Streak - 27. Chapter 27

November 2, 2002

Tribeca, NYC

Brad

It was 5:50, and I was so agitated I couldn’t hide it. Stef sat there, smirking at me, but I was so keyed up, I ignored him. “You look very nice,” he said, which was encouraging.

“Do I look forty?” I asked, being bitchy.

“You do not,” he said firmly. “As soon as I notice you aging, we will rush you in for some reparative surgery.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. I hadn’t embraced cosmetic surgery like Stef had. “I don’t want to look like Jackie.” She was Cody’s boss, a lady who looked a lot like Joan Rivers. They shopped at the same stores, and used the same plastic surgeon.

“Anything done to excess can be bad,” he said.

“Anything?” I challenged.

“You remind me of JP,” he said grousing at me being so literal. “Most things,” he corrected.

The doorman buzzed me to let me know Marc was on his way up. “He’s here,” I said to Stef.

“We will see if he is handsome enough to merit your giddiness,” he said in a snarky way.

I walked up to the door and opened it, expecting to see him climbing up the stairs like I had this morning, but instead, the elevator dinged, and he came out rolling a big Tumi suitcase behind him. “Hey there,” I said pleasantly.

“Hi,” he said, and smiled weakly. He was clearly upset underneath his perky exterior.

“I’m worried your expectations are set a little bit high,” I joked. “Most guys don’t plan to move in before the first date.”

He grinned, then got flustered. “It’s been kind of a rough day. I was going to call and cancel our plans, but I didn’t have your number, and I didn’t want to be rude and just leave you hanging.”

“Come on in,” I said, opening the door.

“I really shouldn’t,” he said. “I have to get going if I’m going to make it home before it gets too late.” I’d been looking forward to spending time with him, and the thought that he’d just bail on me was really disappointing.

“A few extra minutes isn’t going to make a difference,” I said firmly.

“Probably not,” he said, and came in, wheeling his bag behind him. I gently moved it off to the side out of the way, and led him into the great room.

I turned to look back at him and stopped to appreciate his beauty. He was dressed much like I was, with nice slacks that were cut more for clubbing than the boardroom, and a sleek designer jacket. His shirt fit him perfectly, hinting at the toned body underneath. “You look fantastic,” I said, then blushed.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “So do you.”

I ushered him into the great room, where Stef was standing there. He’d been skeptical that Marc was as handsome as I told him he was, so it was hilarious to see him stunned by how good he looked. “Marc Carmine,” he said, introducing himself.

“Stefan Schluter,” he said.

“You don’t need an introduction,” Marc said, and hit him with his smile. “I would have recognized you anywhere.”

“I have a dilemma,” Stef said.

“What?” Marc asked, confused.

“I am trying to decide which is the more impressive work of art: your painting, or you.” Marc actually blushed a bit, which was just adorable.

“Thank you,” he said shyly.

“At some juncture, we need to have a conversation about you creating some more art to brighten walls at our homes in Malibu and Palo Alto,” Stef said.

“Awesome,” Marc said enthusiastically.

“It was nice to meet you,” Stef said. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Marc said. Stef gallantly vanished to give us some time alone. I led Marc over to the couch and sat with him, but not too close.

“Where is home?”

“I live on the Cape, in Provincetown,” he said. “I’ve got a small house and a studio there.”

“That’s quite a commute,” I said. That made him nervous, so I moved on. “Look, I’ve been bored today, and going out with you is supposed to be the high point. I figured I’d take you to dinner, and to see a play.”

“That sounds like fun, but…” I stopped him.

“Why don’t we go out, and you can stay here tonight?” He looked a little nervous about that. “We have an extra room. Come on. You can put your bag in there.”

“I don’t know,” he said apprehensively.

“It will be easier to get home tomorrow, won’t it?” I asked.

“Probably,” he said, grinning at me. “You sure it’s not a problem?”

“Not at all,” I said. I stood up and that was his signal to stand as well, then I led him to one of the guest rooms. He put his suitcase inside the door and looked around.

“Pretty nice. You may have to kick me out in the morning,” he joked.

“Or maybe I won’t,” I said, flirting. He smiled at me and chuckled, then I led him out of the condo and down to the waiting limo.

