Justin was at his favorite restaurant. A Cajun place called Roy's. Roy was the name of the owner/main chef. He made the most heavenly biscuits. They were moist and lighter than air. They did not simply melt in your mouth but on the way to your mouth, the moment your warm breath hit the fork (Justin was peculiar that way; he ate everything, even pizza, with utensils. A throwback to the time when he'd worn braces). And Roy's sauces…they were the nectar of the Gods. Roy created the most interesting combinations of ingredients (ingredients no one else would ever think to juxtapose) and teased out their flavor. Nothing was ever heavy handed, no one ingredient ever dominating the others. He used just enough of each, and every ingredient always complemented the others. The only problem was that Roy didn't much care about healthy eating. Taste was his God, and he was its most faithful servant. He used real butter or bacon grease (never vegetable oil), and copious quantities, so every dish rose to the thousands of calories. Roy's vegetables, too, were fattening; for example, he used bacon to accentuate the flavor of green beans. Vegetarians couldn't even breathe the air in Roy's. Justin came here often these days. Roy's food was the only distraction distracting enough to wrest all thoughts of his shitty life from his mind. This night had been a phenomenal failure, so Justin was indulging in a rather complex dish, Catfish Courtbouillon. It had a million flavors (okay maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but only slight), and Justin could pick every single one of them out as he savored each bite. Together they made paradise.

Tonight Justin had done something ridiculously stupid. He'd gone to Babylon, danced, and then, when his partner invited him to the back room, he'd enthusiastically agreed. The guy had been so hot. He'd had a perfect lean body, a huge cock (if the way it had filled out his tight jeans were any indication), and dark, dark brown hair that matched the chocolate of his eyes. Justin sighed heavily as he remembered. But all was forgotten when he placed another forkful of Roy's delicious concoction into his mouth. He sighed again, but this time in contentment. Roy never failed him.

This morning, Justin had felt a surge of confidence that he hadn't felt in a long time. So he'd gone down to Liberty Avenue, combing the boutiques for something that would highlight his good qualities and hide his flaws. He'd been persistent. It had taken all day, but he'd found clothes he was sure would do the trick. Tight black pants that drew attention to his bubble butt, round but firm, and a shirt that was tight in the chest and loose at the waist. You see, Justin had a bit of a potbelly. More than a bit really. Justin had been trying and failing to lose the extra 20-30 pounds he'd gained for two years now. All this extra weight had gone to his midsection. His legs, arms, and ass were just as perfect as they'd always been, but his abdominal region was disgusting. The guy who'd invited Justin to the back room just confirmed this. They were going at it hot and heavy until the guy had taken Justin's shirt off. He'd just stared at Justin's belly for a moment. Then he'd thrown Justin's shirt back at him and had simply walked away. No pretense to protect Justin's feelings. After a look of disgust, he was gone. Justin had turned around in shame (the other guys in the back room were whispering, pointing, and laughing). Once Justin had put his shirt back on, he ran out of the back room and out of the club. He'd actually run, all the way to his car. Then he threw a large overcoat on and headed right over to Roy's. He knew Roy's was part of the problem, but he just couldn't help it. Nothing lifted his spirits like the food there. Nothing.

Justin was now so absorbed in his food that he didn't notice the tall chestnut-haired man who was trying to get his attention. Not at first. The man finally succeeded by tapping him on the shoulder. Startled, Justin looked up. He was immediately entranced by the man's beautiful eyes. They were sea green flecked with gold. Justin tried to speak, but no sound came. He ended up simply gaping at the man. The man chuckled and then asked, for the third time, "Do you mind if I sit with you? The restaurant is packed, and I'm dying for some ettoufee."

Finally, Justin found his voice. "Oh, um, sure."

The man smiled, removed his leather jacket, and then sat down. He chuckled once more, a noise Justin thought might be the most beautiful sound in the world, and inquired, "Are you cold? Or in a hurry?"

Justin just stared at him blankly.

The man smiled, just a little. "Your coat."

Justin blushed a deep crimson, in part as a reaction to the man's smile and in part out of shame. Then he stammered, "Oh…yeah, I am a little cold." That was actually far from the truth. Justin was boiling in his bulky coat, but he just couldn't risk anymore ridicule. In it, he felt safe.

The man reached out his hand. "I'm Brian. Brian Kinney."

Justin smiled brightly as he took the man's hand in his. He had to, to suppress a nervous, enthusiastic giggle. Brian's touch was electrifying. At once, Justin felt a melting sensation and jolts of electricity coursing throughout his body. Justin's cock immediately hardened. When the hand shake had passed all bounds of decorum, Brian prodded, "And you are?"

Justin laughed, blushed a little, and replied quickly, "Sorry. Justin. Justin Taylor." Then just as quickly, he pulled his hand away.