Better Friends and Lovers

Chapter 6

(Setting: A Gallery in Times Square, New York City; Saturday Night of Daphne's Birthday Weekend; POV/Justin Taylor)

Edward walked up to me just as I pulled my cell phone out to call Daphne and wish her a Happy Birthday. She and Brian were probably done eating by now and were dancing somewhere. I slipped the phone back into my jacket pocket as Edward leaned down to kiss me. I could always try her later, or even in the morning; they planned to have brunch with the gang at the hotel so that would be a good time to catch up on all the fun they'd had anyway. We could compare notes on our respective weekends. That was always fun with Daphne. Just like old times.

"Are you having a good time?" Edward asked, handing me a cold glass of champagne as he pulled me closer; his eyes continuing to scan the room to make sure that everything was running smoothly.

"So far, but I can think of a few ways we could make it better," I grinned back at him, slipping my hand beneath his suit jacket and caressing his taut ass. He was always so serious in public; it was fun to tease him. Edward Simon was around forty-nine years old, but you'd never guess that from looking at him. His body was as firm and fit as that of a man fifteen years younger. I should know, I laughed to myself. I must be the reigning expert on well-toned thirty-four year old male bodies. Of course, Brian Kinney was far from the average-thirty four year old, and certainly did not look his age either. Make that the average, incredibly gorgeous and fuckable thirty-four year old, and you might be close. Edward was not that, but he looked damn good for his age. Like Michael's chiropractor, he had nothing to be ashamed of when he took his clothes off. Plus, he had something else reminiscent of Brian, that aura pf power, which made every man, and woman for that matter, look at him when he entered a room. That was the biggest key to his sex appeal. He was handsome, and distinguished looking, with tiny laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and just a touch of gray at his temples. But it was that element of power, that quiet "don't fuck with me" magnetism that attracted me to him. It was incredibly seductive, and yes, I can admit it to myself, it was flattering that he was just as attracted to me, the kid from Pittsburgh with paint stains on his clothes, as I was to him.

I found myself fascinated by the ways in which Edward was the same as Brian, and the ways in which he was different. On the surface, Edward seemed so much more easy-going, softer than Brian, as though time had smoothed the edges. I sensed that underneath, however, he was much more ruthless, that the smiling demeanor was a facade, and that beneath it was a core of steel that could be cruel. Brian was the opposite. He chose to show the world this tough exterior, while underneath was this caring, tender person. I loved Brian, more than anything, but I was drawn to Edward, and the challenge, the latent danger he represented. I knew it pleased him to "mentor" me as though I were his plaything; I knew I wasn't his "first boy artist" and that people were talking. But I fully intended to have the last laugh and use this powerful man for my own purposes, while keeping my heart fully intact. I knew it was safe back in Pittsburgh. In the meantime, I was getting some great exposure for my art at a prominent gallery, the use of a great studio, and some pretty good fucking on the side. Brian would be proud of me. Here I was, Justin Taylor, in New York, holding my own with the big boys without playing the starving artist. In the words of Ethel Merman, ‘who could ask for anything more?' I laughed to myself, it went to show that I was becoming acclimated to New York ‘gayness,' I certainly didn't think about Ethel Merman back home. Brian would be proud of me.

I wrapped my arms around Edward's waist and pulled him back against me, letting him feel my hard-on. "How much longer do we have to stay?" I whispered into his back. My hands strayed down the front of his pants to graze against his crotch. Yep, he was more than ready to adjourn to his suite upstairs. I felt him suck in his breath even as he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Sex in public places is something I am still trying to get him used to enjoying.

"You are such a bad boy," he moaned slightly, and moved my hands up a bit as I chuckled throatily. His moving my hands did nothing to hide his obvious erection. The funny thing was that Edward is a no holds barred person once we are in the privacy of his rooms; he just likes to present this very proper public personae, which I think he is beginning to love my fucking around with. He continued now, "I think we have networked enough for one evening. Let me just let George know we're adjourning to my rooms upstairs for the evening and you ask Juan to send up some champagne?" He kissed me again and moved briskly to speak with his burly assistant/bodyguard.

