Man In Motion - 19. JJ

December 3, 1985

Paris, France

“What are you doing?” Robbie asked. I was sitting in the family room watching the morning news, or at least I was pretending to. Robbie grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He'd been gone a lot the last few days and he'd been increasingly distant.

I motioned him to come over near me so I could whisper. “Mouse is here. He's talking to JP in the study. I'm spying.” We grinned at each other like co-conspirators.

“Wanna meet me for lunch?” he asked. I stared at him, completely surprised by that invitation since he'd been doing everything he could to avoid me.

“Fuck yeah. The Laughing Italian?” He chuckled and agreed. I hadn't been there since we met Marcel. The food had been pretty good, so it was worth going back. He kissed me and headed out, while I went back to spying.

I tried to eavesdrop but couldn't quite hear their words. I heard a loud voice, and knew that had to be Mouse; JP rarely yelled. I heard some crying. That had to be Mouse too, because JP rarely cried. The doors flew open, shocking me out of my eavesdropping, and Mouse stormed out. He looked really flustered and headed straight to the door.

“Mouse,” I called. He ignored me and slammed the door behind him. I stood up slowly then headed into the study where I found JP sitting at his desk, his head in his hands. “You OK?” I asked.

He looked up at me, his eyes red. “He didn't want a second chance.”

“I'm sorry, Dad. It's his loss,” I said, and put my hand on his shoulder in a supportive way.

“He decided that he doesn't want to be with anyone,” he said bitterly. “He wants to be free to enjoy these last years of his life however he wants. He doesn't want anyone putting constraints on him.”

“That sounds pretty lonely to me,” I said, noting that Mouse’s choice of freedom also came with isolation.

“I can kind of understand,” he said. It was like his mind had shifted into a more logical mode. “When I found out I was positive, and there wasn't really anything to lose, I thought about buying a bunch of condoms and lube and going out and fucking anything that moved. I think that's where his mind is now.”

“Yeah, but he changed so fast. I mean, one day after you leave he's out to fuck the world?” I didn't get it.

“I know, Brad. It doesn't make sense to me either. I guess being with me wasn't fulfilling enough.” My heart went out to him because I knew that feeling. That was the same feeling I’d struggled with when Robbie had cheated on me in high school, and when he'd been with Neil.

“Dad, you can't think like that. You know who you should think about? Roger. He loved you. He was with you until he couldn't be with you anymore, and he never looked less than fulfilled.” He smiled at me.

“Thanks,” he said, and patted my cheek affectionately. “You're trying to cheer me up, and it's almost working.”

“Good. Go get ready and join us for lunch,” I told him.

“Us?” he asked curiously.

“Robbie and me. We're going to the Laughing Italian.” He laughed at the name. “Sorry, you can't laugh. You're not Italian,” I teased.

“You two have lunch,” he said, obviously worried that he'd get in the way.

“Nope. You're with us. Get cleaned up.” He hesitated. “Don't make me come in there and shower with you. I don't think either one of us is ready for incest.”

He grinned at me and headed to his room. We both got ready then grabbed a cab to the restaurant because it was too fucking cold to walk. I once again resolved that when our sojourn in Paris was over, I was moving somewhere warmer. Robbie met us there almost right after we showed up. “Perfect timing,” I said.

“It's one of the things I'm known for,” he joked. I smiled at him and punched him playfully. He gave JP a hug. “You're joining us! How cool is that!”

We ordered and chatted. I was trying to have a nice lunch, but JP and Robbie were both killing my buzz. I could tell there was something on JP's mind, but he was holding back, biding his time. I knew he’d eventually tell me what was going on, but in the meantime it just created tension. If anything, Robbie was worse. There was something very different about him. Lately he’d become distant and distracted. I wrote it off, assuming he was stressed out about all the stuff he had to finish up for school, even though I wasn’t entirely convinced that was it. “I've got a few things to tie up at the dig tomorrow and then I'm heading back to California,” JP said, finally revealing what he’d been holding back.

“On Thursday?” I asked.

