Date: Wed, 22 Oct 2008 06:10:48 -0400 From: chris james Subject: The Bridge to Anywhere, Chapters 5 & 6 Dear Reader: this is an adult fiction story, persons under the age of 18 are not to view this material. And being the honest person you are, if you are a minor, please leave now. "Love sees not with the eyes but with the mind..." Shakespeare really knew his stuff, if he did write that. Being taken in by beauty is a hollow experience if that is the only criteria for a relationship. The characters in this story have suffered only to give them common ground upon which to build a solid foundation for their love. Your thoughts and comments welcome. drmeta4@gmail.com The Bridge to Anywhere (M/B) Chapter Five Alan leaned across the table and asked to see the paper once again. The clatter of plates and silverware surrounded them, the rattle and bang of pots in the kitchen adding to the clamor. Lin's Chinese restaurant had been the refuge they sought after sitting in the courtroom for three hours. Brandon handed over the folder and Alan gazed down at his name on the page. The emancipation had been the easiest part. Alan's father made an ass of himself in front of the court saying he didn't want the no good boy anyway. The rant he began about the boy being an abomination to God was cut short, the judge had heard about enough. He signed that paper with a flourish, glad he could do something for the young man. And when Alan's father walked out there was a general sigh in the courtroom. The guardianship was another matter. Brandon had been a resident only a short time, he had no really close ties to the community. The lawyer explained what was about to happen in Alan's career; the both of them would be traveling extensively. The judge looked at the modeling contract, unsigned for the moment and viewed the financial records Brandon offered. But it was Alan who sold the deal. The judge gazed kindly at the boy standing before the bench and listened to his story. The room was silent as Alan told of the kindness he'd received, the medical attention, the clothing, and shelter...all points in Brandon's favor. "I tried to kill myself, Your Honor, but God wouldn't let me succeed. He had other plans, and showed me the way when He brought Brandon into my life. I pray for that man every night, and I will never think so foolishly again. I don't need to." The sincerity of the boy's words tipped the scales of justice and the judge signed the guardianship documents. It was an unusual situation; single men did not take on this role very often. But the boy had formed a bond here, and the judge was reluctant to beak it. The judge didn't bat an eyelash when the lawyer also presented him with a request for a restraining order to keep the father away; he understood what that was all about. "Now we can sign that contract," Alan said. "Yes, now we're on the road to success," Brandon agreed. "So finish your lunch, we need to go shopping." The men's department at Macy's was about the best they could do down here, Theresa would outfit the boy her way once they arrived in New York. Brandon had Alan try on several suit coats before selecting the dark blue with tiny pinstripes. Alan was at a loss, he'd never felt so dressed up...so grand. "Get used to it," Brandon said. "Most of the clothes you'll get from now on will be freebies; everyone will want you to wear their brand." "I won't have to live in suits will I?" "No, at your age a casual look is the expected, but you'll need the suit for meetings and such. Come on, we have some photos to take. Theresa will be mad if I don't get you in those outdoorsy shots." He thought of getting Alan to take off his shirt but then demurred. Soon enough someone would pay to see his abs; he didn't need to have them hanging around on his laptop. Besides, fall was upon them, the wind was blowing and it was a bit cool for something like that. They got home, walked into the woods behind the house and Brandon raised his camera. Two hours later he was done, the battery low and his eyes smarting from the cold and wind of the approaching storm. Alan had done nothing unusual, just being himself. Brandon had allowed the boy to get a feel for being photographed without direction. The kid was a natural, the results proved it. He loaded the disk into his computer and sat back, starting at the beginning. The texture of the trees, the color of swirling leaves, all of nature's glory was muted by the boy himself. Windblown wisps of blonde hair across his face could not dim the sparkle in his eyes or that impish grin. He looked at home among the trees; out in the wilds of nature...Theresa would be pleased. Alan sat beside him and talked about the photos. He began to say what he had been thinking at the time, describing the thoughts that formed the foundation of his expression. It was a great way to see what inspired the boy, a tool Brandon could use later on. They came to the final photos and Brandon had to smile. He'd been asked and allowed Alan to photograph the photographer. It was the first time he had seen himself through the boy's eyes. Like Alan, his hair had been blown about, whipping his face as the storm came closer. "You're so handsome," Alan said. "I don't have any photos of you, can we print them out?" Brandon hit the button and the printer stirred to life. Alan took the prints as they arrived, holding them carefully by the edges. He smiled. "I was gonna tell that judge that I would kill myself if he didn't let me stay with you, that would have been foolish." Brandon reached over and caressed Alan's cheek. "Those days are over, you know that. We have faith in each other now. Do you miss going to church?" Alan shook his head. "I can't go back to those people, they don't know my God. Maybe someday we'll find some people that don't teach about hate, people we can trust...then I'll go back to church." Brandon felt his emotions stir. "You told the judge you still pray for me...why?" "I pray we'll always be together, I pray God will accept the way I love you." "You understand God better than anyone else I know, sweetie. I hope your prayers are answered." "They are, I can feel it," Alan said. Four days later Brandon watched the boy's lips move in prayer as their jet took off from the Raleigh airport bound for New York. Alan had never flown before and despite telling the boy to think of it as a bus ride the poor kid was nervous as hell. Brandon didn't need any further proof than the fingers that dug into the back of his hand on the adjoining armrest. Finally they reached cruising altitude and Alan stared out the window with amazement. He took a cola from the stewardess while Brandon chose water. Their seats were in first class; Theresa never treated him any other way. And soon they were out over the ocean on approach to LaGuardia. Alan's first glimpse of the city was a moment Brandon would treasure; the boy was in awe of the buildings and the large number of people on the streets. The limo driver had been waiting in the airport lobby. The name on his sign was Alan's, a cute touch and so very much like Theresa. For Brandon the ride through the city and down Park Avenue to the Regency was familiar. Theresa was telling them to get used to it, the life of a star awaited. Despite the look of awe, Alan looked every bit like he belonged here in that new suit. A point not lost on Brandon by the looks he saw the boy get as they crossed the lobby. People looked because of something they didn't know. Was this someone famous? Maybe they would remember Alan when they finally saw his face appear in the media. Today he was nobody special to anyone but Brandon. Their suite was outrageously huge, sitting room, dining room and kitchenette included. What they would do here was sleep and nothing more. The city was out there, a place Brandon knew he had to share with Alan. Soon the poor kid wouldn't be able to walk down the street by himself. The phone rang half an hour after they arrived, Brandon took the call and hug up in less than minute. "Theresa is on her way up," he announced. One look told him that Alan was ready to meet her. The suit coat was off, draped over a nearby chair and the boy went for it. "No, you don't have to wear it for her...she'll see the real you," Brandon said. "Sure? I want to make a good first impression," Alan said. "I have every confidence in you, just relax." Brandon answered the knock and Theresa blew into the room like a breath of fresh air. They hugged and then she turned to gaze at Alan. He walked over and put out his hand. Theresa took it and pulled him close for one of her trademark hugs. "My...let me look at you," she said. Alan stood back and smiled as Theresa studied his face, his hands and his torso. "I haven't seen a face this fresh in twenty years," she declared. That was quite a compliment from a woman who had filled the pages of dozens of fashion magazines with her clients. Her fame in this town was legendary; Brandon knew he had been lucky to get on her list. She was known as a fighter, the one person you wanted on your side when contracts were passed around. She led Alan over to a couch and they sat while Brandon called room service for a pot of tea. Theresa was also an activist; railing against the low wages paid the back woods coffee growers in South America. Now she wouldn't even touch the stuff, even thought Brandon knew that the tea farmers probably had the same issues. "How do you like New York so far?" She asked the boy. "It's all pretty amazing, I never saw so many people in one place before." Alan replied. "Yes, it's the price we pay for being such an important center of commerce. Has Brandon told you what's in store for you the next few weeks?" "Yes, pretty much. He said to just relax and find time to breathe." Theresa chuckled. "He's right, we move pretty fast once we get going. Tomorrow you're going to meet a man that wants to hire you for that wonderful smile you have. He sells toothpaste so of course you understand why." "Brandon bought me a tube, it tastes good," Alan said. "Fine, then you already recognize the brand. Brand identification is important because soon people will see your smiling face and identify it with that brand. You'll have thousands, no...millions of housewives buying that toothpaste hoping their kids will have a smile just like yours. See how it works?" "Yes...does it work? I mean is it a good product?" Alan asked. "Sure, the government regulates products very closely. They all prevent decay and between you and me, I think they're all about the same. But you are going to be paid very nicely to make everyone think this one is the best." "OK, I can do that," Alan said. "Bet you can, and that's only the beginning. Exposure like this will have my phone ringing off the hook, I assure you. We are not going to give anyone an exclusive contract for your services; you'll be able to represent other brands. Brandon will take over the modeling sessions so he'll always be there to advise you. "A lot of people will be asking you things; you just stop and think before you answer. We don't want you to be controversial right away." She patted Alan's hand. "And don't worry about the gay thing. We're not going to tell anyone and Brandon will keep an eye on you." "Thank you," Alan said. "I'm just gonna take it one day at a time." "Absolutely, that's the best way," Theresa said. "Now Brandon and I are going to talk business, would you like to sit with us?" "Yes, he said I should learn from all this, it's important." "You keep listening to Brandon, he won't steer you wrong," Theresa said. They sat at the dining room table and laid out the contracts. Brandon produced a copy of the guardianship order and the signed contract. Theresa added