Spin and Fall

Chapter 17

Brian went straight from the bar to the hospital, and asked to speak to the head nurse. When asked by the receptionist what it was regarding he said it was a private legal matter. In his gorgeous Armani, he did look enough like an attorney that the receptionist called Beth Stetson and whispered into the phone.

“Ms. Stetson will be right with you,” she said.

A woman, dressed in snow-white scrubs, with white crocs on her feet, came towards him about five minutes later. Gay or not, Brian could tell she was astonishingly beautiful. She had thick blond hair pulled back gracefully in a low chignon, vivid green eyes, full perfectly shaped lips and gorgeous bone structure. She put out her hand for him to shake.

“Hello, I’m Beth Stetson, head of nursing …” Her smile was sweet and warm, her teeth perfect and very white.

“Brian Kinney. May I speak to you privately for a moment?”

She gestured for him to follow her back to her office. “What is this regarding, Mr. Kinney?”

“A patient named Justin Taylor.”

She didn’t ask any more questions until they were sitting in her office with the door closed. “Has he finally decided to report the crime he was a victim of? Are you his attorney?”

“No. Not at all. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. Justin, as far as I know, has no interest in seeing the culprits brought to justice. It actually seems that most of them have paid for what they did. Ms. Stetson, I am Justin’s partner, his lover. He suffers from nightmares, anxiety and so on. He cannot speak of the rape, or its physical consequences. I love him. I want to help him. I want him to be happy. I know what happened. I just need to know the medical aftermath.”

Beth looked at him without saying a word for a while, then asked, “Do you know if Justin has medical insurance?”

Brian had no idea why she was asking but he answered, “He has the same insurance I do. We work together.”

“May I see your insurance card please?”

Brian, still in the dark, took the card out of his wallet and handed it to her. She took it and entered some information on the computer. After a few minutes, she handed the card back to him with a genuine smile.

“Mr. Kinney, Justin has listed you as next of kin and has given you the authority to make treatment decisions for him were he unable to do so. I therefore feel quite comfortable answering your questions.”

Brian was totally surprised. He had no idea Justin had done this. Then he realized he was the closest thing to family that Justin had. He was Justin’s partner, his lover… Who else was Justin supposed to trust with his care? Lindsay was listed as his next of kin. He would make sure to change it to Justin as soon as possible.

“I would like to hear the whole story, please. Could you just tell me what happened after Justin arrived in the emergency room?”

“All right. Justin had lost a great deal of blood and was continuing to bleed out. He was unconscious. He needed an emergency laparotomy. That’s exploratory surgery, to see, and if possible, repair traumatic injuries. The football marker had perforated his mesenteric artery, his sigmoid - that’s his large intestine - in two places and his ileum - that’s the small intestine. It was dirty, but had also allowed Justin’s intestinal contents to spread into his abdominal cavity. It would have been better had it stayed in place until the surgical team could remove it and close the wounds at the same time, but it’s seven feet tall, and well…

“Anyway, over six gallons of saline were used for peritoneal lavage, that’s the cleaning of the abdominal cavity. The solution to pollution is dilution… is the adage here. The perforations were repaired, and Justin was closed up. His anus and rectum were in very good shape surprisingly. We learned later that the assailants had all worn lubricated condoms, a couple of them using a lot of added lubrication. Had the last boy…”

“Rick Moody”

“Right. Had Rick Moody not done what he did, Justin would have had no physical trauma to deal with, only the deep psychological trauma of the assault. Sadly, Rick Moody did such grievous damage that the psychological aspect of the trauma had to be considered only of secondary importance.

“When Justin came to after surgery, his parents were there, as was I. His father’s first question was whether or not Justin was gay. You have to understand. The boy was barely conscious. He’d just suffered a hideous trauma and gone through surgery. Justin said he was. His father said that unless he gave up “his disgusting lifestyle” he would not be welcomed back home once he came out of the hospital. Can you believe that?

“Now, Justin was very, very bright, and even half drugged he knew his father’s insurance would only cover four sessions with a psychiatrist, because Molly, his little sister, had had some problems after her best friend died of leukemia. He recognized it would take way more than four hour-sessions for him to get over his ordeal. He told his father he would gladly give up his homosexuality but would need help in the form of six months of intense counseling. He would promise to go straight, if his father promised to pay for the counseling. His father agreed.

“Only then did his mother approach him to tell him she was sorry he had been harmed by a stupid prank, and that she loved him, no matter what.

“Justin said, “A prank? Is that what they call gang rape and mutilation these days?”

“Well, she replied, surely he didn’t want anyone to know the humiliating truth, did he? What would people think?

“Justin said he’d be happy to shout it from the rooftop if it ensured that the culprits were hung by their balls, and that Moody went to jail for attempted murder.

“His mom said, “Oh, Sweetie, you were always so dramatic. I’m sure if you think about it you’ll see that not involving the police is the right thing to do.”

“He said he was really tired, and was going to go to sleep. His parents left and he tried to hide the fact that he was crying. I sat on his bed and caressed his cheek. I told him he’d been the victim of a horrible crime and the perpetrators should be exposed and sent to jail. He couldn’t sit up because of the surgery, so I bent down, took him in my arms and let him cry and cry and cry. Finally, when he was calmer, I gave him a Kleenex and he wiped his face and blew his nose.

“He said, “You’re Chris’s mom.”

“I am ashamed to say that I am, yes.”
 
“We’re friends. How could he do this? Why?”

“I have no idea, Justin. I am so, so sorry.”

“That’s when his body started going into toxic shock. His multiple allergies made it very hard to treat. He soon had septicemia with a raging temperature and fell into a coma. The infection was rampant and virtually impossible to contain. His surgical scar was infected, as were the repairs on the intestines. He developed meningitis, and bacterial endocarditis. Drains were placed to take the pus out of his abdominal cavity. It was a disaster. Every day something more would go wrong and he kept having allergic reactions to the antibiotics we tried, including going into anaphylactic shock several times.