“A Maybach limo?” he noted. “You trying to impress me?”

The driver held the door open for us, then shut it behind us. “Is it working?”

“It’s working, but a cab would have been just fine,” he said. Still, I got the feeling that he liked the finer things in life. “I can’t believe I actually got to meet Stefan Schluter.”

“Oh I get it,” I teased. “A mere billionaire isn’t good enough. You’re only excited to meet a multi-billionaire.”

“I have high standards,” he joked. “So where are you taking me?”

“Keen’s Steakhouse,” I said.

He really grinned. “That’s my favorite.”

“Then this date is off to a good start,” I said.

“Yes it is,” he said. “Then what?”

“I got tickets for us to see Hairspray,” I said. He smiled, then frowned. “Is that alright?”

“I’ve heard it’s good. That sounds like fun,” he said, putting his façade back on. We got to the restaurant and they seated us right away, which was nice since there were people there waiting for tables. Being rich had distinct advantages, and not waiting for tables was one of them.

We sat down and ordered drinks. He got a vodka martini, so I did the same. “So is it rude of me to ask you why you were walking around New York with a suitcase?”

He chuckled. “Lunch didn’t go very well.” Then he sighed. “I just ended a relationship.”

“You were living with him?” I asked. He nodded. “For how long?”

“A little over a year,” he said.

“That’s a long time,” I said, gently probing.

“It’s been shit for the past six months, but yeah, it was a long time,” he said. “I’m not really sad about it ending, but it’s kind of tough.” And then a tear fell out of his right eye. I reached over and gently wiped it away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but now if I don’t tell you the whole deal, it will be like this big piece of shit that ruins our whole night,” he said in a slightly annoyed tone. He sighed, and started talking, in the tone that told me he was going to tell me his story. “I used to live in Boston. That’s why my art is displayed there, because I have contacts there. The guy I was with got transferred to New York, so I moved here with him. That was in 1999.”

“Is that the guy you broke up with today?”

“No. The guy I broke up with today is David. The guy I moved to New York with was Sam.”

“Was?”

That sparked another tear from him. “I’m sorry,” he said, and made to get up, but I held his hand to keep him there.

“It’s OK,” I said soothingly.

“Sam worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. He was killed on 9-11.”

I looked into his eyes and I could see that familiar pain, and I could feel how much this still bothered him. “I lost my partner in the South Tower,” I said sadly, thinking of Robbie.

“That’s a shitty thing to have in common,” he said, grimacing. The waiter brought us our drinks and took our order. Marc had been here before, so he knew what he wanted. I just got the same thing he did. “Are you OK?”

“It’s been a really tough journey,” I said. “Sometimes I think about him and get sad, but those spells don’t happen very often anymore.”

“I can relate,” he said, nodding ruefully. “When that happened, I didn’t have much money. Sam was pretty much supporting us, so I could focus on my art. Our apartment was in his name, and I couldn’t afford it anyway. His family hated me, because I was his boyfriend and they weren’t really happy about him being gay, and because they thought I was a gold digger.”

“So you got tossed out,” I concluded. He nodded. “Why did they think you were a gold digger?”

“Because I like nice things, and Sam spoiled me. It’s not like I ran through all his money, but he took care of me. They never appreciated my art, so they thought I was just freeloading.”

“You’re very talented,” I said, to prop him up.

“Thanks,” he said, then got back to his story. “David was a friend of ours, of Sam and me. He’s an advertising executive, works on Madison Avenue. He offered to let me move in. We were friends, but he wanted more. I fought it for a while, but then I figured what the fuck. I was hurting bad, and being with someone, anyone, made me feel better. And I thought that it may just work.”

“You thought you’d grow to love him?” I asked.

“Yeah, only that didn’t happen. I grew to dislike him. It ended up that I was arm candy for him, but that’s not my game, and it became unbearable. I felt like a whore. And he was so demanding, wanted so much of my time that I really haven’t been able to work on my art. My inventory is drying up.” He sighed, and let down his shields, and I could feel how traumatic this all was for him.

“My family gives me a bunch of shit for being a control freak,” I said. “They’re pretty much right about that.”