her own name to the bottom and Alan was officially represented by the agency. Other documents included Brandon's role in photography, the banking source to be used for deposits and a list of potential clients Theresa had worked up. She was full out on this one and glanced up at Alan. "I'm taking your photos to some really fine companies, Alan. Clothing is a fine option for you, of course shoes and jewelry included. Do you play any sports?" Alan shook his head. "I worked on a farm most of my life." She studied his face. "You drive a truck?" "Yes...several kinds actually." "Might go with cars, trucks...lawn equipment. That's a difficult market until you get some face recognition. I don't want to sell you short, Alan. Your rural background isn't an issue in ninety percent of America, but the urban market gets most of the sales pitches. Let me think about it." "Yes ma'am," Alan replied. Theresa smiled. "He sure does have that country boy charm; just make sure he doesn't lose it." Brandon laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that. I don't think these people here will ever break through that wall." "We might think about getting him a vocal coach. The southern accent is good, but he might need to flatten out a bit for some clients." "What's that mean?" Alan asked. "It means you can be taught to speak a more neutral form of American English," Theresa explained. "One with less of a twang, something less recognizable as southern. It's not very hard, it will only change the way you say certain words when you read a script." "You mean I have to act too?" "Acting in commercials is only a form of reading something sincerely. You tried the toothpaste, what you said about it was fine." She picked up her notepad and wrote a few lines and handed Alan the pad. "Now read this to me like you mean it." Alan looked down at the page and spoke the words. "Zinger toothpaste leaves my mouth minty fresh. I really really like it." "Now look at me and sell me on how you feel," Theresa said. Alan looked at her, his face went blank and then he smiled. "Zinger toothpaste leaves my mouth minty fresh, I really really like it." "Yeah, you can do it. That was very good," Theresa said. "I never heard of Zinger toothpaste before," Alan said. "I made that up," Theresa chuckled. "Oh." Alan laughed. "You got me on that one. We don't get to pick the brand name; we just have to sell it." "You're gonna have my job someday aren't you? Smart guy, you'll go far," Theresa said. Theresa left them alone, promising to see them at ten the following morning. They had a lunch date with the client and his advertising staff. She left as fast as she came in and Alan laughed. "Wow, she's something else...I like her." "She won't do anything you don't like...and if she does she'll tell you about it first," Brandon said with a laugh. He picked up an envelope Theresa had left quietly on the table and handed it to Alan. "What's this?" Alan asked. "Open it, you'll see." Alan opened the flap and pulled out a stack of twenty dollar bills. "Wow...this is a lot of money." He saw the card and turned it over. He smiled as he read the words Theresa had written. "Go out and see the town before they get to know you, my treat." Brandon smiled; it was just like her to do something like this. Alan counted the bills and held them out. "I can't hold on to this, its a thousand dollars." "She wants you to have it, but if it makes you nervous I'll hold on to it for you. I expect it's her way of saying have a good time." "I really like her, she didn't have to do that," Alan said. "Yeah, now we can go have tour of the city. Do you want to go out for dinner? Are you tired?" "I want a shower and then we can go eat if you want," Alan said. "Yes...a shower sounds fine...you first," Brandon smiled. Alan left to begin the task of hanging his clothes in the closet, returning two minutes later with a towel around his waist. "Have you seen the bathroom? There's no shower curtain, what do I do?" Brandon followed him back to the bathroom and looked at the facilities. He smiled because it was unusual. "All the water goes right down that drain, you don't need a curtain." "Wow, this takes some getting used to," Alan laughed. "Now where's the knob for the water?" Brandon showed him the lever that turned left and right, hot or cold. He pulled gently on the lever and water started to spray. "You got it now?" "Yeah, I guess. If I flood the hotel it's your fault," Alan laughed. Brandon left him and went in to choose some clothing for their adventure. They would have to dress up again if they ate at the hotel, but both of them needed to let their hair down a bit and relax. The front desk would have some suggestions for a casual meal, he could ask down there. The city was pretty intimidating if you didn't know your way around, remembering his first time up here. Alan appeared in the bedroom a few minutes later wrapped in the towel and looked at the clothes Brandon had chosen. "What, no ties?" "Naw, we'll find a small place that likes real people, you up for that?" "Sure, can we eat Italian food?" "Yes, good choice. New York is famous for Italian. You dress while I shower." Brandon took off his shirt and pants, hanging them in the closet. He turned back to find Alan staring. "Are we gonna share this room?" he asked. "I didn't think about it, it has two beds, but I'm sure there is another bedroom." "No, that's fine...we never did this before," Alan said. "Sleeping in the same room is different than sleeping together. Sure you're OK with this?" "Yeah, I'll be fine." Brandon knew he had to leave before Alan dropped that towel so he hurried out. Suddenly the boy was being modest, or was he worried he might see something he shouldn't? He had never dressed in front of the boy, or undressed for that matter. Flashing his equipment would send the wrong message, a tease Alan didn't need to endure. He showered and wrapped himself in the towel. Fortunately Alan wasn't in the bedroom so he dropped the towel and put on clean underwear, slacks and the shirt. He carried his shoes out to the living room and saw Alan standing at the windows. "Why do all these people want to live in one place...its too crowded for me." "They work here, play here and I bet most of them don't even have a driver's license," Brandon said. "You don't need a car, where would you park it?" "How do we get to the restaurant, not in that limo I hope?" Alan asked. "Taxi stand is right out front." They asked at the desk and got the name of a restaurant, the woman assured them the taxi driver would know the place and he did. Alan had never met the likes of a New York cabbie, this one was from India. He drove like they were in a race against time, changing lanes every few hundred feet and dodging potholes. The whole time the man kept up this conversation with Alan about his sister's family who lived in Fayetteville down home. His English was excellent; it was the accent that made him hard to understand. Brandon sat back and smiled until he saw the meter running. God, this was costing a fortune. They reached the restaurant with most of their funds still intact and Brandon gave Sanjay a nice tip. He offered to hang around, but Brandon wasn't sure how long dinner would take. The Italian place looked like a movie set right out of the Godfather. Benito's Ristorante the sign said. A bright young man met them at the door and smiled, welcoming them inside. It was early, and most of the tables were empty. New Yorkers seemed to prefer eating fashionably late. The menu had everything neatly listed but Alan didn't even look. "Lasagna," he said. Brandon had the chicken and their waiter was off to the kitchen. "How would you like to visit Italy someday, Alan?" "Me? Um, I guess, I've never been anywhere." "We'll be able to afford travel like that, vacation just about anywhere you want to see," Brandon said. "I don't know, what will we do with all that money? You'll have to help me decide how to spend it." "Of course I will. I think seeing the world would be a great education for you." Dinner was excellent, the restaurant a good choice. The ride back to the hotel was filled with wonder as the city was even more impressive at night. Alan stood at the window of their living room and gazed out at the lights. Brandon went around the room and turned off most of the lamps. Alan was just a simple farm boy at heart Brandon knew. All this had to be wonderful and yet frightening, at least that's the way he would have felt. He would have to stay close the next few days to give the boy comfort. The hustle of commercial studios was legendary but Alan would find a place for himself. He would be the star, the focus of so much attention it would numb his mind. Yes, Brandon knew he would have to stay close. They had an appointment at ten with Theresa and then the luncheon; it was time to call it a day. "Alan, I think we need to go to bed," Brandon said. Alan yawned. "I was just thinking that...you tired?" "Yes, too much excitement for one day...I need my beauty sleep." He joined Alan at the windows, the lights and Central Park gave the view such depth...a panorama of such elegance. Dark shapes of buildings all lit up inside...the city that never sleeps. A flash of lightning lit up the distance and a few scattered raindrops hit the windows. "We won't have to live here all the time will we?" Alan asked. "I mean being famous is OK, but will that change us?" Brandon stood behind the boy and put his arms around Alan's waist. "We'll have to go where they send us, sweetie...but home will always be North Carolina. It's in your blood and all the fame in the world can't take that away from you." Alan turned his head for a kiss and their lips met. Slowly Alan turned his body and pressed the kiss harder until Brandon pulled back. He gazed into the boy's eyes. "No matter where we are...I'll still love you," he said. Alan smiled. "I love you..." And again he yawned...then giggled."Oh, how romantic I am, sorry." "Big day tomorrow, let's go to bed," Brandon said. They shared the bathroom, brushing their teeth with the client's toothpaste. Brandon ran his tongue around his teeth after he rinsed. "You really like this stuff?" He asked. "Eh...I've had better. But for money, it's the best I ever had," Alan laughed. Brandon smiled. "That's probably the best attitude. This business is hard enough without having to lie all the time about the product. You done?" Alan nodded and headed back to the bedroom. "Which bed is mine?" "Your choice, which one do you want," Brandon asked. "Yours," was the reply. "I'll take this one," Brandon said. "You may sleep over there." He gave Alan a kiss and pulled back before the boy could make it anything stronger. "Now sleep, tomorrow will be quite a day...Good Night." "Night," Alan said. They retired to their respective corners and began to undress. Brandon could feel the boy's eyes upon him as he took off his shirt and pants, laying them across the dressing chair. He really wanted to watch Alan as well, but he didn't want to start any unacceptable feelings. He pulled back the covers and slid into the queen sized bed before glancing over at Alan. The boy smiled at him and got into bed. Brandon reached over and turned out the light. The room was plunged onto darkness except for the faint glow of the nightlight in the bathroom. Brandon lay back, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He knew Alan was watching him, he could feel the eyes only eight feet away. The boy would soon tire and sleep...they both had to, tomorrow they would begin the game. The commercial advertising industry was one big game. Everyone's product was better than the other guy's when in reality they were all the same. Fresh faces