Thomas Dublin

     Nick Carter was the last person I expected to see this morning.

     I get back from my morning jog, and I see Nick, looking like a GQ model in his candy-apple red Ferrari 360 Spider.

     "Sweet car, Carter," I shout to him.  "I hope you're not spying on me again."

     "Very funny, Thomas.  I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out."

     Well, today is officially a free day for me, but I had planned on writing (or trying to write) a few songs.  I'm officially finished recording and mixing for Backstreet Boys, but I still have to mix a song for NSYNC, and I have to start recording my own album before I head up to Atlanta.

     "What do you have in mind, Nick?"

     "I thought we'd go out to lunch and fuck around on my computer."

     "Well, that's doesn't sound exciting."

     "How about this," he says, "how about I pick you up at 7:00.  We go out to eat, and then we go clubbing."

     Fuck it.  "Okay."

     "So... can I come in?"

     If I didn't know better... "Sorry Nick, but I really don't feel comfortable letting you in JC's house, especially since he's not in town."

     "Really?  He left you here all alone?"

     "Yep. NYSNC had to go to L.A. for a week.  I had to stay around to record for my album."

     "That sucks.  Well, I'll be back at 7 to pick you up."

     I wave to Nick as he pulls out of JC's driveway.

    Nick seems nice enough.  It's funny -- he seems very intrigued with my educational accomplishments.  I guess it's because he didn't have the opportunity to go to a real high school, or attend college.  Honestly, he really didn't miss much by not attending high school.
     For me, college was more exciting.  I was in the orchestra (drums), I sang in the gospel choir, I was vice-president of the computer club, I was in the most popular black fraternity on campus  - I was even president of my frat senior year. And to top it all off, I graduated magna cum laude.  Even though I had bad experiences (encounters with racism, coming out, and that time I caught `the clap'), college was a more enriching experience.

     I think back on all the fun I had in college as I scrub the funk from my body.  After five miles of running, anyone would be funky.

    Ever since I've been here in Orlando, I've abandoned my treadmill for the great outdoors.  It's refreshing to be able to run outdoors again.  I used to run through Lincoln Park when I lived in Chicago, but I couldn't do any outside running in New York -- the bad traffic, and heightened security makes it damn near impossible to get in a good run.

     Actually, this is one thing I like about Orlando.  It's rains pretty regularly, but it's warmer than that other places I've lived.  Plus it has other advantages.  For example, Dayton was too confined, Chicago was too windy (and too racist), and New York City is ridiculously huge.  Orlando is a comfortable size, and it's easy to get around (but traffic can be a real bitch sometimes, with Disney World being so close and all).  Hell, if my record blows up, I might buy a house down here.

     God must have been smiling on me today, because I wrote eight songs today -- lyrics and music.  After my shower, it was as though words and melodies were coming at the speed of light.  Even though I'll probably go back and make changes before I take the songs to the studio, I'm very confident that I'll put at least ½ of these songs on my album.

     I really haven't done any recording for my album since I scored my deal with Jive.  It wasn't that I didn't have material that I wanted to record, it's just that I was had production work lined up for the past six weeks.  Usually, the label wants a recently signed artist to get into the studio as soon as possible to determine what style works best for him/her.
    Fortunately, I haven't been pressured too much about recording.  But, before the guys left, Lance hinted that it would be best that I have something recorded by the time the guys returned from L.A., so that he'd have something to show to Jive. It shouldn't be a problem though -- I have five days to write and record before heading to Atlanta.

    I was actually looking in the refrigerator when I heard Nick pull up into the driveway.  I didn't forget that he and I were going to hang out, but the time went by so rapidly -- I was only wearing a pair of swimming trunks and a t-shirt.

    I went to the door and opened it just as Nick was about to press the doorbell.

    "Thomas, you're not dressed."

    "I know. I was busy writing songs and I didn't realize that it was seven until you pulled up."

    I step aside and motion for Nick to enter.  "Nick, why don't you sit in the living room while I take a quick shower and get changed. I'll be really fast."

    "No," Nick said.  "I'm coming with you to make sure that you shower and change fast.  If I sit downstairs, it'll be 9:00 before we leave."

    "Actually, you're thinking of JC.  But, whatever floats your boat or finds your lost remote."

    "Ha ha -- Outkast, right," Nick says as we walk up the stairs.

    "Right."  I walk into the bedroom and head to the bureau.  I grab a pair of boxer briefs and head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Nick Carter

     I sit down on JC's bed as I watch Thomas take a shower.  I can't see anything, but I can see an outline through the steamed glass of the shower.

     Honestly, Thomas is an attractive man.  Physically, he's distinguished.  He does look like Allen Iverson, but he's somehow not so thuggish (must be the hair).  But mentally, Thomas is incredible.  It's refreshing to meet someone in the industry that's not so shallow.
    By shallow I mean that most people in the music world are only about music.  I'm focused on music, but I do other things that have no relation to entertainment.  I like computers, I like to read technical magazines, and I like to travel (but not as much as an angry JC -- ha).

