Chapter 13

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Brian

I walk into my office and find the blunder twins, Brad and Bob, waiting for me. Wonderful, another pitch I have to shoot down and then take up the slack myself to save the fucking account. Why Ryder keeps these two on is beyond me.

"Brian!" Brad greets me. Or is it Bob? Who the fuck cares?

"Okay, boys," I tell them. "You've got fifteen minutes. What have you got for me?"

"The Schulmann Shoe layout," says Bob, Brad, whothefuckever.

"You're going to love it," adds the other one.

"I'll be the judge of that," I retort.

My office door opens and a vaguely familiar guy walks in. "Sorry," he says.

I'm slightly annoyed by the interruption. "You looking for someone?"

"Yeah, the Schulmann Shoe meeting," he replies. "Mr. Ryder said I should sit in…learn a thing or two, he said."

"Well, Brian is the best," says Bob.

"The best," adds Brad. Ass kissers.

"Thanks, Brad," I look at him.

"Uh, I'm Bob," he replies.

"I'm Brad," says the other one. Oh fucking brother. Am I in hell? I roll my eyes.

Finally the newcomer speaks up. "I'm Kip Thomas. I just started here."

At least his name doesn't start with a fucking B. "Well, sit your ass down, Kip Thomas. The boys are about to put on a show." I hold up the shoe that's been sitting on my desk. "So, how can we make this fucking ugly shoe exciting?"

"The same way we made those fucking ugly raincoats exciting last May," says Brad/Bob.

"Models," chimes in Bob/Brad. "By taking your eye off this shoe." He holds up a board and flips the cover off.

"And putting them on this face," added the other one.

They hand me the board and I glance at it. "But the trouble is," I look up at them. "We're not selling this face. We're selling this hideous shoe." I hold the board up so Kip can see it. "What do you think?"

"Um, I like it. It's, um, really good." The blunder twins look smug until Kip opens his mouth again, that is. "Only..."

"Only?" they say in unison.

"Oh, well, why try and hide what the product is?"

He has my attention now. "Go on," I encourage him.

He picks up the shoe. "I'd just photograph the shoe...with maybe a thought bubble...saying something like; I'm not hip, I'm a classic."

Bob/Brad looks at me. "Brian, may we continue please?"

"No, you may not." I grab their board and stand up, moving over to Kip. "I'm not hip, I'm a classic. You've given it personality, with humor, and retained its so called dignity." I hand the board back to Brad/Bob and turn back to Kip. "How long have you been here?"

"Uh, two months," he replies.

"You know, they've been working here for two years," I gesture towards Bob/Brad. "Draw it up," I tell him.

"Me?" he asks in disbelief.

"Him?" says Bob.

"Him?" says Brad.

"Him," I tell them both. "The boys will help you out." I shoot a look to them. "Won't you, boys?"

They both grin hesitantly at me. I'm enjoying the display of false friendliness. I pick up a book I've been reading for research, effectively dismissing them all from my office.

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Emmett, Ted, Mikey and I are all at Babylon. I'm enjoying a drink before I really get started with the evening's festivities. "The P-town party's coming up, boys," I say to them. I'll make the reservations, as usual. For the three of us."

"Three of us?" Mikey questions.

"Yeah, me and Emmett, and Ted. Oh, we need someone older to chaperone." I gesture to Ted.

"What sparkling wit," Ted snaps back. "I live for your repartee."

"What about me?" Mike practically whines.

"You can't go," I reply.

"Why not?"

"You're in a relationship," Ted tells him. "Or have you forgotten?"

"No more fun for you," I say, leaning into his face.

"David said I could go," he retorts. "As long as I behave myself."

"Well, then, what's the point of going?" I ask.

"Just means more men for me and Em," Ted adds. He turns to Emmett, who, by the way, is dressed like some uptight yuppie tonight. What the fuck is up with that? "Right, Em?"

"Huh?" says Emmett distractedly. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he adds.

"What's the matter with you?" Ted asks him.

"He's got razor burn on his balls," I tell them.

"I'm fine," Emmett says. "I'm fine." Is he trying to convince us or himself?

"Well then, get your ass on the dance floor," I say as I move off to dance, pulling Mikey with me.

Ted joins us, but Emmett disappears completely for the evening. Huh.

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The next day I'm bent over my desk fixing some copy when I hear a knock at my open office door. "Brian."

I turn as Kip walks in. "You CEO of the company yet?" I ask him.

He chuckles. "Ah, give me a week or two. So, Mr. Ryder told me you were really going to use my ideas for the shoe ads."

"I'll steal anything good and put my name on it."

"That's great," he smiles. "Although Bob and Brad aren't too happy about it."

"Well, people with no talent usually aren't when someone with real talent comes along." I gesture toward him.

"Yeah, I hear you're pretty talented yourself," he replies. Hmmm. I wonder where this is heading. "In fact," he continues. "You have a reputation."

"I do?" I say, keeping my tone even.

"For being the best account exec in the company," he replies.

Oh. "Yeah, that too," I say wryly.

"And that's why I asked if I could work with you."

I look up at him. "I thought Ryder assigned you."