were sought to attract, and sometimes deceive the customers. Alan would become one of those faces. Brandon felt the urge to just take the boy and runaway from this madness, but it would be a career killer and Alan deserved a break. His fifteen minutes of fame in the spotlight could turn into years...until the next face came along. That time would make him rich...rich enough to move on with life and put all the suffering behind. Alan needed time to heal and this work would certainly distract him from the past. Thirteen months, twenty-three days and...damn, the boy had him counting down as well. But it was worth the wait...Alan was everything he had ever wanted...ever desired. It was hard for them both, the object of desire so close at hand and yet...they were handling it well... succeeding. The goal was there, and the prize...? Alan was priceless...love could set no price. Brandon heard Alan's breathing slow, the rhythm of sleep embracing his body. He rolled over and gazed at the form lying there...the boy was facing him. Even in the dim light he could see all that beauty. God, he was a lucky man...maybe there was a God. He wondered if Alan had said his prayers tonight...and then his eyes closed. Sleep...the body's time of rest and recovery, a time to rebuild and refresh...nature's most perfect plan. A time to dream, to work out a seemingly endless string of thoughts, for the human mind never ceases to function even as the body rests. Brandon had accepted the feelings he'd been having during those early years...they finally had a name. Being gay wasn't the worst curve life could throw at him; he could have been born blind and dumb. Maybe it would have been better that way, for then he wouldn't have heard all the criticism or had to watch his father's rants. All the sneaking around behind his parent's backs, and then finally being caught. That had been a fight...a real knock down drag out battle with the Old Man. But he'd had enough of the crap, he was gay and nothing was going to change that. His father had whipped him enough as a child. But Brandon wasn't going to accept being punished for his desires. That afternoon at the shop, he'd taken the first blow and then lost it. He was only fourteen but he had fought like a man, breaking his father's nose in the process. They both stood back panting and huffing, glaring at one another and the blood...but the fight was over. Brandon had been working out at the school gym, lifting weights at a friend's several times a week. He was a match for his father by then and he had bested the Old Man. He wasn't gonna take it anymore, and now he had proved that point. His father left the shop, slamming the door and damn near breaking the glass. But that slam had ended one phase of Brandon's life...he would control the next one. High school began and Brandon dated boys, but he never brought them home. His father and he circled one another for months after the fight and that attitude persisted for years. Their silence only grew deeper and neither of them seemed ready to repair the damage. His mother stood in awe of her young boy, knowing full well that Brandon had won his point. The love he sought was elusive...at points in his life non-existent. But he found warmth and sexual progress with several boys his age and more than a few older. He could understand Alan's feelings; it was just too hard to accept that he had once been that way himself. For to do that he would lose this battle...the one that really counted the most in life right now. Brandon felt the warmth as if in a dream. Someone was close, close enough for their bodies to share heat and it aroused him. The arousal finally sunk into his consciousness and he started awake. Alan was pressed against his back, an arm thrown over his chest. No, this couldn't happen...it wasn't right. But even as he thought that he knew he was helpless to change the wonderful feeling. Alan needed him, this only re-enforced that thought. The boy was off in a strange world, he was seeking comfort and this was his way of acting out. At some point he had crawled in this bed and cuddled, maybe he had been only half awake. Brandon listened to the boy breathe and closed his eyes. He wanted to roll over and give Alan a hug, pull him close and allow their passions to reign. But that would be a total surrender, something he wasn't capable of doing. Time would tell, not now...but probably a lot sooner than he was ready to accept. The light had changed, the morning sun streaming through the sheer curtains of the bedroom. Brandon stirred and rolled over. Alan was still in his bed, facing away but still mere inches away. He glanced at the nightstand and saw the clock...six-forty five. The wake up call would come soon, seven he'd told the front desk. He wanted to reach out, to touch the boy. Alan would be embarrassed by his trespass...but that was fine. It had been innocent he was sure; the boy had never been devious before. Fifteen minutes...not enough time to sleep, he should get up. Alan beat him to it. The boy rolled over and smiled. "You just wake up?" "Yeah, I missed the warmth you provided. Get lonely last night?" Alan blushed. "Yeah, sorry...it's this strange place, I got frightened. I didn't mean to startle you...is this OK?" Brandon reached over and took the boy in his arms. It took a minute for him to register the hardness pressed against his stomach. OK, Alan was like that every morning, it didn't mean anything. Alan giggled. "Remember, this was your idea. You know me...sorry." "I thought a telephone pole was poking me...damn, you sure are big down there," Brandon laughed, and they both shared the joke. Alan snuggled close, his erection never subsided and Brandon tried his best to ignore it. At seven the phone rang, their wake up call. Brandon rolled over and picked up the receiver, hanging up as the automated voice advised him of the time. Too late, Alan had scooted up against his back, prodding him in the backside...and right on target. Alan laughed as Brandon scooted off the bed and turned to fight back. He grabbed Alan's cock and squeezed. The boy jumped away, held back by the hand on his appendage. "Fight with this and you might just lose it," Brandon challenged. "You won't need it for work; we can always stuff a sock in your jockstrap." Alan grinned. "Just hold on for a minute longer and I'll piss the bed." "Eww, I do not want to see that," Brandon said, letting go of his prize. Alan hopped out of bed and made for the bathroom. Brandon sat down on the mattress and realized he had held the boy's cock. His hand had not even covered the length, damn the kid was hung. He heard the toilet flush and Alan returned, his erection half gone but still obvious. "I'll shower while you shave," Alan suggested. "Do I have to do anything special with my hair?" "No...Theresa has people for that. I imagine you'll get the treatment before we meet the clients. Wanna look your best you know, so we wear the suits again." Alan dropped his shorts right there and strode off to the bathroom. OK, something had changed, Brandon could tell. The modesty was out the window, or was he showing off? It felt like a game and the boy had thrown the ball in his court. Brandon went in to the sink and tried to ignore the boy standing under the spray only six feet away. He began to shave and looked up in the mirror; the angle gave him a perfect view of Alan. And it was like watching a porno movie. Alan had shampooed his hair, the rinse trickling down his back and sliding through the cleft of his ass. It could only be described as sensual. God, that image would sell a lot of shampoo in the gay world. Brandon almost laughed aloud at the thought. He enjoyed the private show as Alan moved on to soaping his body. All too soon the shave was done...should he shower? They were both aware of the other, it didn't seem to matter. Brandon dropped his shorts and walked into the spray. Alan smiled and offered him the shampoo. It was while he rinsed the suds from his hair that Brandon felt the boy's touch. A soapy wash cloth began to scrub his back, slowly working in circles. His mind flooded with warm emotion, this was such a tender moment. Alan was offering him something physical to show his love. Brandon placed his hands on the wall and leaned forward, allowing the boy his chance. "Don't you get turned on by this...you said we don't have the time," Alan laughed. "Hmm, you do that so well...I may never shower alone again." "Well considering your tub at home barely holds one person that's a no go." "We shall renovate immediately," Brandon said. They finished the shower without mishap and dressed. Alan wanted breakfast but Brandon assured him Theresa would take care of that. Her studio always set out a buffet for the talent every morning. They rode the elevator down and walked through the lobby...the limo driver was waiting. Thirty minutes later, and that was fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, they arrived at the Stanford complex. Theresa had taken an old warehouse and made it into a playhouse for the beautiful people she represented. There were lounges, complete with couches, wide screen televisions and computers set up throughout every floor of the building. The commissary was on the second floor and that's where Brandon led them. Alan was stunned as a special order chef took his order for an omelet. Brandon skipped that and went for the fruit bar, adding whole wheat toast to his plate. A waiter brought them coffee and milk after they sat down. There were several other occupied tables and Alan glanced at the woman sitting near the glass wall. "I've seen here before," he remarked. "You'll see lots of familiar faces around here, Theresa represents a lot of major models," Brandon said. "That's Denise Rogers; I shot her photos last year for a charity gig." "Models do charity work like movie stars?" Alan asked. "Absolutely, its good publicity and something you can do with some of your money before the government gets its hands in your wallet. Do you have a charity in mind?" "No, not really. Maybe orphans...or better, gay youth," Alan said. "Hmm, we'll ask Theresa what she thinks. You have a noble heart, sweetie." An administrative assistant came through the door and looked around. She spotted them and came right over to the table. "Mr. Bennett, Mr. Clark...um, Brandon...I'm Lucy Briggs. Theresa has assigned me to your production team." They both stood and shook hands with the bright young woman. Lucy could have been a model herself Brandon knew. But he'd met her before on several occasions and knew differently. She was one of Theresa's bright young business stars from NYU. "Theresa is running a bit late," Lucy said, "so I thought we could tour the studio and introduce Mr. Bennett around." "Lucy," Alan said. "Could you call me Alan, please?" She smiled. "Certainly...Alan it is. I want you to be comfortable here. We'll go through wardrobe and the styling departments, makeup and finishing. You need to meet the designers so they can outfit and plan some of the polish we give our models. Everything is in the details." She handed Brandon a binder, the storyboard Metro designers had put together. "All that for a toothpaste commercial?" Alan asked. Lucy smiled. "Yes, Alan. The photos will show your torso and face, teeth and hands...it's all there in the book, Brandon can show you. So hows about a smile for me?" Alan gave her a winning smile and Lucy smiled back. "Yes, you have what it takes. Theresa said you were one in a million, she's always right." "Thank you," Alan said, blushing from ear to ear. "I'm glad you work with me, you'll have to teach me everything." "Good, I like curious boys. I'll try and explain everything you