“Yes.” He paused. “When do you two plan to come back for Christmas?”

“I'm good to go on the 20th,” Robbie said.

“I'll make reservations for us on the 20th then,” I said.

“And when do you plan to return to Paris?” JP asked.

Robbie looked at me nervously. “We haven't really worked that out yet, but classes start up again on January 7.” JP had inadvertently poked the big elephant in the room. Robbie wanted to come back to Paris next semester and I didn't. It had been a source of disagreement that had started to fester between us, but I let it go because this wasn’t the time or place to have that argument.

December 5, 1985

Paris, France

There was a car and a truck out front, both waiting for JP to leave. The car would transport him to the airport, while the truck would follow with all of his stuff. Robbie and I had been responsible for carrying the boxes down to the street, where the truck driver loaded them. This morning’s labor made me realize that most of those fucking boxes we'd dealt with four months ago were JP’s. Robbie and I were sweating and exhausted by the time we were done. It would have been nice to have Marcel to help, but he’d gotten off the hook because he was at school, the little fucker.

“I guess that's it. I'm flying out of Orly. Stefan sent his plane,” JP said, saying things I already knew to try to make this less awkward.

“Have a safe flight, Dad. We'll see you in a few weeks.” He was leaving, and I knew that I would miss him a lot. This semester, I’d had him around, and he’d been a rock for me. Next year, assuming we ended up staying in Paris, he’d be gone and it would be hell.

“I have a favor to ask of you two.” We looked at him attentively. “If you see Mouse, or if he comes back, take care of him.”

“After what he did to you?” Robbie asked. His sense of justice didn't allow for kindness in the face of such an egregious sin, unless he was the one sinning.

“This is my battle to fight, not yours, and I have already fought it. He is a sick young man, and he will ultimately discover that he is alone as well,” JP said to Robbie firmly. “Has he not been a good friend to you over the years?”

I watched Robbie struggle with this. “Yeah, I guess he has.” JP stared at him, waiting for him to work it through in his mind. “Alright, I'll be nice to him if he shows up.”

“Thank you,” he said. He already knew that I'd honor his request. With one final hug, he got in the car and he was gone, off to the airport and then back to the U.S.

Robbie turned to me. “We're going to have to decide what we're going to do next year; you know that, right?”

“If you want to be here, I'll be here, but it will be hard on me.” He nodded, but it irritated me that he didn't seem overly concerned that I'd be unhappy staying here with nothing specific to do. He just wanted to get his way. I fought back my anger and continued the conversation, even though my logic told me I shouldn’t, given how close I was to losing my temper. “If something changes so I need to be home, I'll have to go and I'll want you with me.”

“Well, we'll have to cross that bridge if it happens,” he said dismissively.

“In other words, you're saying that even if I have to go back to the States, you're staying here?” I demanded, my patience with him almost exhausted.

He stared at me, trying to make me feel like I was being ridiculous. “Even if you have to go back and I have to stay here, it's only five months.” He almost sounded like he wanted me to leave. What the fuck was going on?

“So you don't mind being here without me? That makes me feel really fucking loved.” I felt all the danger signs and realized I was about to lose it. I desperately needed to postpone this conversation until I got my cool back.

“You don't trust me? You think if you're not here to watch over me that I'll go off and find someone to keep me company?” I glared at him and started to walk away. I thought I was being especially thoughtful by not reminding him that he'd done that before. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“I'm taking a break from this discussion, before I say something I don't want to,” I said, looking at him. He was as pissed as I was. I sensed that he was about to taunt me but he seemed to understand that, if he did, it would get a lot uglier. He grabbed his coat and took off, presumably to head to campus.

I took a shower, threw on some casual clothes, then lay on the couch in the family room like a slug, pissed off and uncertain about what was going to happen. He was right. I didn't trust him to be alone in Paris. I struggled to figure out why that was. If we were so in love and if we were so tight, some distance for a short period of time shouldn't be a problem. I tried to tell myself that I was being paranoid, but visions of Neil continued to haunt me. What if some other guy seduced him? What if he fell in love with that guy? What if I had to go through the whole nightmare all over again? I sighed. There was a lot of love in our relationship, but there wasn't a lot of trust, and that made me worry that we were building our lives together on a foundation of sand.

