Spin and Fall

Chapter 16

Brian had dazzled the representative of the giant toy retail company with the Sim and Sam commercial and his analogy between their issue with Big-Q and Sim and Sam’s with REI. The man had also seemed to take very seriously what Brian recommended as far as getting an edge on the Big-Q sales force. The fact that Kinnetik would not consider taking on the very lucrative contract without some effort to improve and differentiate their store from Big-Q was a pretty clear statement. He left very impressed. Brian was hoping he would eventually return with something concrete to base a campaign on.

Brian had hired young Simon Etzioni. Justin’s e-mail, fired off immediately after his part of the interview, had said, “I can definitely work with him.” Brian had found him to be pleasant, creative, sure of himself, and with a very good background: He was currently working for Vangard and found Gardner to be too timid. Cynthia had checked with her spies at Vangard. Etzioni was considered a big asset in their Art Department. Stealing him away was yet one more thorn in their side, something that made Brian infinitely happy. Simon also let slip he was married with two kids and a third one on the way. Good. The man needed to work…

That morning, Ted had asked Cynthia to put him in Brian’s line-up for the day, which might be good or bad. Brian waited expectantly when the time of their meeting came. Ted walked in with only a small note-card, an unusual fact for the accountant. Ted sat down, took a deep breath and began:

“Brian, I’ve done some research into JT’s past, once again meddling with something that’s really none of my business. It’s becoming a very bad habit... And again, I am putting our longer friendship ahead of what he might prefer by offering to disclose what I found to you. You have a choice. You can hear what I have to say, or tell me to cease and desist. I’ll comply, either way…”

Brian didn’t even pretend not to want to know. As a matter of fact he was intensely curious. “Shoot.”

Ted nodded, as if that was exactly what he expected. “I told Blake what you mentioned about Justin’s PTSD. He strongly disagrees with the PTSD diagnosis based on a lot of things, but he nonetheless thinks there must have been some major trauma in Justin’s past, the memories of which were stirred to the surface by the recent events in his life. Based on Justin’s attitude toward anal penetration, and the violence of his nightmares, he guesses Justin has been sexually assaulted in the past, most probably in a male on male rape. He also surmises, based on statistics and who knows what, that there was probably more than one assailant.”

Though Brian had been fairly sure Justin had been the victim of a rape, he still received Blake’s professional opinion like a punch to the gut. Justin, his beautiful Justin…

“This is what I found. In June 2000, at age 17, Justin graduated, valedictorian no less, from St. James Academy in Denver, Colorado. He started at Cornish in September of the same year. I found a report of an incident in the Denver Post dating from April 2000, mentioning students of St. James. It talks of a prank involving eight students, with one ending up in the hospital, six senior students suspended from the football team and one student dropping out of school altogether. The coverage of St. James’ graduation that year describes a three-minute period of silence, replacing the usual speech by the valedictorian; the valedictorian apparently being in critical condition in the hospital during the graduation ceremony.”

A prank? How in the fuck did the school manage to cover up a rape that left the victim in critical condition in the hospital for weeks on end as a prank? This was mind-boggling.

“I got a hold of a 2000 yearbook from St. James. His peers voted Justin “Cutest,” “Most talented,” “Most likely to succeed,” and “Most likeable”. Since Justin missed final exams, he should not have been able to remain valedictorian. However, there was a petition mounted by ten students, including the six suspended football players, for him to retain the title he’d held throughout high school. It had the signature of every graduating student.

“Cutest,” “Most talented,” “Most likely to succeed,” and “Most likeable”. Getting a whole senior class motivated to sign a petition so close to graduation, with college applications and the prom and who knows what else going on was no small feat. And the six football players spearheading the effort? What the fuck had happened over there? Was it a prank and not a rape?

“There were only very spotty follow-ups in the Post on the state of health of the student in the hospital. Apparently, he was in a coma for thirteen weeks, due to complications and drug allergies. He was listed in critical condition for over seven weeks. There is nothing about the nature or severity of his injuries.”

Brian wondered how he could find out. He had no idea.

“I have the name of the six suspended students and the name of the student who dropped out. He seemed to have arrived as a senior and was named captain of the football team immediately due to his abilities. I think he was recruited by the school out of the public school system because of his abilities and because of St. James’ desire to win the private school league that year. It’s a pretty common practice. Before St. James, he was at Manuel where he had been suspended several times due to violent behavior, including beating up a student because of the student’s sexual orientation.”

Brian’s mind was full of questions. He felt more confused than ever.

“That’s pretty much all I got. If you want to know more, you’ll have to get someone on site, like a private investigator. Blake feels that what happened was that Justin was raped by several or all six football players, sustaining injuries severe enough to send him to the hospital in a coma. Once released, he probably went through intense psychological counseling, and almost fully recovered, except for his inability to accept anal penetration, which the doctor and the patient might have agreed was not all that important in the big picture. He was probably treated with medications for a time as well, such as an anti-anxiety drug, an anti-depressant, and possibly a drug to help with recurring nightmares. He would have tapered off the drugs as his therapy successfully ended, and he resumed a high functioning symptom-free life.”

That sounded right. Justin was confidant, intelligent, interested in everything, gregarious. He’d definitely beaten his demons. And yes, in the big picture, when you fucked like he did and were able to have such a successful sex life, bottoming was not that important…

“Justin’s desire to please you might have triggered a return of the nightmares and of some of the anxiety, for which he might have more or less successfully self-medicated. It would be very good at this stage for him to resume therapy, though he may be extremely reluctant to do so, unwilling to relive again the trauma he once successfully put behind him.”