want to know, but Brandon is vastly more experienced at this than I am. So finish up your breakfast and I'll come back for you in say...fifteen minutes?" "That will be fine," Brandon said. "Gosh, she's pretty," Alan said after Lucy left the room. "Advertising seems to attract the beautiful and talented...you're here aren't you?" "Aww, I'm not all that. I wonder why she doesn't model," Alan said "Some people prefer the business side, it's a great challenge...just look at Theresa," Brandon replied. "That one woman started this whole thing like thirty years ago, she's got quite an empire now...and all of it is focused on you today." Alan smiled, but it looked insincere. "I'm nervous, Brandon." "Nerves are OK. Just relax, these people are all professionals, they know how to make it look easy. You'll be with me all the time, I won't leave you alone." "So why all those departments...stylist...wardrobe? Are they gonna change the way I look?" Alan asked. "No, it's all touch up work. Theresa likes the way you look, but they'll make you look perfect. Not a hair out of place, a little makeup to keep the shine off your nose...details is what these people do." "Then you photograph me...are we starting today?" "Prelims...preliminary shots to follow the storyboard. For this it can't be more than two pages." Brandon opened the binder and Alan saw just two pages. One was a layout of a bathroom setting...sink, mirror, a door...but it was only a partial room. There were two photos of the set he would stand in. The other showed a drawing of a boy brushing his teeth and the words that would appear in the printed ad. "I don't say anything...just stand there and brush?" "Yup, that's it," Brandon said. "We'll shoot it a few times this morning, get approval at our meeting and do the final tomorrow. The art department will put it all together and if it works we're done with the ad. Then we'll do the publicity stuff about you as their model on Thursday, some shots for the press releases and by Friday we can go home." "Wow, that's fast," Alan said. "Time is money. Did you look at that contract Theresa showed you?" "Yeah, it was confusing." "Well for three days work you'll be paid close to twenty-five thousand dollars. Not bad for a beginner...and this is only the beginning. Within six months you'll be making three or four times that." "Really? I didn't know it was so much. Just for my photos?" Alan looked shocked. It probably seemed like a lot of money. "You're worth every penny and more," Brandon said. "Finish up; we have some teeth to brush." They both laughed, and then Lucy returned. She led them down the hall and they took the elevator to the fourth floor. "This is wardrobe," Lucy explained. "We already have your pajama shirt for the shots, but they'll want to take some measurements for their records. Next time we may have to outfit you from head to toe." Lucy and Brandon stood back as a pair of women approached. They took Alan's suit coat and hung it on a rack. The tape measures flew, one measuring and one recording every inch in a book. Alan's shoes were measured and discussed. His hands were placed flat on a page and traced out in case he ever needed gloves. A man approached and took Alan behind a modesty panel. He removed his pants and more measurements were taken. Finally that phase was done and one of the women produced a box with his name on it. In it was a simple pajama shirt which he had to try on before the preliminary shots were taken. The shirt was a bit tight across the chest and the woman slit the back of the shirt and laid tape across the opening so that the fit looked relaxed. No one would ever see the back anyway. That done they went downstairs to the stylist and Lucy carried the box. The place looked like a posh hair salon, exactly what it was. A woman took Alan to one of the chairs and sat him down. A well dressed man walked over and shook Brandon's hand. "Brandon, so good to see you. Is this the new talent we've heard so much about? Perfect, simply perfect." "Hello, Carlos...yes, this is Alan, Theresa's latest discovery," Brandon said, giving the boy a wink. There was no need to tell Alan that Carlos was gay, a blind man couldn't have missed it. "Alan...delighted to make your acquaintance."Did you shampoo this morning? Condition?" Carlos proceeded to give Alan a lesson in proper hair care. His hand flew about the boy's head, moving a wisp of hair here and there, discussing styles. Again Lucy and Brandon watched from the sidelines. Carlos did make a few changes, but only after Alan agreed. The man was a master of styling elegance, and he showed the boy what a few light touch ups could do for the overall look. Alan watched in the mirror as Carlos used a straight razor to remove the stray hair here and there, take off some of the split ends Brandon had begun to notice, and generally improve the shape of the boy's head. The effect was noticeable yet not dramatic, a perfect styling job. Carlos gave Alan's hand an affectionate squeeze and winked at Brandon. OK, maybe the man thought something was up there, but he was wrong. Lucy took them to makeup and Alan met Brenda. Brenda Jacobs was a delight, something rare in most of this business. Brandon knew she had worked in films and stage makeup for years. And now past retirement age, Theresa had brought the woman back to work because she had the magic touch. No one could come close to her subtle skills with a brush and that made her Theresa's secret weapon. Brenda took one look at Alan and declared him the handsomest man she had ever seen. Alan blushed ten shades of scarlet and then laughed with her about it. The makeup session was over in about ten minutes. The boy had flawless skin she declared, nothing for her to do but tone down a few spots. Alan gave her a hug and it was Brenda's turn to blush, the boy had made her day. Theresa had three studios, each independent of one another and occupying the entire first floor of the building. Open all the folding walls and some major film company could film an epic in here if they wanted to. She often joked that the Jets football team called every year to ask if they could rent it out for practice. But the equipment was top notch and Brandon never bothered to bring a single piece of his own for the work. They had the tiny set placed on a wall in Studio B, the lighting arranged much as Brandon himself would have placed it. He greeted Todd and Matt, the two wranglers who controlled the place. "Wow, this is huge," Alan said aloud. "Yeah, we rolled the airplanes out of here just for your shoot," Matt joked. Alan laughed, immediately endearing himself to the man. Brandon had heard that joke a dozen times, but it made the point. They had an hour tops and so Brandon set to work. All Alan had to do was stand in place for the moment. The mirror and the sink were both real, and situated to fit the needs of the storyboard. There was a table set up beside the sink with six toothbrushes of varying colors and several tubes of the client's paste. Alan saw cups of water, several hand towels and an empty basin. Lucy saw him looking and explained these were known as his props. Matt and Todd made the lighting adjustments and Brandon was ready to take a few shots. The digital equipment would immediately download the shots to the computer. Alan stood still as Brandon explained the method he would use. Alan would place a small amount of paste on the toothbrush, dip it in a cup of water and pretend to brush his teeth. The tube of paste would be held in his left hand, the client's logo clearly showing for the camera. If he did get the paste in his mouth they would stop, allow him to rinse, dry off with the towel and begin again. He was to spit in the basin not the sink; it wasn't even connected to the plumbing. They mimed the action several times without the paste as Brandon coached Alan through the movements he was to take. Lucy helped the boy don the pajama shirt and then they went for the real thing. Through the lens, Brandon saw the mirror and the boy's reflection, behind him a section of wall and the door. "OK, Alan....nice and easy. Brush up....smile...and pause." Brandon had held the shutter release down, long enough to capture a dozen images for the trial. Alan was told to relax and drink some water if he wished. Brandon went over to the monitor and Todd played back the images. One after the other, Alan's face appeared, the brush coming up, logo clearly defined, the smile and...it ended. Brandon reviewed the last four with Lucy. "Looks good, but his mouth looks dry," Lucy said. "Agreed," Brandon said. They had Alan drink a bit of water and swish it around in his mouth before spitting in the basin. They ran the sequence again...and again...and again. Only then was Brandon satisfied, Lucy agreed. Alan watched Brandon select six photos which were transferred to a flash card and backed up on a storage disk. Matt and Todd shook hands all around and shut the lights down. Brandon took the flash with him as they left. Lucy escorted them to the elevators and they rode to the top floor. Theresa's office was a gallery of faces covering the walls and a large arrangement of comfortable furniture. Her glass topped desk held nothing but a computer monitor, the largest one Alan had ever seen. "Alan....Brand, so glad to see you...how did it go?" "Perfectly fine. As usual your staff is on top of everything," Brandon said. Lucy took a seat and smiled at the compliment. Brandon handed Theresa the flash drive and she inserted it into a port on the side of her monitor. She motioned for them to come around and view the photos with her. The screen was huge, and Alan almost gasped as his picture appeared. Theresa scrolled through the six photos and clapped her hands. "Bravo, this will do it." Turning to Alan she smiled. "Which one do you like best, Alan?" She scrolled through them again and Alan pointed at one. "That one," he said. Theresa nodded. "That's probably the very best of them. You have the right smile and a real twinkle in your eye." She touched his arm and leaned close to the boy's ear. "What were you thinking? Something put that gleam in your eyes...tell me," Theresa whispered. Alan smiled and whispered something back to her. Theresa smiled and said, "Yes, that would do it for me too. Bravo, this has been a wonderful accomplishment on your first day." Brandon was dying to know what the boy had said but knew he would be told later. Theresa entertained them for a while and then it was time to go meet the clients for lunch. Alan reached for his suit coat but Theresa stopped him. "Wait, dear...I have a surprise for you." She led Alan to a door in the wall and opened it. In the closet was a suit, a very nice suit. "This is for you to wear. I like my men well dressed. Brand, why don't you go help him put this on." They stepped into Theresa's private bathroom and Alan hung the suit on the back of the door. "Is this some kind of special suit or something?" Alan asked as he began to remove his shoes. Brandon knew what he was going to find but he took the coat and opened it to examine the label. "Armani...of course," Brandon said. Turning to the boy he smiled. "Yes, this is very special...about four thousand dollars worth I believe." Alan dropped the shoe he was holding. "No way...for a suit?" "He's the premier designer of men's fashion, sweetie. One look at you in this and every woman in town will faint." He chuckled. "And of course all the gay men. I don't even have one of these." "It's too much, Brandon. I would be afraid to ruin it. Go ask her to take it back, please?" "No way, sweetie. Theresa gives lavishly to those she loves. I think you just made the top of her list. Let her spoil you, it's what she does