Dumb Blond

Chapter 4

“Thanks, Joe,” Justin said as he slid out of the old van.  “See you Monday, and I won’t be late.”

“Make it so, kid, make it so,” Joe said with a grin before he drove off.

Justin entered the old apartment building where he lived.  The lobby was dingy and not well lit, and of course, there was no security.  Anybody could walk in as the door didn’t even close properly, let alone lock.  Justin went to his mailbox and opened it.  The only things in there were advertisements and bills.

With a sigh Justin started his climb up the stairs to the seventh floor. 

‘It’s good for my dancing legs,’ Justin thought as he approached the first landing.

‘It builds stamina,’ Justin told himself as he rounded the second landing.

‘Gives me strong lungs,’ he assured himself while passing the third floor.

‘Keeps me slim and trim.’  The fourth landing came and went.

‘Tall and proud, Taylor.’  Fifth landing.

‘The future will be yours.’  Rounding the sixth landing.

‘And you’re home, such as it is,’ Justin said to himself as he unlocked the door to his tiny apartment and turned on the light.

He stepped inside and quickly closed the door.  He flipped the multiple locks before walking over to his sofa and sitting down.  He breathed deeply a few times.  As much as he tried to convince himself that he was doing a good thing by walking up seven floors, his body always found those last two floors really hard.  Justin wondered if it would ever get any better.  He had lived here for several months now, and the climb still got to him.

Justin closed his eyes and laid his head back on the old sofa.  He had found the pullout couch in a Salvation Army store, paid twenty bucks for it and another forty to get it delivered and brought up to his apartment.  He was glad to have it.  It was actually quite a nice piece of furniture.  Someone had probably thought they needed a new sofa and had offered this one to the Thrift Store run by the Salvation Army.  That was their loss, and Justin’s gain.

That was how Justin had furnished his apartment.  Everything had come from secondhand stores or from cast offs that he had found in the street.  He had nothing of his own when he first came here, just his meager assortment of clothes.

After his breath evened out Justin glanced at his watch.  It was almost four in the morning.  He was exhausted, and he had to get up by nine to make the best use of his studio time at PIFA at ten.  Wearily he pulled off his clothes, yanked out the sofa bed and crawled in.  He was asleep in minutes.

*****

Brian Kinney staggered out of Babylon.  He was wasted … and proud of it.  He couldn’t remember what he had drunk or sniffed or swallowed, but he knew there had been quite a bit of scotch and a few bumps, oh, and some E.  It didn’t really matter.  He had been to the backroom a bunch of times.  He had fucked and been sucked and that was what mattered.

He looked at his Jeep parked down the street, but even in his wasted state, he had more sense than to try to drive home.  He signaled a cab that was parked a little way up the block.  Babylon was closing and there was always a string of taxis waiting for men in Brian’s condition who would need a ride home.

Brian got in the back of the cab and tried to focus.  He managed to remember his address and told the cabbie.  They were at the loft building in a few minutes.

“This is the address,” the cabbie said as he pulled to a stop.

Brian opened his eyes which seemed determined to stay closed.  “Yeah, right,” he replied.  He fished in his pocket for a twenty which he handed to the cabbie.  “Keep the change.”  The fare was actually a little over eight dollars.

“Thanks, pal,” the man said.  “You okay to get yourself to your apartment?”

“Why?  You offering to carry me?”

The cabbie snorted.  “No, but I could give you a hand.”

“I don’t need a round of applause, and I can walk into the building just fine, and my apartment is called a loft,” Brian stated as he opened the cab door and managed to get himself out.

‘Asshole,’ the cabbie thought.  He had merely wanted to help since the guy had been so generous with his tip, and he was pretty wasted.  The cab driver shook his head and drove off.  Even if the guy was an asshole, a twelve dollar tip wasn’t bad.  The man could fend for himself from here on out.

Brian fumbled with his keys and finally got the right one into the front door of his building.  He staggered inside and over to the elevator.  He thumped the button, calling it back to the first floor.  When it arrived he got in and rode the short journey to his floor.  More fumbling with his keys and the lock on the loft finally opened allowing him inside. 

