Date: Tue, 09 Oct 2001 00:42:44 -0400
From: writerboy69@hotmail.com
Subject: JC's Hitchhiker - Part 1

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". This is
my first attempt at this.

And so.

JC's Hitchhiker - Part 1

Nobody expects to leave their house in the morning and fall in love. It's
been known to happen, and you might hope for it, you might wonder about it,
and you might wish it would happen, but nobody expects it. In much the same
way, nobody expects for their rental car to catch on fire and explode, but
it's also been known to happen.  As a matter of fact, it happened to me.

I was coming back from a long, boring conference in a rental car that did
not seem to like me very much. In the course of the one-week conference,
the car had stalled repeatedly, and overheated once. The rental agency had
been less than helpful when I called them, telling me that I would have to
return it to them for service. I explained that I wasn't sure if I'd be
able to return it to them, as I didn't think it would make it, and they
assured me that they rented nothing but quality vehicles.

"Quality, yeah, nothing but," I muttered sarcastically to myself, pulling
over.

I didn't really need the brakes, as the engine had stopped. I threw it into
park and shut it off, deadening the glow of the many warning lights that
had come on. I tried the key a few times, but it wouldn't start, and smoke
began to drift from under the hood. Annoyed, I pulled my bag and my
suitcase off of the back seat, deciding to just abandon the damn thing.

I was about fifty yards from the car when I realized it was on fire. I
turned around, set my suitcase down, and sat on top of it, watching my
rental car burn. It was the middle of the night, well after midnight. I was
in the middle of nowhere, and hadn't seen another car for at least an
hour. Based on the last road sign I had passed, I guessed I was about ten
miles from the next town. I was completely alone, sitting on my suitcase on
the road shoulder, watching my rental car burn in the night, so I threw
back my head and laughed.

Hey, it was either that or cry.

I was still giggling and trying to figure out what I was going to do when a
bus buzzed past me, slammed on its brakes, and reversed to where I was
sitting. It stopped with that clicking hissing sigh that bus brakes always
make, and then the door opened, spilling a bright fan of light onto the
shoulder, where I was standing and dusting myself off.

Two men climbed down from the bus. The first had spiky dark hair, with
streaks of color in it, and a little goatee, but the second really caught
my eye. He had a wavy mop of brown hair, streaked with blonde, and piercing
blue eyes. I'd seen pictures of both of them countless times, and
recognized them immediately, but I figured they didn't need me to blurt out
their names. They knew who they were, and if they didn't, it was written on
the side of their bus.

"Hey man, are you ok?" the first one asked.

"I appear to be having a little car trouble," I said, gesturing behind me
at the flaming automotive wreckage.

"Really?" the second one asked, snickering. The first just gaped at
us. "Can we, um, give you a lift?"

"I'd really appreciate that," I said, extending my hand. "Jack Springer."

"Josh," he said, shaking it. His hand was smooth but his grip was firm.

He held on just a second longer than necessary, looking into my eyes while
I looked into his, and then he let go, bending down.

"Let me help you with this," Josh said quickly, grabbing my suitcase. He
climbed quickly onto the bus, leaving me to follow with my bag.

"I'm Chris," the guy behind me said, following me as we hurried aboard.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, following Josh down a narrow hallway to the
back of the bus where a couple of couches were set up, like a lounge.

Josh set my bag down next to one of the couches and turned around to face
me. Just as he did, the bus lurched forward, and, losing my balance, I fell
against him. My hands went to his shoulders as he grabbed my arms to steady
me, and we were again looking into each other's eyes.

"Sorry," I said, blushing.

"It's ok," he said, flashing perfect white teeth. "Takes a little getting
used to."

"Can we get you anything?" Chris asked.

"Oh, no, I'm ok," I answered, sitting down. "I have a book here in my
bag. I appreciate the ride, but I don't want to be any trouble. How far are
you guys going, anyway?"

"To Phoenix tonight," Josh answered, sitting down next to me.

"That's great! I was planning to stay there tonight," I said.

Chris was still standing near the door.

"Um, Jack, you know who we are, right?" he asked, appearing confused.