best." Alan sighed and put on the suit. Then Brandon sighed, the boy was so handsome. He would photograph Alan in this suit, maybe tomorrow for the publicity shoot. Alan gazed at himself in the full length mirror. "Wow, it fits so well." Brandon smiled. "Yeah, it looks good on you. But you would look good in rags." Alan kissed him for the compliment and Brandon looked into his eyes. "What did you tell her about the photograph, sweetie?" Alan grinned. "I told her I thought of something you said to me this morning and it made me smile. Wanna guess what it was?" "Hmm, how about...I love you." Alan smiled. "Exactly...and I love you too." Another kiss and they walked back into the office. Theresa stood and admired the boy. "Amazing...we may have to go after Armani's business with this one. You look simply handsome, young man." She held out her arm and Alan took it. Theresa knew how it would look; she was being escorted by the handsomest man in the building. They took the elevator down and paraded through the lobby, turning more than a few heads on the way to the limo. "She really knows how to do it in style," Brandon said, walking next to Lucy through the lobby. She smiled. "A lucky young man, she's made him today...you know that?" "I knew she would the first time I saw that boy's face," Brandon replied. "You work for her and I work for him. I'm here to make sure he stands on solid ground as you try to convince him he can walk on water." "Point taken," Lucy said. "We both have a hard job." "Alan's easy...you have the harder job." Lucy smiled. "And I discover something new about it every day, it keeps me coming back." Chapter Six Brandon had met clients before. Suits, accountants, idea men...they all seemed pretty much the same to him so he didn't expect too much from the toothpaste guys. How wrong could a guy be? The offices of the Middleton Meyers Pharmaceutical Company was in a non-descript building in Lower Manhattan, standing in the shadow of a dozen other such behemoths. That was the outside; the inside was strictly out of this world. Huge rotating mobiles filled the lobby ceiling made up of giant toothbrushes and of all things...teeth. Brandon and Alan both stood with their mouths open the minute they stepped inside. It seems MMP owned the first floor suite, very posh. "Don't say a word, Brand...these are serious people," Theresa said. She walked over to the reception desk and smiled. "I'm Theresa Stanford to see Mr. Jacobs." The receptionist picked up her phone and called someone. They had plenty of time to gape at the mobiles and the monster sized pair of dentures which served as a coffee table in front of a red plastic couch. Brandon didn't dare look at the boy; he'd already heard a few muffled giggles. One look and they would both crack up and earn Theresa's wrath. OK, these were clients, they paid the bills. Serious stuff when talking several hundred thousand for the average ad campaign. But who had designed the lobby...Dr. Suess? Brandon almost lost it with that thought; fortunately a man came through a side door to greet them. At least he looked normal...no clown shoes or squeaky red nose. "Mr. Jacobs, this is Alan Bennett," Theresa said by way of introduction. Alan was all business as he shook the man's hand. Brandon smiled and they followed Jacobs down a hallway to a conference room. At least this room looked business like, nothing funny here. They sat at a large round table and waited until two other guys arrived. The media specialists Brandon presumed. The men all stared at Alan and of course he smiled...that twenty-four carat moneymaker of a smile. Theresa passed out copies of the digital prints and the guys smiled back. Dates were discussed, plans made and within an hour Jacobs had signed on the dotted line. Turns out he was really Dr. Jacobs, the VP for research and development. Brandon didn't know if there ever was a Middleton or Meyers. Lunch was served on the tenth floor in a room that would have made a great movie set about French kings. Marie Antoinette herself seemed to have done the decorating. It turns out Mr. Middleton collected antiques, he explained that when he finally showed up. Brandon learned that this was a joint ownership company, an international partnership of German and American interests. That explained Meyers, but Middleton was a real character. He shook Alan's hand and congratulated the boy on his steady grip. "American youth has gone soft, young man. You seem like a strong lad, you play sports?" Brandon gave the boy a nod to tell the truth. "No, sir...I grew up on a farm in North Carolina." Alan's words seemed to resonate with Middleton. "Really? My family were farmers in Kansas for generations, guess I spoiled that dream when I went to college. Hard work, endless days...I hated it myself. But you turned out all right, young man. Proves that saying 'what don't kill ya makes you stronger,' I learned that early on in my young life." "Pretty much the same here, sir," Alan replied. "So how did you come into all this, sir? Did you learn the business in college?" "Education is the only way, young man...may I call you Alan?" The boy nodded and Middleton continued. Brandon glanced down the table and saw Jacobs take on a resigned expression; he'd heard it all before. Theresa was trying to look interested, but her focus was still on Alan and his interaction with Middleton. The man really seemed to like the boy. "I had to work my way through school, Alan. Every penny I made went to my tuition and books. I had little left over for food and the needs of life, but I had a plan. A man dreams and someday if he works hard enough he achieves that goal and the dream comes true. I wanted to be a football star." "Football? But...but this is far from football, sir. I would have guessed medicine." Alan seemed genuinely surprised and that made Middleton chuckle. "You would think that, and you would be right. I studied medicine and dreamed of football. And then twenty-five years ago the two came together. I had made close friends on the football team in college. Kansas State was my alma mater in those days. And one of those men became a star in the NFL. "Well sir, he called me up one fine afternoon and asked me to come see him while he was in town. It was a hot day, a typical Kansas barn burner of a day. And worse this friend of mine had an important game the following afternoon. We talked about how the players suffered in the heat, dehydration and cramping being the worst effects of all that tough activity. Can you guess what I told him?" "Um...oh, yes," Alan said. "You figured out a way to beat the heat." Middleton slapped the table. "Absolutely right." Jacobs jumped about a foot in the air, startled out of his lethargy. Theresa cracked a huge smile...Alan was the real star here. "I told him how the body wasted all these important chemicals it really, really needed as they sweated. Replace the chemicals and wham...you have hydration and no muscle cramps. I took him to my tiny laboratory; the company was small back then. But we worked on nutrition programs for the government; I had everything I needed at hand. "I mixed up some nutrients, glucose and several other ingredients and tasted it myself. It was pretty bland so I added a couple of cups of Tang, that orange drink the astronauts used and wham; I had what we call a sports drink today." "Did it work, sir...did your friend win the game?" "No, sorry to say he messed up his knee pretty badly...but he got the team to take my drink in that ninety-eight degree weather and they won the game without him. Needless to say I sold the patent to those greedy cola folks, who tried to screw me in the process. I used that money to partner with my old friend Meyers and here we are today." Alan beamed and damn near applauded. Middleton smiled at the boy's enthusiasm and Brandon knew right then...the boy had this contract for life. Lunch was served, a light meal of soup and salad. Middleton explained it was unhealthy to eat a heavy meal in the middle of the day, it killed productivity. But the soup was exquisite and no one was surprised. Middleton personally walked beside Alan as they headed back down to the lobby; he seemed to have great affection for the boy. Brandon walked beside Theresa and she couldn't say enough about Alan's maturity and personality. 'That suit was worth every penny, Brand. He wears it like a man. You do know that Middleton has dozens of products out there on pharmacy shelves. This may turn into a big deal." "Try not to sign us into anything exclusive, Theresa," Brandon said. "He's just getting started." "No one...and I mean no one has ever pleased me as much as that boy did today. He just might get my job before this is all over." "Theresa, you own the company...there is no job for you to lose," Brandon laughed. "Yeah, but I better at least hire him as VP or something before he starts his own and puts me out of business. Damn, sweetie...and he's only sixteen. Ten years from now he'll be on top of the world. You lucky man." "I hope, I haven't asked for a long term commitment...I can't he's too young to understand what that means," Brandon said. "He loves you. I see it in everything he does. He might understand a lot more than you'll ever know. Give it time, you're still nurturing him and bless you for that," Theresa said. "Thank you, I needed to hear that." Theresa had the limo drop them off at the hotel. She declared that Alan should do nothing but rest before the shoot tomorrow. It would be a long day, she was right. Alan hugged her, once again thanked her for the suit and kissed her on the cheek. Brandon swore he could see tears in her eyes as the car pulled away. The hotel lobby seemed to pause as Alan walked in looking like a million dollars. His confident air had the desk clerk scrambling to see if there were any messages, there were not...but there would be. An adoring public awaited Alan's splash on the slick pages of a dozen magazines, they just didn't know it yet. They rode upwards in silence and got off on their floor. The key, the door, the suit hung in the closet, and then Alan whooped with joy. "We did it...we did it. Theresa was so happy she cried," Alan yelled as he ran around the room. He came to a dead stop in front of Brandon. "We did it...all because we're in love." Brandon grabbed the boy and kissed his neck, his face and any other part he could find. Alan pulled off Brandon's suit coat, then the tie, giggling the whole time. The dress shoes and pants, shirts and ties all went in the closet until they were left in shorts. Alan flopped on the bed, bouncing around with joy. Brandon sat down and took his hand. "I am so proud of you, sweetie. You did everything right today. I watched with pride and knew that I was in love with the smartest...the best young man in the whole world." Alan gazed into his eyes and they kissed, falling on the bed in the process. Brandon wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged for all he was worth. Alan laughed and they kissed again, longer this time...harder. The tensions of the day dissipated, they were just two people in love. Alan broke off the kiss, and climbed on top of Brandon, stretching out on his chest. Brandon caressed the boy's head as Alan lay down, arms sliding underneath Brandon's shoulders. "Middleton really had me going with that football story. I was sorta thinking it was all a big lie he made up." "Could be, maybe he did it to entertain you," Brandon said. "Oh God...those teeth," Alan said. They both started laughing at the lobby decor. "If you had even looked at me I would have died," Alan said. "I knew it too," Brandon said, laughing even harder. "And Theresa would have killed us both." "Oh yeah," and