Brian hadn’t known of Justin’s difficulty at first of course. He’d only thought he’d met a top even more reluctant to bottom than he was. But truth be told, he certainly knew now and was aware of the number of slips he made regularly that only increased the pressure on Justin. He felt like a jerk, but it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to fuck Justin.

Today was a perfect case in point. Their fuck had been amazing, but as Justin was holding his hips and pounding into his ass, and as it felt so perfect, so amazingly fucking perfect, he would have given anything to trade positions. It could not have felt any better, been any more pleasurable and he’d already had Justin come before he did because, well, that was the way things should be, but he wanted to be in Justin’s ass. He wanted to top him. He just fucking wanted to top him…

Ted looked at Brian. “I’m through with this. I’m not particularly happy with having gone this far in digging though a friend’s past, even though I did it with the best of intentions. I hope you two can manage your difficulties and stay together, because I really feel you are incredibly well matched, but I’m done interfering.
 
“I really like Justin. I have, if not completely betrayed, at least stretched his trust to the max. If he comes to me again, I will keep anything he says to myself. I’m here if you need to talk, and I will try to help you, but not at the expense of Justin’s confidences. You can also talk to Blake, which you might prefer anyway. The two of us wouldn’t trade information.”

Ted sighed. “I know why you don’t do it Brian, but you might consider going public with your relationship with Justin. I believe you’re right to think everyone but Michael would conclude you bottom for Justin, but that would be one less stressor in Justin’s life. I’m amazed you got him to stop tricking, especially since you still do. That’s yet one more stress relief outlet he no longer has. I hope you know what you’re doing…”

Brian hadn’t thought about the fact that hiding their relationship might be stressful for Justin. After all, he really did it for Brian. Now that he was well established as the Art Director and that all agreed he was fantastic at his job, “boning the boss” was really not such a big deal.

God! How one-sided could a relationship get? Justin kept it secret for Brian, he stopped tricking for Brian, He’d given up as much control as he could in their sexual encounters for Brian… And Brian only wanted more. He felt like such an asshole.

Ted deposited the small note card with the information he’d uncovered on Brian’s desk. He rubbed his palms on his thighs, shrugged and said, “Well. Back to accounting for me. Good going hiring that Etzioni kid. They loved him at Vangard. I’m sure Gardner is ruing the day he let you go.” Ted chortled admiringly. “Poor SOB. You really are going to sink him.” He got up and walked to the door. He stood there, obviously hesitating about saying something more to Brian, probably thinking it would piss Brian off.

“Out with it, Theodore. You have complete amnesty for whatever is said in this office this afternoon. Take advantage of it…”

Ted turned back to him. “I don’t understand you, Brian. He’s beautiful, intelligent, passionate, sweet, funny, generous… Per your own admission, your sex life is unbelievably good. He bends over backwards to make you happy. Why can’t you be? Why does he have to go through life feeling like he’s failing the man he loves?”

Brian rolled in his lips. So many times he’d been called an asshole unfairly, and so many other times he’d been called an asshole fairly but didn’t give a shit. This time, he was called an asshole fairly, to his face, by someone whose opinion and friendship he valued, and he did care. Very much.

“I wish I knew, Theodore. I wish I understood it myself. Maybe you and I are wrong. Maybe he’d be better off without me.” Which evidently was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh yeah, sure,” said Ted, obviously irate at his answer. “Use this to have an excuse to push him off the Kinney cliff, so your little friends don’t ever have to know you took it up the ass and loved it. It’s not as if he’d go away thinking that if only he could have overcome his phobia he would have kept you - which would kill him. It’s not as if he loves you so goddamn much he’s stopped tricking for you. Nah. I’m sure he’d be just fine, you self-absorbed prick. You know what, Brian? Maybe you should go to therapy. Maybe you should figure out why not sticking your cock up his ass is worth destroying the best thing you’ve ever had, never mind destroying one of the greatest guys I’ve ever had the chance to meet. Jerk.”

Ted walked out of the office, and slammed the door so hard Brian was surprised it didn’t fall to pieces. OK… Note to self. Think before saying something really stupid to Ted. Second note to self. Unless prepared to hear the unvarnished truth, never give Theodore amnesty again…

He called Cynthia into his office.

“Having an interesting day, Brian?” she asked with a smirk.

“Fascinating, thank you. Two things. I need to go to Denver for a few days, as soon as possible, and you need to lie to everyone and tell them I went to… Fuck…”

“Tell them you went to Springfield, Missouri to the headquarters of Toy World? Or to Chicago for an emergency meeting with Leo Brown?”

“Chicago, for an emergency meeting with Leo Brown and to visit some of Vangard's clients in person. And make it true. Book me with a couple of days in Chicago on the way back. Thanks. And when I return… I need an appointment with a psychologist. If you breathe a word to anyone about it, forget about being fired. I’ll have you killed. OK?”

Cynthia smiled at him. “You really love him, don’t you…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Cynthia rolled his eyes. “I’m supposed to be oblivious to the fact that our Art Director is head over heels in love with you and that you more than return the favor. Never mind. We won’t say that you are finally ready to tackle some of your issues because you want this relationship to work, we’ll just say you are going to work on your arachnophobia, shall we?”

“I am not afraid of spiders.”

“Hmm. What do they call the fear of love. Cupidophobia?”

“What do they call the fear of being kicked in the ass on the way out of my office? Pretending-to-be-a-lady-won’t-save-you-from-it-phobia?”

Cynthia laughed and opened the door. “Is there something wrong with the latch on this door? Do I need to slam it really, really hard or was that just punctuation on Ted’s part?”

“Get the fuck out, Cynthia.”

