Brian wraps up his business with Craig, leaving him with some much-desired leisure time. While he's out playing in the sun, he finds a 'different' sort of sun to play with. But will they mesh or clash with each other?
Craig rubbed the back of his neck as he peered down at the last part of Brian Kinney's advertising campaign. So far he had been impressed with all of Kinney's ideas - they were contemporary, bold, and perfect for the age demographics he was hoping to impress during the upcoming tourist season, and he could see his resort using the same advertising for next season as well, which would save him quite a bit of expense. But this last part had him bothered.
He stared down at the photos of several deeply tanned, muscled surfers apparently wearing nothing but a shit-faced grin and a surfboard strategically placed crossways or diagonally, right over their groin. Either they had nothing on at all, or the photographer had done an excellent job of disguising it, because the impression was that they were definitely in the altogether. Above the photos of the surfers were various sexually-themed captions, such as "Wanna Ride?", "I'm Hard as a Board," and "Where the Big Boys Play."
He let out a terse, agitated breath between his lips as Brian sat quietly next to him, his hands folded together on top of the breakfast table. The two of them had been given the separate, smaller-sized room that ran off the main dining room of the resort, expressly constructed for private business meetings for those guests who wanted to conduct some actual business while they enjoyed some of the resort's other features. "You want me to advertise my resort to the gay market?" Craig questioned. "We have children that come here, Mr. Kinney."
"And?" Brian prodded, as if he didn't see the connection. "Gay people have children, too. I happen to have a son myself," he confided to him with just a hint of pride. He would have never thought it would happen in a million years, but his son was an absolute joy to him; one of the few ways he found to actually relax when the stress began to get to him. He only wished he had the opportunity to see him more often; it was difficult, though, being in two different countries and several thousand miles away.
"Yes, I'm sure some of them do," Craig countered stiffly. "But a lot of my typical guests here can be very conservative, Mr. Kinney. I don't think this type of behavior will set too well with some of them."
"This type of behavior? And just what 'type of behavior' would that be, Mr. Taylor?"
"You know," he mumbled. "Lewd behavior. Skinny dipping. Sex orgies."
Brian laughed. "You mean straight people don't participate in that, too?"
"Well..."
Brian sighed, wondering if this had been such a great idea now. "Look, Mr. Taylor. I've been in this business for over ten years now, ever since I graduated from Carnegie Mellon. And I'm damn good at what I do; you know that. I pride myself on always knowing what the current market is looking for, and what the trends are; if I didn't, I wouldn't have survived in this cutthroat business. This resort's state-of-the-art amenities are precisely what the upscale, gay market is seeking, along with seclusion, elegance, top-flight service, and, above all else, acceptance. Because if they aren't treated properly, or if they aren't welcome here, they will go somewhere else and you will risk losing tens of thousands of dollars in sales as well as receiving so much negative publicity that nobody with a speck of tolerance will want to visit your establishment. Now you can try and go it alone and have your high, upstanding morals pay your bills while you find another agency who will feed you a crock of bullshit about what you do or do not need...Or you can trust that I know my job and make you and your resort a shitload of cold, hard cash as a result. So what's it going to be?"
"Well...I'm not...it's just that..." Craig rubbed his face with his hand; for once, he wasn't sure what he was trying to say. He was still uncomfortable around queers - even though he had known for about a year now that his only son apparently counted himself in that group, much to his consternation - but when it came down to it, he thought that Kinney was, indeed, an astute adman and had good instincts. He had to grudgingly agree that the ideas he had presented so far were innovative, creative, and even brilliant, and he seemed to have a wide range of knowledge and expertise when it came to advertising. So far he had no reason to doubt that he didn't know exactly what he was talking about. If he thought catering to this market was a good business decision, then he suspected he was right. He had invested a great deal into this resort; it was turning a tidy profit now, but it would take some time - and plenty of business - to recoup what he had spent. He was well-read when it came to the local paper and all the business periodicals, as well as several online hospitality websites, and he had seen a trend toward promotion to the gay and lesbian market. Perhaps, then, Kinney was right.
He sighed. "And just where would you utilize these promotions?" he asked quietly as he peered down at the risqué ads. "I'm assuming these would not be in mainstream magazines."
"Hardly," Brian replied dryly. "They would be geared to several gay-themed newspapers, websites, and magazines. And also to a few, select, high-quality men's publications that have been known to cater to a wide proportion of the male gay population."
Craig studied the graphics a little while longer before he finally nodded. "Okay...I imagine you know what's best..."
