I TOLD YOU SO
Justin:
Gary gave me the night off so I can finish my project for Professor Arthur. I’ve
fallen behind in all my classes, go-go dancing turned out to be a lot harder
than I thought. I mean, usually I can dance by myself or with Brian for hours
and never feel tired, but there’s something different about being ‘on,’ being
watched every minute. It’s exhausting.
Brian doesn’t understand. If he did, he’d stop harassing me about being tired
all the time. I try to hide it, I don’t know how he can tell. I can’t stand the
nagging, it’s like being home with my dad. When I told him that, he got pissed.
He hates anything that reminds him that he’s so much older than me. Usually I
don’t even think about it, but if I want to annoy him, making age jokes always
works.
Brian keeps trying to give me money for school. He doesn’t realize that I just
can’t let him do any more for me. I need to be an equal partner in our
relationship, if he starts thinking of me as a responsibility, some kid he has
to take care of, we could be doomed. It’s bad enough I live in his loft
rent-free. He lets me buy a few groceries sometimes, Mom brings us food, Deb
sends food home with me from the diner. And I make enough at the diner to pay
all my school expenses, except tuition. PIFA is majorly expensive.
He doesn’t want me to go to Gary’s party. He didn’t exactly say it, but he made
it pretty clear. I don’t know why he hates Gary so much, Gary’s just a horny
older guy. Sometimes he’ll squeeze my shoulder or pat my ass, but he hasn’t come
on to me again since that first time. I don’t know if I’d let him blow me again
or not – I don’t think so. But I hope I don’t have to find out.
Gary promised I won’t have to do anything at the party, he says he just likes to
have a few pretty boys around for decoration. It can’t be any worse than dancing
on the bar in my underwear. It’ll probably just be a bunch of old guys drinking
and watching porn. Bo-ring. I’m glad there’ll be other young guys there besides
me, I’ll have somebody to talk to. It’s only for a few hours anyway.
Brian:
No doubt about it, I hate seeing Justin dance on the bar at Babylon. I've been
acting like it's okay, like it doesn't bother me, but fuck, it does bother me.
The first time he did it, I was embarrassed. Everybody knows Justin belongs to
me. And I was embarrassed that he was up there on a platform wiggling his ass
around so guys could shove money into his underwear. I felt like people were
laughing at him. And the outfit Sap gave him to wear - angel wings, for fuck
sake. Jesus. I took one look at him and had to get out of there.
When he came home that night and announced that he'd be dancing on the bar, I
knew what he'd done. Everybody knew, even Michael, who's a few months older than
me but about a million times more naïve than even Justin. I didn't blame Justin;
I know how it works, and I guess he was feeling desperate, but what sticks in my
throat and nearly chokes me is the fact that I can easily help him with college.
It's no big deal to me, I've got plenty stashed away. The Pool Boy bonus paid
off the mortgage on my loft, and I've been putting money aside for emergencies -
I never really thought about doing that before the mess with Kip Thomas, but
since then, I've built up a stash. Besides that, I started a college fund for
Gus, though nobody knows about it yet.
No matter what I tried, I couldn't get Justin to let me help him with school
expenses. In a way I understand how he feels; I remember how I felt when Henri
gave me my first silk shirt. Pride warring with desire. And I can respect him
not wanting handouts from anybody. But the thing is, I'm not 'anybody,' damn it.
He's the one always telling me I'm not 'just anybody,' but he won't let me help.
I even told him it could be a loan, and still he refused.
The absolute worst thing about this go-go boy shit was when he announced tonight
he was going to an after-hours party at Gary Sapperstein’s place. I almost told
him he couldn’t go – but quickly I pulled up short on that. I have no right to
tell him what to do, he’s a man now. In most ways, he’s as much a man as anybody
I know. But he’s still too trusting, he still believes the best of people. He
won’t learn anything different from me telling him. He’s got to experience it
for himself.
I had to let him go to the party. To find his own way, to make his own
decisions. But Christ, it was hard, pulling on my boots, grabbing my jacket and
kissing him goodbye. Turning my back and walking out the door, knowing he was
going to be sorry he agreed to go. I did ask him to take his cellphone, to call
if he needed me to come pick him up later. He smiled at me and gave a little
wave, but when I tried calling just now, I found out that his cell is turned
off.