The phone buzzed and the concierge told me that I had a visitor: Lou. I opened the door to greet him as soon as he came off the elevator, welcoming both Lou and this opportunity to think of something besides Robbie. “Hello Lou,” I said cheerfully. He was wearing some of the clothes I'd bought him and he looked great.

“Hi Brad. I'm sorry it has taken me this long to stop by and thank you for the clothes,” he said nervously. “It has been a busy time.”

“Busy?” I asked in a jocular way. “You are that popular?”

“I got a few jobs modeling, or so I thought. They did not turn out to be what I thought they would be.” His voice was sad. I led him to the family room and offered him a seat.

“What happened?”

“Modeling turned out to be pornography,” he said, cringing. “It started off easy with me just taking off my shirt. I got a little more nervous when they told me to take off my pants, but then again, with underwear on it is really no great problem.”

“I’ll bet you looked great in just your underwear,” I said, flirting with him harmlessly.

“So you say,” he said. “When they asked me to take off my boxers, I refused, and they did not take that very well.”

“I'm sorry, Lou,” I said sincerely. “I didn't know you were into modeling. You certainly have the looks for it.”

He shot his dazzling smile at me. “Thanks. It is my only asset. I am not the smartest guy.”

“Apparently not if you got roped into a porn network,” I said, making him laugh. “Where do you live?”

“I live with my mother. She is no longer with my father, which is good because he beat her,” he said. The anger he still had from enduring that was obvious when he spoke of it. “We are not broke but money is still tight, so I figured that I would try to contribute.”

“That was nice of you to try and help out your mother,” I said. “What kind of porn movie were you almost in?”

“They wanted me to fuck this woman with huge tits,” he said. “It was not for me.”

“Because she had big tits or because she was a woman?”

He got a defiant look on his face. “Just because I am handsome does not mean I am a homosexual.”

“No, it does not,” I agreed. “Are you?”

“Are you?” he shot back.

“I am,” I said, as if it were an oath.

He stared at me nervously. “You are gay?”

“I am. I have a partner; his name is Robbie.” He looked at me, digesting this. “What about you?”

His eyes darted around, as if he were trying to find a way to escape answering my question. He finally relented. “I am not sure.”

“Have you had sex with a woman?” I asked. He nodded. “Did you like it?”

“I did,” he said, and blushed, making him even more adorable.

“Have you had sex with a man?”

“No,” he said firmly.

“But you want to try it?” I asked. His eyes bulged and he got really nervous, because I’d just dived into his mind and revealed what was probably one of his biggest secrets.

“Maybe,” he said. I stared at him until he sighed and nodded.

“I think you will like it,” I teased, making him chuckle.

“I think I will too,” he said, loosening up enough to joke about it, and making both of us laugh.

“You haven’t had the best of luck modeling in Paris. Have you ever thought about modeling in Hollywood?” I asked. His eyes got huge.

“It is a dream of mine to go to Los Angeles or New York,” he said wistfully. “I do not have the money to do that and it seems to be impossible to get a break here.”

I stared at him, surprised. “But Paris is the fashion capital of the world, is it not?”

“That is what I am told, but I do not know anyone to open doors,” he said sadly. “That makes it hard, unless I am willing to sleep my way into it.”

“I had a cousin who got into modeling and acting,” I said, thinking of Armand. “To be successful, he had to sleep with guys he didn't want to.”

“There must be a way to do it without becoming a whore.” He paused and stared at the room. “I guess I could consider it if there were a real opportunity.”

“I’m sure that you can make opportunities for yourself either way,” I said. “Do you have a passport?”

“I do not,” he said, and that seemed to make him sadder than the rest of our conversation. “I truly am trapped here.”

“You are not,” I said. “Get a passport, and I'll take you to California for Christmas.”