then Alan lost it. He laughed so hard Brandon was afraid he'd make them both fall off the bed. But this was good, the tension was all gone. But somewhere in all this madness it was replaced with something else. Brandon became aware of Alan's hardness pressing into his stomach and his reaction was immediate as well. The boy seemed to press against him, the laughter dying away. The pressure took on a passionate urgency and their bodies seemed to melt together. The boy pressed down once again. "Alan?" Brandon said. "Oh...please...love me Brandon...love me." The boy was humping his stomach and Brandon's cock turned to steel. His hands slid down to Alan's butt and fingers grasped the fabric. Alan slid his hands downwards, snagging the waistband of his shorts and pushing them down. Now there was only one layer of cloth between them. Brandon felt himself pushing back, the urge too great to resist. Alan moaned with pleasure and his fingers took hold of Brandon's shorts. Every move exposed more of his cock and Brandon allowed it. The sudden heat as their exposed cocks came in contact made him groan. The boy had the shorts pressed below his ball sac and Brandon reached down to help before their movement caused him real pain. Now they were belly to belly, cock to cock and the boy pressed harder. The movement caused them both to ooze and suddenly it all became slick down there. Brandon grabbed the boy's ass, his fingers digging in, pulling them closer. Alan gasped, turning his head, his lips searching for Brandon's. Their kiss was frenzied, lips and tongues trying to blend into one. Their thrusts became more defined. The boy moaned in his mouth and Brandon felt the buzz through his lips. So slick, so passionate...it was like totally fucking for real. Suddenly Alan pulled his head up and groaned. "Oh shit....oh...oh....ahhh." And Brandon felt the boy flood the space between them...it was all he could handle and he too lost control. The flood increased as Brandon let go, groaning with the effort and trembling like a leaf. The spurts from them both seemed to go on forever, the release so great. And then Alan collapsed, becoming dead weight on his chest. Brandon felt the boy's harsh breath on his neck. They lay gasping like two dying fish out of water. The pain of it ending so soon...the pleasure of the memory still lingering. Brandon lay still, realizing he had lost the battle...Alan had won. But he would always win, it was ordained. God watched out for this boy and gave him strength and courage far beyond his youth. Helpless to deny it, Brandon could not love him any less than this...they would become lovers in every sense of the word. God help me, Brandon thought, he rules my life. "Thank you," Alan whispered. "I know you didn't want this." Brandon smiled. No one had ever apologized for fucking him before, even if this was a play fuck. "I surrender...you win." Alan pushed upwards, looking down. "There are no winners and losers here...just lovers." "Then I better buy some condoms," Brandon said and the boy smiled. "We made a mess," Alan said, looking down at their stomachs. "You think? I know you cut lose with at least a gallon." "Oh you had me beat by a mile; you almost blew me off the bed." "Blame it on Middleton and his teeth, this all started with a laugh," Brandon said. "And it ends with a kiss." He leaned up and their lips crushed together again. Yes, lovers...amen. The shower was never more fun. Nothing like a sweet and tender wash after good sex. But washing the boy only made him feel all sexy again and Alan sported an erection in nothing flat. "You got a license for that, mister?" Brandon said in a deep voice. "Oh please, sir...I just found it on the side of the road." Alan's girly voice made them both crack up. There was nothing feminine about that cock. They dried off and looked down at the mess on the sheets. "The maid will freak out," Alan said. "Let her, it's only a few cum stains...nothing she hasn't seen before. Besides, I plan to blame your overactive hormones. Horny little boy that you are." "OK," Alan laughed. "Shall we mess up my bed too?" "Nope...this time I don't plan to miss a drop, sweetie," Brandon said. He pushed the boy onto the bed and lay down beside him. Alan smiled. "Are we really gonna start having sex?" "And where were you ten minutes ago? Ah...ah...ohhh...squirt, remember that? Frottage it's called, probably a French word for dry fucking. It's still sex." "I mean oral...and anal...do you want to do all that?" "I suppose, that's what lovers do. Look, we've both been very good for a long time. I wanted to wait, but now I see that's impossible. I can't resist you any longer, Alan...I don't want to. "But I could never hurt you. If we can't do it slowly and passionately without pain and all that idiotic screaming I won't agree. But you look like a sensible boy...you may get passionate with my ass first if you like." "Me? You want me to fuck you?" Alan asked, surprise on his face "Fuck is such a crude word...you may pleasure me first if you like, see how it all works." "I...I never expected...well I will if you want me to." Brandon rubbed a finger on the boy's nose. "I want us both to do everything until we find our place in all this. Maybe you prefer being on the bottom, but it doesn't have to be that way all the time. I'm a give and take kinda gay guy. I want it all to be fun." "OK, I have the equipment ready...where do we start?" Alan asked. Brandon smiled. "Soon, my love...we have all night." The middle of the afternoon and they lay in bed, touching...caring. All these new feelings to be shared and yet it didn't have to happen now. "We should go do something," Brandon suggested. "Dinner...a movie? God, this is New York, everything you could ever think about is out there." "A movie in a real theatre would be nice...with popcorn, yeah....let's do that." It took a short time to dress and then wander down to the lobby in search of a movie guide. The newspaper gave them several choices and Brandon smiled. "I know just where to take you...it's someplace famous." "OK, famous it is," Alan said. And of course the cabbie turned out to be Sanjay once again, seems this was his coveted territory. "Welcome, my friends...what may be your pleasure this afternoon?" "Times Square," Brandon said, "We'll take it from there." "Ahh, the most famous piece of real estate in our city," Sanjay began. And they gained a short bit of New York history as the man sped off towards Forty-Second Street. Alan slid his hand into Brandon's as they traveled. The boy needed to express how good the change in their relationship had affected him. Sharing life as lovers would bring a new dimension to everything they did from now on. Brandon could tell the boy hadn't been this happy since the first day they met. It hadn't been that long, two months...sixty-two days? Now he was counting their time together for a good reason. The count down clock had been destroyed, it was history. Now they could measure their lives in moments spent together...a much better way to live. Sanjay rolled into a corner of the famous square, an intersection really...a focal point. And opposite them was the huge billboard, advertising some clothing line this week. Brandon smiled...someday he was sure...someday Alan's face would be up there. He didn't dare say anything. The boy didn't need to know how real his presence would become in the city, the nation...maybe even the world. It would be ironic. Just as he was gaining someone to love the ads would give him away to the public. Then things would change under the scrutiny, the adoration...the need for everyone to know who this person was. But he would build walls to protect the boy, hire an army if that's what it took. No need the boy had would be ignored...especially not the need to be loved. They walked around the square a while, viewing the city at it's best and worst. Here glamour met reality, the housewife and the whores, the rich and the poor...all trod the same stretch of concrete and asphalt. Alan stayed close as they passed a homeless couple panhandling at the mouth of an alley. It was hard to see the American dream after viewing something like that, not everyone shared in what freedom had to offer. They found the theatre and bought tickets for the number one comedy in the nation, they had both wanted to see it anyway. A bathroom break, popcorn and two sodas later they sat in a virtually empty theatre, laughing at the antics of an all star cast. Brandon could feel the momentum building, and he didn't mean the plot. Alan kept in constant contact, a touch of their knees, their hands joining...a squeeze. The film ended and as they walked up the aisle Alan put his arm around Brandon's waist. It was time to return to the hotel, the boy couldn't wait any longer. Alan caressed his thigh for most of the ride, leaving Brandon with a painful erection as he paid off the cabby. They rode the elevator, unspoken feelings left to a glance, a touch and then they were in the room, undressing in haste...and then Brandon dragged the boy into the shower. The washing only seemed to increase the passions. Alan wanted to touch, to begin the dance but Brandon pushed his hands off, and smiled. They dried off in haste, falling on the bed slightly damp. Alan was almost glowing from the scrub down and the heat his thoughts were generating. Brandon knew he wanted to taste the boy, to savor the sweetness he knew was there in every pore, every inch of that smooth skin. Their lips met, tongues dueled and they gave in to the passions that had been building for hours. Alan gasped as Brandon began the slow sensual sweep of his body, fingers caressing, pinching, rubbing, as his tongue followed, increasing the pleasure by leaps and bounds. The boy had his own urges, but Brandon again pushed his hands away...it was his time to give, to love. Alan moaned as Brandon's tongue traced its way downward. He groaned as Brandon slid his tongue past the stiffness and tongued his balls, taking them in his mouth. The boy grasped Brandon's hair, fingers clutching, pressing into his scalp. That tongue seemed to be everywhere as Brandon tasted the boy's flesh, smelling the scent...the essence that no soap could ever diminish. He spread the boy's legs, raising them, knees bent to expose that exquisite pink flesh. His tongue lapped at the cleft of Alan's ass, teasing, tasting and smelling the aroma of that most secret place. Finally he took the plunge, thrusting his tongue into the hole, ending the tease. "Oh....Brandon...ahhh," Alan groaned, his body pushing upwards as Brandon sunk his tongue into the soft flesh, pressing his nose against the boy's body. He lapped and wiggled his tongue, eliciting groans of delight and only wishing his tongue was longer so that he might taste the core of the boy. All too soon his tongue tired of the workout, and he took broad strokes on the boy's balls, lapping at the globes in their fleshy bag. The flat of his tongue slid up and down the underside of Alan's cock, causing squeals of boyish pleasure. Alan had never...well maybe, in his dreams. It would be a short experience, Brandon knew. Alan was primed, and so hot that any major stimulation would send him over the edge...but it was time to taste what he had sought since the beginning. Brandon mouthed the head of Alan's cock and slid it down his throat. "Oh....Brand...ahhh....oh God," Alan almost screamed. His body bucked and shook, his head thrashing around on the pillow as Brandon tongued the underside of his cock head. Brandon slid up and down, increasing the suction as he went. "Oh...yeah, Brand...I...I'm gonna cum...ahhh.....damn," Alan groaned, his words echoing off the ceiling. Brandon felt the boy's fingers