“Yes, Boss.”

God, his employees were driving him crazy… Brian went to his g-mail to write a message.

I fucking love you, JT.

How early can I come tonight?

We have to make it count. I have to go to Chicago for a couple of days, to hold Leo Brown’s hand.

Later,

Aidan

 

**********
 

Justin didn’t say much on the way to his appointment, content with just watching the bustle of Liberty Avenue from the window of Stuart’s red Honda Insight. Stuart pulled over.

“It’s the dove grey door, second floor, left side, Dr. Marlin. I’ll pick you up right here when you’re done. OK?”

“I fucking hate you, Stuart.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Justin chuckled. He followed Stuart’s directions, to a door that said Dr. Marvin M. Marlin, MD, PhD. Please come in and take a seat in the waiting room on your right.

Justin did just that. There was only one chair in the waiting room. Well, psychologists worked by appointments. One chair ought to be enough. He picked up the New Yorker and started looking for the funnies. He’d only read a couple when a tall, thin, dark-haired man with a profile like a knife came to get him. Despite his stern features, his smile was warm and kind, and Justin immediately felt his resentment at being forced to visit this man’s office melt away.

**********

 

Dr. Marv Marlin took a deep breath. This was his last appointment. Since he had reviewed his schedule that morning, he had felt some weariness about his final patient of the day. Justin Taylor. AKA “JT” he was quite sure… The next two hours were going to be very difficult, both for Justin and for himself, he thought.

As he walked from his office to the waiting room, he was cheered that Justin was going through the New Yorker looking for the comics. That was always a good sign. He opened the waiting room door and said, “Justin?” He could not help his smile. What a beautiful, beautiful boy, inside and out…

Somehow he realized he’d already made a decision. He would help this boy to the maximum extent of all his abilities, and remove the darkness that polluted his brilliant aura. He rarely felt so willing to extend himself beyond his normal work as a psychiatrist. His gifts were many, but costly, and when exercised in the confines of his profession, quite unethical, really. But there were the rare cases…

He led Justin to his office. There were three similar comfortable looking armchairs; none of them indicating that it was the one he customarily occupied. He was always interested to see which chair the patients chose: Their back to the wall, their back to the large bay window, or their back to the door.

“Please take a sit, Justin,” he said, invitingly.

“Which chair do you prefer, Doctor?” Justin’s grin showed that he knew very well his choice would have interested his therapist, and he demonstrated that he was in control of what was going to go on in the session. Ah… Naïve boy. He just told his doctor much more than if he’d just taken a seat.

“I like to sit with my back to the wall, looking at the window, in case my patients bore me, because then at least I have some distraction…”

He could just see the outrage in the boy’s eyes. What? He doesn’t give 100% of his attention to his patients at all times? Then his fear. Am I going to be listened to, or is he going to watch the world go by as I tell him my most painful secrets? That’s it. I’m not telling this man anything!

The doctor chuckled. “I’m sorry, Justin. I should not tease you so. My favorite chair is the one directly across the one you will sit in, so I can give you my total, complete, undivided attention. I understand your need for control in this situation. Let me reassure you that at all times, you will be in complete control. Now sit where you will feel most comfortable, because we might breach painful topics that will be difficult enough for you without you having to worry about being unpleasantly situated in this room.”

Justin smiled, and sat with his back to the window, demonstrating his renewed trust in his therapist. As Justin passed in close proximity to him, Dr. Marlin received the most unclouded vision of two men making love. Justin and… Hmm. Fascinating. Brian Kinney, bottoming. Well, there was something one didn’t expect ever to see. Justin was Kinney’s lover. And the top in the months long relationship. How unlikely…

“So, Justin. Why are you here? Please don’t fuck around and waste both our time telling me it’s because my friend Stuart made you come. We both know the truth of it. Try to be as honest as you can and we’ll put our time together to the best possible use.”

Justin looked a bit shell-shocked but seeing the truth in his doctor’s statement, replied honestly. “I have nightmares and panic attacks and I am having a hard time keeping food down due to anxiety. I would like all of it to stop.”

“Pretty good, Justin. But we are not going to have to work to find out what is causing these problems, because you already know, and that’s what I want you to tell me. So please, again, why are you here?”

“I… I have nightmares about a traumatic event in my past, and panic attacks when I think about it, and I suffer from general anxiety because of it. I had put the trauma behind me except for a small residual issue which I thought would never be consequential, but it has become a problem lately and triggered a return of the dreams, the attacks, and the anxiety.”

“I understand you might want to avoid talking about something that is bound to trigger a panic attack. But please call a spade a spade. I’m only a so-so mind reader.” He smiled. Justin did not have to know it was the absolute truth. He could think of it as a joke… “Repeat your whole statement again, avoiding only what you really cannot say, please.”

Justin looked thoughtful, no doubt reviewing his statement. Marv was very glad he was so obviously willing to cooperate with his no holds barred approach. He felt for some reason that it was very urgent for Justin to get a handle on his problem.

Justin took a deep breath. “OK,” he said. “I honestly think this is the best I can do. Here goes: After this major trauma, I am unable to bottom. My lover is a top. Not just a versatile who prefers to top, but a top with a big T. He wants to fuck me. It’s his nature. He’s bottomed for me for months now, because though it is not his preferred position, our sexual relationship is… god, just unbelievable. But he still wants to fuck me and the guilt of not being able to give him what he wants is triggering a return of the aforementioned symptoms. Spade enough?”

