Madrid Interlude

Chapter 3



Brian had Juan let him off at the members' entrance to The Quoin. He had spent the day with some of the marketing executives of Ferdy's company, but had seen nothing more of the man himself since their breakfast together. The execs had done their best to entertain him. They had gone over in minute detail what their previous advertising campaigns had been like. He couldn't have cared less. They wouldn't be coming to him if they wanted to continue on the way they had been going.

Finally the day had come to an end. He had got Juan to take him to a restaurant that the chauffeur recommended. His dinner had been quite good, although he had drunk a lot more than he had eaten. Somewhere in there he had decided that he was going back to The Quoin. He would see Justin's act again and then he would find the man and fuck his brains out. That had seemed like a good plan over dinner. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Fuck it!" he said aloud and pushed open the door.

The girl on the desk was the same one as last night and she recognized him. "Buenos nochas, Senor Kinney," she said.

"Good evening," Brian replied trying not to slur his words. "I … I want to see the King Tut show again," he managed to get out.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that show only occurs on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays."

"Not tonight?"

"No sir."

"Fuck!"

"Excuse me?"

"I … I'm sorry. Is King Tut, Justin, working tonight?"

"I just told you that his show is not on tonight."

"I mean working, you know."

"I don't know," she said getting a little frustrated with him.

"Is he working upstairs?"

"I wouldn't know. He might be painting."

"I'd like to book him for tonight," Brian said deciding to be direct about this.

She gave him a strange look. "I think you've made a mistake, sir," she said deliberately. "Mr. Taylor is not one of the boys. Perhaps there is another boy that I could book you with."

"I don't want another fucking boy. I want Justin."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"I have the top level key. Ferdy … Ferdy told me I could have anything I want, and I fucking want Justin! Get him down here!"

"Sir, I think you had better leave."

"I will not fucking leave. I want to see Justin."

The girl seemed to be weighing what she should do. This man was somewhat drunk and obnoxious, but he was a friend of Senor Molin. She didn't want to embarrass them all by having this man forcibly removed from the property. She made a decision and called Justin's apartment.

"Justin, I am sorry to bother you, but there is someone here who insists on seeing you. He's causing a scene. I can have the bouncer throw him out, but I thought I would check with you first."

Brian couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he listened intently to what the girl said.

"Senor Kinney. He came in with Senor Molin last night."

"Asked who it is," Brian thought.

"He seems to be … a little."

"Am I drunk?" he must be asking.

She listened intently for a minute or so and then said, "All right. Thanks."

Brian waited expecting to be thrown out any minute. He had already decided he would leave peacefully as long as they didn't get too snotty about it.

"Mr. Taylor is coming down," the girl said. "You can wait over there." She pointed towards a sofa against the wall. Brian sat down surprised that he had gotten to Justin so easily. He waited and waited. No one appeared. He was beginning to think he had been tricked when Justin suddenly came into the foyer.

He looked magnificent. He was wearing this loose fitting linen outfit, kind of the same style as the lounging pajamas he had had on last night. The creamy color made him seem all milky and good enough to eat.

Justin spoke briefly to the girl at the desk and then turned to Brian. "You wanted to see me?" he asked no warmth evident in his voice.

"I … yes, I did."

"But you don't anymore?"

"No, I do."

"You don't seem to be too sure what you want."

"I want … you." Brian couldn't believe he had said that, but he was talking to a man who lived in a whorehouse, who performed sex acts on stage.

"You do?" Justin asked with a laugh. "I'm afraid you can't have me."

"Why not?"

"You're not my type."

"What is your type?"

"Let's just say that you're not it, and leave it at that."

Brian studied him for a moment. He was getting nowhere fast. "You went with Ferdy last night," Brian said with a touch of an accusation in his voice.

"That's right."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Yes, he's my … type."

"And I'm not?"

"Right."

"So what makes Ferdy you're type and not me?"

"He's … older. I like older men."

"I'm older," Brian said. Jesus Christ, had he just admitted that, like it was a good thing? What the fuck was this man doing to him?

"Not old enough," Justin stated a twinkle in his eye.

"I can pay," Brian said taking a different tack.

"I'm not a whore!" Justin declared all humor having left his voice and his eyes.

"But … but you live here and … work here."

"Because I choose to. And I choose who may share my bed and I don't get paid for it either," an indignant Justin stated.

"You don't?"

"You heard me! Now, Mr. Kinney, I think it's time for you to leave."

"I … I'm sorry. I just thought that since you were here, you …" Brian didn't know how to finish that statement.

"Well, I'd say all along you've been thinking wrong!"

"So it seems," Brian said defeated. He had made such a colossal mistake and now it was too late. "I'm truly sorry. I'll leave." Brian stood a little unsteady on his feet. He extended his hand to Justin. "I won't bother you again."

