In the dim blue wash of filtered street light, Brian lay on his back in bed, one arm bent over his head, the other curved around Justin’s back.  Something he didn’t do with tricks because those who craved it were likely desperate, needy and couldn’t accept sex as just sex.  The simple act of cuddling.  It was different with Justin.  And a thought loomed that Justin had cuddled with others.  Surely with Ethan.  No doubt with Con.  Because it was in his nature.  Ironic that the very thing that made cuddling with Justin non-manipulative and comfortable…raised question if it was special.

If I’m concerned about being special…does that make ME the fucking manipulator.  Is that why I fucked you raw.  Doesn’t fit what I thought or felt at the time.  Why.  I don’t dread that you’ll be leaving again.  But when you’re gone, there’s a space.  Just sits there.  At times I want to fill it with something.  At times I like to keep it…your space.

Justin shifted his head on Brian’s chest, arched his back into Brian’s arm.  This was the best.  The closeness he liked that brought emotional balance to a steamy physical act.  The touch that said: You’re a person, not just an expendable piece of meat.  It doesn’t matter if we never see each other again.  Here and now, you mean something. 

Only with Brian, it means everything.  Because it isn’t in his nature.  Yet he finds something valuable enough in me to want to make it there.  Every time.  And we did it!  Raw.

Brian felt Justin’s breath tickle his chest, a slight jiggle.  “What’s so funny?”

“I can feel you inside me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.  It won’t stay there long.”

Justin raised his head, groaned with a wry face and shoved Brian’s arm.  “Can you please not kill the moment?”

Brian chuckled silently, shagged a hand in Justin’s hair.  “So.  Was it all that you expected?”

“Only because it was you.”  Then he lowered his head again, deeply pensive.  “It felt more right than I ever thought it could.”

Brian stopped his hand on Justin’s waist, stared at the ceiling and answered the hidden question.  “It felt right to me, too…for a first and last time.”

Shit.  Thought we might make it an all-day ticket.  But you spelled it out.  And I agreed.  Still…there might always be special occasions.  Justin pushed up and kissed Brian’s cheek.  “Thanks.  For coming back.”

“It would’ve been a lot easier if you’d told me you were flying in.”

“If you wouldn’t keep things from me, I wouldn’t have to sneak around to find out what’s going on.”

“You should keep your mind on your work.”

“You really want to play chicken and egg all night?” Justin blinked.

Brian considered the circular potential, sighed, “I suppose we could take a shower…put our heads together…” he moved cock to cock, “…and play something more productive.”

Justin kissed Brian’s lips.  “Your shoulder seems to have made a miraculous recovery.”

“The key is to keep it active.” 

Brian scooped an arm under Justin’s knees and rolled him toward the edge of the mattress.  The faster they showered, the quicker they could get on to filling their brief interlude before they passed the halfway point toward parting…when only the captured and crammed moments would be there to dull the ache.

In the Loft shower, they reconnected with an erotic, soapy massage followed by a slither dance.  Moving and swaying against each other in a variety of combinations: front-to-front, back-to-back.  Or staring eye-to-eye.  Kissing, groping, caressing. With little more music than the patter of water and an occasional laugh.

In bed, Justin displayed his own rimming talent, his pleasure further heightened by Brian’s vocal approval.

Then they engaged in a light tussle, rolling and twining limbs until they were so tangled in the sheet that nobody won, and they lay wrapped cock-hard, sweaty and tighter than an egg roll, arms trapped around each other.

Brian strained to see in the dark.  “Roll my way.”

Justin shifted on top of Brian, didn’t feel anything loosen and had to giggle.  “What if Michael gets worried and shows up in the morning?”

“We tell him to find the end of the sheet,” Brian grunted and rolled on top of Justin, jerked an arm to force some slack.  No good.  “Let’s take it sideways and maybe you can slide up.”

Which progressed nicely until Justin’s cock got near Brian’s face and they had to take a protein break.

After defeating the sheet, they took another break in the kitchen and shared a bottled water that Justin chased with Brian’s cock.

On the floor cushion, they nuzzled and fucked, got cold and moved back to the bed.  Stretched out separate, dozed, awakened and found each other in the dark.  Then became shadows and movement of more intimate nature to the sounds of breaths and moans.

Next morning at Kinnetik, Ted sat and groaned at a desk strewn with copy.  The fevered bustle of a full-scale campaign in progress made him eye his ringing phone with annoyance before snatching it up.  “Kinnetik.  Ted Schmidt.”  His face relaxed, eyes lit.  “Thank you very much.  But I can’t take all the credit.”  Then he paled and stiffened.  “I…I…don’t know what to say.” 

