Chapter 2

The Repeat

The first thing Brian noticed when he was properly caffeinated was that there was a note taped to the display board.

The display board itself had notes written all over it, specific colors, a note that said, put product here, a catchy new slogan and the like.

The note said:

Brian,

I took the liberty of setting your alarm for you.

I left at 6. As you said you don't do repeats, I thought it was better if I was gone when you awoke.

I'm confident that if you make a new board with these changes on it, you will have a better result.

I'll be at Woody's tonight. I'd love to know the result and of course, if you decide to alter your no repeat rule…I'm ready for round 2.

Otherwise, thank you for the best night of my life. Really. It was the best.

J

Cheeky little shit! Like he would ever bend his 'no repeat' rule! Brian huffed around the apartment for a while, took a shower and then a closer look at the boards. He liked what he saw. The Brown people would definitely like this better, he thought.

He got dressed in his Armani and since it was quiet, he was able to think clearly, something that he usually avoided.

He wasn't going to break his rule, he wasn't.

But then again, a voice said, there was a time you thought you'd never beg. And you did that yesterday too. You never thought you'd let a blond virgin help you with advertising before. You never thought you'd be…desperate.

And if this did work, he'd be back on his way to the top. He'd want to celebrate. So….who knows.

You never knew what it would be like to be buried ball deep in that perfect little ass until 3 AM….and wish it had been until 6…that annoying little voice persisted.

Brian shook off the unwanted thoughts, picked up the annotated boards and left for work.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J

At the office, Brian, hurriedly made up the new board, following Justin's instructions as best he could. It was rudimentary and inexpert but thanks to that bastard Vance, he couldn't afford an artist. It was just him and Cynthia but he couldn't let anyone else know that.

The background was orange. There was a pair of shoes in the center of the board. The font was blue and bolder than before and it said BROWN ATHLETICS along the top. Along the bottom it said: Walk a mile in us…Walk for life.

The Brown Athletics people loved it. They loved the bolder color, and the simple yet profound statement and….just everything. They clapped and paid for the ad and gave him another contact. It was another shoemaking company.

Brian rejoiced inside, and then cringed and sighed internally. More shoes. But he shook everyone's hand and pasted on the widest and most certainly fakest smile he had ever smiled. But the Brown people never noticed the fakery and shook his hand warmly and left, counting the money Brian was going to make them in their heads.

After they left, Brian and Cynthia rejoiced and jumped up and down in glee. They had a quick celebratory drink but all too soon, Brian went back to his office and struck while the iron was hot.

He phoned up the new company. It was called Shulmann's Shoes. Shulmann's were wary of him at first but warmed quickly when they heard about Brown's Athletics. They treated him warmly and promised to send him a sample of their product right away.

The shoes came by messenger a few hours later. Brian ripped open the box and his face fell in dismay.

Sitting in the box was a pair of loafers that looked to have been in style in the '40's. They were the most ugly things Brian had ever seen.

His mind went blank with revulsion and panic. He had no idea how he was going to sell these shoes.

He walked around his office a few times, breathing deeply, trying to get a grip and an idea. Nothing came. He jammed his hands into his pockets in frustration and drew out a piece of paper he had put there without really thinking about it.

It was Justin's note. Brian stood there, reading it for a while. He looked at the ugly shoes. He looked at the note. Back at the shoes. Back and forth about ten times.

At last though, he snatched up the shoes, a blank display board, some pencils, brushes, and a few paint pots and ran out, telling Cynthia to finish up and go on home. There was nothing more to be done here.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J

That night…

Woody's had a good early evening crowd as dozens of queers waited in refuge for Babylon to open and the party to begin.

Brian walked in and all eyes turned toward him like flowers do the sun. Nearly all of them clouded with lust as usual but there was one blue gaze whose wattage did not dim and reflected excitement, hope and happiness as well.

Brian ignored all eyes except the piercing blue ones and sat down at the bar next to them.