Justin studied this man. He hated to admit to himself the attraction he felt. There was something so sad and touching about this drunken asshole. He smiled in spite of himself. The sexual electricity the man gave off was palpable. He could feel it as he took the extended hand. He could feel it in the simple touch of skin to skin. He could feel it in his groin. His cock twitched in anticipation.

He held on to the hand not wanting to break the contact. He saw Brian look at him and he knew he couldn't let this end … before it had even started.

"Would you have a cup of coffee with me?" he asked Brian. He saw Brian's eyes get very large. The hazel orbs looked askance at him. "How be we start all over again now that you know what the score is?"

"I'd like that," Brian said softly.

"Come with me," Justin said and led Brian down the hall.

"Where are we going?"

"Here," Justin said and pushed open a door. "This is the members' bar, but no more liquor for you, only coffee."

Brian shrugged. He didn't care what he had to drink. He was going to spend some time with this man. It wasn't over as he had feared. He needed to sober up and make a good impression. He had almost blown it. "Coffee's fine," Brian said.

Justin indicated a booth near the back and Brian went to sit down. Justin went to the bar and spoke with the bartender. He joined Brian sitting safely on the other side of the booth. Brian smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" Justin asked.

"Nothing," Brian replied embarrassed by the thought that had just shot through his mind.

"Tell me," Justin encouraged him with a blistering smile, the first genuine one he had had from this elusive man.

"I go to a diner on Liberty Avenue in Pittsburgh," Brian began. "I usually sit in a booth. I … I just had this vision of you and me sitting there … together."

The bartender brought them two coffees. Brian doused his with sugar and took a sip. Justin studied him not saying anything for a minute. "I've been to Liberty Avenue," he said finally.

"You have?"

"Yes, when I was seventeen I knew I was gay. I got my best friend, Daphne, to drive me to Liberty Avenue one night. I was determined to get laid."

"And did you?"

"No," Justin said a tinge of regret in his voice, "I never met the right person."

"At seventeen you must have had lots of guys interested?"

"Yeah, there were some, but I was scared and most of them were too intimidating."

"What were you looking for?"

"Someone older who could teach me things. Someone who was smart. Someone who was kind."

"That's some pretty weird shit to be looking for on Liberty Avenue."

"I guess it was, because I never found it."

"So what did you do?"

"I went home and stayed in the closet."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I never had enough nerve to lose my virginity that night. I never had enough nerve to stand up to my parents and tell them what I am. They still don't know."

"Mine never knew either," Brian admitted.

"Even now?" Justin asked.

"I told my father just before he died."

"How did he react?"

"He had cancer and knew he was dying. He told me I should be the one who was dying, not him."

"Shit! What did you say to that?"

"I told the selfish old prick that I wasn't the one dying, he was."

"So you never made it up with him?"

"Kind of. A week or two later he brought me a picture of him holding me when I was a baby. I told him I didn't want it. Lindsay, this friend of mine, was there with her baby. I introduced my father to his grandson. I think he was pleased with that."

"You and Lindsay have a baby?

"Yeah."

"How did that happen?"

"Not in the way you might think. I am gay," Brian stated.

"Yeah, I figured that out."

They both laughed. "Lindsay's a lesbian and wanted a baby, so I very generously agreed to donate some sperm. His name is Gus. He's a smart little fucker."

"Like his father?"

Brian looked into the blue eyes. "You think I'm smart?"

Justin nodded. "Ferdy told me all about you, how you're this super successful ad exec. He thinks you can launch his shoes into the North American market."

"I can."

"And modest too," Justin chuckled. Brian laughed. Fuck if he didn't like this kid on top of everything else.

"How did you end up here?" Brian asked suddenly serious.

"It's a long story," Justin said with a sigh.

"I have all night, and I'm sure the bartender can make us some more coffee," Brian prompted. He really did want to know what the score was with this guy. He seemed much too smart and polished to end up in a brothel.

"You really want to hear my life story?" Justin asked again.

"Yes," Brian said simply and that was exactly what he meant. He did want to hear Justin's story. He wanted to know all about this young man.

"Okaaay," Justin said drawing out that word. "After my aborted trip to Liberty Avenue I went back to my old life, getting pushed around at school and feeling like a fucking misfit."

"You had a hard time at school?"

"It was a private school and they didn't want to deal with the homophobic pricks who picked on me."

"They knew you were gay?"

"The administration didn't. They didn't want to know, but some of the jocks figured it out."

"Yeah, they always do," Brian said ruefully.

"Did you get picked on in school?"

"At first. But I slammed one of the jock's hands in a locker door. Broke his fingers and ended his football season. They left me alone after that."