“I do not know if my mother will let me go,” he said.

“Look, Lou, I can help you, but you're going to have to do some of the work,” I said in a firm way. “You have to convince your mother to let you go, and you have to get a passport. We leave on the 20th. You need to let me know a couple of days before then if you’re coming with me.”

Just then the door flew open and Marcel came bursting in. He stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at Lou. “Louis Charles, this is my ward, Marcel. Marcel, this is Louis Charles, but he likes to be called Lou.”

“Hello Lou,” Marcel said, shaking Lou’s hand and leering at him.

“Hi,” Lou said shyly.

“Will not Robbie be mad that you are picking up cute guys and bringing them home?” Marcel asked.

“I brought Lou home for you,” I teased.

“You are gay too?” Lou asked, aghast.

“I think so. I like to suck dick. Does that make me gay?” Marcel said, smiling.

Lou got his mojo back. “No, but it probably makes you fun to hang out with.” We laughed, perhaps a bit too forced.

“I'm going to go work on some sketches. Marcel, I've invited Lou to go to California with us, but he needs to get his passport, and he needs to get his mother to let him go. Maybe you can help him out?”

“Sure,” Marcel said, and winked at Lou, making him blush. I was stunned that for someone so hot, Lou was really shy.

“Good. Then I'll leave you in Marcel's capable hands,” I said, shaking Lou's hand, and heading off to the studio. It felt lonely in there without Mouse around, so I decided to rearrange things to make it seem more like my space.

I was pretty engrossed in what I was doing, so much so that I didn’t hear Marcel as he walked into the room. “Is it OK if Lou stays over?” he asked.

I pulled my head out of my organizational endeavors and grinned at him. “Of course.” I smiled as he left, happy that Marcel at least had found someone to hang out with. Robbie didn't come home until after 2am, and then he just snuck in and curled up on his side of the bed, making sure he didn't wake me up or even touch me.

December 7, 1985

Paris, France

I walked into the main room to find Marcel watching the television. “Did you go home and visit?” I asked Marcel. He usually went to see his family on Saturdays.

“For a little bit.” I stared at him, willing him to tell me what was going on. “I had fun with my brother and sister. Gerard has been nice to me, but my mother is horrible. She is rude and she is obnoxious. I am so glad I will be gone from here, at least for Christmas.”

“I need to talk to you about that.” It was his turn to look at me and wait. “I'm not sure if I'll be in Paris after Christmas.”

“It will be terrible not to have you around,” he said. I smiled at him. How unlike a teenager to think of that before thinking of himself. Then he became much more predictable. “What will happen to me?”

“You will have some choices,” I said, and sat down next to him to indicate this was a more serious conversation. “You can move back in with your parents if you want.” I saw him start to have a fit but I stopped him. “If you want.”

“I do not care what my other options are; I do not want that,” he said firmly.

“I understand,” I said calmly, trying to transfer some of that emotion to him. “Another option is that you can go to a private school where they have boarding.”

“That would be better than living with my parents,” he grumbled.

“The other choice is that you can remain in California with me,” I said. I could hear the nervousness in my voice, because I was hoping he’d pick that option. With Robbie acting like I had the plague, I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more rejection.

“Lou got his mom to agree to let him come with us for Christmas. Now he needs to work getting on his passport.” Marcel said, changing the subject. “Is he staying in California?”

“I don't know what Lou is going to do,” I said. “Why?”

He blushed. “I like him.”

“Who wouldn’t? He's adorable,” I said. I’d meant that as a compliment, but instead it made him angry.

“I am not talking about just his looks,” Marcel said defiantly. “He is a very nice and a very sweet guy.”

I smiled at how Marcel defended Lou, exposing how into him he was. “I didn't mean to imply that the only quality Lou has are his looks,” I said. “Lou will be 18 soon, so he can make his own decisions. I would imagine that he would want to spend some time in the US before he makes a permanent choice.”

“He wants to move to New York or California,” Marcel noted.

“Does he speak English?” I asked.