So fuck it, and fuck him. Let him learn for himself the type of man Gary
Sapperstein is, the kind of ‘friends’ he surrounds himself with. I just hope to
Christ he doesn’t let anybody fuck him. Or get so hammered that he. . . Well,
here comes Ted, he looks miserable, as usual. Mikey’s supposed to meet us here
soon. I need another drink. A few more drinks. A lot more drinks. Maybe then I
can forget about the Sap’s party.
Justin:
The party turned out to be sleazy after all. Brian was right. I don't really
want to tell him about it, for lots of reasons. Brian's not the jealous type,
but I know he’d be pissed if he found out what the Sap tried to do. And I sure
as fuck don't want to listen to him saying 'I told you so.'
Besides, I can take care of myself. And I did, didn't I? I wanted to leave and I
left. I just wish I could remember how I got home.
I was wasted, really wasted. But I wasn't afraid, not for a moment. Not afraid.
Just kind of. . .wary. Almost nervous. Definitely nervous. Especially seeing
this kid - I think his name's Billy - seeing him in the sling with all those
guys gathered around him, doing things. I'm not naïve and I've been to the baths
with Brian, I know about slings and that some guys like them. But I wasn't sure
that Billy really wanted to do that.
Gary shared a joint with me, asked me to take my shirt off. It was good shit,
really strong, and I didn't mind taking off my shirt, after all, I knew I was at
the party as eye candy. Yet when Gary reached over to pinch my nipple, I didn't
like it. I had a few more hits from the joint, but it was burning my throat.
When Gary's friend came over and said I needed a drink, I intercepted a look
between the two men. I don't know what it meant, but that's when I started
feeling nervous. But then they went away, left me alone, so I figured I imagined
the whole thing.
It was late and I was tired, what I really wanted was to be home in bed, but
Gary had asked me to stay a few hours. So when I saw some guys snorting coke, I
decided to do a line. Just one, just enough to energize me. The coke was
different than I'd experienced before, as soon as I snorted it, I started
getting dizzy. The colors of the room started tilting and swirling into each
other. I shook my head a few times to clear it, but that only made things worse.
When Gary came over and handed me a glass of water, I took a grateful gulp. It
tasted funny.
Things are kind of blurry after that. I know he put his arms around me, turned
me around near the sling, and asked if I wanted to try it. I said no, or anyway,
I think I said no, but I was laughing, laughing, and getting dizzier and
dizzier. Somebody hugged me from behind, and I think somebody else shoved
something under my nose - I don't think it was poppers, because I sort of
remember almost falling down after I sniffed it. The last thing I remember at
all clearly is Gary on his knees trying to take off my pants. I kicked him, I’m
pretty sure I raised up my knee and kicked him in the face. I can see a picture
of myself doing that, but it's fuzzy. Somehow I got out of there, out of Gary's
loft. I don't remember going down the stairs, and I have only vague memories of
a black night sky filled with stars swirling around my head. And I remember
being cold - I'd left his place without my shirt or my jacket. That was one of
my favorite jackets, too.
Somehow I got home. I remember wishing that Brian would be there, I felt like
Brian would take care of me. Totally wimped out on myself at the very end, but
luckily he wasn't home. I kind of collapsed on the bed and woke up a little
later later, my head pounding and my body shivering uncontrollably. I managed to
make it into the bathroom in time to throw up in the toilet, then turned on the
shower full blast and let the steamy heat cascade over my head and shoulders for
what seemed like hours. Finally I got warm just before the hot water ran out,
toweled off and climbed back in the bed, pulled the duvet over me, and went
right to sleep.
I didn't wake up till almost ten this morning. Brian had not come home. I was
pissed about that, but it was tempered by being glad he had not been there to
see what condition I was in the night before. At least now I could be morally
superior, and give him a bad time for not following the rules.
Sometime while I was sleeping, I'd made up my mind to accept Brian's offer of a
loan. It won't be so bad. I can't go on with these late hours, I'm fucking up
school, and it's the second most important thing in my life. So I'll swallow my
pride. And I know Brian will never hold it against me, he'll never make me feel
bad that I couldn't do it on my own.