He looked around for token aid, saw Cynthia standing in the doorway and wondering what was wrong.  “Can I…uh…get back to you later on that?  I understand.  Thank you.”  And he hung up dazed, talking to the phone.  “That was Cellular Innovations.”

“They’re complaining already?”

“Not exactly.”  Ted quickly batched papers and focused on them.  “Can you tell Harry I’ll have these ready in a jiff?”

“Sure,” Cynthia nodded, paused and watched Ted’s mechanical moves.  He’s uptight.  Maybe because Brian’s not at the helm.  “Take a break, Ted.  You’re trying too hard.”

Ted slid nervous eyes on and off her.  “Right.  I’ll do that,” he nodded, watched her smile and turn away.  Then he sank into his chair.  NOW what.

Later at the Loft…

In dress slacks and buttoning one of his better shirts, Brian bounded down the bedroom steps, glanced at the sunny window then stopped at the coffee table where Justin sat frowning at a stubborn sketch.  “Care to join me for a very late lunch?”

“I have to finish these before I leave.  Silberman wants to start me on a project, and if it’s what I THINK it is, I’ll have an action flick to board.  Means at least a hundred drawings in a week.  So if I don’t get Rage done now…” Justin tossed down his pencil, shook his right hand, rubbed his face and grunted.  “These dogs are driving me crazy.  Where did Michael come UP with this!”

Diverting concern from Justin’s hand, Brian casually answered, “A slight encounter I had with a stray dog after I was carjacked.”

“Shit,” Justin wide-eyed.  “What happened?”

Grim and serious, “I was brutally attacked and I’m now in intensive care fighting for my life.”

Justin flung an eraser, watched it ricochet off Brian’s defending arm.  “Asshole.  And you wonder why I feel the need to check on you.”

Brian leaned on the table, bent forward and kissed Justin’s forehead.  “Curb that compulsion with the fact that I handled it, and if I COULDN’T, then it would be worth your attention.  And since when do you turn down food after a fuckathon?”

“I’ll grab something after I finish this.”  Justin retrieved his pencil, tried a line,  “Fuck,” and erased with vigor.  “Maybe bigger teeth.”

The eyes, Brian flashed back with a chill, shook it off and headed for the door.

Justin noted, “You’re going out for lunch?”

“After I check on the office.”

“Do they know you’re back yet?”

“They will.  But I won’t foil their party too long.  Finish the Comic.   We can get into serious distraction later.”

“Wait up,” Justin decided.  “Maybe the great outdoors will jog my creativity.”  He gathered his equipment, jammed it into a canvas case.  “One of my favorite things about LA.  There’s always someplace outside where you can just sit and draw.”

Brian waited with a touch of melancholy, watching Justin slip into California mode.  I knew you’d have no trouble fitting in.  Didn’t take long at all.

In a cramped and cluttered trailer office, Hunter sat on a fold up chair, faked his most confident charm.  “No heavy construction, but I did a lotta jobs for cash.”

Across the desk from him, Chris Hobbs in his foreman uniform, leaned back with a skeptical eye on Hunter’s application.  “So you just turned seventeen.  Got any proof?”

“Not on me, but I can drop it off later.”

“The job would be temporary.  Mostly clean-up.  And talk gets pretty raunchy.  Can you handle that?”

“That’s cool,” Hunter flashed a smile.  “I’m just looking to stockpile some bread for my own place.  And this pays sweeter than a fucking supermarket.”

A woman’s, “Excuse me.  Chris?  Burkovich needs you to check out a discrepancy with the mix,” snapped their attention to checking HER out.  Tall with long, dark wavy hair, pinched waist and knit top stretching its limit.

Hunter watched her curvy rear disappear, blurted before thinking, “Dude, I’ll bet you hired HER without an interview.”

Pleased with Hunter’s notice, Chris sensed a brother.  “That’s Winnie.  She doesn’t often sneak up on me like that.  Those bazookas usually hit the doorway long before the rest of her.”  He lifted the cell phone off his desk, “It’s got a camera,” set it down.  “I took a picture and ran it on my home computer.  Just to analyze the facts,” he leered, opened a bottom desk drawer and pulled a paper.  “Check THIS out.”

Hunter took the sheet, ogled digitally disrobed Winnie in full color.  Man, now I KNOW I’m straight.  “Sweeeeet.  You got a copy of that program?” 