I sauntered over to Juan, one of the waiters employed by the Gallery that Edward owned, and a friend of mine. The Gallery kept several waiters on call for openings and other such functions and Juan was a regular. We had met on the subway ages ago, when I first moved to New York, when I had gotten stuck in the turnstile with a large canvas that I couldn't lift high enough to get through. He recognized me as someone from the Gallery where he worked and helped me out. We had stayed on pretty good terms after that, and started talking more and more. Always when Edward wasn't around. Juan was a good-looking guy with black curly hair and brown eyes, slightly taller than I was, with an olive complexion. He and I hooked up finally a few weeks ago when I was working in my studio located on the top floor and he was finishing a lunch shift for some charity function. After that, we started getting together once in a while at his apartment, just as friends, both of us agreeing that's all it was. It was kind of fun having someone my own age to hang out with once in a while, not that Edward wasn't great. I did find myself keeping my friendship with Juan under wraps, though, just because Edward tended to be rather controlling about my time, and had very definite ideas about who an "up and coming young artist" should be seen with, and where he should be seen. Unfortunately, none of those included catching a showing of "Yellow Submarine" with an actor/waiter at an old movie house in the Village, so some things were kept between Juan and me.

Like most people I had met in New York City, Juan had been quick to explain to me that he was not really a waiter; he was an actor, waiting for his big break. I found that this information was generally given with a far off look in the eyes, and in a portentous voice, kind of like Professor Trelawny from the Harry Potter books, right before she makes a prediction. (Emmett loved how Emma Thompson portrayed her in the movie; he made us all go see it with him twice). Anyway, after a while, you just take it for granted that the man who shines shoes is really a director, the newspaper guy is writing the next great American novel, and the girl who waits on you at the drugstore where you renew your asthma medicine is really a jewelry designer. I realized how lucky I was that I was actually an artist who didn't have to wait tables; I was making my living creating art. I was a rarity in this City. My "real" job was my only job; thanks in large part to my luck in finding a cheap apartment, and, of course, in finding someone like Edward to take an interest in promoting my career.

"Hey, Juan," I gave him my "Sunshine" smile. He beamed one back at me that was just as bright. Debbie would love him, I thought, his white teeth a gleaming contrast against his latte colored skin. She would first want to fatten him up, though. In a City filled with gorgeous waiters, however, he probably didn't clean up in tips the way I did at the Liberty Diner. The competition was fierce. The waiters in New York cast even L.A. wait staff in the shade; there it was mainly big-chested blonde bimbos that brought your food. Here, it was gorgeous men.

"What's up, Justin, you and the Boss man cutting out?" Juan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He never missed a trick. So much for Edward being discreet, I thought with a laugh.

"Yeah, you think you could send up a couple bottles of champagne, and maybe some Cola too, to the suite?" I asked. Then a thought occurred to me. "Or maybe, if they don't need you down here, in about an hour, you could maybe bring them up yourself? If you're done and wouldn't get in trouble, that is." I wiggled my eyebrows back at him.

He laughed. "It shouldn't be a problem. But maybe you should take this bottle with you, just in case the Boss gets thirsty, huh? It's already chilled. I'll do my best to bring some more, and some cola for you. And how about maybe a snack, in about an hour, sound good?" He smiled again, boy, did he know me.

"Sounds very good," I agreed. I strolled off to find Edward and hurry him along. Edward had called me his "bright Angel" the other night, and mentioned a fantasy he had of wishing he could watch me paired with his "dark angel." Maybe after he and I'd had some fun, Juan and I could give him a little show. Not that I was being purely altruistic; as I had once told Tucker, my mother's younger boyfriend, no matter how hot the older person was, the reality was that twenty-five still goes into fifty more than fifty goes into twenty-five. An expensive trainer and Botox might make a forty-nine year old resemble a thirty-four year old, but it couldn't make him fuck like one. Of course, Brian had twice my stamina, and that was with tricking on the side, so maybe by the time he's Edward's age, we'll be even.

It occurred to me that I didn't even know what Brian was up to these days with his tricking. With Babylon re-opening, there must be an influx of hot new young studs for him to work his way through, but we really hadn't talked about it. Other than a few jokes about Todd quickly resuming his usual place as the "resident bottom" in the back room of the rebuilt club, or Emmett's latest thirty-minute "affair to remember," Brian hadn't said much about Babylon. I really should make an effort to get back to the Pitts and check on him, I decided, as I finally found Edward.