"I do," Brian told him confidently as he played with one of the navel oranges lying in a wooden bowl on the table. "You publish these and I guarantee you - they'll be practically knocking down your door to get in - and then you won't care who they fuck."
Craig winced at the crass term, but he nodded again with a sigh. "All right, then. Do it," he told him curtly as Brian nodded back at him.
"So...Our work is done?" he asked.
"Yeah," Craig replied as he continued to study the most controversial of the ads. He took a deep breath before peering over at his company. "These will appear in the next available issue of all the publications?"
Brian nodded. "Yes, I'll make the arrangements and send you a breakdown of the expenses before we proceed."
Craig nodded as he took one last sip of his coffee and stood up. "Very well," he told his visitor. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Kinney, I have a resort to run." Brian stood to join him as they shook hands. "I trust your suite is satisfactory? The corner suites are our most popular ones because of the double-sided view."
Brian smiled. "Yes, very satisfactory. I have to say the view here is spectacular - and the technological advances you have in place in this facility are amazing to say the least."
For the first time, Craig smiled back at him, proud of what he had accomplished. He knew it was the very best that money could buy - and he was hopeful that with Kinney's innovative approach to advertising, it would soon pay off in spades. "Yes, they are," he agreed. "I spared no expense to make sure of that. Let's hope your advertising campaign helps me to recoup some of that expense."
Brian nodded. "It will," he promised confidently.
Craig nodded. "Well, time will tell. In the meantime, all your expenses are on the house, Mr. Kinney. If you need anything, feel free to contact the front desk. They have already been advised that you are here at my invitation, so if you run into any issues, feel free to contact me; you have my cell number."
"Thank you," Brian replied politely. "I can't wait to check out the waves here; they look phenomenal."
Craig's eyebrow lifted in surprise. "You surf?"
Brian grinned. "Yeah - it's my guilty pleasure; well, at least one of them. You might say I'm making up for lost time, having been landlocked in Pittsburgh until six months ago."
Craig nodded as he turned to go. "Well, be careful out there; the waves can get pretty rugged at times, especially around high tide. I'll see you before you leave at the end of the week?"
Brian nodded. "Yeah, I'll give you an update before I check out." Craig gave him one more nod before he left. Brian felt like a weight was lifted from him. He had completed his part of the bargain; now he had six and a half more days to just sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labor. Smiling more broadly now, he began to walk out of the room, only to almost run into the waiter coming back in to clean up his and Craig's breakfast dishes. He was dressed in the hotel's serving uniform of tight, black pants, a long-sleeved, white shirt and a black vest with a name badge that said his name was Mark. He had dark, almost black straight hair that came to just below the nape of his neck and was on the slender side, but well-toned and had a pair of full, pouty lips that made Brian's cock twitch in notice.
"May I get you anything else, Sir?" the waited inquired as he stood next to Brian while he looked him up and down.
Brian smiled his most seductive smile as the waiter blushed. "As a matter of fact there is.." He hooked his finger under the man's vest and began to pull him toward the men's room located nearby.
It would be another thirty minutes before he finally found his way back to his hotel suite to get ready for some other type of 'leisure activity.'
One Hour later...Justin's POV
I took another gulp from my now lukewarm water bottle before I picked up my binoculars to study the crowded beach and the ocean, now teeming with bikini-clad women and men wearing everything from speedos (I had to wince at a couple of old geezers apparently reliving their youth who were seemingly stuffed into a couple pairs of them) to regular swim trunks to shorts to the more serious beachgoers who were wearing full-fledged, surfer body suits. It was always very easy to spot the residents from the visitors - all you had to do was look at their tan - or lack thereof. The ones that looked like polar bears were the ones who had obviously just arrived and were in severe need of some spray-on tan, while the ones who had golden tans were long time sun worshippers.
And then, of course, there were the fools who stayed out way too long in the sun and wound up sporting burns that rivaled the color of my lifeguard trunks. Those people were the ones I found it hard to sympathize with; after all, by the time they got to THAT color, they had to know they were getting a serious burn - and possibly skin cancer to boot. But they insisted on staying out in the unforgiving sun anyway. I sighed; I had already treated one person earlier for severe sunburn with my first aid kit. And while I certainly didn't wish anyone ill will while I was on patrol, I secretly hoped that something more exciting than applying an aloe balm to an old woman with more wrinkles than a circus elephant would happen; anything to make what was shaping up to be a boring summer a little more exciting.
