Almost But Not Quite

Chapter 10

Justin came down the stairs of his parents’ home. His mother was at the bottom of the steps smiling enthusiastically at him. His father wasn’t nearly so effusive, but Justin could tell that he was pleased as well, as they both waited for him to make the descent.

“How do I look?” Justin asked with a smile, as he stopped a couple of steps from the bottom.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Jennifer grinned. She felt her heart so full at the sight of her now grown up son who would soon be off to college.

“The word is handsome,” Craig corrected her.

Justin smoothed his hands along the sides of the tuxedo that his parents had rented for him.

“I want a picture,” Jennifer said pulling the camera out from behind her back.

“You look … okay, Jester,” Molly said as she came out of the family room.

“Thanks, Mollusk,” Justin said as he posed for his mother’s pictures.

“Molly, go over there with your brother,” Jennifer instructed. “I want a picture of the two of you together.”

“They’ll think I’m his date,” Molly giggled.

“Not dressed like that,” Justin teased her, as they stood side by side on the stairs and let Jennifer have her fill of taking pictures. Molly was wearing an old sweatsuit.

“When you pick up Daphne, make sure her parents get some pictures of the two of you together. Tell her mother I want a copy,” Jennifer instructed.

“Okay, Mom,” Justin sighed. His mother obviously thought this was a real date.

“I’m so glad you and Daphne are going to the prom together,” Jennifer gushed. “Have a great time.” She straightened Justin’s bowtie before he could reach the front door.

“Thanks, Mom,” Justin said as he walked out the door and headed along the street to the Chanders’ house.

 

*****
 

Brian Kinney was quietly getting stoned. He had polished off part of a bottle of Beam that he had bought himself in celebration of his thirtieth birthday. He felt he had earned it by surviving this long. He had smoked a couple of joints as well. He was feeling no pain. Well, almost no pain, but not quite.

He opened the box he had received earlier in the day. The soft silk of the scarf sifted through his fingers. It felt … exquisite. He silently thanked Lindsay for buying it for him. It was his thirtieth birthday present from Lindsay and Melanie. It was also a thank you for signing his parental rights away. Abe now officially belonged to Melanie and Lindsay. Brian had no claim on the baby, not that he ever had.

Up till a few weeks ago they had not done anything about signing documents that would make Melanie an official parent of the baby. Then Abe had spiked a fever a week or so ago. When they took him to the hospital, the nurse had refused to let Melanie go in with the baby, because she didn’t have any documents proving that she was Abe’s parent. That’s when both women had started working on Brian to get him to sign away his rights. If it had just been Melanie, Brian might have resisted, but he had always had trouble refusing Lindsay anything. This was no exception.

As a result, he signed the fucking papers, knowing somewhere deep inside that it probably was the wrong thing to do. But he did it anyway, and told himself that Abe would be better off with two mothers who loved him, than with a father who didn’t know what the fuck love was.

And so, Abe was effectively ripped out of his life, not that he had ever really allowed the baby to be part of his life. He had deliberately kept his distance knowing that Abe didn’t belong to him. Brian took a drag on the joint he was smoking. He filled his lungs and held it, letting the sweet smoke work its magic. He leaned back on his elbows on the bed staring at the eyes in that fucking sketch he had bought. The eyes stared back, unwavering. It was like they were trying to tell him something.

“Message not received,” Brian muttered as he took another swig of Beam.

Everything was being torn away from him – Abe … and his job and … his best friend. At this very moment he was supposed to be at a party for Michael and the good Doc. Brian snorted. He couldn’t stand Dr. David Cameron, and he had never been able to understand what Michael saw in the pompous ass. But, Brian had restrained himself; he hadn’t given into every instinct that told him to make Michael ditch the chiropractor. Brian had backed off. He had stayed out of the relationship, just like Debbie wanted. And now Michael was moving to Portland, giving up his family and friends to follow Dr. Dave back to his home territory. Brian gave it two months … tops.

And so, here he was, alone! His life was a fucking shambles and he had nothing to look forward to. ‘Could it possibly get any worse?’ he silently asked the staring eyes across the room.

His hand reached for the silk scarf, feeling its softness and strength. It was a marvelous combination of the two almost opposite traits. Brian remembered reading somewhere that silk was one of the strongest natural fibers in the world. He fingered the scarf as he laid back on the bed. He stared up into the rafters of the main room of the loft from where he lay.

And then it came to him!

He would let the Fates decide his future. He shoved himself unsteadily off the bed. He had always wanted to try scarfing. And tonight was the night. If he could toss the scarf into the rafters and get it to stay over one of them, that would be Fate’s way of telling him he should go through with the scarfing. He smiled to himself and then allowed a nervous giggle to escape. He would have the greatest fucking orgasm of his life if he could get the scarf to do what he wanted it to do.