But Brian doesn't need to know about my adventure at Gary's. Nothing happened,
and I'm not going to work for him any more, so it's no big deal. Yeah, I think
it's better if Brian doesn't find out. He’d only say, ‘I told you so.’
Brian:
Blinking my eyes to force them open, I wrestled the suffocating duvet and
managed to pull and push it off me, kicking it to the floor. Then I stretched
languidly, absently rubbing my hard-on. Where was my boy, damn it, why wasn't he
in bed with me? I struggled to rise on my elbows and spotted him, glued – no
surprise - to his computer, totally lost inside whatever drawing he was
creating. I watched him for a moment, thinking about the way he'd fucked me this
morning. I've taught him well, but I can't take all the credit, he's a natural.
Guess I should feel lucky he doesn't insist on fucking me more often.
Getting fucked is not high on my list of sex play. It can be enjoyable - and it
was, with Justin this time; but I get more pleasure doing almost anything else.
It was ages before I let him do me the first time, and then he caught me by
surprise, so hammered that I couldn't offer up much resistance. Remembering that
night a few weeks ago, remembering the feeling of Justin struggling to force me
to roll over, starts a low rumbling laugh deep in my chest; it turns into a
cough, and I see Justin's head fly up, see him glance toward the bedroom and
those incredible blue eyes hone in on me like a fucking laser beam. That look
jolts me, always. Always has, though I would have died rather than admit it
until just a few months ago.
"Hey!" I shout at him now, "Get over here and give me a hand, I have a problem."
I see him glance at my dick, I’m waving it at him suggestively.
That smile, cocky and yet somehow sweet, somehow still innocent - when nobody
knows better than I do that Justin is not an innocent babe. He jumps up and
hurries to the bed and I reach out to grab him, but he takes my outstretched
hand in both of his and pulls. I'm dead weight though, and we play tug-of-war
for a few moments. "Come to bed," I insist.
"No, get up, get up, do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah," I give him my dirtiest leer, "It's time to fuck your ass." I pull harder
and he slips an inch closer to the bed
"Bri-an!" He makes my name sound like two words when he's harassing me. "It's
almost five o'clock, we're supposed to be there at six. Get up!"
"Be where?" Oh yeah, the munchers. Sunday dinner with the munchers. I groan,
"No."
"Get up," he insists, pulling harder, and I give in to him, letting him pull me
off the bed and nearly onto the floor, before I decided to cooperate and get my
legs underneath me. I reach for him but he backs quickly away. "Wow, you're
ripe!" His smile takes away the sting. And anyway he's right, I can smell
myself. "Get in the shower!"
Hmm, I think, fucking me has apparently given him delusions of power. He seems
very full of himself today. Then I remember last night, remember how worried I
had been about him going to that asshole's 'private party.' Which was of course
why I got drunk as a skunk. I need to find out what happened, but I don't want
to ruin his mood of confidence right now. It's sexy. Hot.
"Come with me, wash my back." He starts to shake his head and I add, "I'll let
you suck my cock."
With a laugh Justin pushes me through the bathroom door. "Later! I already had a
shower, and gelled my hair and everything. I need you to hurry up, so we have
time to stop somewhere for flowers." He always insists on taking something,
usually flowers, to Lindsay and Mel. I stop at the sink to brush my teeth, and
notice that Justin's stripping the bed. I'm sure it's just as ripe as me.
"Wait and I'll help you," I call through a mouthful of mint paste. It's hard to
make that bed alone, I like the ledge around the edge but it definitely makes
changing the sheets a two-man operation. And the cleaning service comes twice a
week but not on Sundays. Justin quickly acquiesces and moves over to lean in the
doorway, watching me brush my teeth. He used to worry that the cleaning woman
would be shocked by the condition of our bed, and he was embarrassed if she was
there when we were home, though he always tried to hide it.
What's he hiding about last night, I wonder? What happened to make him change
his mind about accepting a loan? And how can I find out with giving him the
third degree?