“Most of the crew does,” Chris winked, retrieved the picture, slid it away and shut the drawer.  Then returned to Hunter’s application.  “Look.  I gotta go, but we might have a man leaving in a couple weeks.  I’ll give you a call if we can use you.” 

“Don’t wait too long.  I’m a man on the move.”  Hunter stood up, smiled.  When Chris nodded and slapped Hunter’s shoulder on his way out, Hunter grinned a discreet  “Yes!” and strutted out behind him.

At Red Cape Comics…

Michael glared at Emmett leaning stiffly on the counter, “No.”  Turned his back and avoided Emmett’s beg-eyes by switching the comic displays.

“Just this once.”

“Want me to spell it?” Michael shot over a shoulder, went back to work.  “I seem to recall another little party where we ended up wearing bow-ties and bruises.”

“But we’ll have clothes on this time.  And it’s Garth Racine.  Total A-List.”

“Garth Racine?” Michael slowly turned.  “The same Garth Racine you once referred to as a pompous asshole?”

“He may be all that?  But you can’t judge ALL the guests by a horse’s ass’s color…no offense to the horse.”  Emmett continued with determined desperation.  “The party starts in two hours and we can’t just grab anybody off the street.  It has to be someone we can trust.  Someone who can make Darren proud.”  He watched Michael’s face drop in thought.  “This was supposed to be Darren’s big chance.  But it could end up being his biggest failure.  Please, Michael.  I’m begging you as a former roommate…and…my friend.”

Oh shit. “Okay.  But just this once,” Michael pointed emphatically.

“Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!  When Darren finds out, he’ll be so happy,” Emmett gleefully clapped, swung around the counter, grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him to the door.  “I’ll call Teddy and borrow his car.  That’ll save us some time.  Oh Sweetie…” he spun Michael to face him and smooched his cheek.

“Can we just GO already?  If I think about it any longer, I might change my mind,” he palmed off spit with one hand, flipped the CLOSED sign with the other. 

Outside and heading for Red Cape, canvas bag over a shoulder and sketchpad under his arm, Justin saw Emmett and Michael fly out to the sidewalk in front of him.  “Michael!” he waved, jogged to intercept.

Emmett waved back, “Hi, Baby!  I HEARD you were back in town!  I’d love to chat?  But we have a party to catch.”

Michael beamed at Justin,  “Great!  You finished the panels!”

“Actually…” Justin stalled.

“You didn’t?”

Emmett tapped Michael’s shoulder.  “Sweeties?  Can we maybe finish this later?”

Justin rushed, “I need to go over a few things.”

Michael looked at Emmett, Justin.  “I’ll call you later.  Eight o’clock okay?”

“But I want some time with Brian before -”

Emmett smiled, “And you both certainly deserve it,” then to Michael, “Darren’s waiting?”

“Call me before you leave,” Michael finished as he and Emmett started moving.

“I will.”

“Bye, Baby!” Emmett chirped over a shoulder.

Justin watched them hustle around a corner, exhaled a loud breath and swiveled a look at the CLOSED sign.  So much for inspirational input.  He hitched his shoulder strap higher and headed back the way he’d come.

At the Traditional Novotny-Bruckners…

Ben sat on the couch, talked low while beaming pride at little Jenny in his arms.  Their bond-fest ended when Michael breezed in, paused to admire the sight.

Ben started, “You didn’t have to close early.  Eeeeeverything is under control,” and to Jenny, “Isn’t that right?” as he cuddled the little bundle.

Michael eased over, rubbed Ben’s shoulder, “You know, you make a terrific father,” reached out and touched Jenny’s hair.  “By the time Mel finds a sitter, I don’t know how we’ll be able to let her go,” then hurried to the bedroom.

“I know what you mean,” Ben mused, eyes still on Jenny’s.  “Seems like she’s part of home.”  Until he heard Michael’s muffled query.

“You see my blonde wig anywhere?”

“Your WHAT?”

“Never mind.  I found it.”

Ben shot a look toward the bedroom, volleyed it to the opening front door when Hunter slummed in.  “Where have YOU been?”

“Around.”

“I expected that while you’re on suspension you’d at least do SOME catch-up work.”

“I will,” Hunter flipped his hair back, smiled wide at Jenny.  “Hey, Baby Girl,” and he bent close.  “Smile for your Main Man.”