"Hey," he said, as casually as possible, as if he'd planned coming here all along, as if meeting Justin was a coincidence, as if he didn't give a fuck.

"Hey," Justin said back, waiting because he saw through Brian's façade like a freshly scrubbed window. "So…how'd it go? I hope it was OK I set your alarm at 6:30. Not too early was it?"

"I usually get up at 6."

"Oh…sorry."

"No biggie. I just hustled and took a few extra flights of stairs instead of the treadmill."

"Oh, I see. So, uhhh….did the boards work for you?" Justin asked like he didn't give a shit. Brian was amused because the blond artist was tensed and on enough pins and needles to form a 12 foot haystack.

"They were all right." Brian paused and sipped his beer, drawing it out, watching Justin squirm in anticipation. "We got the account."

"YES! I knew it! That's great, Brian!" Justin launched himself at him and Brian found himself full of blond boy ass that was wiggly and smelling like soap and…and wonderful. But he couldn't…wouldn't let on about that. If Justin knew how good it felt hugging him he'd just….well, never mind.

"It's no big deal," lied Brian shamelessly. He put the blond boy away from him slightly so Justin wouldn't detect his dick that was so hard it rivaled diamond.

Justin tried to hug him again but was confused and hurt when Brian distanced himself once again. "Brian? What's wrong?"

"Uhhh….nothing. Everything's cool. It's just…we have all night, don't we?" Brian said and winked lasciviously.

"Uhhh, yeah, ok. I think I get it," Justin said slowly, trying to figure things out and failing completely.

Brian wasn't sure what to do next. He was unaccustomed to asking for help or asking for anything for that matter. Men came to him, men hit on him and even in business, Brian was used to getting his way. But he did need help. He needed to buy some time.

"Wanna play pool?" he asked as casually as he could.

"Sure," answered Justin just as casually.

They moved over to a table and did just that. Brian pocketed a few balls, thinking madly and then just decided on the direct approach. He needed this account; he needed to prosper and if he did he'd be able to hire on at least one artist and maybe another associate. He fired and missed the ball on purpose.

Justin got up to hit the balls. This allowed Brian to ogle the young man's ass and adopt a pose that was as nonchalant as possible.

Brian took a slow pull on his beer as Justin set up his shot, trying to think of the best words to say. He waited until Justin actually sunk a ball before leaning back and saying, "So the client gave me a contact. It's shoes again but at least things are looking up."

"That's great. So….you have two pairs of shoes to sell now, do you?"

"In a matter of speaking, I guess." Brian sucked on the neck of his beer bottle suggestively, "Not so great though. The shoes are shit. They look like they jumped through a time warp from the 40's. They're ugly as sin and are going to be a bitch to sell."

"That's too bad," Justin said.

"Maybe. But if I do, I'll be able to afford a couple of employees." He thought it prudent not to mention one would be another artist. Like with credentials. But to get there, he needed the blond spitfire.

"OK," said Justin.

"So…I don't suppose…you'd wanna…try your hand…you know…help me out…again? You did such a good job last time and I'm shit at art." Brian managed.

"Depends. What's in it for me?" Justin asked bluntly.

"What? What do you…I mean…what do you want?" Brian asked shakily. He hadn't been prepared for this question.

CLACK! THUNK! Justin sunk a ball. "What do you think I want, Brian?"

"I don't have any money, sweetcheeks. That's why I was-…"

"I don't want your money." CLACK THUNK!

"I – I don't know…I mean…."

Justin walked around the table toward Brian and Brian stepped back thinking he needed the space. As Justin walked around the table, he hit the cue ball three times, each time sinking a ball and then having it roll back to him like an obedient puppy. And then he was there and it was clear that he didn't just want space; he wanted Brian's space. Brian backed up and up and suddenly he was in a corner and Justin was there and pressing close and this time there was no taking no for an answer.

