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Brian wheeled himself out of the van. He pushed the remote to raise the lift and close the door. Another click of the remote and it was all locked up till he needed it for the meeting at Ryder tomorrow. He turned his wheelchair and headed up the ramp. He wheeled down the hallway to the elevator.

As he waited for the lift to return to the main floor, he thought about his doctor's appointment. He had been given a clean bill of health. Big fucking deal! He supposed all those exercises that Trey had forced him to do had paid off. He wasn't suffering from any of the internal problems that many paraplegics suffered being confined to a wheelchair and a sitting position all the time. Trey had insisted he do lots of lying and hanging exercises for that reason. He had made Brian do resistance exercises with his legs to keep them from atrophying as long as possible. All the exercises had gradually become part of Brian's daily routine. He spent anywhere from one and a half to two hours daily exercising. He still had to do today's workout. The doctor's appointment and getting up late had thrown him off his usual schedule.

The elevator arrived and he backed his wheelchair onto it. As he did, he heard the front door open and close and caught a glimpse of what he thought might be the same blond guy he had seen earlier. He felt his cock stir again.

"Shit!" he muttered aloud. He wished he could either get a good look at this guy or stop catching glimpses of him at all. Like most things in life the blond would probably be a big disappointment when he got a look at him. Then Brian could forget about him. Besides all Brian would need would be to see someone that he might desire who surely wouldn't desire him. The guy would just think he was some freak in a wheelchair, and he didn't need any reminders of that.

Brian spent the next two hours doing his exercises. He had to admit that he felt great afterwards. He was always exhausted and sweaty and exhilarated. He felt like he could do anything. He made his way to the shower.

By the time he came out of the shower it was early evening and he decided to order some food. Most of his dinners came from a list of local restaurants who did takeout and delivery. He had standing arrangements with all of them. He decided on Thai and placed his order.

While he waited he went over his presentation for Ryder once again. He knew it was good, but he wanted it to be perfect. His presentations were always effective, always had been. But since he had been in the wheelchair he felt the need for everything to be flawless. It was like each presentation was a test, a way of proving himself. He had to show everyone that he was still great at his job, that he could still be a power player even if his legs didn't work.

He glanced at the clock. Where was that fucking Tommy? He knew all the delivery men by name from each of the restaurants he used, and the delivery men knew him. They knew what he expected and what he would tolerate. Being late wasn't one of them. Tommy was usually very punctual and always got his order right. He got a huge tip as a result. This wasn't like Tommy.

"No tip for you tonight," Brian said aloud as he wheeled himself over to the loft door. He wondered where his dinner could be. He was about to call the restaurant when he thought he heard something through the door. Maybe one of the other tenants had let Tommy in. He pulled the door back.

He could hear an unfamiliar high-pitched voice in the stairwell. "I don't have apartment number," the voice said in broken English.

A soft sweet voice said, "Well, what's the name?"

"Kinney."

"I don't know what apartment that is," the soft spoken voice replied.

"I'm up here," Brian shouted down the stairwell. "If that's my fucking dinner, get it up here … now!"

Footsteps clattered up the stairs and a frazzled looking oriental man emerged on the landing.

"Who the fuck are you?" Brian demanded.

"Tuk," the man replied.

"Where's Tommy?"

"He on holiday."

"Where's my dinner … and it fucking better not be cold."

The man appeared to be frightened out of his wits. He extended the bag of food towards Brian apparently afraid to come closer. Brian wheeled through the doorway and grabbed the bag. He looked at the bill to see how much it was.

"Who were you talking to down there?" he demanded as he went back inside to get some money.

"I … I don't know. A blond man one floor below…" Tuk stammered.

"Here," Brian said thrusting twenty bucks at the man.

"Thank you, sir," Tuk replied turning to go down the stairs and get away from this angry man in a wheelchair.

"Next time make sure Tommy delivers my food," Brian called after him and slammed the loft door with a resounding clang.

He dug into the bag drawing out the lukewarm containers. His appetite was definitely dampened by the soggy boxes of food. He scooped out some of his favorite food and nuked it. It wasn't bad all things considered.

While he ate watching TV his mind wandered to the person the delivery man had been talking to. He had said it was a blond man. It must be the guy he had caught a couple of glimpses of. He wondered again what he looked like and what kind of person he might be.