"Shit! I wish I had done something like that. Maybe it would have made my life easier," Justin mused.

"And maybe it would have made it harder. Who knows? What's done is done."

"True," Justin agreed thinking about how his life might have been different.

"So tell me more about what your life was like."

"I graduated near the top of my class and took Daphne to the prom. We went as friends. It was okay, but I wished I had a boyfriend that I could go with. I talked to Daph about it. She said their heads would blow off if I brought a guy to the prom. Didn't happen, so we'll never know." Justin again seemed to be thinking about what might have been.

"So what did you do after you graduated?"

"My father had gone to Dartmouth, so I was expected to go there too. You know, follow in his footsteps."

"Did you?"

Justin looked a little sad. "I actually applied to Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts. I loved drawing. I wanted to be an artist."

"Did you get in? I hear it's stiff competition," Brian said.

"It is, but I got accepted," Justin told him proudly. Then his face changed. "But I never went."

"Why not?"

"My father said he wouldn't pay for it. He'd only pay for me to go to Dartmouth. Even my mother, who always supported my interest in art, said that I should go to Dartmouth. She didn't think I'd be able to make a living with my art. So off to Dartmouth I went."

"How was it?"

"Not as bad as I thought. I pretty much hated the business courses that my father insisted I take, but I did well in them anyway. I took all the art courses I could as electives. Loved those." Brian saw Justin's face light up when he talked about art. He really loved being an artist. "I lasted two years at Dartmouth. My parents agreed to send me to Europe the summer of my twentieth birthday. I had to get away from Pittsburgh and that fucking business degree. I just had to."

"So you ended up here?"

"Not immediately," Justin said with a laugh. "I traveled around Europe, backpacked mostly. I met this guy, Miguel, in Switzerland. He was doing the same thing. He was about my age but much more … worldly. He was openly gay. I was still … afraid. He made me feel so free. I fell head over heels in love with him."

"Don't you mean heels over head?" Brian asked with a smirk.

"That too. I finally lost my virginity," Justin said with a little smile as he remembered. "Miguel was a good first lover. He brought me to Spain with him."

"So where's little Miguel now?" Brian asked sarcastically.

Justin sighed. "We had an open relationship. We were both young and hit the clubs a lot. I wanted to experience everything while I was here, so I started seeing a lot of other guys. There were always lots who were interested."

"I just bet there were."

Justin gave him a look. "Miguel got a little possessive. The summer was almost over and he knew I was going back to the States. He made me swear to stay, not leave him, ever. I finally agreed. I really thought I loved him. I called my parents and told them I wasn't coming back. They, of course, went ballistic. There were lots of international screaming matches. Anyway, the upshot of it was that I stayed with Miguel and my parents disowned me. They refused to send anymore money. My father said he never wanted to see me again. Pretty soon Miguel and I had trouble paying for stuff and fought all the time. I saw more and more other guys. There are some beautiful men in Spain."

"So many men, so little time?" Brian said with his tongue in cheek.

"Something like that. We just weren't happy anymore. Then one day I came home to our lovely cockroach infested apartment to find that he had left me, just took off. That's how I ended up here."

"What, you walked in off the street and applied for a job?" Brian asked.

"No!" Justin looked a little miffed. "I told you I don't work as a whore. I met Paulo, the owner of these homellos, at an art gallery. I had been trying to sell some drawings on the street and had come into the gallery for inspiration. Paulo seemed interested in me and struck up a conversation. He's older and smart and kind. He offered me a job doing performance art here. We slept together that day and I found out that Miguel didn't know half as much as he wanted me to think he did." Justin smiled.

"So Paulo is a good lover. Why didn't he put you up in a decent apartment?"

"Why should he? He doesn't owe me anything, and by the way, I don't owe him anything either. I do my performances three times a week. That pays for my rooms upstairs and my artwork pays for the rest," Justin said proudly.

"An independent man," Brian smirked.

"I think we're through now," Justin said standing. He didn't like this attitude at all.

"Wait," Brian said reaching for his hand. Justin pulled it away before Brian could touch him, but he didn't leave. "I enjoyed talking to you tonight," Brian said sincerely. He had enjoyed it.

"Me too," Justin admitted.

"I'm going to come to your show tomorrow night," Brian added.

"Fine," Justin said.

"Will you come and sit with me afterwards?" Brian practically begged. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

"Maybe. We'll see."

"Later?" Brian said hopefully as Justin moved away.

"Later," Justin called over his shoulder and Brian felt the warmth spread over him.

"Fuck! What just happened?" he asked himself. "I need to go to the club and dance and then go upstairs and fuck somebody senseless." He walked out of the bar and into the dance club feeling like maybe things were heading in the right direction.