what it's like to be an out and proud gay man. If you've been as sequestered in the Mormon community as I suspect, it'll undoubtedly be a scary, but ultimately worthwhile, experience." She paused, hoping for an affirmative response from Truesen, but the tongue-tied Mormon kept shuffling his feet and didn't utter a word. His look of longing conveyed what he wanted to say, though.
Daphne looped her right hand through the terrified young man's left elbow and dragged him along willy-nilly. Even though she was a surprisingly strong young woman, particularly when she had determined on a course of action, it wasn't as though Truesen couldn't pull away if he wanted to. She did admire the young Mormon for asking her for assistance; that took gumption and was obviously a big step. Plus, he hadn't balked at the idea of visiting Liberty Avenue with her. He was going to be more than shocked, but he might just overcome his terror - as her best friend had once done. Much of Daphne's sympathy stemmed from remembering Justin's bravery in exploring his sexual identity while also being somewhat terrified to do so. It would be more difficult for True Sin to overcome his trepidation, which was the main reason she thought the sink or swim approach would work best. If the boy were allowed to dither and discuss his options, he'd probably do so endlessly, perhaps never overcoming his strict upbringing.
Daphne's motives weren't entirely altruistic. Sure, she wanted to help the young man accept himself, but she'd only just met him and couldn't really judge his character yet. Part of her impetus was mischievous, but not maliciously so, as she anticipated Justin and Brian's reactions to this shy virgin. She couldn't wait to hear the way Brian would deliberately mangle this kid's name. True would have to adapt quickly if he wanted to hold her boys' attention and learn from them. Out of the frying pan and into the fire for her neophyte.
Song for Chapter 1
Blood, Sweat & Tears: Spinning Wheel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFEewD4EVwU