“His body was fighting for his life though, so there was still hope. He got transfusions to help him fight, and we placed him in a sterile environment. Ischemic colitis with gangrene set into his large intestine. The surgeon removed a half a foot of his sigmoid colon, and did a colostomy. Justin was treated with Sulfa drugs. Those are the drugs that were used before antibiotics came around, to keep the infection under control. Every few days, we experimented with a new antibiotic to try and eradicate it.

“This entire time, Justin’s parents never came to the hospital. We had instructions to call them if Justin came out of the coma. His little sister Molly was nine years old. She told her parents she was in a play after school, and rode her bike four miles to the hospital every day. She held his hand through the port and talked to him about her day, about TV shows they used to watch together, about the dreams she had at night. You could hear her sweet high voice just chatting to him for an hour. Then she would tell him she loved him, that she was proud of him for being gay and out, and to please not leave her alone with their stupid parents. And she’d leave, and ride the four miles back home.

“His friend Daphne was there every day too, many of the kids from school came to see him. Daphne was a sweet, wonderful girl. She had been looking forward to a trip to New Zealand that summer but wanted to cancel. Molly convinced her Justin would “kick her ass” if she did. Some kind of accident happened there, and she died before he came out of the coma. It was one more thing he had to deal with when he woke up… Teachers came to see him regularly as well, especially his art teacher, and after a few times, I caught on to the fact that he and Justin had been lovers. I think the teacher pretended it was casual, but he had very strong feelings for Justin, crying as he held his hand, and talking to him in a hushed voice.

“It took seven weeks to find an antibiotic that worked without killing Justin. All the infections were finally under control a couple weeks later. However, he stayed in a coma for a total of thirteen weeks. A lot of us had given up hope that he’d ever wake up. Then one day I was scrubbed up, in his sterile field. I’d just given him a sponge bath, and changed his colostomy bag. He was clean, and warm and peaceful. I caressed his cheek to say good-bye, and he smiled. He opened his eyes and in a very croaky voice he said, “You’re so nice, and you smell so good. I wish you were my mother… I’m up, I guess. Please don’t tell my parents. I never want to see them again.”

“He started counseling the next day, three hours a day, seven days a week. He fought tooth and nail to have his intestine reattached to his rectum. The gastroenterologist agreed with him, but the surgeon thought it would be more prudent for the colostomy to be permanent. He was talking of doing what is done in those cases: the removal of the rectum and closure of the anus. Justin told him to go to hell, so the surgeon contacted his father, since Justin was a minor. Of course his father gleefully endorsed the surgeon’s idea. Justin was terrified. He refused medications, thinking we might try to put him to sleep, and he’d wake up without an anus.

“I talked to one of the anesthesiologists, who was gay, and to the hospital administrator’s personal assistant, who was gay, to gay orderlies, nurses, to the gay ENT, the gay plastic surgeon, even the gay parking attendant and the gay cafeteria cook... They all marched into the administrator’s office and raised hell, asking if he would ever consider removing the vagina of a seventeen year old girl…”

She giggled. “Two of the orderlies offered to have sex right there on the conference desk, to demonstrate the importance of the body parts in question for homosexuals. The plastic surgeon offered to rim and have anal sex with the administrator to show him how good it felt. Sadly, in my opinion, he declined… The surgeon, however, was advised to go along with the gastroenterologist’s recommendation to reattach the intestine.

“The day of the surgery, we made sure that the two surgical nurses in the operating room were gay. The anesthesiologist was the one I’d first talked to, and the plastic surgeon volunteered to close the colostomy site, redo the drain sites, and close the surgical site, which really needed help considering it was the third surgery, and that it had been infected for weeks.

“Securing the intestine took three hours. Needless to say, considering the company he was keeping, the surgeon did an excellent job. Then he left in a huff, the jackass. The esthetic repairs on Justin’s belly took another seven hours. The plastic surgeon did the work for free. He commented that Justin had the best skin he’d ever seen, very soft, very elastic, amenable to intensive correction. Six weeks later, there was not a mark on Justin’s stomach. But it would be a while before he could do abs and eat anything other than liquid food. Still, he was very grateful.

“So grateful, that one day five weeks later, as I came to talk to him about his release, I thought something was horribly wrong because I could hear moaning coming from his room. I opened the door, ready for the worst, and there was Justin, having sex with the plastic surgeon, apparently doing a bang up job of thanking him. I strategically retreated, deciding that yes, Justin was ready to be released.

“Justin’s grandfather had left him a bit of money, I understand. The day he came out, he left for parts unknown to go to school. He’d been accepted everywhere he’d applied… I found this on my desk,” she pulled a pendant from underneath her scrubs. It was a simple gold heart, “with this note.” She lifted her blotter and got out a piece of paper, precious enough to her that it was close, yet protected.

Brian recognized Justin’s beautiful hand. It said:

Dear Nurse Stetson,

“Throughout my stay here, you have been a light in darkness, my beacon of hope. You have treated me with such loving kindness. I cannot express in words what it has meant to me. I go away from here, mostly healed, both by your hands and by your heart. Whatever happens in your life, always remember that it was you who took a broken boy and made him whole again, and may that thought sustain you.

Would you please let Chris and the other ones know that my little sister Molly will be calling them every six months? All I will ever ask of them is to let her know where they live, and if they plan to travel. I never want to see any of them again, including just chance encounters. I need to know their whereabouts. Thanks.

Wishing with all my heart I had been born to you,

Justin.

Brian handed back the note, which she carefully replaced under her blotter.

