In His Kiss

Chapter 2

The Life of Brian

Brian loved his life in New York. When he had made his move 3 years ago, he had known it was the right one, but his success had surprised even him. He had parlayed his snatching the Brown Athletic account into a partnership in his new firm. His creativity, work ethics and single mindedness were amply rewarded. He had received recognition every year for his professional achievements.

The second year, he had bought his loft, which was very similar to the loft he had had in Pittsburgh, with the addition of two bedrooms and two baths that came in handy when friends visited. Even his style of furnishing had not changed. He was comfortable in his white leather, metal and glass décor. He had even brought the painting of the naked man Mel objected to so much.

Cynthia had come along, and she thrived in the Big Apple. When necessary, she was the perfect alibi girl, and since she enjoyed the glitz, she was always glad to accompany him to expensive client dinners and award ceremonies.

New York’s gay scene was a vast improvement on Pittsburgh’s. Though he always enjoyed going back to Woody’s and Babylon when he visited, the fact that he had dozens of clubs to choose from here was a definite plus. Though a few of them had basic backrooms like Babylon’s, quite a few had sophisticated VIP lounges, with couches, private alcoves and even private suites.

It had taken him a couple of months to find a drug supplier he trusted, and had done so, amusingly, through a client who ran a chain of Health Food stores. The man was a health nut and had had their E, Special K, coke and crystals tested by his own lab for purity. The drug purveyor ran a classy operation, delivered by special messenger, to one’s home or workplace, depending on the client’s choice, and was fabulously discreet.

Over all, his private life had not changed much since his days in Pittsburgh. He spoke to Mikey weekly, called Debbie and Vic. Ted, Emmett, Michael and their assorted boyfriends sometimes visited. He had acquaintances in most clubs and never had to stand in line. He had even made friends of sorts with several guys who, like him, chose to spend their lunch hour at the men only gym on the thirty-fourth floor of the tower where Plexus Advertising was located. Considering a lunch hour rarely went by without him getting a blowjob in the steam room, his reputation as a seducer had not changed any more than his habits.

In March, one of his favorite dance clubs, which had recently undergone a fabulous remodel, changed its logo and image, with ads in several of New York’s best gay publications. The design was breathtakingly brilliant, the independent components, silhouettes of men dancing, glistening skin on beautiful bodies, glitter, amazing colors and geometric design actually giving an impression of pulsating rhythm, creating a visual representation of the ubiquitous thumpa-thumpa of the gay club life. It was beautiful, stimulating and erotic . Brian immediately tried to find out which ad agency had created the ad campaign and was shocked to find out that the club owner had fired his old agency and that the entire thing had been created in-house.

The designer himself, whose name appeared in very discreet lettering, a Justin Taylor, Brian had never heard of, and he could find no trace of. It was a puzzle. Googling the name, he did find several Justin Taylors. One was an emerging artist, whose work had been shown is a small gallery in Los Angeles. He did not find any images of the work, and the chances of the two being related were negligible. Another had been the victim of a gay bashing in Pittsburgh and had spent time in the hospital, comatose. Brian remembered Debbie going on and on about it. That one, brain damaged, was out of the running for sure. Apparently, the name was fairly common.

That night, when time came to decide which club to go to, Brian did not hesitate and went to Essengy. It was a good thing he was a VIP member, as the line went around the block. The front of the club sported the new design behind glass with back lighting. Brian found himself stopping to again admire its artistry. Inside, the club was packed, the DJ excellent, and one could actually feel an aura of excitement.

After depositing his outer garments at the coat check, Brian entered the fray, finding his way to the bar on the third level, from where he had a full view of the different dance floors.

The bartender nodded to him. “Mr. Kinney.”

After three years, even in as big a gay scene as New York’s, if you came to a club often enough, they started to recognize you. It did not hurt that he always added a twenty-five percent tip to his credit card slip. He drank two J&B’s in quick succession, and let a tab of E melt on his tongue before drinking half a bottle of water.

He let his eyes wander on the beautiful bodies writhing to the beat. The lights were changing from silver to gold and back, making the falling glitter look like snow and fire in turn. On one of the second floor dance stages, a shirtless youth was attracting a lot of attention. His pale skin and blond hair, like the glitter, looked icy or burning in turn. He was slender, and had a delicious swivel move of the hips that emphasized his delectable ass. He left the platform, and was immediately swallowed by the crowd.

Brian’s cock, which had been half hard ever since entering the club, signaled a definite interest for the blond youth, and he made his way back to the second level. With fifteen years of clubbing experience, it did not take him long, even in this crowd, to find and zero in on his prey. Soon, he was within reach of the unbelievable perfection of the blond boy’s ass. It looked strangely familiar, yet Brian was positive he had never had him. He did not usually go for blonds, or for men that young. This one could not be much more than eighteen. He seemed uninterested by the come hither looks he was getting from all around, intent on dancing.