“You don’t seem to appreciate that label,” he said, teasing me.

“I don’t, because I try not to be like that. But that also means I can spot it a mile away when someone else is doing it, and it sounds like that’s what this guy was doing to you.” He looked confused, so I went on. “He keeps you so busy that you can’t support yourself, and then you have to rely on him even more.” He looked at me and blinked, as if I’d given him clarity on that for the first time.

The waiter brought our salads, and then left us alone again. “Last night, I told him I was going home, to Provincetown, at the end of the month. I figured that he’d be mad about that, but he was really calm, and asked me to think about it, then to have lunch with him today. Then at lunch, he tried to talk me into staying, but I was so ready to be gone.”

“No wonder lunch was a big deal,” I said.

“I was going to just leave this morning, but I wanted to come over and see the painting and take some pictures for my portfolio, so I put it off until then. At lunch, he whined and whined, but I was adamant. He paid the bill, called me a whore, and then told me to follow him out to his car. He opened the trunk, handed me my suitcase, and told me to go fuck myself.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“So here I am, 27 years old, and I feel like I’m homeless,” he said ruefully.

“But you’re not. You’re out on a date with a 40-year-old guy.” I said that more to draw his attention to our age difference.

“Sam was 37 when we started dating, and David is 53. I like older guys,” he said, winking at me.

“Good news for me,” I said.

“Besides, you look so young, there’s no way anyone would believe you’re 40.”

I shook my head. “Do you always lie to the guys you go out with?”

“Only on the first date,” he joked. “I’m serious. You’re really attractive.”

“Want a rebound?” I asked suggestively. He laughed, a deep, melodic laugh, then got serious again.

“That’s what David was,” he said. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you. I can’t believe I got a chance to go out on a date with Brad Schluter, and I fuck it up by talking about my fucked up life.”

“If you knew me better, you’d know how wrong you are,” I told him, making sure he could see how sincere I was. “I appreciate honesty and candor. And if you asked anyone in my family, they’d tell you I really hate secrets. So if you wouldn’t have told me all this, I would have spent the whole evening guessing as to why you showed up at my condo with a suitcase, and then you would have fucked up our date. Instead, it’s going really well.”

He smiled at me, and the waiter brought our main course. We didn’t talk; we just applied ourselves to eating for a bit. “This is so good,” he said.

“It really is,” I agreed. It was a good steak.

“Do you have kids?”

“I have four sons, although the oldest, Matt, is actually more like a stepson.”

“Tell me about them,” he said.

“Matt just graduated from Stanford. He lives in Boston with his partner, Wade. My middle son, JJ, lives with them. He’s a figure skater. He’s the one who bought your painting.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Marc said. “He’s really good.”

“He is,” I said. “He’s also a bit of a diva. He’ll appreciate that you dress well.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said.

“Darius is older than JJ. He’s going to school at UCLA. He’s probably the coolest guy you’ll ever meet, and he’s been that way for as long as I can remember. He’s our family expert on dating,” I told him.

“Oh really? And how would he say we’re doing so far?”

“He’d probably point out that I’ve been totally lame,” I joked.

“Then he’s not an expert,” Marc said, flirting with me. He was really cute.

“Will is the youngest, but he seems older. He’s the one who’s most like me, and the one I fight with the most. He’s 16, but acts like he’s 25.”

“So we’re about the same age, in his mind,” he joked.

I chuckled. “In his mind. And he’d have no problem going out with a guy who’s 27.”

“I wouldn’t have either, when I was sixteen,” Marc said. We finished eating, and I paid the bill.

I looked at my watch. “We can have dessert later.”

“You planning to fatten me up?” he joked as we got into the limo.

“I like you like this,” I said.

“That’s pretty refreshing,” he said. “David spent most of his time trying to change me.”

“That’s like someone painting over one of Michelangelo’s works,” I flirted lamely.

“Sweet talker,” he said, in a coquettish way that was surprisingly masculine. The limo dropped us off in front of the theater, and he seemed nervous as we went in and started walking to our seats. The usher guided us to them; they were in the front row, almost dead center. “I’ve never had seats this good.”