“Well, Mr. Kinney, I believe I have given you all the relevant information. I hope this helps you and Justin.”

“I think it will help tremendously. I don’t know how to thank you. Not only for today, but for what you did for him then. You made it possible for him to be the man he is, the man I love…”

She smiled warmly at him. “Love him well. That will be thanks enough.”

“I will try my best. Thank you.”

They shook hands, and he left. It was fully dark outside. He greeted his chauffeur and asked him to go to the hotel. He had one more stop to make, but he needed to change clothes.

He came back out, dressed in black jeans with cowboy boots, a white wife beater and a long sleeved black silk shirt. He hopped in the limo. “You know a place called Terrapin Station?”

“Yes. Country bar, live music, dancing… Pretty nice place.”

“Let’s go.”

“You’re missing a hat.”

“Oh, well… I’ll say I left it in the car…”

The driver chuckled. Terrapin Station was downtown, and there was a line to get in. Brian had never stood in line to get into a club and was not going to start tonight. He walked right in; past Matthew McConnaughey’s better looking sibling who was guarding the door. The man grabbed his arm and Brian looked him in the eye. The guy smiled and let him in.

By the time he got to the bar, Brian had been hit on by three different women, all quite pretty, decent looking girls. He shivered, ordered a bourbon and two long necks. He drank the bourbon at the bar, but took the beers back to the entrance, handing one to the bouncer who took it, saying with a smile, “I don’t drink alcohol while I work…”

Brian grinned at him. “It’s not alcohol. It’s beer.” Then he put out his hand. “Hi. I’m Justin.” The bouncer shook it, with no reaction to the name whatsoever. “I’m Rick.” They drank beer in companionable silence for a moment.

“So Rick, I’m only in town tonight. Point out to me the really good lays, will you? Save me time and disappointment…”

Rick chuckled again, and showed off his wedding band. “I’m a married man, Justin. How would I know who’s a good lay?”

Brian answered, “Here I thought you were a man who happened to be married. My apologies, Mr. Married Man…”

Rick laughed again. He scanned the room. “The blonde, there. Annie. Not easy, but the best blowjob in town, and a nice tight pussy. Over there, Jenny, the brunette who hit on you when you came in. Loves to fuck. Real fun in the sack. And at the bar. The tall platinum blonde, Amanda. Expensive bitch, but a really great lay. You can just sit back and let her do all the work.”

“Well, thank you, my friend… I’ll see if Jenny wants to come for a ride…”

Brian waited for a slow dance, god knew he wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise, and invited the small brunette to join him. She was sweet, and smelled good. Brian closed his eyes and relived the last blowjob Justin had given him. He got hard as a rock and pressed his erection against the young woman.

“Is that a bazooka in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she asked, impressed.

He leaned down, and whispered in her ear, “It’s not a bazooka. I’d love to introduce you in person…”

She laughed. “Let me get my coat.”

They walked to the door, and she said, “Hey, Rick. I’m going with… what’s your name?”

“His name is Justin, Jenny. He’s all right.”

She smiled happily, as Rick winked at Brian. What a dick. Buy the asshole a beer and he recommended you as safe. Brian would speak to Dominic, Babylon’s bouncer, and make sure his standards were higher…

Once in the limo, Brian closed the partition and offered Jenny something to drink. She was a little thrown by the car.

“Jenny, I’m sorry. I got you here under false pretenses. You are really pretty and do not leave me indifferent, as I’m sure you could tell, but I’m in love with someone else. I just needed someone to think I was taking you out to have sex with you.”

“So they can tell your girl and make her jealous?”

Brian shrugged.

“Thanks for being honest. You’re gorgeous… we could make her jealous the old fashioned way…”

Brian chuckled. “As tempting as your offer is, I eventually want to be able to look my lover in the eye and say that “No, I didn’t have sex with her. You know?”

“So you want her to feel the sting, but not really hurt her. That’s kinda sweet. Well, now what do we do?”

“Drive around for half an hour? Don’t take this the wrong way, since after all, there’s no sex involved, but I feel bad to have taken you away from your friend, and I need you to pretend you had a fabulous time and lie to everybody. I’d like to compensate you for the acting job.”

“Uh, sure. Why the hell not…”

Fifty minutes after leaving, they were back. Jenny had a huge grin on her face, put there by the $500.00 in her purse, and she winked at Brian before going back to her friends.

Brian got another couple of beers, and rejoined Rick by the door.

“Well, Jenny looks like a happy girl,” Rick remarked.

“She ought to be,” said Brian with a smirk.

Rick laughed. For the next four hours, Brian listened to the man talk. He was the worst kind of bigot, and a woman hater to boot. He would have been right at home with a white hood with holes for the eyes, burning a cross on some lawn. He was also a self-aggrandizer, completely egocentric, without one empathetic bone in his body. Brian dug deep, but there was not one redeeming value to the man.

At the end of his shift, Brian dismissed his driver and he and Rick left in his mustang, stopping at an all night convenience store for a twelve pack and a bottle of bourbon. Brian had had one shot of Beam and two beers in six hours. Rick had had eight beers in the same time frame. They drove to the train depot to get drunk in peace. Six beers, of which Brian had one, and half a bottle of Beam later, of which Brian had one sip, and Rick was drunk and stupid.

He wanted to know how many different bitches “Justin” had fucked. With tricks numbering in the thousands, and female lovers at zero, Brian was all right answering, “A couple of hundred.” Rick was impressed. He’d be there too if he hadn’t married that stupid bitch…

What was the most “Justin” had ever drunk? Brian had no idea, really… A couple bottles of Beam?

Ah! Rick had got him beat! He had once almost died of alcohol poisoning after seventeen beers and a bottle of Absolut.

