Gap Filler for 307
NC 17
**Special thanks to Roz for gracing this little ditty with a title and for her
masterful choice of lyrical accompaniment for parts II and III.
Part I
Justin
Did you ever play dominos as a kid? Not the real game like your parents, but
the one where you lined them all up just to knock them all down. Seems to me
relationships are like that. Each moment, each conversation is lined up carefully
in a long, winding line on its way to nowhere...though it looks as if it has
a purpose. Eventually you run out of dominos or conversations, so you step back,
assess your masterpiece and then very deliberately flick the first domino in
line, knowing full well what will happen. You hold your breath as the first
one tumbles, knocks over the second, which knocks over the third and then three
seconds later all you have left to show for all of your hard work was a big,
fat mess.
Seems to me that relationships are just like dominos. Built carefully over time,
seemingly with purpose, appearing in the end to be these beautiful, long, winding
paths of moments and conversations and lovemaking and shouting – then BAM, it’s
over in an instant. All it takes is one little push on that very first domino,
and they all fall down. After that, they might as well never have been standing
at all. I guess I have to believe that you learn from the falling down. Just
like I learned about how to set up the dominos better each time I did it. Understanding
where to curve them and how far apart to set them up. You get better and better
at this right? I suppose I need to believe that we do. Otherwise, what is the
fucking point?
I have to admit, that when I was in the grocery store buying dinner for Ethan
and gushing to Daphne about trust, loyalty, and love, even I knew I sounded
a bit trite. I guess really my whole relationship with Ethan is trite. I mean
was trite. Past tense…I’m going to have to get used to referring to him in the
past tense. Something tells me that won’t be hard. Just give me a day or so…I
move on quickly, or at least I purport to.
I have no fucking clue how I ended up here on Liberty Avenue, but for some reason
when I thought about where I should go to seek solace and get my head on straight,
this was the place my feet took me. I guess in a way, Liberty is as close to
a home as I have. It’s where I found my legs. It’s where I dove into the deep
end of the pool. It’s where I met Brian and Michael and Deb and Emmett and Ted.
It’s where I got my first job, a job I still have. It’s where I helped create
Rage. It’s where I fell in love.
Seems natural to come here to sort this whole mess out. It’s weird wandering
down here alone. It’s something I would have felt comfortable doing not too
long ago, but now I feel out of place. This safe haven for queers used to be
my playground, but I guess I don’t come here enough anymore to call it my own.
Sure I work at the diner a few days a week, but beyond that…I don’t own this
street the way I used to. I remember the days when I was the King of Babylon
and the golden boy who roped in Brian Kinney. Back then, I could walk into any
bar or club on this strip and get groped, admired, picked up. Maybe I still
could, if I tried. But I miss not having to try.
I’m in Babylon. I’m not so sure how I got here; I’m not on drugs or anything
– just sort of out of it. Feels like I haven’t been here since God was a child.
I’m sure it wasn’t so long ago…but, when? I can’t remember.
Hands push at me, clutch me, run over me, assessing the merchandise. I imagine
my stone cold stare and longer hair have managed to disguise me from that half
of the men who might have otherwise recognized me. I’ve probably had my dick
sucked by half of the guys who are offering to buy me drinks right now. I don’t
want a drink. I want one thing, but I’m not ready to admit what that is.
Brian
It’s Friday night and the mood is right. I have no fucking clue why I’m in a
good mood, just am. Maybe I know that there is much fucking and sucking in my
future and that the only thing on my roster for the weekend is…oh yeah, sex.
Something about that freedom makes me tingle. I haven’t been enjoying that freedom
as much as I should. I haven’t been relishing the fact that I have my own space
back and nothing but hours to fill with nameless mouths and nameless dicks.
Okay, maybe it’s the half of hit of E I took 20 minutes ago, but I think I might
just actually be in a good mood.
I'm meeting Mikey and the crew at Woody’s in a few minutes. I should probably
have a few drinks before I go. I need to be a bit wasted to deal with Ted and
Emmett right now. The whole deal with Ted’s arrest and Stockwell really rubbed
me the wrong way. And it’s fucking hard to rub me the wrong way.
I guess I’m just pissed because Ted and Emmett both assumed I would feed him
to the wolves. They both came begging me to get Ted out of that mess. Neither
thought that I might just go ahead and do that without having to be asked. I
mean, fuck…I’ve known Ted longer than I care to admit and though he really isn’t
someone I particularly care for…well, he's still my fucking friend! Christ,
that really pissed me off. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Think I’ll
just have a chat with Mr. JB and then I’ll get out of here.