"Brian. Haven't you guessed? I want…round 2."

"Sorry sweetcheeks, I don't do repeats. And I don't mix business with pleasure. Especially with some…"

Justin casually reached out and squeezed Brian's dick through his pants. Brian broke off and gasped with pleasure at the sensation; he was still diamond hard. Justin moved down to his balls and casually fondled them…and then not so casually. It was not so pleasurable now.

"Choose your next words wisely," Justin advised, "With some…what, Brian?"

"Um…one night stand?" Brian suggested. Something deep inside him told him not to piss the blond off.

"Hmmmmmm….Good boy," The hand began to massage again, rewarding him. "Well, Bri, I can see where that's how you planned it. How we planned it really. And the work I did last night, was voluntary, something we both stumbled across. But if you've come seeking my favors then I want some in return. You'll have to re-think your policy….at least for tonight." Squeeze….squeeze…squeeze…went the hand. It was relentless. Brian bit back a groan and tried to not cum in his pants. "I want…round 2."

"I…I don't barter sexual favors like some bitch," gasped out Brian.

Squueze…squeeze…squeeze…went that busy little hand that made Brian want to re-think that policy.

"Of course not," said Justin, "We'd just be having a little one night stand….again. And in return, I'll look over what you've got."

Brian grabbed his hands and put them around his waist before he actually did shoot a load. "I don't have anything. But I brought some pencils and brushes and paint home for you…uh…if you decided to help, that is."

A hungry look came into Justin's eyes and his cheeks colored. He liked that idea very much.

"Sounds cool," he said, playing it cool. "So….do we have a deal?"

"Work first, play second," countered Brian.

"I'll look over things, see what I can do, then we play, then I'll finish. I won't do the work just to have you renege and throw me out…like a bitch." He left the statement double ended on purpose.

"I would never do that," huffed Brian, cursing inwardly, because that's what he was totally going to do.

"Glad to hear it." Justin turned and shot the cue at a strange angle. The cue ball jumped over one of Brian's balls, smacked the 8 ball which rolled smoothly over and dropped neatly into a corner pocket.

Justin straightened up and gazed deep into Brian's hazel depths. "Well, look at that. Looks like I won," he said softly. A hand snaked up and curled around Brian's neck. He was pulled down to meet the blond's lips.

Justin tasted like honey and sunshine. An atomic bomb went off somewhere in Brian's brain as the passion between the two men exploded and continued for many minutes as the two men frenched hotly for an undisclosed amount of time. It was too soon. It was forever.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J

Babylon was forgotten.

For the second time in a row that week, Brian found himself driving as fast as legally possible home. He was stone cold sober and clean as he usually took whatever drug of choice just before entering Babylon. He didn't like the sensation very much. He preferred his senses dulled and blurred around the edges before he hit the backroom.

Then he looked over and remembered. He didn't need the backroom tonight, not when he had those eyes and that buttery hair and that bubble butt that wouldn't quit. Justin looked over and smiled. Brian returned it as best he could; he'd forgotten how to smile, really smile ages ago. He reached out and took Justin's hand and Justin smiled. Then it faded a bit because Brian was placing his hand on his crotch, encouraging the younger man to fondle him as he was driving.

"Umm…how bout we just hold hands on the way home?" asked Justin, trying it.

"Ummmm…..how bout you suck my dick?" returned Brian, unzipping and pushing on his neck.

Justin deftly twisted out of his clutches and grabbed his arm and leaned against his shoulder instead.

"Boy, you're a real romantic, aren't you?" he said.

"Romance is for straights and lesbos," returned Brian.

"Hmmmmm….interesting theory," drowsed Justin against Brian's shoulder in an impossibly romantic pose. He pretended the motion of the car was making him sleepy.

Brian looked over once at the heavy lidded blue eyes and then back at the road and tried to think of yet another shortcut. "Little fucker…" he murmured.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J

They entered the apartment fused at the mouth.