Brian was getting his share of attention, but was not to be enticed from his prey. A few more steps and he was facing the blond, dancing closer and closer to him. This earned him a smile and a slow blink that went directly to his cock, and he started to discreetly maneuver the boy in the direction of the VIP room’s entrance.

He put one hand on the back of the blond’s head, where the hair was short and soaked with sweat, the other on his hips, and the young man placed both his hands on Brian’s biceps, running them lightly up and down the soft and suddenly hypersensitive skin of his arms. Brian slid a leg forward, and could feel the boy’s cock as he rubbed himself shamelessly on his denim clad thigh. Brian moved both his hands to the blond’s ass and pulled him in tight. The boy literally melted into him and he received a high voltage smile for his effort, joyful, teasing, sexy and innocent all at once.

He just had to fuck this boy.

The VIP room might do for starters, but he was taking this one home.

The music changed to a different song, and his dancing partner got on his toes to say something to Brian that sounded like ‘water’. Then he disengaged from their delicious embrace, turned around and made his way to one of the second floor bars. Brian had no objection, as the bar was right next to the entrance to the VIP room.

Without the blond saying anything, the bartender handed him a bottle of water. Brian requested the same. The bartender then bent down and whispered something in the young man’s ear that had him nod his head. He turned to Brian and said:

“Hi, I’m Justin.”

Brian did not give a shit what his name was. He just wanted to fuck him, but introduced himself nonetheless.

“I’m Brian,” and gave him that look, the one that had literally brought so many men to their knees.

What he got in return was a playful grin. “I’m sorry, Brian. I don’t like one-offs. And since you don’t look like the type to drop to your knees and give me a quick blow in the VIP room, I think we should find other partners.”

Justin finished his water, put the empty on the bar, and with one last smile went back to dancing.

Brian was completely taken by surprise. He looked at the bartender who gave him an apologetic shrug and smile. Brian leaned forward and asked him, speaking loud enough to be heard. “What the fuck did you tell him?”

“Just the truth, Mr. Kinney. That you fuck and run.”

Brian was totally pissed off. “Do I know you?”

“Nah… But we all know you. You’ve been around for a while.”

“And why should you give a shit what I do with my tricks?”

“I don’t. But that’s no trick, that’s Justin.” As if that explained everything.

“What are you? His Daddy?”

The bartender just laughed. “Nah. We look out for him is all.”

“Why? How old is he?” Brian suddenly wondered if the kid was even younger than he looked. 15? 16?

“Oh, he’s twenty-one, perfectly legal. He’s just a sweet kid.”

Brian was livid. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, chasing his trick away? That had never happened before. His dick was still hard and throbbing, and when he turned back to the crowd of dancers, the sight of ‘Justin’s’ perfect ass, of the light playing on the pale skin of his torso did nothing to improve his mood.

A few minutes later, a good looking dark haired guy just about plastered himself to Brian, enticing him to go back to dancing by grinding against him. The pressure of the guy’s dick against his own through their jeans was enough to distract him. Twenty minutes later, he was in the VIP room, his dick buried to his balls in the guy’s ass. He used all his savoir-faire and managed to wring three orgasms out of the guy’s dick, though the third was almost dry. He came twice, just continuing to fuck after his first orgasm and never losing his erection.

When he pulled out, the guy turned around with awe in his eyes. “Man, that was unbelievable.”

Brian just tied the condom and threw it in the trash.

The guy grabbed his wrist. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Brian. “Haven’t you heard? I just fuck and run. No repeats.”

“Well, fuck,” was all he heard as he walked away from his trick…

On the way out, in an alcove, he caught sight of Justin, pale and beautiful, leaning against the wall as some shorthaired guy’s head was bobbing up and down at his crotch level. The little shit smiled at him, and as Brian watched, he grabbed his trick’s head and fucked his mouth fairly roughly He closed his eyes as he came down the trick’s throat. He looked unbelievably beautiful in orgasm, and after reopening his eyes, gave Brian a slow smile as he licked his lips.

Brian felt his cock twitch and knew that if he had not just come twice less than ten minutes ago, he would have been hard again. For some reason that made him angry, and he turned and left the VIP room, went to the cloakroom for his winter coat and left the club.

He took a cab home, stripped off his clubbing clothes and took a shower. He spend the next couple of hours smoking and drinking scotch in front of one of his floor to ceiling windows, carefully thinking of nothing. The next day, he went to work with a mild hangover, which he completely blamed on Justin.
 

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