"Yeah, I, uh...lied," he admits.

Guy's got balls. I'll give him that. I stand up and wave him over. "Come here a second. I want to show you something. This is a new campaign we're starting for Liberty Air" I show him a board. "I want you on the team."

"Oh my God, that's...that's fantastic. Wow. How can I ever thank you?"

"By doing a good job," I reply.

"You can count on it," he assures me as he begins backing out of the office.

What's that? I know when I'm being checked out. Hmmm. I look him up and down and then turn back to my copy. Office fuck. Probably not the greatest idea.

"I just want you to know you can count on me for anything. Day or night."

"Well, you really are going for the gold watch," I snark at him.

"I mean it," he says as he moves closer to me. "Because I think you're really, really amazing."

Okay, now he's sliding his hand under my jacket. Must resist the office fuck. Must resist the office fuck. I lean in closer to him. "What are you doing?"

"Shit," he says as he backs away a bit. "I'm sorry." He turns to move away. "Look, I don't know what I was thinking."

Screw it. "Yeah, well, whatever it was, it felt wrong," I say as I follow him to the door. Our hands reach the knob at the same time. "Because I'm the one who makes the first move." I lock my door, reaching for his tie and then move over to close the blinds.

He's like putty in my hands when I rip his shirt open and soon enough we are both disrobed. All the papers for the Liberty Air account go flying off my desk and Kip replaces them; on his back, open and waiting. I toss the condom up in the air and catch it in my mouth, tearing it open and quickly putting it on. As I'm pounding into him, I muse to myself that perhaps an office fuck every so often is not so bad.

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I pick up Mikey after work and regale him with my little adventure at the office.

"You fucked him in your office?" he yells in disbelief.

Jesus. I think he's gotten even more uptight since he's been with the doc. "He was the best thing to come across my desk in a long time," I smirk.

"You are unbelievable!"

"Yeah, that's what he said."

"I didn't mean it like that," he laughs.

"Don't tell me no one has ever had a big O at the Big Q."

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't know."

"Well, I would, firsthand. And I mean firsthand experience."

"Are you saying...?"

"You remember last Christmas when I came to pick you up and you were setting up for Santa's Workshop?"

"Not Santa," he says as if he's in pain. "Don't tell me you fucked Santa."

"Ahh," I comfort him. "Even I wouldn't do that. I'm not into fat." I grin. "His elf!"

"You didn't!"

"What he lacked in feet he made up for in inches."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to know. But, you better be careful. I mean, doing it in your office might be a little high risk, even for you."

"He asked for it. He came on to me. I gave him a great opportunity and a great fuck. He has no complaints."

I can feel the disapproval oozing from Mikey, but he doesn't say anything else about it. Fucking worrywart.

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I'm trying to work on the Liberty Air ads when little merry sunshine comes into the loft. The kid fucking wants me to go out with him. Yeah, like that's going to happen.

"How long have you known me?" I ask him. "I don't do dates."

"It's not a date," he replies earnestly. "I just wanted to know if you want to come to Babylon with me." Justin leans over to where I'm sitting at my table, his fingers anxiously tapping my hand.

I seriously contemplate it for a second, then rein myself in. "The answer's no. I have work to do." I stand up and leave the table.

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" he asks insolently.

I smack him on the ass as I pass by. "I though you were studying for your SATs."

"Uh, dancing helps me concentrate." I shoot him a look. "Seriously," he replies. "It releases certain endorphins, so I can study harder, and for longer periods of time."

"Mmm, so Babylon's good for your health."

"Mm, hm," he answers.

"Yeah, that's a new one."

My intercom buzzes and Justin makes a move to answer it. "I'll get it!"

I grab the back of his shirt and arrive at the wall before him. "I'll get it," I tell him. I press the button. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Kip," comes the voice over the speaker.

Justin grins at me. "Who?"

"None of your business." I gently grab his face. "And it is business, believe it or not." I give his cheek a little smack.

"I guess I'll just have to find someone else to dance with. It shouldn't be a problem," he adds cockily.

"And then you can study longer and harder," I retort as I chase him out of the loft and down the stairs.

Just then the elevator arrives, with Kip standing in it. "Hey," he says.

"You have any trouble finding it," I ask him.

"No, the directions were perfect."

"Good," I glance at his briefcase. "You brought your work."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Justin standing at the bottom of the first landing of steps. The little shit is checking Kip out. I'm sure he doesn't think I see him. I sigh to myself and slam the door shut.

Kip scans the loft. "Man, this is awesome."

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask.

"Yeah, you got a beer?"

"Yeah." I head to the fridge and grab two of them.

He takes off his jacket. "So, if you don't mind my asking, how much does a place like this cost?"

Well, that's a little personal. "More than you can afford on your current salary," I tell him bluntly.

"But not for long," he replies.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're going to go far." I tap my bottle to his and head over to my computer.

"Do you mind if I take a look around?" he calls to me.

"Go ahead. I'll be right with you." I gather up my notes and look up. "So," I say as I move through the loft trying to find him. "Why don't we get..." I head up to my bedroom, where, oddly enough, he is naked and draped across my bed. "Started." I finish my sentence.