Marcel shrugged his shoulders. “A little bit.” Marcel was doing well with that language, but he was still struggling to be fluent.

“It will be very difficult for him to live in the United States if he does not speak English,” I said. “You need to help him.”

He smiled. He'd help him alright.

December 10, 1985

Paris, France

It was around 10am when the door opened and Robbie breezed in. He headed straight to the bedroom, doing his best to avoid me. He'd come home late and left early for almost a week now, and his sole objective seemed to be to dodge being around me. I had reached the end of my patience, so I followed him into the bedroom and just stared at him, all but demanding a confrontation.

“What?” he asked.

“You're home,” I said. The snarkiness in my tone was apparent.

“I'm busy. It's the end of the semester and I have a lot of things to do,” he said in an aggressive tone. He was trying to intimidate me into backing down which was hilarious. He should have known that wasn't going to work.

“You're avoiding me,” I stated firmly.

“I am not avoiding you; I'm busy,” he said rudely. “I’m under a lot of pressure, and the last thing I need is you giving me a bunch of emotional bullshit.” I’d been around him when he was stressed about school, and he was acting completely different from that. That’s what I decided in my rational mind, but that was overruled by the anger he’d finally managed to provoke.

“You're being a total asshole. A big fucking asshole!” I said loudly, loud enough to knock him back on his heels. That did nothing to calm me down, and my volume increased with each additional word I spoke. “You’re acting really fucking weird. I know something is wrong, but instead of talking to me about it, you pretend I don’t even exist. The only way I can have a conversation with you is to wait and try to catch you in the half hour you happen to be home. And when I do, when I finally corner you, you treat me like shit.”

“Fine,” he said, relenting in the face of my rage, and sat down on the bed. “Talk.”

Before we could start our conversation, I heard the phone ringing. I was so tempted to ignore it, but I had responsibilities, and it could be Marcel or Lou who needed my help. “Stay here,” I said, more of an order, then went to answer the phone.

“Brad, it's Jeanine,” I heard her say. I managed to push my anger away by appreciating her beautiful voice. “JP asked me to call you. Bitty had a baby boy late on Saturday night.” Today was Tuesday. My efforts to contain my anger almost failed when I thought about how the baby had been born on Saturday and they had waited until now to call me.

“I didn't think she was due yet,” I said.

“She gave birth six weeks early,” Jeanine said. “The baby is premature and he's still in the hospital. They think he'll be alright, but it's too soon to tell if there was any, uh, damage.”

“How is Bitty?” I asked. What a change a year had made. I actually gave a shit about her.

“She's doing, uh, she's really agitated,” Jeanine said, then sighed. “Now that she's given birth, she wants to get out of the hospital.”

“And get back on drugs,” I said sadly, thinking out loud.

“Yes,” Jeanine said.

“I'm due to come home on the 20th. I'll stop by and see you on the way back to California,” I said.

“Is there any chance you can make it back sooner?” She asked. “We want to baptize him, and Bitty asked that you be the godfather.”

“I'll see what I can do,” I said, wondering how I could possibly accomplish that. If Robbie wasn’t being so spastic, it would be a lot easier to do. “Let me talk to Robbie and I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Brad,” she said, and we ended our call.

I headed back to the bedroom to tell Robbie what was going on, only to find that he'd already left. I was so pissed I couldn't see straight. I looked out the window and saw him walking down the street. He was going fast, and had a very purposeful expression on his face. I tore down the stairs and down the street, keeping a distance from him as I followed him. He walked into the Latin Quarter, so I assumed he was heading to campus, but I was wrong. He turned left down a small side street, walked about fifty feet and then went into an apartment building. He had to be meeting someone there. My mind threatened to derail itself with anger, begging me to let it surrender to the outrage that Robbie had found some new boyfriend and would decide to totally blow me off, and not even have the decency to break up with me. It took a herculean effort to stay on task.