Then Rick asked if “Justin” wanted to play chicken. That was by far stupider than anything Brian had ever done, even in his teenage years while completely fucked up. But “Justin” said “Sure, let’s separate the men from the boys…” The 4:02 was due any moment…

It had gotten a bit chillier. Brian buttoned up his shirt as they walked to the tracks. Now he was dressed in full black, like Rick. Rick, who surprisingly could still walk fairly straight, was going on and on about how many times he’d done this. He’d never lost, he was a real man. They got on the tracks. Brian could see the lights of the train. He knew that such a large object would appear to move more slowly than it actually did, and in the dark, it was hard to gauge from its lights how far away the train was. There was a switch about 300 yards ahead. If the train was going at 30 miles an hour through the yard as the speed panel required, he figured he had about 20 seconds to get off the track after the sound changed.

There was the click clack of the wheels hitting the switch. Brian turned to Rick.

“Have you ever known another Justin?” he asked.

“Yeah… In high school. There was a fag named Justin. One day, I had the special team give it to him good, but I was sure the little pervert had loved it, so I shoved a marker up his ass. He didn’t love that. Squealed like a stuck pig, he did.” Rick laughed. Brian got off the tracks. 10 seconds left.

“You should get off the track, Moody. I lied to you, by the way. My name is actually Brian. The Justin you tortured in high school is my lover.”

“You’re a fucking fag?”

“Get off the tracks, you asshole. Yes. I’m a fag, just like him…”

“No wonder you can’t play chicken worth shit… A real man…”

Brian would never know what the end of that sentence was. One second Moody was there, the next the train was passing. It had neither whistled nor slowed down, the conductor not having seen either of them. He walked down the embankment, prepared to walk back to the hotel.

His limo was idling next to Rick’s car and flashed its lights. Brian opened the passenger door and sat in the front, next to the driver.

“Moody?” asked the driver.

“He caught the train,” said Brian.

The driver chortled. “He was married to my sister. I figured this is where you two were headed. It’s his favorite drinking spot. The stupid prick loved to play chicken. Bound to happen, sooner or later. May I take you back to the hotel?”

“Please. I have two more stops in the morning.”

“No problem.”

 

***************
 

With the referral from Dr. Marlin, Stuart was able to get Justin in to see Dr. Sigfried Wednesday at 1:00PM, much too soon for Justin’s taste. Monday night with Brian had been unusual. Justin had wanted to prove to himself that he trusted Brian completely, and had asked him for restraints. Now that he knew it was not for Brian that he wanted to bottom, but for himself, it made all the difference.

Brian was the right man for him because Brian would eventually give him what he craved. He had thought he was pressuring himself on Brian’s account to give something he could not give, but in truth Brian needed from him exactly what Justin needed to give to reclaim his sexual self.

Brian bottomed from the top all night while Justin fantasized he was the one bottoming, and Justin had loved it… He could tell Brian was both mildly concerned and pleasantly surprised by his strange behavior. Knowing Brian would be away for a few days, Justin had needed to hear words of love, though everything in Brian’s lovemaking showed his feelings. “I love you more than life itself,” Brian had said, simply, without hesitation, and Justin carried those words like the precious gift they were, knowing who the man was who had uttered them, who he had been.

Justin felt so excited. Soon, he would be able to give Brian what he knew Brian most wanted. That knowledge made him giddy with the anticipation of Brian’s reaction. He trusted Brian to go slowly, to be gentle, to give him time. He trusted Brian completely. He could not even imagine wanting this with anyone else…

Though the visit to Dr. Sigfried was the last hurdle in overcoming his fear, he dreaded it. What if Dr. Marlin was wrong and the proctologist’s examination revealed some weakness in the rebuilt intestine that would prohibit anal sex, then what? In the waiting room he was a mess. He had to keep it together because unlike in Dr. Marlin’s waiting room, there were three other patients in Dr. Sigfried’s. A nurse came and got him. She took him to an examination room, and explained the procedure.

The doctor would insert a disposable rectoscope, which looked like a giant syringe with a rounded tip. Then he would remove the syringe’s plunger, which included the rounded tip. He would insert some air, which would feel extremely strange, and pass a camera through the open end to examine the sigmoid colon.

After she left, the only reason Justin did not run screaming was that he wasn’t sure his legs could support him. He was supposed to remove his pants and underwear and wait with a stupid paper skirt on. He would have thrown up, had he eaten anything. He had done an enema that morning, and another again at lunchtime to be ready for this. He hoped to god it was enough.

The doctor finally came in six hours later. (Actually, 4 minutes, but who’s counting?) He was blond, balding, short and rubicund with an easy smile.

“You look scared shitless, young man,” he said.

“I am.” The words came out so fast it was amazing he actually made sense. “I was injured during a rape with two perforations to my sigmoid and one to my ileum and I almost died of the subsequent infection. I had a colostomy, and my colon was reattached to my rectum after nine weeks. I was told I could resume sexual activity six weeks after the surgery, but I am really scared to tear something, and to need a colostomy again. The biggest thing I’ve had in my rectum was the tube for the enema today. Please don’t hurt me.”

He breathed deeply, and realized he’d said the whole thing in one breath. He couldn’t believe he’d just talked about the rape to a total stranger. He wanted to kiss Dr. Marlin, who had managed somehow to liberate him, to take him past the trauma to the important thing: His fear.

“Well, well. Plenty of good reasons for you to be anxious. I will be extra gentle then, and talk you through it, OK? You will be able to see everything I do in this mirror here, and then follow along with what the camera sees in there on the monitor. We can stop and take a break at any time, OK? One thing that might help: Do you have a lover?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How big is he?”

Justin was about to say 6’3” and then realized that was not the proctologist’s question… He answered, “9 ¼ inches.”