“I’m trying to make this a pleasant rebound,” I joked. He laughed, and then froze up. “What?”

“David is here.”

“Which one is he?” I asked.

“He’s about ten rows behind us, in the right section,” he said. “He’s wearing a blue blazer with a really loud yellow tie, and he’s with some twink named Ben.”

“He moves fast,” I said.

“So do I, evidently,” he said. I didn’t look back, because I didn’t want to give David the satisfaction. I waited a few minutes, and then excused myself to go to the bathroom. I walked up the right side, and it was easy to spot this guy, because he was glaring at me and because there was only one tie that was that garish and yellow at the same time. He was actually a pretty handsome guy, and it looked like he’d taken good care of himself. The guy with him was really cute and really skinny. He looked at me curiously. I went to the bathroom, then strolled back toward my seat. I noticed that David was gone, and found out why when I got back and found him sitting next to Marc, arguing softly. Marc looked trapped.

“You’re in my seat,” I said rudely.

He stood up and adopted a pretty aggressive stance, puffing out his chest, but this guy was no match for me. “My apologies,” he said sarcastically. “So you’re the new sugar daddy.”

“Yep, and I’ve got way more sugar than you, by any measuring stick,” I said, using my full power posture. He said nothing, just gave me a dirty look and walked back to his seat.

I sat down, and the play started. “Are you OK?” I asked Marc softly.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but looked pretty upset. I reached over and held his hand, and felt that energy flow between us again. He looked over at me and smiled, and that seemed to perk him up a bit. I began to let go of his hand, but he gripped mine tighter, so I relaxed, enjoying this connection.

At intermission, we went out into the lobby and got something to drink. “If he makes you uncomfortable, we can leave,” I offered.

“No,” he said. “He accused me of stalking him. He’s just being a dick.”

I saw David and Ben out of the corner of my eye, watching us, so I moved in and wrapped my arms around Marc, pulling him toward me in a soft hug, and then I kissed his forehead. It was a very intimate gesture, but one that wasn’t overly forward, like planting a tongue-wrestling kiss on him. I could almost feel David seething. “Just ignore him.”

“Ignore who?” he asked me, making me chuckle. We went back to our seats and he seemed much more relaxed, only this time, he took my hand. The show ended and we made our way out of the theater. It had been cold before, but now that it was later, it was freezing. We found our limo, nicely warmed up, but we didn’t get there in time to stop my teeth from chattering.

“I’m flying back to California tomorrow,” I told him. “I can’t wait to get out of this weather.”

“You get used to it,” he said. “You’re leaving tomorrow?” It was sweet the way he seemed sad about that.

“I am. I’m going back to California for a night, then I’m going to Australia. I’ll probably be gone for a week,” I told him.

“Australia? Why are you going there?”

“My son Matt is in the Gay Games in Sydney. I’m going to watch him play,” I told him.

“Play what?”

“Hockey,” I explained.

“I never really got into hockey,” he said. “I’m a baseball guy.”

“That’s too slow for me,” I said. The pace of a baseball game was maddeningly slow.

He chuckled. “You have to learn to appreciate all the nuances, then it doesn’t seem so slow.”

“Maybe,” I said dubiously. “So what’s next for you?”

“I’ll probably go back to Provincetown. The place where I live, it’s my parents’ summer house. They let me live there, since they never use it. I’m going to try and start painting and sculpting again.” I looked at him funny. “I stopped doing it for about three months, so I’m going to have to get my head back into it, and that may take some time.”

We went to a dessert bar in Midtown, and shared a piece of cheesecake. “You’re letting me eat most of this,” I teased.

“I have to watch my figure, now that I’m a single guy,” he joked back. We chuckled, and then he got serious. “You know, I owe my freedom to you guys, or your son.” I looked at him, confused. “The sale of that painting gave me enough cash to get out of here.”

“It doesn’t take that much money to get to Provincetown,” I noted.

“No, but it takes some cash to live there, and it takes cash to make new art, so without that money, I wouldn’t have had a big enough cushion to do it,” he said.

“I’m glad we could help,” I said sincerely. “Stef wants you to do a couple of pieces for our houses out in California. We can give you an advance if that would make it easier.”