"Yeah," I answered.  "I have cable, you know."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Chris asked.

"Honestly? I was afraid you wouldn't give me a ride if I was like, 'Oh my
God! It's N'Sync!'" I answered.

They both laughed, and then Chris waved at us.

"I'm gonna turn in," he said. "You crazy kids don't stay up too late, ok?"

"Night, bro," Josh said. He turned back to me. "So."

"So," I said, dazzling him with my wit. "Now that I've admitted to knowing
who you are, do I get to call you JC?"

"If you want to," he answered. "Are you really going to read a book?"

"Did you have something else in mind?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It's
the dream of gay men everywhere that every member of every boyband in the
world is secretly gay.  Could it be true?

"I thought maybe we could play a little chess," he began, pulling out a
travel chess game with little magnetic pieces. "None of the guys will play
with me. What?"

I realized I was giggling.

"Nothing," I answered. "This just isn't at all where I thought you were
going."

"Where did you think I was going?" he asked, smiling.

"Nevermind," I answered. "I'll play, but I'll warn you now that I'm not
very good."

We played for a while, and, as promised, I was awful. I knew where the
pieces went, and how they were supposed to move, but had no sense of
strategy. After we finished three games in under a half hour, JC stopped
trying to give me pointers, realizing I was a hopeless case, and we began
to talk of other things, instead.

"So what do you do?" he asked, removing one of my pieces from the board.

"I'm a high school librarian," I answered.

"That must be exciting," JC said, laughing.

"It's not that bad," I said, playfully smacking his arm. "I mean, I realize
it's not quite on the level of being, you know, an internationally famous
pop star, but it's not that bad."

We traded stories for a while, with me talking about my students, and JC
telling me funny concert anecdotes. We started talking about their current
tour, and then about what I was doing in the middle of nowhere at midnight
with my rental car on fire.

"I was at this conference, and thought that I'd turn it into a
mini-vacation by driving back," I explained. "Now I'm thinking I might just
get a plane ticket in Phoenix, and fly the rest of the way. It'll be less
hassle than getting another car."

"You think we should call someone about that?" he asked.

"We can when we stop," I answered. "It's not like it's going anywhere."

We both laughed.

As the bus rolled on into the night, we gave up on the chessboard, and
began to just talk.  We talked about our backgrounds, our friends and
families, and really almost everything.  Almost. JC never asked if I was
seeing anyone, and I never asked him, either. The guys began to wake up and
stumble into the lounge, where JC and Chris introduced me, and had me tell
my flaming rental story three more times. As we rolled into Phoenix,
pulling up at a hotel, I realized that it was after sunrise, and neither JC
nor myself had slept the entire night.

As the guys began to stumble from the bus and go check into their rooms,
attended by an entourage that had apparently traveled ahead to meet them,
JC pulled me aside.

"So, um, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I think I'll check in and go to sleep," I answered. "I was gonna get that
plane ticket, but I think I'll put it off until tomorrow. I'm dead tired."

"Why don't you come to the show?" JC asked.

"Me? At an N'Sync concert?" I asked. "Josh, I'm 25 years old, and I'm all
by myself.  Besides, you guys already gave me a ride, and I really don't
want to impose on you."

"Please?" he asked. "For me? I'll get you a seat away from the front, where
you'll be able to see but you won't be surrounded by twelve year olds."

"OK, I guess," I answered.

"I'll leave a ticket for you here at the desk, and have someone drive you
over," he said, hugging me.

I was a little surprised by the hug, but it felt like one of those friendly
guy hugs that you get sometimes. You know, the platonic ones.

I waved the guys on their way, and went and checked myself in, convinced
that the next time I'd see them, on stage, would be the last time. After
all, how often, realistically, does a band just adopt and befriend someone
they pick up on the side of the road?  I checked in, set the alarm clock,
and went to sleep, dreaming impossible dreams about me and JC.

When I awoke, showered, and dressed, I went to the lobby to pick up a large
brown envelope with my name on it. Inside was a ticket, and a backstage
pass on a cord, long enough to fit around my neck. Beneath them I found a
note from Josh.