“Hmm… Well. How nice for you… If you wish, to make the experience more relevant, I can use a nine-inch rectoscope. It will perhaps reassure you that you can handle something that size.”

“Uh… OK, I guess.”

“Just like one would do prior to sex, I need to stretch your sphincters to be able to insert the rectoscope painlessly. This is clinical. I purposefully try not to make it pleasurable. When your lover does it, it will be totally different, of course. Do not think it feels cold and deprived of sensation because you have lost the capacity to enjoy it. It feels that way because it’s a medical procedure and not an act of love. Do you understand?”

“Yes, doctor.”

The insertion of the first gloved finger was completely pain free, and as the doctor had said, pleasure free as well. So were the second and third fingers, stretching him efficiently, yet without any of the warm, pleasurable sensations that normally accompanied this activity. For one thing, the doc stayed well away from Justin’s prostate. Soon he was stretched enough for the rectoscope.

“All right Justin. Here comes the scope. In the same way as before, I am not doing anything with this to stimulate the pleasure centers. It will feel cold and clinical, not even like a dildo. This is done purposefully. It does not mean anything about the enjoyment you will get out of doing this with your lover.”

Indeed, the insertion was completely painless and devoid of pleasure. The plunger was removed, and the camera with the fiber optic light and the air-blowing attachment was inserted, at first only within the transparent scope. Justin could see everything on the screen. It was fucking weird.

“Your anal canal and rectum are in perfect shape. No tears, no abrasions. Your rectum is unusually long, almost six inches. I see no trace of reattachment of the sigmoid to the rectum. How high was the colostomy?”

“Just there. As far as I know, right after the rectum.”

“How long ago did you say, Justin?”

“Uh… a little over four years…”

The doctor chuckled. “You said they told you you could resume sexual activity after six weeks, and that you wanted to check that everything was fine… I was expecting a six week-old reattachment scar… Justin, I can tell the work was done with incredible precision and care. I cannot even perceive the exact location… Now, I am going to blow some air into your sigmoid colon. I am sure you realize your lover’s penis, as large as it is, will make its way this far. We will look for traces of repaired perforation, though I assume if you had a colostomy, it means they removed the perforated area. This is going to feel exceedingly weird, OK?”

Exceedingly weird was such an adept description… Full of air, the colon opened and they took a little tour. ‘Hey! Check it out! It looked like the ship in Alien!’ thought Justin, trying to detach himself from the whole thing. It was all very pale pink and very healthy.

“Justin? How long since your last meal?”

“Uh… Sunday night?”

“You might consider eating occasionally, you know… Most people do it, about three times a day… Well, it all looks so healthy it’s disgusting.” He aspirated the air, another exceedingly weird sensation, and removed the apparatus quickly yet painlessly.

“My dear boy, go and get fucked silly. With that beautiful long rectum and these sphincters as tight as drums, your lover will worship the ground you walk on. Use protection, use plenty of lube, and have fun…” He smiled at Justin. “It does my heart good to see such a healthy colon once in a while. Any questions?”

Justin had none. He just wanted to get out of there.

Dr. Sigfried started to leave, but stopped at the door, adding as an afterthought, “By the way, you are going to fart like crazy for the next couple of hours. We can never remove all the air. You might not want to be around people… Good-bye!”

Fuck. Justin had to go back to work. He got dressed and let out a humongous fart. Oh, fantastic… He started driving back to work and farted so much, so long and so loudly, he decided there was no way he would be fit for human company. He went home and called Stuart.

“My appointment went well but… The doctor recommended I take it easy for a few hours.”

Stuart giggled. “I had a colonoscopy two years ago. You’re farting like crazy, aren’t you?”

“I am your boss, Stuart. I do not fart. I pass gas.” They both cracked up.

“I’ll e-mail you anything you need to see right away, and we’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Thanks, Stuart.”

“You’re welcome, Justin. Uh… Is everything OK?”

Stuart had no idea why he had gone, and was worried, obviously. “Yep. Everything is perfect.”

“I’m so glad. Bye.”

“Bye, Stuart.”

Justin worked from home and was surprised at how much he accomplished with Stuart feeding him the necessary elements by e-mail. Around 6:00pm, he realized he had not passed gas for a good thirty minutes. That was great, because he was going to play pool with Theo at 7:00. That was going to be fun. It was also going to be hard because he was horny as hell and wanted to fuck, and Theo felt so fucking good… He’d have to find a blow job at Woody’s ASAP…

 

***********
 

Brian slept in until 11:00 on Wednesday. After all, he’d not gone to bed till 5:00. Surprisingly, seeing a man die an hour before had not prevented him from sleeping like a baby. He’d not really seen him die though. He’d just… disappeared. Brian stretched and went to take a shower. He put his Armani suit back on, with a crisp white shirt and a beautiful tie. He took his briefcase, and had his chauffeur take him to Taylor Electronics. He had no idea what his goal was once he got there. He just needed to see Taylor senior, for some reason…

The store looked like any small electronics store he’d ever seen, nothing extraordinary. It did carry some high-end stuff, like Bang and Olufsen, Krell and Arcam, and Martin Logan and had larger flat screens than the average Big-Q, but the prices seemed pretty high as well. Two guys, who both pinged loudly on Brian’s gaydar were looking at some expensive stereo equipment, helped by a knowledgeable young man. He approached them.

“Did you know that the son of this store’s owner was sent to the hospital by a homophobic attack, and that when Taylor learned about it he told his boy he could not come home after he got out? He kicked his own seventeen year old to the curb for being a fag. I think you should shop elsewhere.”

The guys looked at each other, and turned back to Brian. “Thanks for the heads up.” And they left the store.

“Dude, that’s not cool. That was a big commission for me.”

“You choose to work for a homophobic asshole. It’s not my problem.”

