In His Kiss

Chapter 12

The ad executive’s week.


“Sam, can you send your intern up with the boards for the Wilkin’s account?” Brian just had to see Justin, to get the remnant of that dream out of his system. It was playing havoc with his concentration.

“I can send Jules. Taylor is not here today. He is working from home.” Sam sounded a bit unsure. Brian was instantly pissed off. The little fucker was trying to avoid him.

“Sam. Do you ever work from home?”

“No, but…”

“Does Jules? Does anyone else?”

“Huh… no. But he is working on his own computer, and sending things via email, it’s…”

“You call Mr. Taylor and you tell him to get his ass in the office like everybody else. Interns are here to get experience. How he is supposed to do that from home, I really don’t know. If coming to work is too much bother, I seem to recall he was not the only candidate for the job.”

“Ok, Brian, no problem.”

“As soon as he gets in, do send him up with the boards, will you?”

The boards were set up on the easels in his office when Brian came back from lunch. Now Brian was really annoyed. He called Sam again.

“Please send Taylor to the conference room at two to attend the presentation.”

“Huh… Brian, the Wilkin’s account was Jules’ project.”

“I know. I just want someone to be there to make note of any changes we require.”

“But you usually just tell us yourself afterward… Why…?”

“Sam, just send him up, will you?”

“Yes, ok, no problem.”

Taylor showed up just in time, and sat unobtrusively next to Cynthia. The presentation went extremely well, Brian doing his job brilliantly as usual. There were no changes to be done by the art department. Brian walked the clients out, and when he returned, the boards had been taken away and the room put back in order. He stepped back out. Taylor was waiting for the elevator, the boards under his arm. His hair was getting long again.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in, turning around to press the button to his floor. The doors started to close, and right before they were fully shut, Taylor looked at him. He had obviously been aware of Brian the whole time. Brian could read nothing from their eye contact before the doors were fully shut.

That night, Brian went home, changed, went to a bar to hang out a couple of hours, and then to Essengy. He danced, loitered, had his cock sucked and left for the loft at 2a.m. Justin never showed.

The next day, Sam told him they had the first mock up for the Jeffrey Sidoff flatware account and that he could come up at three to discuss them. Brian asked that they be sent earlier for him to look at before their meeting. Usually, Cynthia would have come down to get them, but Brian requested Taylor bring them up.

There were three approaches to the campaign, one focusing on Sidoff, the other two on the flatware.

In the first one, in sepia, with the scene set in the fifties, Sidoff’s parents were called in to the principal of his school, where they were told their son would never live up to his potential if he didn’t stop doodling in class instead of paying attention. Then he showed them his notebooks, the margins filled with designs of knives and forks. It was sweet and funny, aiming at increasing his name recognition outside the restaurant trade.

The second showed a table set for two in a very masculine apartment, as in the background a man and a woman were having drinks. The flatware was clean-lined and sexy, part of the set up of seduction, but the tables were turned once the couple started eating, as the images concentrated on the fork, sliding out of the woman’s mouth, then the spoon, full of ice cream, passing her lips. It was sleek, sophisticated and erotic.

The last one was a takeoff of the film ‘Kill Bill’, where two very sexy women were fighting to the death. The pieces of flatware were used as weapons, forks almost planted in hands, knives thrown and ending up embedded in the walls, and so on. The flatware was put on display, very efficiently, without any reference to food. Its beauty was separated from its function, and the whole scene was violent and sexy.

Justin Taylor had knocked, and immediately upon being admitted, had set up the boards for the magazine ads on the easels and entered the DVD, containing the shorts destined for television spots, into the player. Brian watched him the entire time.

His ass was as spectacularly tempting as ever, but now Brian found he also enjoyed watching the way Justin moved, his long fingered hands, the way he pushed away the hair that kept falling in his face. He was wearing khaki pants and a long sleeve black t-shirt that was snug enough to show off his flat stomach.

There was something luminous about his pale skin and blond hair. He put the remote on Brian’s desk. Brian remembered the feeling of those luscious lips against his own, the unique pleasure of their kiss. But Justin, who had only said a quiet “Hi” after coming in, was about to leave again, without another word.

“Taylor?”