He swayed slightly back and forth as he tried to head to the fridge.  He was thirsty after all the shit he had ingested at Babylon.  A bottle of water later, Brian was feeling a little less drunk, but he still had a passable buzz. 

He went up the steps to the bedroom.  He knew he smelled like sex and booze and drugs and the backroom of Babylon.  He needed a shower.  He glanced at the clock as he shucked off his clothes.  It was just after four a.m.  A quick shower would still give him three hours of sleep.  That should be enough.

In the shower Brian stood under the hot water letting it sluice off all the smells and other remnants of his backroom escapades.  He had fucked two guys and been sucked at least a couple of times, maybe more.  He really couldn’t remember big chunks of the evening.  But it had been a good night.  Brian smiled.

And then a blond figure materialized in his thoughts.  “Shit!” Brian said aloud.  He thought he had banished the memory of the Dumb Blond.  All the men he had at Babylon had blocked that memory for hours.  But here it was snaking back into his consciousness again.

Brian’s hand went automatically to his thickening dick.  He began to jerk off, thinking all the while about a simple pair of white cotton underwear sliding down over a creamy ass.  He wanted to bury his cock balls deep in that beautiful receptacle.

“Ahhhhh!” Brian gasped as he came hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Brian mumbled as he quickly dried himself.  He walked naked out to the bedroom and slid under the sheets.  He was asleep in a flash.

*****

Justin blinked.  It was him!

The man stepped out of the alley.  He didn’t speak.  He didn’t ask impossible questions.  He approached with confidence and a funny little smirk on his beautiful face.  Those green eyes and the aquiline nose were perfect.  He was unbelievably handsome.

Justin felt his pulse race and his heart thump loudly in his ears.  His cock throbbed in his jeans.  Beads of sweat stood out on his brow.  His mouth dropped open as he drew in a raspy breath.

The next thing Justin knew he was in the man’s arms and he was being kissed like he had never been kissed before. 

His knees went weak, but he held on and opened his mouth to the probing tongue.  And then they were swept away on a wave of passion that threatened to drown them both.

Justin groaned as he came hard.

After a few minutes Justin’s eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened.

“Shit!” he exclaimed as he realized he had made a mess all over his bed.

*****

Brian awoke to the sound of his alarm.  He reached over and gave it a swat to shut it up.  His head felt like a freight train had run over it.  He wondered how many drugs and how much alcohol he had ingested at Babylon.  He could drink and drug plenty without any ill effects, so he must have gone way beyond plenty.

With a groan he forced his reluctant body to leave the bed.  He headed for the shower hoping that would help his headache and the dilapidated feel of his body.

Having showered and dry swallowed three aspirin, Brian headed for the kitchen.  He drank a glass of guava juice and decided to pick up coffee on his way to work.

When he arrived at Kinnetik, having picked up his Jeep from near Babylon, he handed Cynthia a large latte and smugly took a sip out of his own.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“Don’t question the gift horse,” Brian retorted.

“You’re a gift horse?  I thought you were more like a sleek race horse that had been put out to stud.”

Brian almost spit his coffee all over his assistant.  “I think we’ll stop with the horse analogies now.  Is Mick in the art department?”

“He just got here.”

“Good, I may need him.”

“He wasn’t happy about coming in on Saturday.”

“If he wants this job, he better be happy,” Brian advised.

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Cynthia said smiling sweetly before she headed to her desk.

Brian watched her for a moment before he went into his office.

*****

Justin woke with a start.  It was barely 7:30 and he didn’t have to be to PIFA until ten.  He had been dreaming about that guy again.  He rubbed his eyes and pulled the sheet around him.

How could some guy he didn’t know, who had barely spoken to him, who had frightened him, take over his waking … and sleeping hours.  This was too weird.  It was just that the face of this guy was so beautiful.  He was like some Greek or Roman god that Justin had studied statues of in his art classes. 

Closing his eyes, Justin could picture the features that had consumed his brain ever since he had seen the man at Club Emvic.  Justin’s fingers itched to sketch him.  He wanted to get that face down on paper before he forgot, if he ever could.  He was sure he would never see the man again, but he wanted to.  He wasn’t sure how he could act any differently with him than he had the first time, but he longed to see that face, and that body, again.