The apartment building he went into was pretty seedy. He’d pulled the door open and torn up the stairs, but I was able to lunge forward and grab the door before it closed and locked. I was lucky there was no concierge in this dump. I watched him climb the stairs, staying far enough behind him to avoid notice. He got to the third floor and entered the apartment on the right. I looked at the door and mentally noted the big letter “D” on it.

I stood there trying to figure out what to do while looking around to make sure I wasn't being obvious, then leaned into the door to eavesdrop. I was pretty surprised when it pushed open a bit; evidently Robbie hadn't shut it all the way. I pushed it open a bit more, trying to see what the floor plan was like, and saw that it was designed kind of like the typical American hotel room, with a hallway when you entered, a bathroom to the left and a closet to the right. The hallway led into a single room, and while I couldn't see in there, I could hear people talking. I closed the door to the apartment as silently as I could, then saw that the closet off the foyer was open. I slipped into the closet as quietly as I could, then gently pushed the closet door closed.

“You told me you were leaving and that was two fucking days ago, Neil,” Robbie said, sounding pissed off. What the fuck was Neil doing in Paris? How long had he been here? The closet was one of those longer things, so I crept down to the end near the main room and opened the closet door just enough that I could peek out.

“I haven't gotten what I wanted yet,” Neil said, trying to sound sexy. I watched him form his hand into the shape of the silent duck, and felt nothing but hatred for that little bastard.

“I'm not doing that, Neil. I don't want to,” Robbie said firmly. Neil stood there pouting. It was all I could do not to jump out of the closet and pound his face into pudding.

“Oh come on, Robbie, please?” Neil whined. He ran his hand down Robbie’s chest, trying to arouse him. I was so proud of Robbie for being this strong. “Please, baby, please? I want to make you feel so good. It's been so long.”

“Not happening,” Robbie said. I watched as Neil stripped off his clothes, and as much as I hated the guy, it was impossible not to appreciate what a gorgeous ass he had. “Neil, quit taking your clothes off.”

“You know you want me,” Neil said, bending over and flashing his pucker at Robbie.

“Not even,” Robbie said. “Look, I'm leaving, and you're getting the fuck out of Paris.”

“Not until I get what I want,” he said, only now he was being bitchy. I wanted to rip him into little pieces with my bare hands.

“That’s not happening,” Robbie said.

“No?” he asked in a sinister way. “I'd hate for something to happen to your loverboy.”

“You can't hurt Brad. We're in fucking Paris,” he said.

“You sure about that?” he challenged. “He's got a lot of money. I could probably fetch a pretty good ransom for him. Maybe we could get enough for us to live here in Europe.”

“Fuck you, Neil. You hurt him, I'll kill you myself,” Robbie said. He was so mad I wondered if he’d punch Neil.

“You wouldn't hurt me, baby,” Neil said in his slutty way. “I make you feel too good. You still love me; I know you do.”

“No, I don't. I don't love you. I don't even like you,” Robbie spat. “You better get your ass out of Paris before the police arrest you.”

“Getting the cops involved would be a big mistake,” he said. “Wheels are in motion. If bad things happen to me, then bad things will happen to Brad, and maybe even to his family. Those two cute little studs staying there could end up dead. You’d have blood on your hands, baby, blood on your hands.” Neil was so sinister it was easy to believe he was capable of putting together a truly evil plan like that.

Robbie was quiet for a bit, then he finally spoke. “What do you want, Neil? Lay it out. You've been fucking around for almost a week now. You're driving me fucking crazy.”

“Let me do what I like,” he cooed. “Feel my fingers. They'll feel so good inside you.”

“I'm not the dumbass I used to be, Neil, so you can knock that shit off now,” Robbie said defiantly. “If I let you put your hand up my ass, you'd turn into a total asshole and I'd end up with no money and no credit cards. So fuck you.”

“Alright, asshole. Be that way,” Neil said. Now that he figured out that his plan to persuade Robbie wouldn’t work, he’d reverted to his normal asshole mode. “I want $50,000 in cash, and I want you to fuck me right now.”

“$50,000?” Robbie asked. “I don't have fifty grand.”