"Jack- Please stop backstage after the show and tell me what you thought. I
know we've only known each other for a few hours, but I feel like we really
have a connection. I can't wait to see you. Your friend, the famous JC"

As I finished reading the note, I realized that a short man, dressed in
black, was standing next to me.

"Mr. Springer?" he asked. I nodded. "I'm your driver. If you could please
follow me to the car?"

I followed him out to a limousine, and whistled softly.

"Last time I rode in one of these was at the prom," I said.

"Very good, sir," the driver said, opening the door for me.

I rode in silence all the way to the arena. I should have guessed, based on
the car, that I would be arriving at and going through the VIP entrance,
but it still surprised me. I heard reporters whispering to each other as I
walked in, looking around wide-eyed at the spectacle around me, trying to
figure out who I was. A few of the photographers, apparently deciding that
it was better safe than sorry, took my picture, so I smiled and waved for
them, and tried to look like this happened all the time. My reserved seat
was also in the VIP section, and had a very good view of the stage.

I had never been to an N'Sync concert before, but was pretty familiar with
their music.  They put on a great show. Everything sounded right, and they
were fabulous dancers.  They always looked good on television, but they
proved that they can pull it off live, too.  Almost against my will I found
myself clapping, dancing, and singing along, like most of the people around
me. Even if you didn't like their music, you'd still have to admit that
those boys put on a great show.

After the show those of us in the VIP box with backstage passes were met by
an escort and taken backstage. My name was checked against a list, and a
nice young lady walked me down a narrow hallway. She knocked on a door.

"Mr. Chasez?" she called. "Mr. Jack Springer to see you."

"Send him in, Janine," Josh called from behind the door.

"You can go on in," she said.

"Thanks," I said, pushing open the door. I stopped dead in the doorway.

You see a lot of publicity shots of JC in magazines, and you see him on
television, but you never realize how attractive he really is, up close and
in person. You also never see shots of him in tight black boxer briefs,
which he was wearing when I opened the door.  His pecs were toned, capped
with small brown nipples. An almost invisible trail of dark hair led down
through his rippling abs to disappear into the waistband of his full,
enticingly clinging briefs. His whole body glistened, and his hair was wet
and slicked back.

"Jack!" he said, striding across the room and shaking my hand as if this
was the way he greeted all his guests. "You made it!"

"Yeah," I said, forcing myself to focus on his face. Oh, those eyes.

"Sorry I'm not dressed. I just got out of the shower," he said, pulling me
into the room.  Oh, to have been five minutes earlier. "How'd you like the
show?"

"Oh, it was good," I answered, trying to prevent myself from noticing the
way the water beaded on the smooth skin of his chest.

"You want to sit down?" he asked, gesturing toward a chair.

"Sure," I answered, hoping he hadn't looked at my crotch. I could feel a
hard on that would be obvious to even the most casual observer. Luckily he
had maintained unbroken eye contact since I walked in.

"Cool, that's great," he said, pulling on a pair of dark pants. I watched
the muscles play across his back as he rummaged through the rack for a
shirt. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing planned after this," I answered, thinking about what a shame it
was to have such a beautiful man covered up so quickly by clothing. "Why?"

"I kind of want to go out, just dancing, maybe have a couple drinks, but
none of the guys want to go," he answered, buttoning his shirt and running
a hand through his hair. I'd always preferred him with short hair, but the
longer look was rapidly growing on me.  "Do you want to go?"

I thought it over for a second.

"I'd love to, but I really didn't pack anything like that," I began.

"Just wear something of mine," he said. He pulled a few things off the rack
and handed them to me. "I have to go meet some people, and sign a few
autographs, but I'll be quick.  Just get changed while I'm gone and I'll
come grab you."

"Um, ok," I answered. As he was walking out the door, I stopped him. "Josh,
why are you doing this?"

He paused for a moment, pulling on shoes as he stood in the doorframe.

"We don't have a lot of friends outside the business. You knew who I was,
and it genuinely didn't phase you, and I appreciate that," he said. So it
was just gratitude, because I treated him like a human being? "And I like
you."