“I may take you up on that,” he said. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So I should ask you the most important gay question,” he said. I looked at him. “Top or bottom?”

I chuckled to hide my nervousness. My time with Chris Mendoza had shown me that it would be tough to be in a relationship with a guy who would only top. “I’m versatile, but I’d rather top.”

“I can work with that,” he said, and winked at me. This guy was sending my libido into overdrive; he was just so fucking sexy.

“How about you?” I asked, not willing to let him off the hook that easy.

“I’m pretty versatile,” he said. “I like to switch things up, but if I had to choose one, I’d bottom.”

“I can work with that,” I said, in the same way he’d said it. We finished dessert and went back to the limo. “That’s the last of my planned events for the evening.”

“Let’s go back,” he said, referring to the condo. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m kind of tired.”

“Sounds good,” I said. We got back to the condo and found it pretty deserted, which didn’t surprise me since it was almost midnight. It was really weird, because I wanted to at least try to kiss him, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable since he was staying here.

He walked over to the windows, and gazed out at the view of Lower Manhattan. “I still look at the empty void where the twin towers used to be, and it feels like there’s something missing inside me, just like there’s something missing here.”

I put my arm around him in a comforting way. “I know how you feel.”

He turned to face me, and he was really close, but I still didn’t make a move. “Thank you for taking me out tonight. That’s the nicest date I’ve had in years.”

“I liked it too,” I said, and then he took the initiative. He put his hands on my shoulders, then moved them up behind my neck as he pulled me in for a kiss. I’d been enjoying him all night, and I sure as fuck had lusted after him, but in the back of my mind, I kept remembering my date with Ben the carpenter. We’d hit it off well, and he was a total bottom, so we were sexually compatible, but when I kissed him, it was actually gross. Ben kissed with his mouth open, flicking his tongue at mine, making me feel like I was in an Eastern European porno. I was a little worried that Marc would end up like that, but that one kiss blew all those worries right out the windows. Our mouths connected perfectly, with our lips moving as if they were dancing together. I moved my tongue forward, asking him to open his mouth, and he did so willingly. And now, not only did our lips move in sync, our tongues were just as harmonious. He finally ended it by pushing himself away from me, so intense was our connection.

“Wow,” he said, with the crazed look of lust in his eyes. “That was amazing.”

“It was,” I said, and rubbed my hand across his cheek in an affectionate gesture. “You are really good at that.”

“It takes two to make a kiss work,” he said, and then he yawned. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “Come on.” I led him down the hall to his room. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

“Thanks, Brad, for everything,” he said sincerely.

“It was just a date,” I said with a grin, only he didn’t smile back.

“When I came over here, I felt like I was falling. I was out on my own, literally, and kind of disoriented. You caught me.” I kissed him again, feeling our mouths merging totally, and then forced myself to end it.

“Sleep well.” I walked next door to my room and looked back at him and smiled, then I went inside and closed the door.

I stripped off my clothes and lay in bed, and I was just about to indulge in an intense jack-off session when my phone rang. I saw that it was Will, which made me groan, worried that he’d kill my buzz. “Hey,” I said cheerfully, since I was still on a cloud after that kiss.

“Hey,” he said, and sounded surprised. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just got into bed,” I told him. “I had the most amazing date.”

“Seriously?” he asked, and sounded excited for me. “Who is this dude?”

“Remember how JJ bought that painting for the condo here? This is the guy who did it. His name is Marc Carmine.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s gorgeous, and sexy, and he kisses so well it’s scary,” I said. He giggled at that, and then made me play the whole date out for him. We must have talked for half an hour, with me talking about my night, and him being almost as excited as I was. “So why did you call?” I asked, after I’d covered that topic.

“I was just wondering what your schedule was. You’re coming home tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were anxious to see me,” I told him.

“Well I wasn’t, but now I am. I want to meet this guy.”

“I wasn’t planning to bring him with me.”

“Why not?”

I sighed. “With Cam, I moved things along too fast, and fucked it up. That’s what Darius said. I don’t want to make the same mistake with Marc.”

“Not all guys are alike, Dad,” he said. “Maybe this guy would appreciate spending some time with you, and getting to know you.”