“Why should I give a shit? I’m not gay. I don’t care who is. I just sell electronics. You all have a lot of discretionary cash. Gays make up a lot of the high end stuff’s clientele. What are you gonna do? Chase them away one at a time?”

Brian smiled. “Not a bad idea. Is your boss here?”

“He's in the office, why?”

“I just want to meet him. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get me in there.”

“You could have just asked to see him, you know.”

“I guess I feel bad about your commission.”

“Right this way.” They walked to the back of the store where a door led to the administration area. The sign said “Craig Taylor, CEO”.

The guy knocked on the door and opened it after hearing, “Come in.”

“Craig, a customer to see you.”

Brian walked in. Craig was in his early fifties, fit and good looking. He looked nothing like his son though he’d been blond before going grey and had green eyes. He smiled inquiringly at Brian. “What can Taylor Electronics do for you, Mr.…”

“Kinney. Brian Kinney. Nothing at all, really. I just wanted to meet face to face the man who threw my lover out of his childhood home at age seventeen and called his rape and torture at the hands of his schoolmates a prank. You look astonishingly normal for a heartless bastard.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s his pardon you should be begging for, asshole, though why he would give it, I don’t know. Well, I’ve seen what I needed to see. I’ve looked in the face of evil and found it benign looking. I suppose millions of Jews could have testified to the same. May you have a shitty life, a painful death and rot in hell, Mr. Taylor. I will endeavor to make sure your son does the exact opposite.”

“Listen, you faggot…”

“I think not. Good-bye.”

Craig Taylor followed him out the door.

“That’s right, get out of here you… you pervert!”

Brian did not bother to turn around. He grabbed a leaflet with all the information about the store and left. He got in his limo and asked his chauffeur to take him to the nearest Kinko’s. He worked for two hours on his computer on two ads featuring Taylor Electronics. He made absolutely sure every word in the ads was true. Libel was an ugly thing. It was the first time in his life that he wrote ads to get people to stay away from a store instead of going there.

The first one, which told of Craig Taylor's son’s attack, but put the emphasis on Taylor senior’s family values, he took to the Denver Post for printing as a full page, every Sunday for a year. The other one, telling the same tale but with the emphasis on Craig’s homophobia, he took to Outfront Colorado and Diverse City, Denver’s gay newspaper and monthly magazine, for half a page, every issue for a year. Money well spent.

Next he went to the Taylors' home, hoping to meet Molly. As luck would have it, a teenage girl who looked a lot like her brother opened the door. Brian had no idea if Justin had spoken of him to her or not.

“Molly Taylor?”

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Brian Aidan Kinney,” he answered, in case Justin had spoken of him as Aidan.

Her face lit up with a sunshine smile almost as beautiful as her brother’s. “Justin’s Aidan? You look just like his drawing, though you have more clothes on…” She giggled. She stepped back in the house. “Mom! I’m going for a walk!” She didn’t wait for an answer and just slammed the door shut on her mother’s words. “I’d love to invite you in, but, well, my parents are assholes. We can go to the little park down there, or you can buy me ice cream…”

“Come on,” said Brian, chuckling. “Ice cream it is.” The chauffeur took them to Fran’s, a small place with espresso, homemade chocolates and only four flavors of ice cream: Lemon, currant, chocolate and dulce de leche. She had chocolate, he had the dulce de leche. It was out of this world.

Molly looked straight at him and asked, “Do you love my brother?”

Why was it everyone these days felt entitled to ask him this incredibly personal question?

“I worship the ground he walks on…”

She giggled again. “Oh, good. I’m so glad. I want him to be loved, and happy. Does he still look like me a little? We looked a lot alike when I was small.”

“Yes. There is no doubt that you’re related. He doesn’t send you photos?”

“He’s very private. He just sent me this sketch of you in jeans, with no shirt and no shoes that said “Aidan” at the bottom. I thought you were the public persona of Rage, you know? Like Clark Kent? But here you are… Did you model for Rage?”

“No. I only met your brother in February.”

“That’s funny. You look a lot like him. Are you why he moved?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“I’ve figured out he’s in Pittsburgh from his e-mail address. That's where that Kinnetik place is located. I was wondering how he ended up there.”

“He actually came for work. But I was very glad he did. Speaking of work, I’m afraid your father’s store may not be as successful as usual for a while. I hope it won’t affect you too much. If you have problems paying for school or whatever…”

“I’m going to public school next fall. And I know I can always count on Justin for money. But thanks. As far as I’m concerned, if you could sink my dad’s store, it would be rather cool.”

“I don’t think it will go that far though it would be nice. Just a minor slow down, I imagine. Hopefully enough to be a pain in his side for a while…”

“That’s my goal in life. To be a pain in his side ‘til I graduate high school and get the hell out of here. I’m planning on pretending to date my friend Damian next. He’s black. That should be fun… I miss Justin a lot. I so want to see him. He won’t let me come. I wouldn’t tell my parents. I promise. Even with all the e-mails, it’s not the same.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’m sorry this is such a short visit, but I have to take you back, I have a plane to catch. Your brother doesn’t know I was here. Please don’t tell him. I just wanted to meet you.”

“Thanks. For taking the time, and for the ice cream.”

Brian dropped her back at her house, and she kissed his cheek before getting out. “See you again soon, I hope,” she said.

“Sounds good.”

Having accomplished all his goals, Brian left Denver a day early, changing his arrival ticket to Chicago by 24 hours. He made sure his suite at the Hotel Monaco was available, and cold called a couple more of Vangard's clients to go and try to seduce them. He had to have something to show for his long business trip.

He’d told everyone he’d be back Saturday midday. His flight was actually landing Friday at 3:00pm, and Cynthia had made him an appointment with a psychiatrist at 4:00. He figured he would surprise Justin that evening, either at his home or at Babylon. He’ d missed him so fucking much. The good news was, out of the five companies he’d visited, four had made follow up appointments in the next month to give him a chance to show them how much more Kinnetik could do for them than Vangard was doing. Justin and he were going to have a lot of fun.