As if the fates were listening to me, I placed my binoculars down as my eyes swept over the nearby beach until I saw Emmett waving at me frantically before he gestured toward something with his index finger. I frowned as I prepared to jump down from my perch to see if someone needed assistance, but Emmett shook his head and clearly mouthed the word "no" before he pointed again at something - or someone - coming my way. I finally looked down to see what in the world he was trying to show me, and it was then that I realized exactly what Emmett was trying to point out to me as my eyes honed in on a golden-skinned, tall brunet, carrying what appeared to be a brand new, yellow-with-red flames surfboard tucked under his arm. "Fuck," I whispered in awe as my eyes widened at the way the man moved so gracefully barefoot, even in the unevenness of the fine, light brown sand.
He was wearing a pair of mirrored, aviator sunglasses, and his brown hair, windswept and tousled-looking, shone with subtle splashes of auburn under the sun's relenting rays. He was obviously a serious surfer as judged not only by the expensive surfboard he was toting, but also by the appearance of his expensive, designer, matching, black, rashboard shirt and compression shorts, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination in front - and I had a very vivid one spring up just then of enjoying an exposed view of that particular part of his anatomy, standing out and proud for my perusal. I felt perspiration break out on my forehead that had nothing at all to do with the air temperature as I envisioned being 'attended to' by this god of a man's long, tapered fingers currently clutching the surfboard, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining him.
A fly could have flown into my openly gaping mouth as I sat there at my station, transfixed on what had to be the most gorgeous specimen of man I had ever encountered in my life as he walked closer to me and I held my breath. Just as he was about to pass by me, out of my range of vision, something made him look up and he stopped to peer up at me as our eyes locked together. A distinct smirk appeared on his lips just then as my face promptly turned as red as the woman who I had tended to earlier with the sunburn.
Then he spoke to me - and his voice sounded exactly like I thought he would - smooth as liquid and just a little sultry, even though what he said to me was anything but.
"Save any lives yet, Dudley Do-Right?" he asked me with one cocked eyebrow. He lifted his sunglasses to squint up at me and I groaned softly as I felt myself promptly blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. "I hear he always gets his man."
"Huh?" I finally responded rather unintelligently as he had the gall to laugh at me. I glared down at him over his reaction as he rolled his tongue into his cheek.
"Never mind, whistle boy," he quipped back at him. "I've got a wave to catch anyway. Later," he flippantly dismissed me as he turned and continued on toward the water.
Despite my annoyance, I unashamedly snatched the binoculars from the arm of my wooden chair as I hastily removed my sunglasses and aimed it toward my object of interest. It took me a few seconds to locate him, but once I did I found that I couldn't take my eyes off him; there was just something about the almost regal way he carried himself as he walked - not to mention the lightly-muscled, bronze-colored skin and the angles of his body - that set my heart ablaze. I watched as he walked into the water with the board beside him until he was approximately chest deep before he agilely hopped on top of it and began to swim out toward the largest waves. I watched, fascinated, by the way the sun reflected off the taut, tanned skin of his back and how the muscles mimicked the movement of the waves around him as he used his arms to paddle further and further out from shore. He bobbed up and down gently as the waves hit him and the board until, with a look behind him toward a particularly impressive wave quickly approaching, he raised himself up to an upright stance and expertly positioned his feet apart on the board for maximum balance. I watched as he began to shoot the curl like a ballerina elegantly performing her routine, leaning perfectly so as he could successfully ride the wave all the way toward shore, and I found myself completely mesmerized by it all. Suddenly my rather tedious day was beginning to look much more promising.
Brian's face broke out into a triumphant smile as he rode the wave, loving the feel of the warm sun on his face and the water splashing all around him. As he headed toward shore, it wasn't hard to locate the hot lifeguard he had encountered a few minutes earlier, still sitting in his makeshift throne at the top of the lifeguard station nearby. He waggled his eyebrows and openly leered at him as he noticed his binoculars trained upon him; at least, it certainly looked that way. And why shouldn't they be? He could certainly understand why he would be the center of attention. As if he hadn't known for sure before, he now strongly suspected even more that the cute, little, "Mountie Man" was definitely on the same team as he was. He gave the blond a little, royal-like wave and grinned back at him to acknowledge his ogling, noticing him immediately putting the binoculars down and grabbing his sunglasses to put them back on as if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar while the blond twisted his body away from him to look at another part of the beach. Brian laughed as he continued to ride out the wave, a plan formulating in his mind for later after he was done playing in the water. After all, he had to find ways to entertain himself on land as well...