Justin
Ah, I haven’t danced in forever. I fucking love to dance. Feel the rhythm of
the bass come up through the floor. It starts in your feet and moves up your
legs, wraps itself around your balls and makes them tingle, rumbles around in
your gut and somehow ends up swimming in your head, making your brain pulse.
I love to sway my hips and watch men salivate. I don't have to harness my power
when I'm dancing. It’s how I won Brian over. I remember that night like it was
yesterday. Some nights just permanently mark your memory so that you can conjure
them up at any given moment with such palpable clarity you can almost taste
what it was like to live that moment all over again. Fuck, all my memories of
Brian are like that. I wish they weren't, but they are.
One of my favorite songs, “Absolutely Everybody”, comes on and I start searching
the floor for the right person. I have to dance with someone to fully enjoy
this. And I want to enjoy it. I haven’t enjoyed much in a while. It’s time I
had some fucking fun.
Brian
I’m in Woody’s for about five fucking seconds before I want to kill someone.
That good mood – out the fucking window. I swear to God, I need to find some
decent friends.
Mikey and Ben are all happy and cutesy. Mikey told me that Ben stopped doing
steroids, and Ben sort of apologized for beating the shit out of me at the gym,
but I don’t know…it still doesn’t sit right with me. I refuse to sit here and
smile with them.
I walk across the room and stand alone at the other bar. I order my third
drink, knowing that by the time I see the bottom of the glass I’ll have a good
enough buzz to say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here with or without these losers
in tow.
I roll a lit cigarette around between my fingers as I watch this little hottie
playing pool. He’s new, not quite sure of himself. Fucking young as hell.
Making my goddamned mouth water. Probably too young though. He might be 18, but
even if he is, I really need to start an over-21 rule for myself. I think a
decade either direction is fair…beyond that it’s a little obscene. Although if
he keeps fucking looking at me like that and running his hands up and down that
cue stick I’m going to take him and it to the bathroom and show him how you
really play pool.
Mikey’s whining voice drags my attention away from the matter at hand, or
should I say at dick.
“Brian? Brian?”
“Wha…,” I grumble at him.
“Ben has to go home to do some work, wanna go to Babylon? I think Ted
and Em are leaving to go home too. Come on, it’ll be just you and me.”
For some reason this actually sounds appealing. I wouldn’t mind hanging out
with Mikey tonight, as long as the rest of the loser troupe really is going
home.
I eye them all suspiciously across the room and decide he's telling the truth.
I focus on Mikey’s face and nod slowly, “Go say goodbye to the little ones,
I’ll meet you there.” With that I throw a twenty on the bar and head out
without another glance in their direction. If everyone is going to keep
shouting from the rooftops about what an asshole I am, well I sure as hell want
to make sure they’re telling the truth.
Justin
Fuck, I’m so turned on my dick hurts. I haven’t needed to fuck someone this
badly in a long, long time. Not since…
This hot little dark-skinned number came up to me while I was swaying to the
beat and grabbed my waist. A simple glance at his full lips, shaved head and
tight abs and I backed right up into him. We’ve been at this for at least
twenty minutes now and I know we’re both ready to explode. I can tell he’s
waiting for me to pull him into the backroom and do the things we both know we
want to do. But I'm going to hold out a little longer. We’re putting on a good
show for the rest of the boys on the dance floor.
Brian
Mikey is on my heels as I cross Liberty. I keep walking swiftly, my long strides
easily keeping me five paces ahead of him.
“Brian?” Jesus, do we have to talk?
“Brian?!” He's sort of yelling now. Abruptly, I stop and turn around right in
front of the club.
“Yes.”
“Mel’s pregnant.” Well, I saw that coming.
“Congratulations, Papa.” I roll my eyes and turn toward the entrance, nodding
at the bouncer – who makes Mikey show his membership card even though we’ve
been here a minimum of twice a week for over a decade...which kind of makes me
laugh. Cruel, I know.
“Brian! Brian!” Jesus, he’s whining again and he’s shouting as he chases me
through the club. I make my way up the stairs to the second floor. I order us
both bottled beer from the bar and finally turn my attention to my exasperated
best friend.
“What do you want me to say?”