And with that, he was gone.

Leaving me to wonder what exactly that last comment had meant. "I like
you."  As a friend? As more than a friend? Wait, wasn't JC straight, and
dating some girl named Bobbie? What the hell was going on? Unwilling to
ponder these questions for long, I changed into the clothes he had handed
me. I was just about to take them off again when Josh returned.

"Wow!" he said, eyes wide. "You look great!"

"Are you sure?" I asked. "These just aren't me at all. I feel like an
idiot."

"No, you look really good," he reassured me. He stepped closer. "Let's just
undo this button, like that. You have a great chest, and you should show a
little more of it. And your hair."

"What about my hair?" I asked self-consciously.

"There's nothing wrong with it, really," he said, squirting a little gel
onto his fingers. He ran it through my hair, leaning in close.

I realized that our faces were just inches away from each other. I looked
into his eyes, and tried to fathom what I saw there. Abruptly he spun me
around to face the mirror.

"There, see?" he said, standing behind me. "You look great. Now let's go
have some fun!"

Escorted by Josh and two bodyguards, I allowed myself to be led out to
another limo, and then we were off. The night is mostly a blur. We went to
a couple different clubs, and both of us drank a lot. The two bodyguards
hung back, and most people were respectful of Josh's privacy even after
they recognized him. We danced side by side with a lot of different girls,
but he definitely had the spotlight. Every once in a while he would grab my
shoulder and give me a thumbs up, or scream in my ear that this was great,
and he was glad I'd come.

Eventually we were both too tired and too drunk to continue, and the limo
brought us and the bodyguards back to the hotel. They walked him to his
room first, and as he stood in the door, one asked if he wanted them to
take me to my room.

"No, Jack, come talk to me!" he said.

"OK," I said, following him into the room. I closed the door behind us and
sat on the couch in the suite room.

"I'll be right out," Josh slurred from the bedroom.

I waited for a minute, and then heard a loud thump.

"Josh?" I asked.

There was no answer. I started counting in my head, and realized that Josh
had had a little more to drink than I had.

"Josh? You ok?" I asked.

When he still didn't answer, I walked cautiously into the bedroom. Josh was
sitting on the end of the bed, fighting with his shoelace. His other shoe
was next to the door, where he'd apparently thrown it.

"Need a little help with that?" I asked.

"Sure," he answered.

I knelt at his feet, between his splayed knees, and untied the shoe for
him.  As I began to stand, he grabbed my sides with both hands, and I lost
my balance, collapsing on top of him on the bed. He chuckled, and I
realized I was looking right into his eyes, and we were face to face, and I
was lying on top of him, with his entire body pressed against mine. I
leaned down and kissed him, softly, on the lips.

And he didn't kiss back.

I'd completely misread him.

I was a fool.

"I'm sorry," I began, raising myself on my hands.

"No," he said, half-whispering. He grabbed the back of my head with his
hand and pulled me back down.

I moaned into his mouth as I felt his tongue fighting with mine. His hands
roamed across my back, and mine immediately went to the front of his
shirt. Unwilling to fight with the buttons, I grabbed the sides and just
tore it open, exposing the beautiful chest I'd lusted over earlier. Josh
moaned and arched his back into the bed as my tongue snaked down his
collarbone and across his pec.

"Ungh, yes," he moaned as my mouth fastened onto his left nipple.

I sucked at it, hard, and caught the end between my teeth, pulling just a
little before I let go and swirled my tongue around it. Like a kid with the
world's biggest popsicle I licked my way across his chest to the other
nipple, savoring the salty taste of sweat on his smooth skin. As I devoured
his nipple, working it over like I had the first one, Josh moaned loudly,
tossing his head from side to side, writhing in pleasure as his hands
twisted the blanket on top of the bed. My own hands were busy with his belt
and pants, and as I began to tug them down my tongue followed the crease in
his torso.  I washed over his abs, outlining them with my tongue as I
tugged his pants and boxer briefs off, tossing them aside.