Brian studied the distance to the rafter, and then carefully made his first attempt. The scarf hit the rafter and fell back down. This wasn’t going to be easy. Brian decided he had ten tries to get the scarf to stay. If that didn’t happen, then he was not supposed to carry out his plan. It was his own form of Russian roulette.

Attempts two through eight didn’t go any better. Whenever he managed to get the scarf to go over the rafter it would immediately slide off and fall to the floor. Brian grabbed the bottle of Beam and took a drink studying the rafter all the while. He set the bottle down and moved over a step from where he had been standing to throw the scarf. He tossed the scarf higher this time letting it unfurl as it went up. It slid across the rafter and stopped, hanging there, tantalizing him with its precarious position.

Brian felt his heart rate speed up. Attempt number nine had been successful. The Fates had spoken. He was going to do this. He grabbed a chair from the dining room suite. He placed it under the scarf. He climbed onto the chair and reached up, grabbing the end of the scarf so that he could tie it around the rafter. He was careful not to pull it off the rafter while he did this.

That done, he looped the soft, supple material around his neck. It felt cool and warm at the same time. He wondered how that was possible, but didn’t spend more than a fleeting thought on that sensory information. He secured the scarf around his neck. Unbuttoning his jeans he pulled out his dick. It was already semi-erect in anticipation of what was to come. Brian stroked himself until he was fully erect.

“Here goes,” he said to the empty loft.

He stroked himself a few more times until he felt his orgasm brewing. Then he stepped forward and kicked the chair backwards leaving himself hanging a couple of feet above the floor. He continued to tug on his dick as he felt his throat constrict and the lack of air begin to take over. He struggled a bit still trying to reach orgasm. He was almost there. He held his breath knowing he wouldn’t be able to take in any more air as the silk tightened around his neck.

With a mighty groan he shot his load, just as the knot he had tied over the rafter started to slip. Almost simultaneously he felt the throes of orgasm, of strangling and of falling. He hit the floor hard, knocking what little remaining breath he had out of his body. He rolled onto his back, the soft silk still tied around his neck. He realized his hand was still clutching his softening dick.

“Fantastic!” he gasped as he released his cock and pulled at the scarf around his neck. It didn’t take much effort to get it off. Maybe he should have made all the knots tighter. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to die. He would be dead by now if he had tied those knots more securely. “The Fates have spoken. I wasn’t supposed to die tonight, and I did have one fucking fantastic orgasm!”

After a minute or twenty minutes or an hour, Brian didn’t know which, nor did it matter, he sat up and looked around. Everything looked the same in the loft except for the chair which lay on its side at the bottom of the steps to the bedroom, and the silk scarf which lay in a heap beside him. Brian knew he had dodged a major bullet this night. He had been prepared to die. That would have suited him just fine. But he had left his future to Fate, and Fate had spoken.

“Tomorrow I go after clients. I will be a big, fat, fucking success,” Brian declared, as he hauled himself to his feet and picked up the bottle of Beam. “But tonight’s celebration will be because I’m alive.”

 

*****
 

Justin and Daphne were dancing up a storm at the prom. In spite of all his misgivings about going to the prom, Justin was actually enjoying himself. He and Daphne sat at a table with a few kids they often talked with at school. They were sort of the outcast group, but they didn’t really care. Their sentence at good old St. James Academy was almost up. This was their celebration of the future they knew would be better once they were at university. That had been the main topic of conversation for them all, telling each other about the schools they had chosen and those they had been accepted to.

Daphne was going to Penn State, hoping to get into law at Dickinson College as her college career developed. It was a fine school. Justin told everyone that he’d be going to Dartmouth. They were all impressed, knowing that Dartmouth was also a very fine university. Justin didn’t tell them that he had also been accepted to Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts. He didn’t tell them that, because he knew he couldn’t talk about it without choking up.

The letter he had sent off due to Lindsay’s encouragement had produced a positive result. He was accepted at PIFA if he wanted to go there. That letter of acceptance had caused Justin days of agony. He so wanted to attend the Institute. It would teach him everything he wanted to know about art. It was a great opportunity.

However, it was an opportunity that he had finally turned down. He had tried to broach the subject with his father, but had received only negative comments when he mentioned the art school. His father would hear of nothing but his son attending Craig’s alma mater of Dartmouth. Justin had gone to his mother hoping for support from her. When he had mentioned PIFA, she had brushed him off, saying that art wasn’t a career. It would mean starving for years. Dartmouth would give him a fine education and a good job at the end of it. Besides, she said, “Your father won’t pay for you to go anywhere but Dartmouth.”