He took a taxi home, dropped his bags, and was out the door again to make it to his appointment. He checked the address and went in the dove grey entrance and up the stairs to a door with a sign that said: Dr. Marvin M. Marlin, MD, PhD. Please come in and take a seat in the waiting room on your right.

The waiting room only had one chair. Brian grabbed today’s New York Times and went to the business section. He started reading.

 

************
 

Seeing Brian Kinney in his appointment book that morning, Mysterious Marilyn, AKA Dr. Marlin, had chuckled to himself. This ought to be fun. Here he was, the poor workaholic boy, reading the business section of the Times. Not quite the fun loving optimist his lover was… Oh, Marv could not wait to hear why Brian thought he was here. He took care to hide the gay radiance in his aura, as he had, quite uselessly it turned out, with Justin.

“Mr. Kinney? I’m Dr. Marlin. Right this way, please.”

He opened the door to his office. “Please take a seat.”

Unsurprisingly, Brian took the seat with its back to the wall. Marvin sat where Justin had sat just days ago.

Brian frowned and looked at him. “Have we met? You look familiar…”

“Did you ever consult me when the young lover you kicked out of your loft after a robbery ran away to New York to become a go-go dancer?” asked Marvin, fishing in the alternate past.

“No. Definitely not.”

“Then no, Mr. Kinney. I don’t think we’ve met…” God. He was going to love fucking with him. Really Marvin. Shame on you…

“So, Mr. Kinney. Why are you here?”

“A friend of mine suggested you might be of help.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Brian. You know damn well that’s not what I’m asking. Let’s not waste our time, OK?”

Brian looked completely nonplussed.

“Come on, man. Give it a real go. Why are you here?”

“I have a lover. Smart, beautiful, interesting, fun. Our sexual relationship is extremely good and satisfying. But there is something I desire that my lover cannot give me, and I would like to learn to be satisfied with what I do have instead of constantly desiring what I can never have.”

“Brian, let me show you how this works, because if you keep pussyfooting around the entire time, I’m going to fall asleep, OK?”

He smiled at Brian and said, “You’re queer. You are madly in love with this man who is everything you could ever hope for. He is also the most amazing lover you’ve ever had, but he’s a top and cannot bottom. You’re also a top. Not a versatile who prefers to top, but a power top. You love your sexual relationship with him, but you want to fuck him. All the time, you want to fuck him. You are afraid your desire will ruin your relationship and you want to learn to be satisfied with bottoming. See? That’s how it works. Did I get it right?”

Brian blown away, just laughed. “How did you know I’m not straight?”

“How did you know I am?”

“I have a very accurate gaydar.”

Marv released the gay portion of his aura, and smiled. “How accurate, Brian?”

“Holy shit! You’re gay! You were hiding it before, weren’t you?”

“I have to have something to show for eight years of training. But enough about me. Let's go back to your lover…”

“His name is Justin.”

“Have you ever been turned down by a trick, Brian? Have you ever dragged a guy to the backroom who was a top only and just plain refused for you to fuck him?”

“No. I’ve fucked guys who thought they were tops, but I always convinced them otherwise…”

“So you can tell when a trick is a bottom, or a versatile with a top tendency, but you know they will let you top in the end. Right?”

“Right.”

“Your gaydar has served you well. Has it ever failed you?”

“Well, when I met Justin I thought he was a bottom. Then I found out he was a top and…”

“Do you ever bottom, Brian?”

“No. Never.” Brian chuckled.

“You’re funny. Before Justin, had you ever bottomed without having to ask for it?”

“No. I hired hustlers, or I went to power tops and told them I wanted to bottom, when, you know…”

“Yes, Brian. You can tell I’m a top. A top only. So I know. Once in a while you just need that cock up your ass. It goes against your nature, but there you have it. So you met this cute bottom at a time when you didn’t need a bottom. You needed a top. And the cute bottom turned out to be a top, contrary to what your extremely accurate gaydar was telling you, and he fucked you and you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. Is that about it?”

“So much so that I went back for more. And I fell in love with him, the whole package of him, including the out of this world sex, but I’ve wanted to fuck him ever since.”

“Very good, Brian. Now we’re getting somewhere. And you feel guilty, because he gives you so much and you want more.”

“He’s keeping the relationship secret because of me, because well, I’m Brian Fucking Kinney and I can’t be bottoming for a little blond twink. He stopped tricking because of me, and he surrenders all power to me in our sex life to make up for the fact that he doesn’t bottom. And I still want to fuck him.”

“OK. Let’s look at this. Your not insignificant ego could not take people knowing you bottom for him? Who the fuck are you trying to kid, here?”

Brian was quiet for a moment, giving the doctor’s statement some real thought. “… Shit. You’re right. God. I don’t give a shit what people think… Why have I been hiding him like some dirty secret? I fucking love him. Fuck’em all. We’re coming out of the closet.”

“Good man. Now he stopped tricking? Why?”

“I asked him to. He doesn’t trick, he… I don’t know. He knows their names; he fucks them again and again. He blows them in the backroom. He rims them in the backroom. When he fucks them, they come screaming his name. He makes out with them afterward, he laughs with them, talks to them, confides in them. And they’re all tops. Well, except for one or two they are all tops, the kind of tops I’d never try to drag to the backroom, because they are not versatile in the least. And he fucks them, and they love it.”

“Just like you.”

“Exactly. Exactly like me.”

“So you felt like one of his tricks.”