    But Thomas... Thomas.  He's got to be the smartest person I've met in the industry (besides Matt Damon and my baby). And, like Matt Damon and my baby, he is incredibly talented.  He's excellent on the keyboards and on the guitar, he writes nice songs, and he has a kick-ass voice.

    "See, I told you I'd be quick."

    I look up and see Thomas throwing on a black wife-beater.  He turns and walks toward the closet.  WHAT AN ASS -- it looks like he stuffed two water balloons into his underwear!  If I were JC, I'd get in that ass every opportunity I could get.  Plus, I caught a little of the frontal view -- Thomas seems to be very well endowed.

    Thomas walks back from the closet, fully dressed except for shoes, which he has in his right hand.  He sits down next to me, and places each foot into the snakeskin sandals before buckling them.

    "I told you I'd be fast, now didn't I?"

    I look at my watch. It's 7:25.  I'm impressed -- we'll probably make it to Maximo's by eight.

    "So, Nick, where are we eating?"

    "Oh, I'm taking you to this little Mexican restaurant called Maximo's..."

    "Maximo's?"

    "What?"

    "Oh, I ate at Maximo's my first night in Orlando.  I went there with JC, Lance, Justin, and Britney Spears."

    With that annoying-ass bitch.  To me, Britney Spears is one of the most odious people in the industry.  She isn't that talented, her boobs are fake, and she's annoying.  And, when she's with Justin, she's even worse.

    "Let's go Nick"

    I cease my mental rant on Britney, and follow Thomas downstairs.  I sit in my Ferrari while he sets the security system.  After pressing a series of buttons, Thomas saunters over to my ride and jumps in -- without opening the door.

    "This is an expensive automobile, not the General Lee."

    "Whatever, man.  Let's go to Maximo's."

    Once again, Thomas and I have to catch a cab back to Brian's penthouse.  After dinner at Maximo's, we went downtown to different bars and clubs.  We danced to house, hip-hop, and pop, and drank until 3am.  Neither one of us was stumbling drunk, but at the same time, we were in no position to drive.  It took twenty minutes, but we caught a cab back to Brian's.  Fortunately, most people were too drunk to really notice me, although I did have to sign a few cocktail napkins.

    After changing into my pajamas, I grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my luggage.  I walk out to the main room and see Thomas struggling with the sofa bed -- again.

    "Thomas, why don't you sleep in here with me tonight?  It's a king sized bed, so there's more than enough room for both of us."

    "Cool, man."  Thomas said, as he walks toward me.

    "Also, here's some shorts and a t-shirt you can wear."

    "That's okay.  I'll sleep in my underwear, unless you're bothered by that."

    "Whatever floats your boat -- or finds your lost remote."

    "You're stealing my quotes now, huh?"

    "Actually, you stole it from Outkast."

    "I guess you're right, Nicky."

    Thomas walks in and flops on the bed.  I walk around to the left side and climb in.

    "I had a lot of fun tonight, Nicky.  I usually don't go out to clubs a lot, but this was nice."

    "Really?  You don't go clubbing?"

    "Nah.  I'm more of a homebody type."

    "Interesting.  I assumed that a good-looking man like yourself would be at those NYC clubs every weekend."

    "Nope," Thomas said.  "Anyway, clubs in New York are overpriced."

    "You have a point there, I suppose."  I've been rich for all my club days, so I'm used to the prices.

    "Well, I'll talk to you in the morning, Nick."

    "Goodnight, Thomas."

Thomas Dublin

     I wake up with major morning wood.  But, this morning, it doesn't feel as stiff.

     "Whoa!!!"

     I look over at Nick, whose eyes are intent on my crotch.  I look down and see Lil' Thomas in his full glory.

     "You're fucking hung, man!!!  That has to be at least 10 inches."

     Not quite, but close enough.  I look down and smile, and reach down to put Lil' Thomas back in his place.  But before my hand gets there, Nick grabs my dick.

     "What's up, Nick?"

     "Well, I just wanted to touch it."

     "You know I have a man..."

     Before I can even get the sentence out of my mouth, Nick is on my stuff.  He swoops the dick up quickly and wastes no time in working it.  His pink lips are an interesting contrast to the sepia stiffness which they engulf.

     "Nick... oh shit"  It feels good, and I haven't had sexual release in about four days.  Nick starts bobbing his head up and down in a steady rhythm.  Part of me wants to submit to the pleasure of Nick's mouth, but part of me remembers my boyfriend...

     "Nick," I shout as I hop off the bed, "I can't do this.  I'm in a relationship, and I won't betray his trust."

     Nick swings his legs and sits on the opposite end of the bed.  He looks at me, then he stares at the ground.

     "I'm not mad at you, but I can't cheat on JC.  I think you're sexy, but I can't disrespect my man like that -- I hope you understand."

     Nick looks up at me. "I understand.  I don't know what came over me..."

     "No need to explain.  We'll forget about it.  But, this WON'T happen again, okay?"

     He smiles.  "Okay."

     "So," Nick starts, "did you ever make up?"

     Yeah, we made up.  It's actually an interesting story..."

     "Well, if you got time, I'd like to hear."

     "Okay..."