“Very good, Justin.” He took down a few notes. “Now. I am going to ask you some questions, and you might wonder how I know to ask them. I am very good at my job. What you say and don’t say are triggers for my well-trained brain that provide me with a lot of information you are not even aware of giving. It often makes people feel I know more than I should. So let’s skip the “How in the world can you know this?” bit, OK? I just do. Accept it. Only raise a stink if my educated guess is off. Ready?”

“Uh… I’m not sure what the hell you mean, but I guess I’ll find out. Go for it…”

“Justin. Remember, if you have a panic attack in this office, it’s OK. I know how to deal with them. So you can feel comfortable pushing yourself quite a bit. Now. Tell me about your other lovers.”

“I’ve never really had someone I considered a lover before this one…”

“Brian Kinney, Justin. The Stud of Liberty Avenue. Call him by name. Spade, OK?”

“OoooooK. Now I get what you were saying earlier. So, no “How in the world do you know this!”, eh? Fine. Uh… Brian is my first lover. I’ve had a boyfriend; a lot of tricks, and a lot of fuck buddies. Unlike a lot of tops, I don’t mind making friends with my tricks, getting to know them, and so on. And though I am strictly a top obviously, I have no problem sucking dicks and eating ass in the backroom.”

“Do your fuck buddies have anything in common with Brian?”

“Uh… Yes, I suppose. I guess 90% of my fuck buddies are tops. I top tops. Weird, eh?”

“Justin, how old were you when you became sexually active?”

“Really young. Fifteen. I had my first boyfriend my first year of high school.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Uh… His name was Ethan. I was his first, he was my first. We did it all the time, we took turns bottoming, and then we broke up because… because… because… “ Justin was stuck, breaking out in sweat, and his heart rate was way up.

“Justin! Take a breath. Look at me. Focus on my eyes. Good, good. Better? Let me finish your sentence for you, and tell me if I’m wrong. Because… you and… Ethan, was it? were both bottoms and you wanted sexual partners who were true tops.”

“Yes.” Justin sighed, relieved. “Yes, exactly.”

“Did you ever have another boyfriend?”

“No. I had multiple partners and several fuck buddies, some my age, some older, some much older. I realized early on that I was highly sexed. I needed to fuck several times a day. I got fake ID's and went to clubs, got fucked by older kids at school, and… by a couple of adults of my acquaintance. I was very happy, sexually.”

“You enjoyed having sex with tops.”

“Yes, very much.”

“That has not changed has it, Justin? 90% of your recurring fucks are tops. What do you make of it?”

The boy was pale, breathing fast, pushed as far as he could go. “One deep slow breath, Justin, then just hang in there and breathe real shallow while I tell you something you obviously already know, OK?”

“OK.” The boy was good at following directions. He wanted to get over his issue, even though it was not for the reason he thought, but for a very different one…

“Brian Kinney is a power top, Justin. He expresses his sexuality best when he is in that position. It is a true gauge of how much he loves you, of how much your relationship means to him that he has, for months now, taken on the role of bottom. You, my friend, are not a power top. You top because you have no alternative outlet for your dynamic sexuality. You have sexual relations with tops because that is what feels comfortable to you.”

Justin frowned lightly.

“There is more to tops and bottoms than what they like to do during sex. There are personality traits, other behaviors, other preferences that make one a top or a bottom. You are comfortable fucking tops and surrounding yourself with tops, because Justin, just as much as Brian is a power top, you are a power bottom. You know this. You’ve always known this. Ever since you broke up with that first boyfriend.”

Tears suddenly ran down Justin’s cheeks, and he looked so relieved, as he finally understood his own behavior. Dr. Marlin handed him a box of Kleenex. He dried his eyes, and blew his nose. He took a deep breath. Marv could tell he was ready.

“So, Justin. Why are you here?”

Justin sat up, smiled a brilliant smile and said, “Because I want to reclaim my true sexual identity.”

The doctor smiled. “Good job, Justin. Very good indeed.” He gave them both time to enjoy this first victory, but knew he had to push further.

“Now, tell me, Justin, what’s preventing you from doing so?”

“I’m scared,” admitted Justin.

“Does Brian love you?”

“Yes. He does.”

“He has had you in restraints many times. He could have taken what he wanted from you but didn’t, and you trusted him not to. Are you interested in bottoming for anyone but him?”

“No. I cannot think of bottoming for anyone but Brian. I would always top if I ever wanted to trick.”

“So you have a considerate, loving partner whom you trust completely. You are planning on having sex in a safe home environment. Justin, what are you scared of?”

The young man closed his eyes, thinking. Then he fell asleep. Marv chuckled. Nice avoidance technique… He got up and shook Justin. “Wake up, Justin. You are not off the hook. Answer the question.”

“I’m so tired…”

“I bet you are. Now buck up, lad. I’m not letting you off. You will have to answer. This is the key to the problem, you know. And if it can help you, I already know the answer, and I completely understand. I’d be scared too. So, Justin, why are you scared to bottom?”

“The reason is so pathetic and embarrassing.”

“No. It’s logical and reasonable.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely”

“I’m scared… that it’s going to hurt.” Justin hid his face in his hands. “It’s so stupid!”

“Do you need me to remind you why you are afraid it’s going to hurt? There is nothing stupid about it…”

“How could you possibly know?” asked Justin, confused.

Because now that they had gotten to this point, Justin was broadcasting the causes for his fear so loudly Marv would have had to be at least a hundred feet away from him and two sheets to the wind not to know about them.

“I couldn’t of course. Why don’t you tell me.”

Justin looked at him suspiciously. “You do know, don’t you…”

“Would it be easier for you to talk about if you thought so?” asked Marv.