tugging at his hair, and he sucked in quicker shorter strokes. The cock in his mouth swelled, the head flaring outwards and filling his throat...it was going to explode. Brandon slid back, leaving the head of Alan's cock in his mouth, allowing room for the eruption. And Alan groaned, his body shook, his back arched upwards and his fingers almost pulled Brandon's hair out as he came. The first spurt slammed into the back of Brandon's throat as his mouth quickly filled with the boy's sperm. Brandon swallowed, feeling the mass slide down only to have it replaced as successive eruptions flooded his mouth. His eyes looked upwards at Alan's face. The boy's mouth was open, drooling, his eyes squeezed tightly shut...but he positively glowed with the heat of passion. Brandon squeezed Alan's cock at the base, sliding his fingers upwards, stripping every drop he could find. And quickly Alan seemed to meltdown, his body slumping to the mattress, his cock still throbbing in Brandon's mouth...but he was spent. Brandon allowed the softening cock to stay in his mouth, enjoying the feel...and the taste of Alan's flesh. His senses were filled with a salty/sweet taste, the scent filling his sinus cavity, thrilling him with every breath he took. Alan lay panting; his hands eased and began to stroke Brandon's head. Finally his eyes opened and looked down, their glances met. Alan curled his fingers around Brandon's ears and tugged upwards. Brandon slid up and their lips met, tongues searching, sharing the taste of the boy's sperm. His tongue was thick with Alan's essence and the boy sucked, trying to glean some bit of himself and share in the wonder of this new taste. Finally their lips parted. "I never...I saw stars," Alan said, the grin quickly spreading across his face. Brandon smiled. "And I tasted one. God, I love you." Alan's eyes filled with tears, his emotions releasing the flood, and yet he was filled with joy. "I am the luckiest person in the world...I have you to love." Brandon kissed his cheeks, lapping up the tears as Alan closed his eyes and kept on smiling. "That was incredible...but you wouldn't let me do anything," Alan protested. "Hush, sweetie...I needed to adore you, to taste you...you'll have plenty of time to feast on my flesh." "And how did I taste, I never...well except for what I sucked off your tongue. Did I make a lot? I seemed to cum so fast," Alan said. "You made just enough to fill me up," Brandon said. "But don't worry, I'll want a snack later. You were so hot I didn't think you would last that long." Alan smiled. "I couldn't hold out, you sucked it right out of me. And that thing with your tongue, I almost died and went to heaven." "God can't have you yet, I have plans," Brandon said. "Do you want another shower?" "Can't I have my turn? I want some of you inside of me too." "Rest up first. It will take you longer to get what you want from me...I want to hold you now," Brandon said. They lay side by side, arms wrapped around one another...and rest they did. In no time Alan was asleep, a smile still on his face. Brandon could only gaze at his face, mere inches away...and feel nothing but adoration. Then he slept. Brandon awoke to the feeling of Alan's lips on his left nipple, the boy would not be denied. He looked down and Alan grinned. "My turn." Ah, the boy lacked no imagination, just experience...but that could be overcome. Brandon was already erect as Alan's fingers closed around his cock. Gentle touches, fingers sliding up and down as his lips kissed down Brandon's chest and kept going south. Brandon lay back, closing his eyes as Alan reached his destination and began to tongue the head of his cock. He tasted the ooze that had begun almost immediately, lapping it up, spreading it around. And those exploring fingers grasped his balls, kneading the soft flesh. Alan took Brandon's cock in his mouth, spreading his lips wide to engulf the head, and slid down. Brandon felt his cock at the back of the boy's throat and then Alan gagged, pulling back. "You don't have to take it all, sweetie. Breathe through your nose," Brandon said. "You swallowed all of me...I can do it," Alan replied. "You'll get plenty of practice...don't kill yourself now." The boy slid down again, same place same reaction, but he was breathing through his nostrils and wouldn't be put off. A slight scraping of teeth, but then his lips were covered...and that glorious tongue began to explore. "Hmm," Brandon moaned, encouraging the divine. Alan pulled on his balls and grasped his cock at the base. The hand moving below, the lips and tongue teasing the top half of his cock...Brandon knew this spelled success. Alan backed off, his tongue teasing the slit and then twirling around the head once again. "Oh...yeah," Brandon gasped in encouragement. Fingers rubbed under his balls and Brandon spread his legs for the boy. Alan took the ball sac in his mouth, one globe at a time...wetting them, drooling copious amounts of spit. Back on the cock head once again as his fingers rubbed ever lower, seeking the crack...after the prize. Brandon moaned as Alan's fingers grazed his asshole. One finger began to wiggle down there, seeking entry...where had he learned this? Brandon pulled his legs up, exposing himself completely to the probe. He didn't think Alan would tongue him down there, that took some mental adjustment...but he was wrong. Alan pulled his head back and Brandon knew he was studying the situation. There was hair down there surrounding the target and Alan's fingers brushed it apart before the tongue pressed against it. "Oh God....sweetie," Brandon moaned. It had been so long since anyone had been there, had dared to penetrate his being, but Alan went for it. The tongue dipped in and out, quick attacks, gentle retreats. Brandon could feel his body heating up and his fingers reached down, running through the boy's tresses. The tongue moved north again as the finger pressed into his opening. Brandon felt himself relax and the finger moved deeper. Lips on his cock once again and Alan sucked harder, working lips and finger in a gentle rhythm guaranteed to achieve results. Brandon toyed with the boy's hair and ears, struggling to keep from pressing that mouth down further. But his body began to move up and down. Alan's finger reached his prostate and Brandon groaned loudly. "Ahh...that's it...you got me now...," Brandon gasped through clenched teeth. His heart rate was off the charts, his breathing sped up...all the signs were there. That damn finger was driving him crazy and he felt the pressure building deep inside. "Damn...I'm gonna cum..." Brandon warned. "Don't try to take it all, you'll choke for sure....ease back when I start." Alan kept on, was he even listening? The finger finally did it. Brandon felt the swell begin and Alan must have too. "Ahh...here it comes," Brandon yelled...and he bucked upwards as the torrent was released. He raised his head to watch the boy, knowing it would be hard to manage...impossible to take all that sperm at one time. Alan's cheeks swelled outwards and then he swallowed. But it would not stop, his mouth filled again and he forgot to breathe through his nose...he choked. Brandon reached down to pull the boy's head up and Alan spewed a mouthful out across his stomach. The boy coughed, choked a bit as he gagged from the unfamiliar taste and then clamped his mouth shut tight. Brandon's final eruptions sprayed his chin and throat, it was all too much. Alan turned away and slid off the bed, rushing for the bathroom. Brandon heard him retch into the toilet and then silence. He rolled off the bed and followed, finding Alan on his knees, tears coursing down his cheeks. Brandon dropped to the floor beside him and took the boy in his arms. "I...I spoiled it," Alan sobbed, his body racked with disappointment and shame. "No, sweetie....you were amazing, so fearless to the end," Brandon cooed. "Don't be sad, you did amazing for your first time...it takes practice." "I...I wanted...wanted to make you happy," Alan stammered. "And you did...God, I love you. This will work out, you'll get better and I'll never be happier than I am right now," Brandon said. "No one has ever loved me the way you do." Alan sniffled and tried to smile. "Really...you mean that?" "Oh God, sweetie...I am so in love with you...I feel like screaming and running naked down the street." Alan giggled, and then cleared his throat. Brandon leaned down and kissed him, but the boy pulled away. "I just threw up...nasty taste." Brandon laughed. "I'm sure we have some toothpaste around here somewhere." Alan laughed and stood up. "I wanted to be better then anyone else to show you how much I love you. I won't give up...I have to do it right." Brandon gazed up at the boy and saw the strength of purpose in his eyes. There was no denying this boy; he would have it his way. Brandon stood up as Alan went to the sink to brush. "Imagine the ad copy," Brandon said. Then with a deep announcer's voice he said: "Have that nasty cum taste still left in your teenage mouth? Does sperm still coat your tongue after you sucked off your boyfriend? Try Zippy toothpaste, a gay boy's best friend." Alan lost it, spraying the white foam all over the mirror as he laughed. Brandon smiled, held up his hands as if he had a camera in them and clicked off a few shots of Alan. The boy rinsed his mouth and licked his lips. "Ready now," he announced and reached out for Brandon. That kiss was the most passionate they had ever shared. It was beyond their first moments of sex, beyond the discovery that they could please one another...and right on the doorstep of a deeper commitment. Alan pulled back and looked in Brandon's eyes. "Are you my boyfriend now?" Brandon looked in those eyes with all the love he could muster. "I will always be yours for as long as you'll have me." They dressed for dinner, choosing to favor the hotel's restaurant. It meant coat and tie, not the Armani...that was too risky...but Alan looked elegant anyway. His face seemed to glow, his emotions having risen higher than the Empire State Building today. And Brandon knew that meant he would crash early as his body came down from all that glorious feeling. The boy stood before the mirror and brushed his hair. We have a busy day ahead, not hard work maybe, but long hours of posing. He would get the boy into that million dollar suit and make him look fabulous for the publicity photos. Alan would smile for the camera, but this time it would be different. This time the boy would glow with that inner spirit of their love. It was in his eyes now; it would be captured in the lens. He couldn't wait until Friday and their flight home. It would be like bringing home a bride...someone he knew and yet their situation would be changed. He felt married in heart and mind, and Alan reflected those feelings back at him. So young for such a commitment...but then this was no ordinary boy. He never would be...they would grow young together. The hostess greeted them at the door. Her eyes never left Alan's face as Brandon requested a table. She escorted them to a quiet corner and said the waiter would be over for their order. Brandon noticed the looks before the boy felt the eyes turned his way. He leaned forward. "Are they looking at me?" Alan whispered. Brandon nodded. "Afraid so...it's only going to get worse. Do you mind?" Alan shrugged. "Goes with the job I suppose." "Once they know your name people will stop and ask for your autograph. They'll want to feel in-touch with you, to have a moment of intimacy with someone so famous. I won't allow photos if at all possible; your image is to be protected." "No picking my nose in public you mean," Alan laughed. "Got that right. But fame has its