“I felt like a glorified trick, yes. I never meant for him to know, and I never meant for him to actually stop tricking, but when he offered, god. I wanted him to stop so badly. And he stopped and I fucking love it, even though it makes me feel like a heel, because I personally can’t stop. I need to top or I’ll go insane…”

“Just out of curiosity… If Justin were to give you something he gives to no one else, if he was to bottom for you, for example, would you let him start tricking again?”

“He can’t. He’s never going to bottom. I have to learn to live with that.”

“I get it, Brian. I am asking for a hypothetical here. Were he to top everyone else but bottom for you. Would you let him trick again?”

“Yes. There would be something that’s mine only. Something that no one else can touch. It would be different.”

“And then you would stop tricking because now your need to top would be taken care of.”

“…Uh?”

“Well, he would need to top, just like you need to top now: He’s been a power top for five years, it has left its mark… You, on the other hand, would get what you need from him, so you wouldn’t need to trick. Unless, what, you would bottom for tricks?”

“I am an asshole.”

“Well, that’s kind of a given, isn’t it?”

“I might stop tricking if he did, but I never would stop if he continued. I am a fucking hypocrite. I’m asking him to do for me something that I would never do for him. And he thinks it’s his decision, his idea, when I’m actually subtly blackmailing him into it by using his inability to bottom.”

“Very good, Brian.”

Brian got up and went to look out the window. “But I fucking hate the way he tricks!”

“Does he love you less because of it?”

“No!”

“And when he moved, did it seem to you he had any problems leaving all his previous fuck buddies behind?”

“No!”

“So you are not a glorified trick. You are the man he loves, his partner, his lover, his best friend, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So this whole no-tricking thing is just you having a jealous little hissy fit and using his handicap to control him.”

Brian opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and finally just admitted, “Ouch.”

“Well, it is…”

“Still. Ouch.”

“There, there…” said the doc, making sure it was obvious he didn’t give a rat’s ass. Kinney needed special handling…

“Fuck off,” said Brian, grinning. They cracked up.

“Brian, do you know why Justin cannot bottom?”

“Yes, yes I do. There was a traumatic event in his life that left him unable to do so.”

“Has he ever bottomed?”

“Yes, before that event he identified himself as a bottom.”

“So it was circumstances that changed his sexual preferred position. Not nature.”

“What are you saying?”

“Who does Justin fuck, Brian?”

“Tops.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

Brian thought about it, and then the answer came to him. “Oh. Of course. He’s a bottom.”

“He is a bottom like you are a top, Brian, just like your gaydar originally told you then, and still tells you now, if you’d only pay attention, I’m sure.”

“Wow. You’re right. Justin constantly has to fight to be seen as a top. Really, everyone knows he’s a bottom.”

“What are the chances you’d fall in love with a top? Justin is perfectly matched to you, he is the yang to your yin, your true partner, your perfect lover, the bottom to your top. You know this. You’ve always known this. You will never stop wanting to fuck him, because no matter how wonderful your sex life is now, you fucking him is the way it should be. It is what nature intended.”

Brian ran his hand through his hair, and sat back down across from Marv, watching him with intent. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“You go home, you sit down and you think. If, for the rest of his life he lives as a top, can you accept it? Can you forgive him for being unable to be who he really is? Can you share your life with him knowing you will always crave something he should be able to give, but through no fault of his own is unable to? Do you love your bottom enough to accept that he will top you forever?

“And if you decide that he is worth the sacrifice, unfetter him. Tell your friends the truth, live your love in the open or he will always feel you are somehow ashamed of what happened to him, even though he never told you what it was… and let him trick any way he wants, or you stop tricking as well. This double standard is ridiculous.”

Brian nodded in agreement and said, “You know there is no way that you should know half the shit you know…”

“Brian, I may be old enough to be your father, but I’m a fag who lives and works on Liberty Avenue. I was basically your age when this gorgeous cocky new top made his first appearance. I have watched you grow older, and lately it seems, grow wiser. And I watched this sweet little blond piece of ass named Justin arrive on the scene a few months ago and take the tops by storm. Strangely enough, though you two circle each other like wolves in heat, you are the only top who hasn’t had his cock up your ass. I am a psychiatrist. It’s not just a title, you know. It means I tend to understand people’s motivations through their behaviors. Educated guesses are my bread and butter.” He clapped and rubbed his hand together. “Well, I feel we covered the Justin problem, what about you?”

“Yes. I think so too.”

“We still have a few minutes, so… Why don’t you tell me about your mother?”

Seeing Brian’s horrified look, he laughed hard. “You should see your face! I’m just fucking with you. Your time is up Kinney. We will talk about your unresolved Oedipus complex some other time, like, never, I’m sure. Go home. Go think. Make up your mind, and stick with your decision. Have a good life, Brian.”

Brian had been gone for ten minutes, and Marvin was still chuckling at his look of horror when he thought he was going to have to talk about his mom. God knows he had needed help for years, stuck as he was in his adolescence. But Justin had come on the scene, had shown him the advantages of being an adult, and pushed Brian beyond himself to become the man he always had the potential to be. Marv had no doubt what Brian’s conclusions would be tonight. Brian truly loved that boy. It was actually a part of him now, that love, coloring his aura beautifully with strength of purpose.

But in a bit more than twenty-four hours, the whole subject would be moot. It was essential that Brian did the right things before then. He needed to come out with the relationship while still thinking he would bottom forever. He needed to give Justin back the freedom to trick before he knew he would soon get something uniquely his. Only then would he feel completely free to enjoy what was coming to him. Only then would it be a pure moment of love untainted by his regrets.

Marv was glad to have had a part in Brian and Justin coming together. Out of dozens of possible realities Marv could see, more than any other couple he had ever met before, Brian and Justin always found their way to each other and loved each other in their unique amazing way. It was a beautiful thing.

TBC....

Return to Spin and Fall