Justin considered his therapist. Yes, it would make it easier, but he would be extremely troubled if Marv did know about it without being told. This was a secret he’d hidden from everyone for five years… Marv heard his debate loud and clear. And looking at the outcome, however painful that was, he knew Justin needed to talk. Might as well be today and get it over with…

“Justin. How about I lie to you, and tell you I researched your case before your visit, and discussed every aspect of it with both your physician, and your previous therapist. You know I could not have done so without your permission, but it might make you feel more comfortable than the fact that I appear to have guessed something so private and complicated,” offered Marv, trying to make it easier.

“Uh… No. It would not make it easier. And it will facilitate things if you already know. I’ll just accept the fact that you are extremely talented at guessing. I just need some proof that you’ve guessed right…”

The doctor smiled. Justin did not seem afraid of his abilities. He just needed to know if he could count on them. Such adaptability was rare. Very rare indeed. Most people would have run away screaming by now…

“You were forcefully penetrated by six boys, Justin, and it was very painful. Then you received a grievous injury from which you almost died…”

 

************
 

Brian loved Cynthia. She had wasted no time. His flight had been on Tuesday at 1:00PM, getting into Denver at 2:30PM. A limo and chauffeur was his for the duration, so he didn’t have to worry about finding his way.

He felt he needed to do this more than ever. The night before, Justin had been so determined, so quiet, so not… him. He’d asked for the restraints even though Brian knew they scared the shit out of him, and had wanted Brian to bottom from the top all night.

In the dark as they were going to sleep, while lying as usual on top of Brian, he’d finally asked in a very soft voice, “Do you love me, Brian? Do you really, really love me?” and Brian had answered the truth as it was, at that exact moment. “Justin, I love you more than life itself…”

At 3:15PM, he walked into a neighborhood bar, owned and run by a Chris Hobbes. A tall handsome guy with a buzz cut was polishing glasses with a linen cloth behind the empty bar. Brian sat across from him.

“Bourbon, please.”

“Beam OK?”

“Beam preferred.”

The bartender served him and left the bottle out.

“Slow day?” asked Brian.

“Slow hours. It’ll pick up about 5:30PM, and then it will be hopping until 11:00PM.”

“Lucky me, then. I was hoping you’d have a moment to talk.”

“Do I know you?” asked the barman suspiciously.

“No. You know my partner, Justin Taylor.”

The man’s face registered surprise, but his reaction was the opposite of what Brian had imagined it would be. He put down the glass, pulled up a stool across from him, and sat down looking at Brian expectantly.

“Are you his business partner, or his… lover partner?” asked Chris, curious.

“Both, actually. Why?”

The man smiled, looking at his hands on the bar. He looked up at Brian earnestly, still smiling lightly. “I’m so damn glad to hear that, you have no idea. You don’t look like some guy he’s settled for either. You look like you’d be… worthy of him, someone who deserves him. Do you love him?”

Why were bartenders forever thinking they could ask Brian such a thing? But the guy’s reaction was so astonishing, Brian answered anyway. “Yes. Very much.”

The man closed his eyes, sighed and said simply, “Thank you, God.”

“I’m sorry,” said Brian, “but I’m a little thrown by your reaction.”

Again, the earnest look. “I bet. I suppose you’re here because you know what happened five years ago. You probably expected some homophobic prick, ready to bash you upside the head… Sorry to disappoint. I have nothing against gay people, and I actually liked Justin a lot. I’m just glad that what we did to him didn’t ruin his life, did not prevent him from finding love, from forming a relationship. You have no idea what it means to me to know that.”

“He’s not without scars…”

“Nor are any of us, though I dare say we deserve them and he doesn’t…”

“I’m here because… I need to know. I need to know exactly what happened. I want to help him heal completely, and he can’t talk about it.”

“I don’t particularly relish talking about it either… Has he seen someone?”

“Yes. He has. I suppose the remaining issues would be considered minor by most. But I want him to be free. To be fully happy.”

Chris Hobbes looked at him and smiled. “You do love him. Is he still beautiful? Does he still have that fucking smile?”

“Yes. Yes, he does. You noticed he was beautiful, but you’re not gay.”

“No. But I’m not blind. There was always something about him, you know? Like he was brimming with life. Everybody knew he was gay, but so fucking what? He was friendly, brilliant at everything, treated everybody nicely, including this dumb C-average jock, the silly girls, the pot smoking crowd... And we all knew he fucked constantly, more than all of us put together. I think he even fucked adults… like the art teacher… I was a big jock, co-captain of the football team, and I had a really cute girl who put out, thank god, but in a way, I still envied him. He was going places, you could tell. He had it all figured out.”

“So what the fuck happened?”

“It was my fault.” He looked at Brian, absolutely serious. “If I tell you the story as it happened, you might want to punch me in the face, or worse. Can you contain yourself or should I abridge it?”

“I’d rather you give it to me straight. I’ll let you know if you need to tone it down, or if I need a break…”

“Fair enough. What’s your name?”

“Brian Kinney.”

“OK then, Brian…” He looked at his own hand on the bar as he dove into his memories. “The school newspaper was doing an article about the team, about the final training before the big game. The last minute recruiters were going to be there, the 'journalist' was writing about where we were all hoping to go…

“There was this girl, Daphne, cute and smart, Justin’s best friend, who was the newspaper photographer and took pictures. Justin did sketches. All the newspaper articles always had both. He was so good, it was unbelievable.

“Seven of us had stayed after practice for special team training. We had this big bad kid, Rick Moody, as co-captain. He was 19 and we kind of idolized him, because, well, he could really play. He was tall, and really good looking, he could have been Matthew McConaughey’s better looking younger brother… He was our quarterback, and he just popped those passes right into your arms, as good as a lot of pros.

