In His Kiss

Chapter 8

Brian's priorities.


After finding out that there was one less Justin Taylor in the world than he had originally thought, Brian stared at his new painting. He absolutely loved it. It was completely abstract, and yet had the feel of a landscape. On the wall, it felt like a window to the natural world, to an untouched primeval forest, fresh yet dappled by sunlight.

It had been more expensive to have it shipped in its special container than it had cost to buy it in the first place. The other one (he had bought both, of course), was hanging in the loft, on the wall behind his bed. Abstract as well, yet full of eroticism and primal sex. You could stare at it for hours (as Brian had done), and never be able to pinpoint what gave that impression of the raw celebration of life, but you could feel it like a tingle in your skin.

So now, the two places he spent the most time, doing what he did best, working, and fucking, were dominated by gorgeous paintings. Gorgeous paintings created by one Justin Taylor, previously of Los Angeles, and now of New York City.

What an amazingly fucked up coincidence. He took a deep breath. He loved the paintings. They were staying.

He, on the other hand, was going out. He needed to fuck. He changed quickly into his usual clubbing attire, had a scotch for the road, and had a cab drop him at an upscale gay club which had a magnificent orgy room, and a private membership that cost more than Justin Taylor would be paid for his three months of indentured servitude at Plexus. Somewhere, in short, where he was absolutely sure never to run into him.

He played pool, cruising a hot little blond who wore tight silver pants showing off his cock and a short shirt that let perfect abs peak through. He fucked him three times, on his back, on his knees, and once more as they took a shower together. His ass was nice and tight, his skin and hair soft, and he had the face of an angel. Yet Brian couldn’t bring himself to kiss him, and every time he came, he closed his eyes and thought about Justin. Fuck.

He ended up at two in the morning standing at the foot of his bed, a glass of scotch in hand, staring at his painting.

He made a firm resolution to stay away from the Art Department, and to only go clubbing in upscale, expensive establishments. He also decided he would fuck hard and often, which always did him good.

Once again, he started spending his lunch hour working out and getting satisfying blowjobs in the steam room, and his evenings fucking at least one, and sometimes two guys a night. After five weeks of that regimen, Cynthia remarked on how healthy and well rested he looked, and he had even gone back down to three percent body fat.

It would be a crying shame to waste that on the Pitts. He made arrangements to go to the Miami white party instead of home for Thanksgiving. He would go back for Christmas.

He had just finished booking his flight when the preliminary layouts came up from the Art Department for the “Body by Design” gyms. They had evidently been inspired, because where he usually expected two or three ideas, he was presented with four.

Wow. These were not prelims. They were completed and awesome. The first concept focused on health, and made him feel like he needed to have his blood pressure checked and go for a ten-mile run. The second concept emphasized fun. Now he couldn’t wait to join a pick-up basketball game. The third one was about looks. Brian knew he looked perfect, and yet felt the urge to prolong his abs workout next time he was at the gym.

The last concept, his favorite, made clear that guys who worked out got to fuck more, and fuck better, though how that transpired from the black and white back of some guy working his delts, he had no idea.

The best part of each and every one of the concepts was that you were aware the entire time that the only gym where you would get the results you really wanted was the ‘Body by Design’ gyms, and that nothing else would do.

The guys at the Art Department had totally outdone themselves. He tried to identify who had come up with what from past experience, but could not even guess. He looked at Sam, the head of the Art Department, who was grinning like a fiend, and grinned back. Now, that’s what they paid these guys the big bucks for.

“I know the one you want,” said Sam.

Brian smiled a little smile. Right he was.

“But we were thinking that maybe this could be a multi-facetted campaign, with this one in sports and health magazine, this one in women’s publications, this one in the popular magazines, and this one in the men’s publications. They are all so good. Why limit ourselves?”

It was not often the Art Department came to him with suggestions, and this was brilliant. Running four parallel campaigns would cost the client more, and make more money for the firm, and all four were good enough that he was quite sure they would all be successful.

At least he could present the client with the idea and blow their socks off, even if they ended up downscaling for financial reasons. This was the kind of extra effort that created client loyalty. Brian was thrilled.

He suggested a couple of minor modifications, as well as the addition of a billboard size panel for the presentation, with only the central theme of each represented.

The client had not expected anything until Christmas, and now they could present this to them before Thanksgiving.

He had Cynthia call to make an appointment with them the day before his trip to Miami, making sure to emphasize that this was a final presentation, and not a preliminary meeting, to be certain they brought their big guns.

That morning, Brian reviewed everything, and felt so good about it he actually got a hard on. As predicted, the clients were blown away. Brian would have been happy to show up with any of the campaigns, but to be able to give them all four at once was a total power trip.

The best part about being so far ahead of schedule was that it would allow the campaigns to start well ahead of the new-year, when most memberships to gyms and health clubs were purchased.

They bought the whole thing, hook, line and sinker, almost doubling their initial advertising budget and Plexus profits for the account. All three of his partners had sat in on the presentation, and they all came back to him during the day to congratulate him.

He was still on a high the next day when he caught his flight to Miami, and had the best Thanksgiving any gay man had ever had. He did his best to fuck every blond in Miami, and to show himself he was not doing so because of any blond of his acquaintance, he also fucked every other guy in sight.
 

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