Michael, in Pride-Day Godiva attire and holding a plastic bag of clothes, returned and saw Hunter with the baby. “Good.  You can watch Jenny while Ben works on his lecture.”  He set the bag on the couch, leaned on its arm to remove his high-heeled pumps.  Seeing their open-mouth stares, he gruffed, “It’s a drag show that’s really important to Darren.  Emmett begged me to help him out,” stepped back, arms flared,  “Do I look alright?”

Hunter shrugged, “Yeah, if I was gay, forty and desperate,” with a cheeky smile.

Michael evil-eyed back, “Darren’s doing my make-up later.”

Ben, shocked into staying seated swallowed, “You’re…going out like that?”

“No,” Michael raised the pumps.  “I’ll put ‘em back on after I get down the steps.”

A car horn blared through the open window along with Emmett’s cheery, “Let’s GO, Girlfriend!”

Michael dashed to the window, yelled down to Emmett flaming like Rupaul beside Ted’s car, “In a minute!”   He grabbed his bag and hurried past Hunter, “I’ll be back around eight.  And no loud rock if Jenny’s asleep.  Explain it, Ben,” on his rush to the door.

Shelving his desire for Michael’s explanation, Ben stood, bounced the squeaking bundle. “We don’t want to chance indoctrinating her with any subliminal messages or preconceived biases.”

“Jenny staying over?”

“Mel’s got a date tonight.”

“With Dad?” Hunter cocked a nod at the closing door.

Ben dryly stared, “Haven’t you got homework to finish?” then smiled at fussing Jenny and softly sang, “Itsy bitsy spi-der went up the -”

“That’ll REALLY make her a fine, upstanding citizen,” Hunter smarted and headed for the kitchen.

Ben considered it, eyed Jenny. “Let’s talk about the personal and social value of overcoming adversity in relative terms.  Itsy bitsy spi-der…”

…was climbing up Ted’s pant leg as he sat on the Point Fountain edge and stared at cracks in the cement.  Then he saw it.  A harmless daddy-long-legs that, in his morose state of mind, looked like a ravenous Black Widow.  “Ahh!” he bounced up, slapped at his leg.  “Off.  Go away!”

Unnoticed, seated further down the curve, Justin snapped a look, shouted  “Ted?”

“Justin?” Ted’s eyes sprang wide.  “You’re supposed to be in LA!”

“Just visiting.  I’m going back tonight.”

Ted closed in.  “But Brian just left…”

“He got back last night.”

Ted scanned the surroundings.  “He’s here?”

“No, he’s over at Kinnetik.”

Ted groaned, sank to a seat beside Justin.  “The libretto of my life.  Play hooky just one time, and the boss shows up.”  He sprang tall with a skittish, “I’d better get back.”

“Come on Ted.  You know Brian’s not that bad.”

“Well he certainly does a flawless impression.”  Ted studied Justin’s droll face, sat down and head-tipped, “He already knows I’m not there.  What’s another couple of minutes,” then spied the Perspective Drawing book in Justin’s lap.  “So how’s the movie business?”

“Busy.  I start my first project tomorrow, and I need to know this inside out.”

“I have to admire you, though, Justin.  Taking on a serious career…building a new life away from here.”

“I plan on coming back.”

“Sure you do.  But you’ve got a decent job, now.  And after awhile, you’ll get so settled you probably won’t think much about here at all.”  Then slipped to inner conflict.  “And everybody here will probably fade to some nice memories…just like you will to THEM.”

Justin looked down.  First time it occurred to him.  The possibility that home could be elsewhere.  Shit.  I even said I was only visiting.

“One great thing about being young…it’s easy to forge ahead without looking back.”

Justin countered, “It’s easy when you know that no matter what, you can always come home.”

Ted paused in thought, nodded with new perspective.  “You’re right.”  He checked his watch, stood up with firm conviction.  “I guess it’s time to head back.  Should I tell Brian you’re out here?”

“We’ve got plans to hook up later,” Justin smiled then dropped dismal eyes to a sketchpad he slid from under the book.  “Right now, I hafta finish some Rage drawings.”

“If I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe trip.”

“Thanks.  See ya next time I’m in.”

“We’ll do lunch,” Ted quipped and turned away, smile going flat.  If I’m here.

On his porch, Darren hugs Michael and Emmett.  Downtown, Ted briefly stops to look at a cement mixer beside the new Med Center and misses Hunter leaving through a door in the plywood barrier.  At the Loft, Justin eyes the art book in one hand then the unfinished Rage sketch in the other.  At Kinnetik, Brian studies his business card, turns it face down on his desk, leans back in thought and closes his eyes.

Song: “Dreams” by the Bodeans

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