“He was older and from the bad part of town. He actually fucked two of our cheerleaders and they both knew it, and put up with it because he was a really great fuck. He did drugs - pot, E, and meth, and had his little brother’s piss in a bottle on him all the time, in case we were tested. A lot of the guys on the team started doing the same. We all thought he was god.

“I never did drugs. My mom is head nurse at the hospital. My dad was our football coach. Believe me, drugs would have been a really bad idea with my family. The day it happened, the guys were smoking who knows what under the bleachers out there after practice.

“I went into the locker room, talking to Justin and Daph. Daphne left. She had the pictures she needed and she wanted to develop them. I really liked being alone with Justin, having his attention. I thought he was so cool, playing pool like he did, drawing like he did, valedictorian and everything.

“He went to the john and I peeked in his sketchbook. The sketches for the article were great, but then I was blown away because there were sketches of me in English class. I could tell it was English because of where he sat compared to me. And there were sketches of me running, and hanging out, and a couple of nudes, which were obviously not from life because there were some glaring errors. I’m circumcised in real life, and I wasn’t in the drawings, and I already had my tattoos, one above my ass, and one on my hip, neither of which were in the drawing. Still. They were really nice, and I realized Justin might have had, maybe, a crush on me.

“He came out of the bathroom, and to show you how cool he was, he laughed and hid his face in his hands. “Oh, fuck. Caught.” He looked at me, a little pink in the cheeks, and said, “I’m sorry, Chris. Don’t worry, I know you’re not gay, and I’d never do anything about it, but I have the biggest crush on you… I’m sorry if these drawings make you uncomfortable. I can destroy them if you want.”

“Well, they didn’t, I was flattered and I said so. He thanked me for not giving him a hard time. I was really curious, you know? I had no other openly gay friends, so I asked. I said something like, If I was gay, Justin, does this mean you’d want to put your prick in my ass? and he didn’t make fun of my ignorance, or pretend that me wanting to know made me a fag. He just explained, No, Chris. Actually, I like it the other way around. I’m a bottom. The guys who put their cocks in other fags’ asses are called tops. I was amazed that anyone would want the opposite, given the choice. It made no sense to me. I asked, Doesn’t it hurt? Would you really like me to put my dick in your ass? And he laughed, but not in a mean way, you know? He said, The pain is part of it… It hurts so good, you know? So… yeah. If you were willing, I’d love to have your cock up my ass…”

“And that’s when things went to shit. Moody came in, just in time to catch that, and he was all like, “Did that fag just ask you to fuck him, Chris? Fucking Faggot! What are you gonna do about it?”

I said, “It wasn’t like that…” Rick hated Justin. He hated that he was cute and smart and popular, and an overt homosexual. He really hated fags. He sucker punched Justin, so Justin couldn’t catch his breath for a while, and started saying things like, “You come in here, faggot, trying to recruit my boys to your faggoty ways? You need a lesson, don’t you, boy…” Then he turned to me. “Well, Chris? What are you gonna do about this fag coming in here asking you to fuck him?”

“He wasn’t, it wasn’t like that…”

“I heard him with my own ears, Chris! What are you, one of them too?”

“I was such an asshole. God forbid Moody should think I was a fag… Justin almost had his breath back, but Moody grabbed him and put tape, you know the kind we use to tape our ankles? He put tape like that on his mouth, around his head, again and again and again… It happened so fast… Then he taped his arms together, and taped them to the pole in the middle of the room. I was completely overwhelmed, trying to find something to say to defend Justin, without making myself sound like I could be gay. I liked Justin, but Moody was my teammate, and older, and so awesome… Next thing I know, Rick yanked Justin’s jeans off, and he wasn’t wearing underwear. He said, “Check out the fag, he’s so eager for your cock he tried to make it easy for you. Why don’t you give him what he asked for, a little rougher than he hoped, and maybe he won’t come around begging for you to fuck him again…”

“I don’t know what the fuck happened. I think I’d wanted to do it ever since Justin had said that’s what he preferred, and now I was being given the opportunity to do it without anybody thinking I was a fag because of it. It was so fucked up. The entire time, I knew what I was doing was wrong, so wrong, but there was Justin, exposed, and all of a sudden I was hard, and what could it hurt? He’d said he wanted it, that he’d love to have my cock up his ass, and that pain was part of it, and I just wanted to know what it felt like, I guess.”

“I had condoms right there in my locker for my girl. I put one on, and I pushed into Justin. The condoms were lubed, and I tried to be gentle. I was so surprised at how good it felt. His skin was soft, softer than my girl’s, and I just fucked him ‘till I came. I didn’t have to worry about her getting something out of it, or about the condom breaking and getting her pregnant, or about her parents coming in, and he was so tight… I had the best orgasm I’d ever had.

“By the time I pulled out, the other guys on the special team had come in, all high on something, and Moody had been telling them we were teaching a fag who’d try to subvert their captain a lesson, and that it was their responsibility to the team to participate. KC was first. He was about to go in without protection, so I gave him a condom. I always thought that maybe KC was gay, and in the closet. I think that’s why he was so eager to be next, so Rick wouldn’t suspect. He never recovered from doing this. He died of a drug overdose two years later.

“Evan was next. He had a condom on already, with lots and lots of lube, and I know he faked coming. He was in and out in thirty seconds. He was supposed to go to Presbyterian College, in Clinton, South Carolina. But instead, he took this nothing job as a janitor at Children’s Hospital in Denver, and started to go to church all the time… He just relocated to Golden, and works some menial job at Coors. He’s in church there constantly, on the flower committee, and the religious education committee, and he teaches catechism. He has no life whatsoever.