"Hey, are you ready?" I asked, leaning against him as yet another ubiquitous photographer snapped our picture. I could see the caption now, "Entrepreneur and Blond Boy Toy" or some other variation on the theme. I barely refrained from sticking my tongue out at the man as he scurried away, the low-life. I smiled instead, the perfect country club WASP smile to which I was born and bred.

"Tired?" Edward asked, solicitous as always. He knows how I feel about the photographers but has lived with them so long himself he barely sees them.

"No, but I soon will be if we don't go now," I jokingly warned. "I may even get a headache, and then where will your evening be?"

Edward squeezed my shoulders comfortingly and quickly made our excuses. We took the private elevator to his suite on the twenty-fourth floor. He owned several places throughout the City but this was my favorite, and certainly the most convenient. There were several floors of offices above the Gallery, and on the top floor were artists' studios, including mine. I handed him the bottle of champagne to open as I took my time undressing. I loved the way I could make this cool, collected businessman pop his cork like that bottle of champagne he handled so expertly. A master had trained me, but I do think I had a natural talent to begin with for this type of teasing. By the time I slid my designer slacks down, revealing that I wore nothing beneath them, Edward's hands were shaking on the crystal flutes he held. They made a musical sound as they struck each other.

"Maybe I should set these down," he whispered.

"Maybe you should," I agreed, smiling, as I went to the bed, and lay down on my back, spread-eagled, bending my knees slightly. I started to stroke my cock slightly, thumbing the pre-cum. Edward licked his bottom lip.

"Don't you think you're a little over-dressed?" I teased him.

He gulped down a glass of champagne and quickly stripped off his expensive suit, kicking it aside. He moved over me, settling down over my cock. He greedily took it into his mouth, which was still cool from the champagne. There is something very intoxicating about having a billionaire on his knees, sucking you off. I came hard at the thought, Edward swallowing every bit of cum. He then donned a condom, and after prepping me quickly, thrust into me, fast and hard. His dick wasn't very long, but it was thick—a tuna can Emmett would have called it—and he wore a Prince Albert, which initially in our relationship had been a major turn-off to me. Now I kind of liked it. I had worried that it would rip the condom, but that, he assured me, would not happen and so far it hadn't. He always came fairly quickly, so the chances of it happening were lessened, I figured. Plus, he had a way of hitting my prostate with that piercing that really felt fantastic. So I've learned to get used to the damn thing. I just really have to watch my teeth with it when I blow him, or there goes my Sunshine smile.

"Justin, you are so beautiful, I love you so much, I love being in you," he gasped just as he came.

"That was so good, Edward," I murmured, jerking myself off to finish cumming just after he did. He rolled over and reached for the champagne flutes, offering me one. I shook my head.

"You look like porcelain in the candlelight, your skin glows, so pale, but so alive, my bright angel." He laughed softly at himself. That was my cue.

"Do you still want to see me with a dark angel?" I asked, circling his nipple with my fingers as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash can near the bed.

His eyes gleamed with sudden lust. "How did you know?" He paused, and seemed to restrain his reaction. Odd, I thought, there is something more to this. "Does my naughty boy have something planned?"

"Only if you'd like it," I began tentatively.

"Oh, I think I'd like it very much. Anything you do I tend to like very much, I find." Edward smiled at me.

"Well, do you want to play or watch?" I asked, as there was a soft knock at the door to the suite.

Edward laughed. "Why don't I start by watching and then I'll join in as the spirit moves me?"

I got up and walked across the room naked to open the door to Juan. I let him push the service cart in to the room, then I pulled him into my arms and kissed him deeply. Edward watched avidly from the bed. I glanced over at him, as I started to unbutton Juan's tuxedo shirt.

"Jump in whenever you want, Edward ... the temperature's hot."

I slid the shirt from Juan's shoulders, revealing smooth, tan muscles, as Edward smiled and sipped his champagne. Juan bent down and began kissing my neck as my hands continued their work. I could see his dark head against my fair one in the mirror on the wall, and beyond that, Edward's form in shadow. Somehow, the image gave me cold chills. Feeling me shiver, Juan picked me up in his strong arms and carried me over to the bed to continue caressing me. Soothed, I went on undressing him. I quickly forgot the momentary foreboding as Juan blanketed my body with his warm one and everything else was forgotten but the sensations of the moment.

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