Two Hours Later...

Brian wiped the sweat off the back of his neck with a thin, white towel and hung it around his shoulders; he was sweating harder than a prizefighter in the boxing ring. His 'instructor who had never been in love before' was an out-and-out taskmaster; he hadn't let up on him since they had started. And he thought this was going to be a walk in the park. Holy shit. Breathing heavily, he bent over at the waist and placed his hands on his thighs to try and get some air back into his lungs.

Justin smirked from his place several feet away; Brian may be in terrific shape, but he obviously was using some muscles he normally didn't use. "Let's take a five-minute break," he told him as Brian rose back up to stare over at him aghast.

"Five minutes?" he groused breathlessly, still breathing heavily. "I won't even get my fucking breath back in five minutes! They should have called this dance the speed-of-light-step, not the quick step! Do we have to go that fast?"

Justin grinned. "I'm not even up to the right tempo yet," he told Brian to his horror. "We're only practicing at about ¾ time so far. It's going to go even faster once you get the steps right."

Brian's mouth hung open. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

Justin smiled ever more widely as he shook his head. "Afraid not." He paused to look over at Brian sweating profusely; his armpits were soaked with sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Even looking like he had gone for a 20-mile jog, though, the man was still sexy as hell. "Okay - we'll take a fifteen-minute break; you talked me into it."

Brian rolled his eyes. "How magnanimous of you. I'll even buy you a drink for that." He walked over to grab two white paper cups from atop the water cooler and poured him and Justin some water. Collapsing onto one of the nearby, hard plastic chairs, he handed one of the cups to Justin as he walked up and sat down next to him. Downing his water in record time, he turned to look over at Justin curiously. "So how long have you been giving dancing lessons? You look like you're barely out of high school."

Justin finished his drink and crumpled the paper cup up into a ball before tossing it deftly into a metal trash can about eight feet away. Brian cocked an eyebrow, impressed at his accuracy, as he told him, "I'm almost 22, I'll have you know." He sighed. "I'm always being told that. Every time I go to a bar they have to card me. Either that or they tell me that Kiddie Night is the week after."

Brian grinned at him as he continued, "I've been giving lessons for a few years now, at least for a job. I started dancing when I could barely walk. My parents always told me that I was one of those kids constantly in motion from Day One. I began by taking tap lessons when I was five, and then kind of went through the gamut from clogging to ballroom dancing and even, yes, ballet," he admitted with a self-effacing grimace. "I never told the kids at school about that, though; they were already calling me names by the time I was in junior high - faggot, queer, pussy, you name it. The last thing I wanted was to add fuel to the fire. I wound up taking ballet lessons in another town." He looked straight ahead as if he were recollecting what had happened as he explained, "I was really getting good by then, so much so that I started giving free lessons to some people at the country club my parents belonged to. When I saw an advertisement in the paper for dance instructors here, I auditioned and wound up with the job."

Brian eyed him quietly before he told him sincerely, "You're good at it."

Justin flushed at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks," he said softly. "But it's not what I really want to do."

Brian digested that surprising piece of information. "No? Then what DO you want to do?"

He watched as Justin's eyes lit up and he smiled one of those amazing smiles that must have caused Debbie to change his name to Sunshine; it certainly fit. "I want to paint. I love art and everything that goes into creating it."

"Then why don't you?"

Justin shook his head at Brian's naivety. "I wish it were that easy. It's fucking expensive for one thing. And you need some training to improve your skills, even if you can draw. I'm trying to save up enough money working here to enroll in the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts; that's my ultimate dream."

Brian's eyes widened; while he was certainly no artist, he still employed plenty of them at Kinnetik, and he had definitely heard of PIFA, as well as what it took to get in there. "That's quite a school," he commented as Justin nodded in agreement. "They have high academic standards for enrollment, from what I understand. And they only take a small percentage of those that enroll."

Justin eyed him curiously. "That's right. How do YOU know that?"

Brian shrugged. "That's what I've heard. I'm the CEO of an advertising agency; I employ dozens of artists for the ad campaigns we produce. I only hire the best, and so far, the best of the best that I've hired have come from PIFA. Whenever I interview someone, the first thing I look at is their academic record and their portfolio. I've never been disappointed with any candidates that I've hired who have that school on their resume."

Justin nodded. "It's a wonderful school!" he gushed enviously. "All their professors are talented artists in their own right - painters, musicians, sculptors, even Tony award winners." He let out a deep breath of resignation. "But all that talent doesn't come cheap. If it did, I wouldn't need to be HERE."

Brian pulled his towel from around his neck and wiped his still-sweaty brow with it; between the rigorous exertion and the high-wattage, recessed lights shining above, it had become quite hot in the room. "You don't like to dance?" he asked softly as he stared over at Justin. "You're so graceful out there," he found himself saying. "You look like you were born to dance." It was the truth, too; Justin seemed to have a natural-born talent for movement; it was both mesmerizing as well as flawless in its execution.

Justin blushed at the compliment. "Thanks," he murmured. "I do like to dance; but it's not where my heart - or my path - lies." He glanced around at the all-too familiar room; he had lost count of how many clients he had worked with over the past few years in this space; they all seemed to blur together after a while, although with Brian it seemed vastly different. He had a feeling he would remember every step they took together from now on. He let out a deep breath as he put his hands on his knees and used them to propel himself off his seat. "Break's over," he announced as he extended a hand down toward his handsome pupil. "Now that you've practiced the individual steps, let's see how well you can perform them with your partner."

Brian gazed up at the beautiful face before he slowly reached out and clasped Justin's hand; his heart lurching with emotion as they connected. Shit, this was like nothing he had ever experienced before. How could this young, blond twink do that to someone like him? He purposely plastered on a neutral face as he allowed Justin to pull him up out of his chair and mourned the loss of his hand in his as Justin broke off their handhold to walk over to the CDs to pick out a song to use. He watched silently as Justin turned his back on him and continued to wonder just what it was about this young man that fascinated him so. Yes, he was definitely hot. A compact, beautiful body that fit his features perfectly. But there was something about his spunkiness, his drive, and his passion - along with that wondrous smile - that intrigued him.

A fast-tempo song began to play from the CD player as Justin turned around to walk out toward the middle of the room. He smiled over at Brian as he cocked an eyebrow up and said, "Okay, old man. Let's see what you've got."

Brian grinned as he walked closer. "I already tried to show you my stuff. I'll tell you what - I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Justin laughed at the silly response. "Later," he said to Brian's disappointment, although there was something almost challenging in that statement. Maybe Justin DID mean 'later.' "For now, we've got work to do."

Brian licked his lips in amusement as he walked up to him. "Okay, so I'm leading this little performance, right? After all, I AM taller - and bigger...At least where it counts."

Justin smirked. "Don't be so sure of that," was the unexpectedly cocky reply as Brian raised his eyebrows. "And for now, I'M the teacher, so I lead; got it?"

Brian grinned as he placed his hand on Justin's shoulder and the two clasped their hands together beside them in a classic, dancing pose. "Okay, Teach; but only for now."