“Then Fog was inside Justin, with one of my condoms. I think he was like me. He enjoyed it and was horrified with himself for having raped a friend. He worked at the paper, and knew Justin really well… He went to Florida State to play football. While there he fucked one of the cheerleaders, then drove to the police station with her in his car, went in and confessed to raping her. The girl really liked him, and kept telling him on the way there that he hadn’t raped her, but Fog said no girl he knew would let him fuck her without him at least buying her dinner. Obviously he must have raped her. Once at the police station, what could she say? He got six years in Coleman. We all know what rape he’s serving his sentence for, and it’s not that girl’s…

“Sky was next. He was always so kind and sweet. His erection was flagging; he was wearing one of Evan’s condoms, with all kinds of extra lube. I think that’s the only reason he could get it in. His mother was a Mormon, and he’d been baptized, but he lived with his dad because he had given up the faith. He often said he thought it was bullshit, brainwashing, and he was glad to be out of Utah. He cried the whole time he was inside Justin. I think he was a virgin. He kept saying “I’m sorry, Justin, I’m so sorry…” Right after graduation, he surprised everyone by signing up to be a missionary. When he came back, he moved to Utah and started working for his mom’s brother. He got married right away, and just had his fourth child.

The last one to rape Justin was Alex. He got a condom from me. He came in one minute, pulled out, stepped away from us and puked his guts out. In June, right after graduation, he ran his father’s Corvette into a pylon on the highway. He was dead sober and going at 120 miles an hour. Nobody knows how he survived. He broke his neck, C2 level. He’s on a respirator, paralyzed from the neck down, like that Superman guy who just died. He’d left notes and everything. Including one to Justin. Of course Justin was still in a coma then.

The entire time we were raping Justin, Rick was keeping up a commentary about fags and how this one was getting what he deserved, and on and on. I couldn’t take any more of his shit. I wanted to call the cops, and an ambulance… Then Moody said, “I cannot believe you all fucked him… I cannot believe you looked at this man’s ass and got hard.” He opened his uniform and he was completely flaccid. “This is what a real man’s dick looks like looking at another man’s ass, you faggots… But god forbid I should not contribute to this little fuck fest…” And then he grabbed a down marker, and pushed it, pointy end first, into Justin. Even with his mouth taped shut, he managed to scream until he passed out. Moody laughed and left, and he never came back to school.

“We’d been all frozen in horror. As soon as he left, it was like we suddenly all recovered the power of thinking for ourselves, of acting like individuals. Sky removed the marker, ever so gently. Blood just gushed out of Justin like a river. KC cut off the tape and lowered Justin down, turning him over and resting his head on his lap. Alex covered him with his Jersey, Fog called an ambulance and I ran to get my dad from his office.

“By the time I came back with my dad, Evan had removed the tape from Justin’s face, and cleaned off his snot and tears, and he looked fucking beautiful, but pale, so pale… KC was sitting in a pool of blood. We were all crying. It was a horrifying sight, really. The EMT arrived, looked at his allergy bracelet, put in an IV, and took him away.

“My Dad said, 'Ride with him in the ambulance. I know you boys are friendly. Should he wake up on the way, he should have a friend with him…' I realized my dad thought we’d just found him like this. He didn’t have a clue. So I went. I held his long-fingered, narrow, artist’s hand, and I cried like a baby all the way there.

“By the time we got to the emergency room, Justin’s parents were there. His father was a real son of a bitch; mean as a snake, self-important, never a kind word to anyone, not even to Justin. He considered Justin a disappointment because he wasn’t good at sports and didn’t want to go to his dad’s alma matter to study business. A total prick. His mom was all right, but completely under the old man’s thumb. Not an independent thought in her head.

“She and KC and Evan went away to give blood. Justin is B- like his mom, KC was B- too, lucky really, and Evan was O- so they could donate. He’d lost so much blood… The EMT’s had called the cops. Justin’s dad was talking big, about breaking balls and putting the culprit in jail and throwing away the key. Too busy grandstanding to worry about Justin. I thought Justin was going to die. I just kept thinking about the Shakespeare play we’d read in class, where they murder the king by shoving a sword in his ass. I was terrified.

“A pair of detectives arrived, and it was the moment of truth. I was the team captain and my dad was present, so they asked me the questions. I told my dad I was sorry, so fucking sorry. Then I starting telling the cops pretty much what I told you.

Justin’s dad interrupted me and asked, “Are you saying my son is a fag?”

I answered that yes, he was homosexual.

Then he asked, “Did he really say If you were willing, I’d love to have your cock up my ass…

I said that yes, he had. And so he told the cops, “Well, it’s pretty clear there was no crime here and that sex was consensual. Sex is obviously a non-issue in this matter.”

I was about to protest but my dad put his hand on my shoulder.

“Sir,” said the cop. “It sounds as if your son was seriously injured.”

“So the boys played some prank on my son. Sometimes kids get injured during pranks. It happens. I’m sure these boys meant no harm.”

“I looked beseechingly at my father but he shook his head no, so I kept my mouth shut. The cops stepped away to talk to each other for a minute, and Justin’s dad got on the phone. Turns out he was talking to one of his cronies, the police commissioner. When the detective came back, he handed one of them the phone and that was that. Justin’s rape became a prank gone badly, and the only punishment we received was being kicked off the team.