pleasant side too. Other famous people will feel like they know you, like you're a member of the club. You can take that far as you want, but I'll be watching." "I would never go anywhere without you, Brand. Hmm, will people figure us out?" "Some will, some won't...at least while you haven't reached eighteen. Being your guardian will be understood, being your photographer less so. We have time to sort all that out. I can't wait to take you home." "I miss the dogs," Alan said. "Yeah, me too." The waiter interrupted their little chat as he handed them menus. "Any thoughts?" Brandon asked. "I better eat light," Alan said. "Nothing heavy on my stomach." Brandon looked up in time to catch the boy's wink. God, he was insatiable. "I'll have the porterhouse, medium rare, no starch and a side salad, please," Brandon ordered. Alan smiled, "I'll do the same, and tea please." "Thank you, gentlemen," the waiter said and he left. "That woman over there is staring at me," Alan said. Casually Brandon turned his head, and then turned back. "It's probably not just you, I know her." "Well she's coming this way," Alan said. "Figured she would, just sit tight." Alan looked up as she arrived. Brandon didn't even stand for the lady. "Brandon, I thought that was you. Back in town so soon?" "Hello Monica, how's business?" Brandon replied. "And who's this...he isn't your son is he?" Brandon laughed. "Now Monica, you know I'm not old enough..." "Well I hope you're smart enough to know better," her attitude was pretty arrogant. "Monica, enough of that, you want to be banned from this hotel as well? This is Alan Bennett, one of Theresa's new discoveries." "I apologize, Alan...you ought to keep better company, dear." "OK, enough of that," Brandon said, standing up. Their voices had been rising and the hostess had started towards them. He signaled the woman and she rushed right over. "Would you call the police and have this woman removed," Brandon said. Several waiters approached and Monica backed off. They escorted her to the door and into the lobby. Brandon thanked the hostess for protecting their privacy and then sat back down. Alan's face was a mask of concern. "What was that all about?" Brandon sighed. "That was Monica Blumenthal; she works for one of the tabloid magazines. I had them sued several years ago for using some of my photos without permission. She wrote an article about me for revenge, outed me in the process. She's a hateful person; I avoid her like the plague." "What a bitch...will she do something back?" "If I see her again I'll have her arrested for stalking you. I'll make sure she's not allowed back in this hotel. She's not allowed in most of the major hotels in this city already, I was surprised to see her." "That's ridiculous, I'm gonna tell Theresa about her tomorrow," Alan said. Brandon grinned at the boy's ire. "You do that, damn you're feisty." Alan smiled. "Gotta protect what I love." Their food arrived and they ate with gusto. Nothing like a little fight to make a man hungry. Alan sat back with contentment, his steak unfinished. "You want dessert?" Brandon asked. "Not down here," Alan said, leaving no doubt what was on his mind. Brandon smiled and wiped his lips on the napkin. "Guess we're finished then." The waiter brought their check and Brandon signed it, adding their room number. "What, you don't have to pay?" Alan asked. "Nope, Theresa picks up the tab for everything," Brandon explained. "Cool," Alan said with a smile. They left the restaurant and Brandon lead them back over to the front desk. He asked the clerk a question and the man nodded, giving him directions. "How about a little walk to wear off that food?" Brandon asked. "Sure," Alan replied. They walked two blocks west and Brandon spotted the pharmacy on the corner. They went inside and he told Alan to go browse the magazines while he bought something. He returned a few minutes later with a small white bag and they walked back to the hotel. Alan kept looking at the bag and Brandon smiled. "Nosy, huh?" "Yup, what is it?" "Not gonna tell you, wait a bit." They got back to the room and Brandon handed over the bag. Alan opened it slowly, and then smiled. "You bought condoms...and what's this?" "Lubricant...never leave home with out it...but I did this time," Brandon said. "Wasn't expecting to get myself pleasured this fast...you amaze me." "Oh, you want me to...?" "Yeah...dessert!" Alan laughed and they walked towards the bedroom. Brandon began to undress and explain his thoughts. "I will not do anything like anal sex with you until you are good and ready, sweetie. You know from your earlier experience that it can be painful, it will take me several attempts to stretch you out enough...but then that's part of the fun." "So I get to go first, that's OK. I know you liked that finger in your butt earlier," Alan said. "Oh yeah, made me want the real thing. You'll be great, I have no doubt about that...it's my turn to see the stars." Once they were naked, Brandon spread a bath towel out on the bed. He wet a wash cloth and draped it nearby after he lay down on his back. "Operating room is ready, Doctor...time for you to perform that put-a-dick-to-me." Alan laughed and crawled onto his thighs. Brandon ripped open a condom pack and showed Alan how to roll it on. "Why do we even have to use one...I can wash up after, can't I?" Alan asked. "At home it's OK, I don't have the stuff to get myself all cleaned out here...we'll wait for that. So I will raise my legs, you give me some of that lube up my butt with your fingers and we go to town." Alan picked up the lube bottle and Brandon raised his legs. The boy dribbled some lube on Brandon's anus and smeared it around with his fingers. "You have to push it inside too, that's where you'll need it most," Brandon said. Alan shoved his fingers into Brandon's asshole and got a gasp in return. "Whoa, sweetie...better take it easy on me...it's been a while." Alan finally had enough lube in place and Brandon had him scoot forward. He laid his ankles on Alan's shoulders and reached down to guide the boy. "Easy does it, let me get used to it as you go." Alan pushed his cock forward and Brandon held it on target until the head of the boy's cock was inside. He looked up at that adorable face and watched the awe as Alan slid into him. The boy didn't stop until his pubes were pressed against Brandon's butt. It felt like a truck parked up there, but then he knew it would. Alan looked down at him. Their eyes locked as the boy slowly withdrew and stopped just before he popped out. The long slow slide back in was heaven for them both. "Oh damn...this is awesome," Alan said. "Am I hurting you?" "No...not at all...but you're fucking huge...it feels like a baseball bat." Alan smiled and concentrated on his efforts. Brandon relaxed and moaned as the boy slid back in. He tightened his muscles and gripped that cock only to see Alan's eyes glaze over with passion. "Oh God...you feel so hot inside," Alan moaned. "You can go a little faster," Brandon said. The boy picked up the pace, every move sending shivers down Brandon's spine. He was gonna like having this done a whole lot, the boy seemed willing. Alan's strokes picked up and tiny beads of sweat appeared on his brow. Yeah, it was work to be that good. Brandon's cock went from soft to hard and back down again. The rubbing on his prostate kept overpowering all other sensations, but it was the view of Alan's face that turned him on so much. Brandon's mind kept coming back to the realization that he was being fucked by the most awesome boy in the city. Alan was beginning to feel the pressure, the feeling rising inside and making him moan. "Go faster if you want, sweetie...ride me hard," Brandon gasped. He slid his legs down the boy's back and slid his hands under his own bottom, raising the angle of attack. Alan was slamming all the way in, bottoming out before pulling back. Brandon felt the boy's balls slapping his butt on every stroke and that was a major turn on. "Oh yeah....fuck me, baby...give me all you got," Brandon yelped and that dissolved into moans as Alan went on the attack. Brandon could hear the boy gasping for breath, groaning and gasping sounds filled the room. The squish of cock pumping asshole became more intense and Alan shuddered. "Oh God...shit...I'm cumming..." "Fuck me, baby...make me cum," Brandon almost screamed. Alan gave several short stabs and then buried his cock into the hilt and stopped. It was enough and Brandon's cock began to spurt, spraying his chest and neck with cream. Alan's face was alive with passion, his cock spurting out every drop into the condom. Brandon felt the pulses deep inside and that had been what set him off. Both collapsed at the same time but Bandon held the boy tight with his legs. "Don't pull out...please just stay in me for a while...Oh God," Brandon moaned. Alan pushed his face down in the stream of cum on Brandon's chest and began to eat what he found. Broad strokes of his tongue soon had the mess cleaned up and he looked up with pride. "Hmm, I love the taste of you," the boy said. His cock was losing ground and as it softened they both gasped as it slipped out. Alan leaned up and they kissed before Brandon pulled his legs down. "I never knew how wonderful that could feel," Alan said. "It always feels better with love behind it, now you know." "Oh, I can't wait to feel you inside of me...can we start now, can you get me ready? I want you to pleasure me when we get home." "We'll start first thing in the morning, OK? You need to rest first," Brandon said. "Morning...we won't have time?" "I'll make time...trust me," Brandon said. He took the washcloth and removed the condom, flushing away the evidence. They showered and sat in their shorts to watch a little television. Politics and weather seemed to dominate the airwaves, Alan yawned. Ten o'clock...that was fine, they could go to sleep now. Finally, they could share one bed and sleep in one another's arms. Brandon figured he could mess up the other bed and fool the maid, no sense in giving Monica an insider look. She had seen him on the street with Jack, one of Theresa's assistants. No doubt she hung out around the Village gay bars looking for dirt to scoop. It had been six months after the lawsuit was settled but she was a vindictive bitch. Jack was twenty-two and perfectly legal, but Monica had called him a boy in her printed rant the following week. The suggestion that he was chasing down young boys and making kiddie porn with his camera was in there too. Theresa had asked him to bite the bullet, no one gave the woman much credibility anyway. But Theresa was good, she had friends in high places and Monica found herself banned from dozens of venues...and then there was the drug bust. Monica had been set up; he knew that, he just didn't know how Theresa had arranged it. The courtroom antics made the trade papers and Monica got fired from her cushy tabloid job, but it seems she had crawled back out of the slime to fight again. Alan would say something to Theresa, and once again Monica would pay dearly. She had chosen the wrong battleground this time. Monica had offended Alan; Theresa would breathe fire when she heard. The resulting cuddle took away the boy's last will to remain awake, he fell asleep almost immediately. Brandon had made the wake up call for the same time, seven o'clock. If he couldn't get up earlier then Alan would have to wait for his first moment of reality. Stretching the boy's ass would take time. There would be the mental issue thanks to that earlier rape and relaxing would be a struggle for him. But patience would win out; they had two days and lots of time to work on it. Brandon closed his eyes and mentally sighed.