Daphne frowned a little. She and Justin had a light class load on Fridays (and Justin had made all his preparations for the show yesterday), so they'd spent most of the day pretending they weren't waiting for a reply from G.Q. Super Hottie, Esquire. It had finally come, and he'd responded in the affirmative, but his enthusiasm level left a lot to be desired. He'd written simply, "Why not?" She shook her head. Well at least he was coming.

She giggled as she turned to face Justin. He was lying on the couch, holding a book (upside down) and staring at the ceiling with a soft smile on his face. She crawled over to him and poked him in the ribs. "I hate to interrupt your twisted fantasy, but…"

Justin protested, "It's not twisted…"

Daphne scoffed, "Yeah, right. I've seen your porn collection, remember?"

Justin colored.

"Anyway…The star of the aforementioned fantasy just reached out and touched you."

Justin sat straight up. "Really? Is he coming?"

Daphne grinned and nodded. Then she laughed so hard she fell over when Justin leapt off the couch (and over the coffee table) and into his room, crying out, "Fuck! What am I going to wear? Why didn't I think of this before? I wasted hours just daydreaming!"

Then the clothes started flying. Daphne let Justin fret about it for thirty minutes or so before coming to the rescue, suggesting a lightweight red-purple cashmere sweater Justin's mom had gotten him for his last birthday and black pants.

*******

Brian traced a finger lightly over Justin Taylor's picture. He was trying to decide whether to fuck him. Doing so would make stealing him from Johnson (a hetero tool with zero style) much, much easier. But, of course, a personal entanglement with a future employee could get messy. Still, he had longish silky blond hair in which Brian could thread his fingers as he thrust deeply into young master Taylor's mouth. His mouth. He cursed, "Fuck." Plump cherry-red lips perfect for kissing and sucking. If he had a decent ass, tonight would be memorable for sure.

Thinking about perfectly rounded asses brought to mind the missed connection ad from this morning. The twink had said he was blond with blue eyes, a perfectly rounded ass, and a great smile. This kid had a great smile, too. The twink from the ad was probably not half as good looking as this prospective intern. For a moment, Brian almost wished this Justin Taylor was the twink from the ad. He wouldn't mind his thinking that he had "the face of God." He wondered whether Justin was the type to know what he wanted immediately and to be so bold in pursuing it. He hoped so, he told himself, because it would benefit the agency. Brian huffed a laugh. Mooning over some college boy. Clearly, he'd spent too much time landing Brown Athletics. He hadn't had a really good, all-night-long fuck in at least a month. Perhaps young master Taylor could help him with that. He could think of at least a dozen things he'd love to do to him, and tomorrow was Saturday. He could literally fuck him into tomorrow.

*******
Justin froze. "Oh God, he's coming. He's headed straight over here."

Daphne scanned the crowd until she saw the man Justin was staring at. She exclaimed, "Wow! He is a super hottie!"

But she frowned when she turned back to her best friend. He looked terrified. His eyes were wide, and he was flushed. He was even trembling. Time for the big guns.

Daphne smiled and hummed a little of Feliz Navidad. Then she sang, very quietly, "Philippe la-di-dah, Philippe la-di-dah…"

Justin immediately started giggling, and his eyes twinkled. A few Christmases back, Daphne had joined the Taylor clan for dinner; his grandmother had had one too many egg nogs and tried to sing along with Feliz Navidad. Her solecism later became a way to quickly diffuse Justin's social anxiety. Even now, two years after the bashing, Justin still had panic attacks in times of extreme pressure or emotional duress, particularly in large crowds. Daphne suddenly regretted inviting G.Q. Super Hottie, Esquire to the show. She should have known Justin would be tense enough surrounded by all these strangers who would want to question him about his work, much of which involved incredibly painful memories. Meeting a potential beau, one that Justin was dying to impress, just made the situation, and Justin, more volatile. She'd have to watch Justin like a hawk tonight.

When the hazel-eyed man reached Justin's side, he looked at Justin intensely (checking him out and then staring into Justin's eyes), his own eyes a little wide (and wild). He stood so close to Justin that Daphne nearly yanked him back. But she held off. Justin was smiling at the man, shyly, but happily. Then he took Justin's hand in his, shaking it gently, almost like they were holding hands rather than greeting one another, and drawled, "Brian Kinney."

Justin replied softly, "Justin Taylor."

Brian repeated Justin's name slowly, nearly purring. Justin shivered (he wasn't the only one). Then he released Justin's hand and looked at the paintings on the wall behind him. "Are these yours?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah."

Brian was standing in front of the one painting that had nothing to do with the bashing. It was of a naked reclining man, but he was turned away, so you couldn't see his face. Brian smirked at Justin and said, "You have an amazing feel for the human form."

Justin looked down, but he was smiling brightly. "Thanks."

"Who is it?"

"Oh…my first lover, if you can call him that."

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

Justin swallowed hard and then explained, "One night, in my hometown, I went to an area with a lot of gay bars. I was determined to lose my virginity. When I was walking through a dark alley, a man grabbed me and pushed me up against a wall."

Justin sighed and smiled softly. "He smelled and felt incredible and the things he did to me…Despite the circumstances, he didn't rush. Unfortunately, my dad had somehow found out where I'd gone and went after me. He showed up right at the end, thankfully, after we'd both had a couple of orgasms. My dad and I started fighting, and, of course, the guy took off. There's no better buzz kill than an angry father coming to collect his kid. The part that sucks is he'd asked if I wanted to come back to his place. God, I wanted to."

As Brian listened, his expression went from amused to something else…Daphne couldn't figure out what, but he furrowed his brow.

Justin continued, oblivious to the change, "I went back a few times trying to find him, but I never did. Course, I hadn't really seen much of his face (it was really dark in that alley), and I didn't know his name."

Brian chuckled. "You seem to have a good recollection of his body."

Justin smiled a little shyly and nodded. Softly, he said, "I touched every single inch of it, well and other things…I could never forget. Some nights I still dream about him. Shit, sorry to go on and on like that. That's probably much more than you wanted to know."

Justin didn't seem to notice (he was very nervous and embarrassed), but Brian swallowed hard in response to his confession. Daphne couldn't understand. She couldn't understand any of his reactions to Justin's story.