My tongue followed the line of hair below his navel until it collided with
the wet head of his cock.

"Yes, Jack, yes," he groaned, twisting on the bed, muscles taught.

His cock wasn't huge, but wasn't tiny, and I generously worshipped it with
long strokes of my tongue. I went lower, to his balls, taking one and then
the other in my mouth, before returning to paint his cock with my spit. My
hands rubbed his taught thighs, and slid up his heaving chest to find his
nipples and twist them, hard, as the leaking head of his fat cock pushed
through my lips.

"Oh, Jack, God, yes," he moaned again.

As I savored his salty precum, swirling my tongue over his cockhead before
swallowing as much of him as I could, bobbing slowly on him while swirling
and lapping with my tongue, I felt his hands settle onto the back of my
head. He wasn't pushing, or forcing.  Instead he was just running his hands
through my hair as he groaned his pleasure. I looked up at him, and thought
of how beautiful he was with his head thrown back, all of his muscles
tight, and his face twisted in pleasure. I flicked my tongue over the
sensitive spot just below his slit, and then through the slit itself. His
whole body jerked, and suddenly my mouth was filled with hot, salty cum.

"Yes, yes, oh God, yes, Jack," he panted, shooting into my mouth.

His hands were twisted into my hair, and as his body stopped jerking he
used them to pull me up the bed and up his body, dragging my dripping mouth
to his. His tongue forced it's way into my mouth, licking and sucking his
own seed from me. I felt as if I was being consumed. Suddenly he rolled,
and his naked body was astride my clothed one.  My hands slid down his
muscled back to grab both cheeks of his smooth ass, and his cock jerked
into mine as we continued twirling our tongues against each other. I felt
his hands working at my shirt.

"Now you," he said, ripping my shirt open.

He didn't take half the time I had to savor him. As soon as my clothes were
off, he was on my cock, sucking and gobbling, nursing on it like a
calf. His mouth was like fire. I reached for his head, and felt his fingers
twine through mine. We flexed and pulled as I writhed in exquisite
pleasure, and he moaned around my cock as he swallowed it whole. I couldn't
hold back, and screamed his name as I shot and shot again into his
mouth. He crawled up my spent body, and plastered his mouth over mine,
treating me to the same tastes he'd just experienced.

We fell asleep that way, with him on top of me, kissing softly. When I woke
up in the morning, we had ended up side by side on the bed, and I carefully
slid out without waking him.

I dressed quickly, having no choice but to wear the clothes I'd borrowed
from him, and wrote him a quick note on the hotel stationery.

"Josh, last night was amazing. I'm sorry to leave like this, but I have to
go back to work.  Than you for the ride, and for the companionship, and for
everything else.  Here's my number. Call me when you can. -Jack"

I slipped out and back down to my room. I packed quickly, and took a taxi
to the airport.  I got a plane ticket, and within an hour was on the plane,
heading back to my life.

JC never called.

August became December, and then June. My two days in Phoenix began to seem
like a misty dream. I wouldn't have believed they were real if not for the
strange clothes hanging in the back of my closet. Even now they hold the
faintest trace of Josh's scent, the smell of cologne, sweat, and a
beautiful, talented young man in his prime.

And still he never called.

I had been foolish to think he would. There was probably a guy like me in
every city they stopped at. He'd probably be hard pressed to remember my
name, and if we passed on the street he wouldn't remember who I was,
walking right past without the faintest glimmer of recognition.

I was trying not to think things like that as I sat in my office in the
back of the library in June. We had a lot of work to do to close up for the
school year, and I had a lot of other things on my mind, so I wasn't really
thinking about it when Racquelle, one of the student library helpers,
knocked on the door. She was very red in the face, and seemed on the verge
of hyperventilating.

"Racquelle?" I asked. "Are you ok? Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"You, uh, you, you know, Mr. Springer, you have a visitor," she blurted,
stepping aside.

And there he was in my office doorway, with that same mop of hair and those
same blue eyes.

"Josh," I said, surprised.

"Jack," he said, smiling. "I was going to call, but a visit is so much more
personal."


To be continued?