“At least I got to go home and confess to my mom and dad what we’d done. None of the other’s had to. So far as their parents knew, there was a prank and the coach booted them off the team. We’d all have been better off if we’d been arrested and judged the way we should have been. My dad thought he was protecting our futures by not pushing the issue, by accepting the out that asshole, who surely should have known his son was gay, was handing us on a silver platter. He was so wrong. The only one who benefitted was Rick Moody, because he did not have one remorseful bone in his body.

“My mom was the head nurse on Justin’s case. She never said anything about him. Then again, she just did not say a word to me for 7 months. She would leave the room when I entered, make sure to be gone by the time I got up, and so on. It was awful. She didn’t come to my graduation. My dad said she had to work. It was more like she chose to work.

“Because of my suspension from the team, I lost my football scholarship at Colorado State. I fell back on a small school in Kansas. Their team sucked. I played even though I was a freshman. I hated it there. That afternoon ruined all of our lives, one way or another…”

“You seem to have done all right. There are worse things than playing in a subpar football team…” said Brian, who did not particularly consider not speaking to one’s mother for seven months a terrible ordeal.

Chris Hobbes smiled. “Don’t I know it… I got my punishment later that year. I knew that’s what it was and freaked out the docs by being so cheerful about it. I came home from Kansas for Thanksgiving, and at first, my mom still wasn’t talking to me, but she did listen when I asked what it could mean that my testes were no longer the smooth, oval regular shape.

“That’s when she started talking to me again. She came with me when I was diagnosed with stage 3 testicular cancer, and when I jerked off in a cup to freeze my sperm in case I ever wanted kids, and found out that my swimmers didn’t swim. She was in the operating room when they removed both my balls and my prostate because there was a tiny metastasis on it and my cancer was so damn aggressive they felt it was the only safe treatment.

“She took time off to take care of me through the chemo and the radiation. She was my mom again. We talked nonstop. And she knew I felt it was my punishment for raping Justin. She just said, “Karma’s a bitch.” He grinned. “She’s cool like that, my mom…”

Chris shrugged. “I was never afraid I was going to die. I knew I would make it but that this was my well-deserved punishment. I’m sterile now, and impotent to boot. I take hormones to retain my manly form. I must admit I feel I paid for what I did. Now you come and tell me Justin is loved, and loves in return. And I feel like I’ve been redeemed. I’m so fucking happy for him.”

He looked at Brian, completely guileless. “I’ve not hidden any details from you. You know everything I know. I hope it helps, I really do. You are a lucky man. Justin is an incredible human being. I know he can never forgive me for what I did. I understand it. But I wish he could because I’d love to see him again. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing?”

“Chris, do you think your mother would talk to me about Justin’s injuries, or maybe Justin’s best friend, what was her name? Daphne?”

“Daphne was killed in a freak accident the summer after graduation. She’d been on our ski team, and was going to go to Colorado State in September on a ski scholarship. Her parents sent her to ski in Queenstown, New Zealand for six weeks as a graduation present. This icicle fell from the roof of an eight-story building as she was walking home from the slopes one evening and killed her instantly. She died before Justin ever came out of his coma. It was a real tragedy. She was a great girl.”

Chris sighed. “2000 really, really sucked. Truthfully, I don’t think my mom will speak to you… She’s working a 36-hour shift right now, so she’s at the hospital. But I suppose you could try. Her name is Beth Stetson. She kept her maiden name.”

“You were right, Chris,” said Brian. “Listening to you, there were a couple of times when I wanted to punch you in the face or worse, and if you ever try to talk to Justin, or come near him, I will hurt you. But I do want to thank you for being so candid, and telling me the whole story.”

“Well, thanks then, for not hitting me. And please, be good to Justin. Make sure he’s happy.”

“I’ll do my best, believe me. Good-bye, Chris.”

“Good-bye, Brian.”

 

***********

“Oh, god. You do know everything,” said Justin, his face bathed with tears again.

“Yes, Justin, I do.” Marv handed Justin the Kleenex box. “Here, Justin, dry your tears, and talk to me….

Justin took a deep breath. “I know the man was a good surgeon and I’ve never had any problems, but I’m scared that something will go wrong, that it will tear, and that I’ll have to keep the colostomy this time. It was so… disgusting. Did you know if it’s permanent, they just remove your rectum and your asshole? There’s nothing there! It’s smooth! How could Brian love me then? Even if he did, I could never stay with him. God. I could never have sex naked again…”

Marv wanted to laugh. Justin looked and sounded so young. “Calm down, Justin. Your fears are real and justified, but completely unfounded.” He wrote down his friend Gerald Sigfried’s address and number and handed the paper to Justin. “This man is a friend, a proctologist. He can examine you, and tell you exactly what to expect. Go see him as soon as you can, Justin. You do not deserve to live in fear.

“What you deserve is to be who you really are, and freely give your lover what he can never stop wanting. You and Brian are a match made in heaven. You are going to live a long, extremely happy and productive life together.” Marv chuckled. “And from what I can see, you two will never slow down, never stop fucking… It’s all there for the taking, Justin. Go get it…”

He looked at his wrist, where there was no watch, and said, “Well, look at the time! Our session is over, Justin. I do not feel there’s a need for us to see each other again, but do call if you need to. I know you have been tapering off the meds. Keep it up. You do not need them. Good-bye, my friend.”

Justin laughed and said, “Thank you Doctor, and good-bye.” Marv felt great. The chances of things working out between Brian and Justin were very, very good, and their future was astonishingly bright.

Marv Marlin also felt drained and ready to let his real self come out. He went one story up the stairs from his office to his apartment. An hour and a half later, Marvelous Mysterious Marilyn came down those same stairs, ready for an evening at Woody’s.
 

TBC…

Return to Spin and Fall