I can tell that Justin's just as eager to pin me down about my own adventures
last night, and it will be a good story to tell him. But I'm not going to make
it easy - it’ll be fun to see how he tries to finesse me. Lindsay once said I
enjoy being uncommunicative, and I guess she's right; I'm enjoying Justin's
first tentative foray now.
"Smells like you slept in your car," he says, his opening gambit.
“That would have been more comfortable,” I answer cryptically, bending over the
sink to gulp a mouthful of water, rinse and spit.
After my shower we pulled off the dirty sheets and Justin opened the linen
drawer to get out some clean ones. I started rummaging through the pile of dirty
clothes that had accumulated near the closet. I like the loft kept neat, but
sometimes we get a little sloppy with our clothes.
Justin:
Brian was picking up dirty clothes from the floor of the closet. Sometimes we’re
lazy and leave them there for a day or two. Over his shoulder he asked, “What
did you wear to the party?”
“My new blue tee,” I answered, without thinking. Oh-oh.
“The one that matches your eyes?”
“Umm.” He’d just bought that tee for me last week, he said it made me look hot.
“Did you leave it in the bathroom? It’s not here.”
“We can make the bed later, Brian, we’re going to be late.” I tossed the clean
sheets on the foot of the bed and hurried down to the alcove where my study area
is, next to the mural painting of the naked guy. I pretended to be busy stacking
some papers and then carried an empty soda can to the kitchen.
“Justin.”
I turned and saw Brian standing like a statue at the top of the bedroom steps.
“Justin, where’s your blue tee?”
I just looked at him, trying to think of an answer. I can’t lie, Brian hates
lying worse than anything in the world. “Umm,” I hesitated, then added, “I don’t
exactly know.” It wasn’t a lie. Sure, I’d left my shirt at Gary’s loft, but I
didn’t exactly know where it was right this minute.
He stared at me, one eyebrow raised. When I didn’t say anything else, he said,
very calmly, “Justin, if you had sex at the party, that’s your business. I’m
asking if you did, but you don’t have to tell me.”
“No,” I shook my head. “I mean,” I hurried to add, “I did not have sex at the
party.”
Brian still hadn’t moved, and it was unnerving. Sometimes he looks so calm on
the outside but you can almost feel his blood boiling on the inside. “So you
came home from the party wearing only your jacket?”
I pulled my eyes away from that spotlight stare, opened the fridge and grabbed a
bottle of water. Over my shoulder I answered, “Yeah, more or less.”
“More or less?”
I unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp of water. Why was I feeling so guilty, I
didn’t do anything?
Brian descended the steps and came over to stand beside me. He took the bottle
from my hand and set it on the counter. “More or less?”
Suddenly I was getting angry. “Jesus, Brian, stop with the police interrogation
already. I took off my shirt at the party, and I forgot it, that’s all.”
“Okay.” He nodded, turned away and went back to the bedroom, pulled on his
leather jacket and grabbed his keys from the tall chest. With a silent inward
sigh, I followed him.
“Grab a jacket, it’s cold,” and he glanced over his shoulder at me as he pulled
open the loft door.
“I don’t need one with this heavy turtleneck,” I answered; I moved past him and
started down the stairs.
“Wait.”
Unwillingly I stopped, looked back at him.
“Where’s your new jacket?” When I didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow. “Forgot
your jacket too?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.” I turned away and hurried down the stairs.
Brian didn’t try to stop me again, but when we’d climbed into the jeep and
fastened our seatbelts, he started the engine and turned to give me a smile. His
scary, ‘gotcha’ smile.
“Let’s run by the Sap’s place, it’s right on the way to the munchers.’ We can
pick up your shirt. And your jacket.”
Damn him. I felt trapped, strapped into the seat just inches away from those
piercing eyes. Those deceptively relaxed, careless eyes, those eyes that
sometimes looked right inside me almost to my naked skeleton.
“Brian.” I looked away, looked out the windshield, ran a hand over my face. “I
just kind of left in a hurry last night. But I really don’t want to go back
there today, okay?”
Brian took a deep breath and turned off the engine. From the corner of my eye I
could see that he was also looking out the windshield. After a moment he said,
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Justin.”