“I’m only going to be home for a day.”

“Take him with you to Australia,” he said. “He told you he really didn’t have anything going on.”

“He has to start painting again.”

I could almost see Will’s eyes rolling. “Is waiting a week to start working going to make that big of a difference? Besides, you said you wanted him to do something for us here. He can check the place out and think about it.”

“I don’t know,” I said nervously. “Besides, he probably won’t want to go.”

“Dad, I haven’t heard you this excited about a date ever. What do you have to lose?”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said pleasantly, and we ended our call. I lay there in bed and smiled at being back at a good place with Will, then smiled even bigger when I thought about Marc. My hand instinctively dropped down to my groin and I started stroking my dick, thinking about how hot it would be to plow into his cute little ass. I’d just gotten myself into it when there was a soft knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said. I wasn’t in a position to get up and go open it. I sat up in the bed to show him I was awake and to hide my erection.

The door opened and Marc peeked in. “Am I bothering you?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Come on in.” The curtains were open, with just enough light coming through to make him visible. He was wearing boxers, and that left the rest of his body exposed. God, he was cute. He didn’t have massive pecs or bulging abs, because he wasn’t in that kind of shape. Instead, his body was smooth and lithe. The only place his muscles were visible was in his biceps, which bulged in a really sexy way.

“I have a rule,” he said, as he sat next to me on the bed. “I don’t fuck guys on the first date.”

“I learned that the hard way,” I told him. “The last guy I started to date, we went too fast, and it scared him away.”

“What if I told you that I was in the mood to break the rules, and that you aren’t going to scare me away?”

“Then I’d fuck you,” I said.

“Good.” He pushed me onto my back then stood up and slipped off his boxers. He climbed under the covers and lay on top of me, kissing me again, only this time, feeling our bodies meshing together, made it just that much more intense. He stopped and smiled at me, then started to move his mouth down my body. As he did, I maneuvered him around and lay kind of on my side so we could 69. “Holy shit. You’re fucking huge.”

“Now you won’t want to bottom,” I said, even as I nuzzled his balls with my nose. I inhaled his smell, his scent, and it was sweet and intoxicating. His dick was probably not quite seven inches, maybe six and a half, but it was really thin. It was just a little shorter and a little thinner than Robbie’s. That freaked me out for a second, until I felt his lips on my dick, and that distracted me. I returned the favor, but had to stop, because he was doing such a good job I couldn’t focus. Instead, I pulled him on top of me so his ass was in my face.

It was beautiful, with two pert, soft globes. I ran my fingers down his crack and around his hole, teasing him, getting him really fired up, and then I dove in with my mouth. Even his ass smelled good. I rimmed him so intensely that he had to pull off my cock to stop and moan. I felt his body get rigid, then he moved around so he was on top of me, and he was kissing me again. Now my cock was sliding up and down his crack. He moved his body to let it push against his hole, but not enough to go in. I reached over to my nightstand and pulled out a condom, then he moved off of me enough to let me put it on. I lubed him up, then lubed my cock up, and he lowered himself slowly down on me.

I felt the head of my dick pressing against his hole; I was so hard, my cock could have been a diamond. I watched his face contort with pain as he worked his way down, taking me slowly, an inch at a time. “You’re doing so well,” I said encouragingly. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“Ahh,” he whimpered, in such a sexy way. I’d kind of figured he’d be a bit of a man-slut, looking as good as he did, but he was really tight. It took him a while to get used to me. I lay there and let him do the work, and set the pace, just relishing the feel of his tight ass wrapped around my dick. He began to move faster and faster, and then he leaned forward with his mouth next to my ear. “Fuck me,” he said breathlessly.

I took over then, thrusting my hips up into him even as I wrapped my arms around his back to hold him in position. I felt his cock rubbing against my abdomen, heard him moaning in my ear, and then I heard him all but scream as he came. I let out a roar and followed him into his orgasm, but his went for so long, we finished at the same time. He sat up, with my cock still lodged in his ass, and smiled at me. “I’ve been thinking about that all day,” I said. “I never thought it would be that good.”

“I’m so glad we broke the rules,” he joked.