Even before the heavy door slid closed with a BANG!...They were tearing at each other, nipping, tasting, sucking. Justin found himself naked in three seconds flat and Brian followed (birthday) suit very shortly after.

Brian knelt before Justin as if at an altar and began sucking his cock with gusto. His hands went around him and began to knead his perfect ass. Justin groaned and went limp against those hands and yet felt completely supported, completely safe. He sat there and enjoyed a most artful blowjob.

Artful…..oh shit! Justin tried to derail that thought process but it was too late. Along with the pleasure sensations were visions of paint and palettes and being swept off in a world of careful planning and color mixing and the abstract patterns they could make against the gorgeous feel of a canvas and….

"What the fuck?" asked Brian in annoyance as Justin's dick went soft.

"Sorry, Brian. I thought your blowjob was artful but then that made me think of other things and….well, maybe we should look at the ad work before we continue. You know….a deal's a deal…and all that."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? Who the fuck cares?" Brian's plans of chucking Justin out had flown out of his mind like a bird out the window. "Get on the damn bed!"

Justin kissed him long and light, then harder, igniting a dangerous fire of passion between them. "Please." Was all he said.

Brian sighed gustily and got up and pulled him over to the living room where he had left the hated shoes.

Justin made a noise of revulsion.

"I know, right?"

Justin thought for a moment and then smiled a million watt smile. "Well, never mind. I know just what to do! I'll make everything better! Now let's fuck!"

Brian kissed him….kissed him again…kissed him deeper. "Now you're talking my language!" He kissed him again. He couldn't get enough of this boy….but of course he'd never say that.

They fell onto the bed and Brian went to work licking and tasting Justin, running his tongue over every inch of the boy. Then he went back up and finally, finally finished his blowjob on Justin's huge and throbbing, leaking boner.

Justin sucked Brian. Brian sucked Justin again. They 69'ed. They did a few numbers and positions Justin didn't know were possible. Brian gave him a slow and steady rim job that left Justin frantic. And then, finally, Brian made Justin slide the condom on him, lubed up and slid inside Heaven.

It was much different sober. Better. The control was amazing. Justin's ass was so tight. And the little fucker was so appreciative, making just the right amount of noise, pushing against Brian's cock, urging him deeper, faster. And so, Brian obliged.

All this took hours. They sucked and fucked until midnight, took a break, a shower, a snack and then started again and fucked until 3 am until both of them were exhausted. It was the first time Brian had screwed the same trick twice and he wasn't sure how he liked it. He could already tell Justin was getting way too cozy and tricks who got cozy, ended up wanting to stay…for good. Or…so he heard. That was never going to happen to him!

At the same time, Justin had effortlessly matched his stamina, something not often done by other mortal men. He had cooked their snack, had an ass that wouldn't quit, was clean, polite and sucked cock like a Dustbuster.

Brian lay there, recuperating and looked over at Justin. God, those eyes! Those eyes were like two stars. And that smile! It was like sunshine and it promised that everything would be all right.

Justin looked over and saw how heavy-lidded his lover was. It was 3 am and Brian was tuckered out. He was fading fast.

Justin leaned over and kissed him softly and when he pulled back, Brian was asleep.

Justin sighed. "Ahh well. Might as well get to work," he whispered to himself.

Justin looked over all the supplies and paint with eagerness and then over at those hideous shoes. He sighed again, picked up a brush and a pencil and got to work.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J

The alarm awoke Brian at 6 am sharp. Brian groaned and hit snooze three times. He really couldn't keep up these late nights.

When he finally became alert enough to wake properly and remember, he looked eagerly for Justin's boards. There was something positioned at the end of the bed again. And Justin was gone. There was no note.

Brian looked at the board, blinked…blinked again and then became wide awake in adrenaline fueled panic.

"SONOFABITCH! THAT LITTLE FUCKER!" he screamed in rage.

TBC