"Snap out of it, Kinney," he said shaking his head. He should know better than to start some kind of fucking fantasy about this guy. He had lived alone for almost two years. He didn't need friends or family. He grimaced as that thought crossed his mind. Except that he did have a family, sort of. Or he would in a few weeks. He wondered at the absurdity of it all.

He decided he needed to get his mind off this crap. He wheeled over to his desk and picked up the portable phone. He hit three on the speed dial.

"It's Kinney," he said when the ring was answered. "Yeah, the usual."

He hung up and went to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He was watching an old movie on TV about an hour later when there was a buzz from the front door. He went to the intercom and hit the button.

"Top floor," he said. It could only be one person. A tap on the loft door a few minutes later told him that his "date" had arrived. He pulled the door back.

"Hi, I'm…" the man began.

"No names," Brian interrupted him.

The man stepped into the loft and Brian closed the door.

"Sweet place," the dark haired man observed.

"Yeah. Did they explain the deal to you?" Brian asked. Dark eyes studied him before the man nodded. "Money's on the counter. Get to work," Brian ordered.

The man pocketed the money before dropping to his knees in front of Brian's wheelchair. His hands reached for the fly on Brian's jeans. He yanked the buttons open and pulled out Brian's stiffening cock. He ran his hand up and down the shaft several times before his mouth engulfed the mushroom head.

Brian's head lolled back. One thing he had never lost was the pleasure of a new mouth on his dick. Experienced lips worked up and down the shaft tugging and sucking. Brian felt the man reach into his jeans and play with his balls. He let out a whiff of air as the beginnings of his orgasm built in his groin.

The man continued his expert work until Brian groaned loudly and shot his load into the warm mouth. After a minute he opened his eyes. His now flaccid cock still hung out of his jeans. He quickly tucked it away and buttoned up. He glanced around looking for the trick. He was leaning against the counter staring at Brian with a superior look.

"You can go now," Brian said abruptly giving a nod of his head towards the door.

The man shrugged. That had been short work for a hundred bucks. "I'm available for other things," the man said as he neared the door.

"I'm not!" Brian stated.

"Suit yourself."

"I always do."

"Call me if you need … relief," the man said pulling back the loft door.

"I don't do repeats."

The man shrugged and with a little smirk disappeared down the stairs.

Brian was pissed. What should have been a pleasurable experience had turned into something ugly. He knew the man's condescending attitude had been there from almost the minute he walked in. Brian should have told him to get the fuck out, but he wanted his dick sucked and the guy was there. The service he used always told the tricks the score and what Brian expected. He was a long standing customer. He expected to be treated better.

He grabbed his phone and hit the number three speed dial.

"I want to speak to the manager or supervisor or whatever the fuck he calls himself," Brian demanded before the guy on the other end could say anything more than, "Studs Unlimited".

"I'm the dispatcher, sir. May I help you?"

"You may fucking help me by putting me through to your fucking boss," Brian spit out.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian knew his name must have come up on call display. "Yes, there is a fucking problem. Now give me the boss."

"One moment please," the young man said and Brian found himself on hold.

"Fuck!"

Brian waited. As each second passed his anger grew. He was about to explode when a different voice said, "Mr. Kinney?"

"Who is this?" Brian demanded wanting to know how far up the chain of command he had managed to get.

"This is my company, Mr. Kinney. Darryl tells me there is some sort of problem."

"We've had an arrangement for over a year now. Why the fuck did you send me that asshole today?"

"Did Carlos do something wrong?"

"His fucking attitude was all wrong."

"I apologize, Mr. Kinney. I'll have a word with him."

"I don't give a fuck about Pedro. I don't ever want a repeat of someone with that attitude."

"Um … I'm not sure how to say this…"

"Say what?" Brian demanded.

"I know you never want a repeat trick. It's getting increasingly difficult to find someone new for you. Carlos has only been with us for a couple of weeks. He was the only one you haven't had before."

Brian seethed. "Then I will be taking my business elsewhere!" He slammed down the receiver. "Fuck!"

He hated it when things didn't go his way. He hated it when he had to make new arrangements with strangers. He liked his routine, as much as he liked anything in his life. This was going to be a colossal pain in the ass finding another service and getting them accustomed to his needs. He heaved a sigh. He'd look for somebody else tomorrow. Right now he needed to get the smell of Pedro off his dick. He needed some sleep before he went to Ryder in the morning. He needed to relax. That's what the fucking trick was supposed to have done.