Justin stopped at the door, turning slightly around, but not making eye contact. “Is there anything else, Mr. Kinney?”

“Would you like to watch the TV spots?”

“I’ve already seen them, sir.”

“What do you think?”

“They’re all good, sir.” Still no eye contact.

“I’m sure they are. But which is your favorite?”

Finally, Justin looked at him. The blue of his eyes was still a pleasant surprise. “Which did I like best, or which do I think will sell the most flatware?”

“The two are not the same?”

“No.”

“Really. Tell me about it.”

“I don’t think I know enough about advertizing for my opinion to be valuable. You should watch the spots without prejudice.”

“Do you think your opinion might actually influence mine?” Brian was amused. “I don’t think that will be the case.”

“Well then, I really see no reason to give it, and show my ignorance,” was Taylor’s answer, and he walked out. Brian did not know whether to be annoyed or amused.

He spent the next hour analyzing the mock ups, familiarizing himself with the surveys done by Marcus Shelburn’s team, and watching the TV spots. They were exactly what he’d asked for. Now he just had to choose which approach would be best for the client.

He had pretty much made up his mind by the time Sam came around, but valued the Art Department head’s untainted opinion, so he decided to hear what he had to say before finalizing his decision. He wondered which ad Justin had liked best, which one he thought would sell the most flatware, and why they were not the same. He guessed he would never know.

He went back to Essengy that night, but once again, Justin did not show. He found another blond boy to rub against, one whose body was pliant and tall enough that he did not have to make any efforts for the right areas to come into contact together. His thin lips did not call for kisses though, and while pleasant, his smell was wrong somehow. The boy’s ass was firm, and very welcoming as he fucked him over the back of one of the couches in the lounge, but his hair was not soft enough, and his moans sounded wrong.

Brian closed his eyes, and forgetting the body under him, concentrated on the sensations in his cock, on the hard prick he was fisting, and he came hard as warm spunk spurted in his hand. He ran his other hand down the boy’s sweaty back as he gently pulled out, and handed him a towel before cleaning himself up.

The blond smiled at him. “Do you want to continue this somewhere else?” he asked.

But Brian had now completely lost interest. “No. Thanks. You were good but we’re done here.”

The guy looked disappointed as Brian left.

Every single day that week, Brian thought up some excuse to see Justin. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. Justin looked great, but that wasn’t it. He tried, to no effect, to engage Justin on different subjects, but was effectively deflected, so that they never had an actual conversation. It was puzzling that he wouldn't want to.

He went to Essengy every night, enough to grow bored with it. Finally, on Saturday night, he paid the bouncer at the door a hundred bucks to call him on his cell when Justin showed up next, and went to play billiards in a gay bar.

He took home a trick from Louisiana, who was in New York on business, fucked him hard all night, and again in the shower after only a few hours of sleep. He gave the guy a cup of coffee, but had to make it clear that breakfast was not included to get rid of him. Why the trick imagined Brian would enjoy showing him the sights was beyond his understanding.

He went to a nearby hotel for breakfast, which included a lot of his favorites, from the egg white omelet, to guava juice, and spent almost an hour there reading the New York Times. Then he went back to his loft and worked six hours straight on a presentation.

He ran seven miles on his treadmill, watching CNN, and ended the evening watching Superman on cable, right along with Mikey in the Pitts, both of them getting high while Mikey’s husband and son went out to a movie. He heard the latest news from everyone, and had to listen to Mikey rhapsodizing about his daughter.

By unspoken accord, they did not mention Thanksgiving, but Brian did bring up repeatedly his coming visit at Christmas, specifically asking Mikey what he thought would be good gifts for JR and for Hunter. Truthfully, he was really looking forward to a visit home. It had been way too long.

As usual, he wished he hadn’t sold the loft, although keeping it for only a couple of weeks a year would have made no financial sense, and the Four Seasons’ suite he always rented was perfectly adequate and came with the benefit of housekeeping, room service, and a fabulous spa.

He was in bed by a quarter to eleven, after changing the sheets and reminding himself to try to only bring tricks home on the evenings before the cleaning service came. He put his pillows at the foot of the bed, and smoked one last joint staring at his new painting while slowly jerking off.
 

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