“You’re the only person I’ve told,” he says quietly into his beer and then I
understand that he needed to tell me first, make it real, before he could tell
anyone else. And I get that, I do. It was the same way with me. I remember the
night Lindsay called to tell me like it was fucking five seconds ago. Mikey was
the first person I called - that is, after I drank myself into a stupor and got
so high I could hardly tell him what had happened when I called. Mikey
understood, he came over and sat with me all night and convinced me that
everything was going to be okay and that I wasn’t going to fuck this kid up for
sure. As it turns out, he was right. Gus is doing just fine even with me in his
life.
I
turn to Mikey and pull a long, sleek, sweet-smelling cigar from my pocket. He
furrows his brow in confusion as I hand it over and get out my Zippo.
“I knew.” It’s all I have to say. He doesn’t need the details about Lindsay
calling me so excited she could hardly breathe and me saying some really
demeaning shit about what kind of mother Melanie would make. It all boils down
to the same thing – I knew. Thus I came prepared to stage a little celebration
for my friend. Luckily the evening has worked out so that I don’t have to share
with any of the other kids in the sandbox. Just the way I like it.
I inform him that I smuggled the Monte Cristo back from Cuba in a tone that
suggests he better fucking enjoy it. If he had any clue the money and trouble
that bitch cost me. Of course, I have 5 more at home – but that isn’t the
point.
We banter about how easily Mikey made a baby – Lindsay and I had to try three
different times. It’s funny to me that Mikey and Melanie would be so
compatible…but, stranger things have happened.
Mikey suddenly holds his face and looks a little faint. It gets me in the gut.
I know that feeling so well. It smarts on my tongue as the bile rises and I
feel a wave of nausea flow over me.
“Easy, Mikey,” I run my hand over his back, letting him know I’ll support him.
And I don’t just mean if he passes out right now.
“I don’t think I can do it.” He says in this desperate tone that makes me want
to slap him. Because if I can have a kid, fucking anyone can.
“What?” It’s a gut reaction.
“Be responsible for another life.” I am so not in the mood to talk about this,
but I know he needs to.
“Did I ask you to?” Sarcasm – the sure fire way to deter serious conversation.
“Not you asshole, the kid.” He’s frustrated, though for once it isn’t with me.
It’s just with life in general.
“Job's done, from here on out the lezzies do all the work. All you have to do
is show up for birthday parties and the occasional walk in the park.” And
that's true, sort of.
“I don’t intend be a drop-in dad like you. I want to be involved, like a real
father. If I can just figure out how.” I know he just means he wants to be a
good dad, the kind that’s there for their kid – the kind that neither he or I
ever had. Don’t know why, but somehow I don’t have the same desire to be
involved in Gus’ life the way Mikey clearly does in his unborn child’s. I love
Gus and I'm here if he needs me, but Linds and Melanie are his parents, not me.
Guess that is where Mikey and I differ on the aftermath of sperm donation. He'd
make a better father than me any day. I should know, he’s been more of one to
me than any other man in my life.
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” just telling him the truth.
“What makes you so sure?” He is so fucking dense half the time.
“Well you raised me didn’t you? Look how I turned out?” I laugh off my final
comment and lean down to kiss his cheek, getting a nose full of expensive cigar
smoke while I do it.
Then I turn to walk away because I know Mikey will be fine on his own…I’m just
not so sure about me.
Justin
About two fucking seconds before we both explode, I drag tonight’s trick into
the backroom. God, I haven’t been back here in…a while. I keep thinking that
about everything – about being at Babylon, about dancing like this, about
picking up a stranger – but, it’s true. I mean, this has a very old, familiar
feeling to it, like this is someone I was in a different life.
I find a space that isn’t currently being used for tonight’s suck and fuck
fest. It's not easy, because strangely enough, there's a full house tonight. I
look around and all I see are men everywhere. Fucking, being fucked, blowing,
being blown – tongues out, moans loud, pants down…it’s nice, really. I don’t
love this scene the way Brian did…does…but every once in a while you’re just in
the mood.
I tear open the condom packet with my teeth and slide it on while he drops his
pants past his perfect ass. It’s almost as nice as mine…but not quite.
I slide in quick, make his breath catch…then I wait a minute for him to adjust
before I start pumping. I’m just getting started, running my hands over his
back and finding the best angle to slide in and out when something catches my
eye…or rather, someone.
I could lie and say I hate that he’s here. I could lie and say that I was
hoping not to run into him. I could lie and say that it isn’t the fucking
hottest thing in the world that he’s watching me fuck the sanity right out of
this guy. But I don’t lie – not anymore, not to anyone, least of all myself.
I’ve recently realized that lying is the fucking worst character flaw in the
world. Honesty, no matter what the cost, really is the best policy.
Oh fuck….
End
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