And so the decision had been made for Justin. He had turned down PIFA and had sent off his letter accepting a place at Dartmouth. What else could he do? And yet, he still felt like he had got this all wrong. Some part of him knew that he belonged at PIFA, but he refused to let that part of him surface. He would make it work at Dartmouth. That’s all there was to it.

And when he was done, he would probably end up working for his father, at least for the first while after graduation. But then he would find a place of his own, and he would paint at night and on weekends. He would try to make a career as an artist. And then he would be able to tell his father to shove his job, and shove Dartmouth. It was such a lovely pipe dream.

Justin reined in his imagination. His future would be what it would be. He concentrated on his dance with Daphne. He looked around knowing that they made a striking couple. Daphne looked great in her peach colored gown. They were probably the best dancers in the whole place. All those weekends they had listened to music in Justin’s bedroom, and danced to the tunes, were finally paying off.

“Faggot,” Chris Hobbs spat at Justin as he walked by with his girlfriend.

“Did he just say what I think he said?” Daphne asked with a shocked look on her face.

“Yeah,” Justin agreed.

“What an ass!”

“He is, but that doesn’t stop him from saying stuff like that.”

“We only have a couple more weeks to put up with that.”

“Yeah, but with my luck he’ll probably being going to Dartmouth,” Justin said shaking his head.

“He’s too stupid to get into Dartmouth. Don’t let him spoil our evening.”

Justin sighed. “I’ll try,” he said and threw himself back into the dancing.

Some time later the dance was beginning to wind down. There had been the obligatory crowning of the king and queen of prom. Neither Daphne nor Justin had been nominated, but Daphne joked that if there had been a princess category, Justin would have won. The highlight of the evening for both of them was when the King of the Prom was announced and Chris Hobbs was left standing there when someone else won. They couldn’t help enjoying that moment.

People began to leave the dance after that, and Justin suggested that they should go too. Daphne looked at him quizzically.

“A lot of people have rooms at the Plaza for tonight,” Daphne said.

“And who do you think would want us joining them at the hotel?” Justin asked with a derisive chuckle.

“I was thinking we could get a room for ourselves,” Daphne said with a coy smile.

“For us? But why?” Justin asked in bewilderment.

“You know,” Daphne giggled.

“Us?” Justin blurted out as her intent finally hit him. “But I’m gay.”

“I know, but you could be my first. Then we wouldn’t be virgins anymore.”

“That is just too weird, Daph. I don’t think so.”

Daphne sighed. “It was worth a try. I guess I’ll just have to go away to college still a virgin.”

“Yeah, I guess you will. And you’ll have to go home tonight still a virgin too.”

“Party pooper,” Daphne said, giving Justin a sharp punch to the upper arm.

“You are so weird. Let’s go.”

They gathered up their things and headed for the parking garage. As they walked to Daphne’s car, they saw Chris Hobbs and his current girlfriend. Chris had her pressed against a car and his hand was down the front of her dress.

“Gross,” Daphne said as she saw what they were doing.

“I hope Chris has one of those rooms at the Plaza, if they manage to get there,” Justin laughed.

“What the fuck are you looking at, Taylor?” Chris demanded as they passed the couple.

“Nothing that interests me,” Justin replied.

“No shit, fag!”

Justin turned to confront Chris, but Daphne grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her car. “Let it go, Justin,” she begged.

“Faggot!” Chris yelled after them.

Justin got in the car and slammed the door as loudly as he could. “If I never see Chris fucking Hobbs again, it will be too soon.”

Daphne started the car and got them out of the parking garage as quickly as she could. She didn’t want any more trouble for Justin than he already had.

 

*****
 

Brian Kinney had drunk and smoked himself into a stupor. He pulled the duvet over himself and turned on his side. His legs came up against his stomach, putting his body in the fetal position. With no more lucid thoughts about his fucking life possible in his stoned brain, he closed his eyes and slept.

Meanwhile Justin Taylor was removing his tuxedo in his own bedroom. His parents had waited up for him, and he had reported that he’d had a lovely time at the prom. Craig and Jennifer had smiled knowingly, feeling that everything was as it should be in their world.

Justin climbed into bed, picking up one of his sketchbooks to look at as he propped himself up with his pillows. He flipped it open and looked at the first few pictures. They were drawings of his Brian, as he thought of the handsome man. He wondered what Brian was doing tonight. He smiled as he imagined what it would have been like to go to the prom with a boyfriend, someone like Brian. No, not someone like Brian, but with Brian.

He could picture the stares from everyone as they danced around the floor. It would have been so awesome. Justin flipped the page and was confronted with one of his sketches of Chris Hobbs. Chris would have had apoplexy if Justin had shown up with a boyfriend. That would have been worth the price of admission.

“Fucking Chris Hobbs,” Justin muttered, as he set down the sketch and closed his eyes. He hoped he dreamed about Brian.
 

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