"That's just what I had in mind," he replies.

I take a swig of my beer and contemplate for a moment. I don't usually do repeats, but hey, they don't usually drape themselves naked across my bed either. He is my guest after all. What kind of a host would I be if I denied him what he obviously wants? I step into the room, set down my beer, and start to take off my clothes.

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I'm on my way out of my office when Kip intercepts me. "Hey how's it going?" he asks.

"I've got a meeting outside the office in twenty minutes," I say as I head out the door.

"I hope it's not like our meeting outside the office."

I turn around. "What?" He just looks at me and then I snort. "Oh." I begin to head down the hall.

"So, when do you want to get together?" he asks.

I turn back to him. "Ask Cynthia to check my schedule. Maybe after the Schulmann meeting."

"I meant for dinner," he clarifies.

Jesus Christ. "I don't know. I'm late."

"Listen, before you go there's something I want to ask you."

"You have thirty seconds."

"Um, Dave Harcourt is being bumped up to director, which means his management position is available. I'd like to go up for it, and I'd like you to recommend me. I think I'd be damn good."

Oh, I see. "I think you would be too."

"Thanks."

"But not yet."

"Why not?"

"It's too soon."

"Well, you keep telling me how great my ideas are."

"They are, but you still have a lot to learn."

"I can learn on the job."

"I admire your ambition, but you need the experience to back it up. Give it time." I start to move away.

"I don't have time," he answers. "Then they'll give it to someone else. I think I'd be perfect."

"I told you. You're not ready." I shrug my shoulders and walk away. Shit, I'm going to be late.

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I observe the scene at Babylon as I lean with my back against the bar and finally turn my attention back to Michael and Ted. "You hooked Emmett up with Zach O'Toole?"

"I wish I could have been there to see his face," Michael laughs. "When he opened the door..."

"And just saw him standing there," adds Ted.

"Zach O'Toole is supposed to have a twelve inch dick," Justin puts in his two cents worth.

Michael looks at him. "How do you know who Zach O'Toole is?"

"Everybody knows who the man rammer is," Justin retorts.

"Even school boys?" Michael asks.

"Yeah," Ted says. "It's part of the curriculum. Gay Porn Stars 101."

"Yeah, and here's the first lesson," I say as I set my beer down on the bar. "Those that can, do, and those that can't, watch porn." That shuts them up. Suddenly an interesting specimen walks by and I leave to follow. "See ya, boys."

I follow my prey into the back room when I hear a familiar voice. "Hey, Brian, you wanna dance?" Great, it's my office stalker, a shirtless Kip. Is there something about me that attracts stalkers?

"I don't think so," I reply as I turn to try and see where my prey went.

"We're not in the office now," says Kip. "So let's get down."

"I'm busy," I tell him. I look around again, and fuck, I've lost the guy. I turn back to Kip in annoyance. "Or at least I was. What do you want?"

"Couple bumps?"

"You shouldn't let senior management know that," I say, pointing to myself.

"I'm just celebrating," he replies and I can see that he's already had a few bumps. "Tonight's a special occasion."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Jim Clemensky got that position. You know, the one you wouldn't recommend me for."

I rub the back of my neck. "Look, I told you..."

"You owed it to me," he whines.

"Why, because I fucked you?" I ask him. I move closer and speak in his ear. "You weren't that good."

I walk off, but he follows, grabbing onto my shirt. "I'm gay, he says. "You're gay."

"Yeah, we're all gay." I tell him. "Do you think that means I owe you some favor?"

"How else are we supposed to get ahead if we don't help each other?"

"The same way that I did, by helping yourself. And by doing your job better than anyone else. If you can do that, then trust me, they won't give a shit where you stick your dick." I hand him a popper. "And don't mix that with booze. There," I say as I place my hand behind his neck. "I did you a favor." I leave him standing there alone. Whiny little prick.

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The idiot twins are back in my office trying to wow me, yet again.

"We thought that the nostalgic reference to the fifties would appeal to the denture set," Bob/Brad says as he unveils yet another stupid story board.

"Why, by reminding them that their best years are behind them?" I lean forward. "That all they have to look forward to is deterioration, and death."

"We thought it would make them smile," replies Brad/Bob.

Fuck! Could these two be any dumber? "They're afraid to smile," I lean forward. "They're fucking teeth will fall out!" I yell. "Where's Kip?"

"Uh, he called in sick."

I snort. "Shit."

Just then Ryder comes into my office. "Brian, can I talk to you?"

I look to Bob/Brad. "I'll finish berating you later." Ryder shuts my door after Lucy and Ethel leave. "What's up?"

"You tell me," he answers. "I just received this fax from Kip Thomas' lawyer," he holds up a piece of paper. "It says that you promised to help Mr. Thomas' career in exchange for sexual favors. And when he complied, you rescinded your offer."

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. "Well, that's complete and utter bullshit," I reply.

"Well, bullshit or not, he's suing you, and us, for sexual harassment." Ryder drops the paper on my desk and then leaves.

Oh fuck. I am in big fucking trouble.

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