Justin tried to push the images away.  He needed to go back to sleep.  He could get another hour or so before he had to get up.  He turned over and pulled the sheet over his head blocking out the light.  He lay still trying to empty his mind.

*****

Brian sat at his desk studying the files on his computer.  They were working on a campaign for a logistics company called Fluke Transportation.  The Fluke family owned a large fleet of transport trucks that delivered goods all over North America.  The logistics business was very competitive, so this company had come to Kinnetik hoping that a great ad campaign would boost their share of the lucrative market.

The first thing Brian would have done, had the option been given to him, would be to change the damn name.  Who wanted to deal with a company where getting the job done could be a “Fluke”?  Once Brian found out that the family name of the people who owned this company was Fluke, he didn’t even venture to suggest a name change.

Brian and his crew had come up with some good ideas.  The boards that had been dreamed up were sitting on easels at the far side of Brian’s office.  The Fluke family, consisting mainly of two brothers who ran the day to day operations, was scheduled to come in at 4 p.m. that day.  The only thing missing was a catchy slogan that would cap off the campaign.  Brian had tossed around a lot of different ideas, and they had finally ended up with “Let Fluke Logistics take a load off your mind”.  It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t great either.  Something was nagging at the back of Brian’s brain.  He knew there was a better slogan out there if he could just get the words to jump out of his mind and onto his computer.  That was why he had Mick come in today, in case he got a great idea that he could place on the boards at a moment’s notice.

Brian leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.  Nothing would come to him.  After a few minutes he stood up and walked toward the boards standing on the easels.  He loved the colors.  They were bold and eye catching so that was a good thing.  If only he could get the right slogan…

Brian stopped in front of the boards.  There were three of them.  He studied the first one.  It was good.  But…  It needed that fucking great slogan he was searching for.  “Let Fluke Logistics take a load off your mind” just didn’t cut it.

Brian moved to the middle board.  This was one of his favorites.  That was when he noticed a post-it note stuck on the right side of the board.  Brian scowled.  Someone would have his head chopped off for leaving this scrap of paper stuck to the presentation he was going to make in a few hours.  He yanked the post-it note off the board.  He was about to scrunch it up in his hand and throw it away, when he decided to see what was written on it.  If he found out that someone at Kinnetik was making comments on the work they were doing, comments that might have been found by their clients if Brian hadn’t noticed the post-it just now, there would be hell to pay.

Brian looked down at the small square of yellow paper.  “If it’s on time, it’s a Fluke!” was printed on the square of paper.  Brian almost laughed out loud.  It was perfect.  It was absolutely the right slogan for this company.

“Cynthia, get in here!” Brian shouted.

“What is it?” Cynthia asked rushing into the room.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m better than all right.  Why didn’t you tell me you thought of the perfect slogan for Fluke Logistics?”

“I didn’t tell you because I haven’t thought of anything,” Cynthia replied with a frown.

“But … if it wasn’t you, where did this come from?” Brian asked.  He handed her the post-it note.

Cynthia did laugh out loud when she read the slogan.  “Oh, that is just the best idea!” she gushed.  “It’s perfect!”

“I know it is,” Brian said with his own frown, “but where did it come from?”

“Maybe it was one of the interns or one of the up and coming people in the art department,” Cynthia suggested.  “If they weren’t sure we’d like it, maybe this was their way of getting it out there without having to take responsibility if we hated it.”

“Well, we don’t hate it,” Brian stated.  “I want you to find out who came up with this, but first get the slogan down to Mick and have him make new boards using the same pictures, font and colors as these pieces of crap.”  Brian began gathering up the boards.  “Tell him to get this new slogan put on as soon as possible.”

“Sure, Boss, but how do you expect me to find out who printed something on a piece of paper?”

Brian merely looked at her as he handed her the boards.  “Find a way.  And get these changed.  We’ve only got a few hours before the Fluke brothers arrive.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cynthia said before heading out the door.

Brian went to his desk and sat down in his big chair.  Where had that slogan come from?  It was genius.  Usually he was the one who came up with the genius slogans, but not this time.  He had no doubt the Fluke brothers would love the campaign now. 

Brian wanted to know who the someone was who had saved his butt with this account.

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