I released my seatbelt and turned to stare at his profile. “Brian,” I said
earnestly, “Nothing happened. I just wasn’t having a good time, and I left in a
hurry. I didn’t want to look around for my shirt or my jacket.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded, still not looking at me. “How’d you get home?”
“I walked.”
“You walked home, what – one mile, two? You walked home bare-chested in this
weather. Because you weren’t having a good time at the party.”
“Brian – “
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
He was silent a moment, then he turned to face me. “What aren’t you telling me?
You have no idea the things I’m imagining.”
“Okay,” I gave in. “It was like you said it would be. The party – it was sleazy.
Lots of sex, lots of drugs. I did some drugs, I got sick, I decided to come home
and I left really fast. I just wanted to leave, that’s all. I forgot I wasn’t
wearing a shirt till I got halfway home.”
Brian reached out and put a hand on the back of my neck and stared into my eyes.
“You’re afraid I’ll say, ‘I told you so?’”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Basically.”
That made him smile, his crooked halfway smile. “Okay, I won’t say it. And I
didn’t mean to give you a bad time. I just got kind of, I don’t know – “
“Worried?”
“Nah,” he denied it. “I know you can take care of yourself. I just wondered
about your shirt.”
I scrooched over and leaned in for a kiss. “Will you buy me a new one?”
“Fuck no!” Brian exclaimed, turning the key in the ignition and revving the
engine. “Put on your seatbelt, I gotta drive fast, we’re fucking late.”
Brian:
I’m sure I acted totally normal throughout dinner with Linds and Mel. I
intercepted one or two inquiring looks from Lindsay, who sometimes can read my
moods, but I ignored it and we had a great dinner. Lesbians, at least these two,
are good cooks. It’s not their fault the food tasted like horseshit and was hard
to swallow. I could feel my anger building, as much as I tried to keep it down.
Tried to keep dinner down, too. Justin had a great time playing with Gus, the
baby loves him, Justin gets down on the floor and talks at Gus' level.
I’ve had plenty of practice keeping my feelings in check, and I don’t think
Justin realized anything was wrong. When we got back to the loft, he pushed open
his car door and I said, “Oh shit, I’m low on gas. I’m going to go get some now,
so I don’t have to rush in the morning.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I forced a laugh. “I think I can manage on my own. Don’t you need to finish your
project tonight?”
“Yeah, okay, see you in a few.” Justin got out and slammed the door, gave me a
wave and walked toward the elevator. Once he was out of the car, I could feel my
anger building in earnest. I pulled out of the garage and headed uptown.
Justin:
I was annoyed when Brian didn’t come right back home. I was sure he’d popped
into Woody’s for a few drinks or to meet some of the guys. That was okay, of
course; he’s always reminding me we’re not joined at the hip. Still, it bugged
me, but I pushed aside thoughts of everything except finishing my project. When
it was done, I saved to a disk and printed a final copy. I had just leaned back
in my chair for a stretch before turning off the computer, when I heard the loft
door open.
“Perfect timing,” I called over my shoulder, “I was just going to bed.”
“Good.” I heard Brian come up behind me and I swung my chair around. He was
holding my tan jacket and my new blue tee, and he dropped them onto my lap. “But
hang up your clothes first.”
I sat silent, dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open. He went up the stairs to the
bedroom. I followed him and watched him peel off his jacket and hang it in the
closet.
“What – what happened?”
“Nothing.” Brian turned around and began to unbutton his shirt. “I was going to
hit him, or try to. I’m not much of a fighter any more. But I figured he needed
to be hit.” Brian pulled off his shirt and threw it on the laundry pile.
Brian crossed his arms and regarded me solemnly. “Sap answered the door himself.
I didn’t plan to say anything, just throw a punch or two. I don’t know exactly
what happened at the party, and probably I don’t need to know – that’s your
business. But I really wanted to hit him.”
I couldn’t stand it, I had to ask. “Well, did you? Did you hit him?”
Brian cracked a smile then, and reached out a hand to caress my cheek. “I didn’t
need to. Sap’s got a huge purple bruise on his mouth and his chin. Something
tells me you really CAN take care of yourself.” He laughed, and I laughed too.
“Well,” I huffed, “I told you so.”
5/2/02