"Shit!" he griped as he propelled the wheelchair up the ramp to his bedroom.

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Hours later Brian lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. He was never going to get any sleep. He was pissed at the trick and at the fucking owner of the service, and at the lack of satisfaction he had received from both of them.

He hauled himself out of bed, knowing it was useless and counterproductive to keep lying there trying to sleep. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed part of it. He moved over to the computer and logged on. He went to the same chat site he had used the night before.

"Shit!" he muttered. BB was online.

The next thing he knew BB requested an IM. He was tempted to log off and leave the guy hanging. But … he had kind of enjoyed their exchange last night. It wasn't very often that he found someone with an actual brain that he could converse with.

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PP: Are you always on here?

BB: Only when you are.

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Brian snorted. This guy was quick.

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PP: Been waiting long?

BB: My whole life.

PP: What's that supposed to mean?

BB: Nothing, I was just goofing around.

PP: You have a weird sense of humor.

BB: Is that why you like me?

PP: What makes you think I like you?

BB: You're talking to me again.

PP: You got me there. No accounting for taste.

BB: I'd say you have very good taste.

PP: And you'd be right.

BB: See!

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Brian chuckled. This guy had a way of making himself seem like something special, while at the same time making Brian feel good for having chosen him. That was quite a, pardon the pun, trick.

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BB: So what does PP stand for? Your initials?

PP: Maybe.

BB: Omigod! You're Spiderman!

PP: What?

BB: You know, Peter Parker.

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Brian laughed. Jesus, it couldn't be Mikey on the other end of this computer, could it?

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BB: Hey, Peter Parker, did I guess right?

PP: No, you fucking did not!

BB: So I take it that PP is not your initials.

PP: No!

BB: All right, all right, don't get testy.

PP: You're not even close.

BB: So, do the letters stand for something?

PP: Yes. Guess what.

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Brian wanted to see what this guy would come up with. He seemed to have a good imagination.

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BB: Hmm. Pretty Panda?

PP: Are you nuts?

BB: Popular Prognosticator.

PP: You think I'm a weatherman?

BB: That was a good one. Police Pig?

PP: Jesus Christ, no.

BB: I don't know. I'm running out of "P" words.

PP: And here I thought you had a good vocabulary.

BB: It doesn't mean peepee, does it?

PP: You're getting closer.

BB: Eeewwwww! I hope not. Are you going to tell me?

PP: Oh, all right. Perfect Pecker!

PP: Hey, stop laughing. That's exactly what I have.

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That was the meaning Brian always used for his online acronym. Nobody ever knew what it really stood for.

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BB: If you say so.

PP: I do say so.

BB: But does anybody else?

PP: Many satisfied customers have given me testimonials.

BB: I'll have to take your word for it.

PP: Yes, you will. So what does BB stand for?

BB: Your turn to guess.

PP: Brigitte Bardot.

BB: I'm not a girl.

PP: Neither is Brigitte.

BB: Who is that anyway?

PP: A French movie star from the sixties. She was a huge sex symbol.

BB: How old did you say you were?

PP: I didn't. I said I was older than you.

BB: Guess again.

PP: Blonde Bombshell.

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Bardot had been called a blonde bombshell. Brian was also thinking of the blond from the lobby. He wondered why BB wasn't responding. Maybe this guy was blond too. Maybe he had guessed his web name.

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PP: Did I guess it? Are you pissed off that I did?

BB: You were pretty close.

PP: Just close?

BB: Yeah.

PP: Blond Boy?

BB: You got it.

PP: I did?

BB: Well, sort of. That's one of the meanings.

PP: What's the other?

BB: Maybe I'll tell you someday.

PP: My initials have another meaning too.

BB: You're just saying that because I said mine have two meanings.

PP: No, mine do.

BB: We seem to have a lot in common.

PP: Yeah.

BB: Someday we should really come clean.

PP: I need to go. I have a big presentation tomorrow.

BB: Good luck.

PP: Thanks.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian logged off. He did seem to have some things in common with this guy. But there also were enormous differences. He could almost forget his shitty existence when he talked to BB. That didn't happen very often. It wouldn't matter though. They'd never meet.

Brian wheeled himself up to the bedroom. He hoped he could get a couple of hours of sleep before he left for Ryder.

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