“You’re such a fucking moron,” Neil said. “You can get it from loverboy. You give me the money tomorrow, and you're gonna fuck me now like I said.”

“Neil, I don't wanna fuck you. I don't even want to be in the same room with you,” Robbie said. “Piece of shit.”

“Fine, that’s fine,” Neil said, like he was caving, then transformed back into the total dick that he was. “I'll just make sure to have them do some really kinky shit to Brad while they're holding him. If he makes it out alive, you can explain to him that it was your fault for not doing what I told you to do.”

“One fuck and fifty grand, and you're out of my life forever?” Robbie asked.

“One fuck now, fifty grand tomorrow, and I’m gone,” Neil said. I heard a zipper and a condom package open, which really frustrated me, since I could tell that Neil wouldn’t settle for that. There was no way giving into his demands would cause him to go away. My ruminations about that were interrupted when I heard the door to the apartment open. I shit a brick, worried that whoever it was would find me in the closet.

“Oh yeah, Robbie, drill me with that dick. Oh god. You know just how to do that. You know just how to make me feel so good. I wish you'd let me make you feel good back.” I could have let that really bug me, but Neil was being so over the top with his dramatics it was all I could do not to laugh.

“You are making me feel good, so fucking good,” Robbie said. “Oh yeah, squeeze that ass, squeeze that ass.” I would have been pissed at that if I wasn't nervous about someone else being in the room, and if I didn't know Robbie well enough to know that he was faking it. I heard a few clicks, the noise of a camera.

“Oh yeah, Robbie, do that thing that I like. Blow your load all over me, mix it up with mine,” Neil said. More clicks.

“I'm gonna cum,” I heard Robbie say. I heard the condom snap off. “Ahh. Ahh.” He yelled, then he shot his load all over Neil’s torso. While Robbie was blowing his load and moaning, there were even more clicks. I saw Robbie milk the last bit of cum from his dick, and as he did, there were two more clicks. Then the mystery person opened the door and slipped out, slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Robbie asked, charging towards the door. He’d forgotten that his pants were down around his ankles, so he fell down. If the situation hadn’t sucked so bad, that would have been hilarious.

“Oh dear,” Neil said, faking concern. “That must have been someone taking pictures of us fucking.” His tone changed. “You didn't think you were that good did you?” I heard Robbie walk back into the room, away from me. “Those should be some good pictures. The price just went up to $75,000, or loverboy gets the pictures too.”

“You are scum,” Robbie said. “I can't believe I was ever with you. I can't believe I thought I loved you.”

“I know. Kinda insane, isn't it?” Neil said, sneering at him. “You meet me tomorrow with the cash or bad things happen to Bradley. And then, when he's finally released–if he's released–we'll show him the pictures and tell him it was all your idea.” He laughed. “Meet me at Les Invalides tomorrow, at the Tomb of Napoleon. 2pm.”

“You're an asshole,” Robbie said.

“And you're a pathetic piece of shit. You are such a fucking tool. It is so easy to fuck with your feeble mind; you’re not even a challenge,” Neil said cruelly. “Now get the fuck out of here!”

I heard footsteps, well, felt footsteps as Robbie stomped by and went out the door. I was trying to figure out how to get out of this closet when I heard Neil pick up the phone.

“Did you pick him up?” Neil asked, then waited for a minute. “What do you mean he wasn't there? What the fuck? Can't you fucking do anything right?” Another pause as he waited for the other guy to talk. “I got Robbie out of there, so he was all by himself. It was easy. Fuck!” That must have been Neil’s plan. He’d get Robbie out of the house to make sure I was alone, then one of his stooges would abduct me. Another pause. “You totally fucked this whole thing up. Robbie will tell Brad he's in trouble and then the jig will be up.” He sighed. “I don't know if the pictures are enough to squeeze the cash out of him. He might just confess, and that asshole would probably forgive him. Damn. If I could have gotten my hand up his ass, there is no way Brad would let Robbie off the hook. I would have owned his ass.” Another pause. “I'll get dressed and meet you at the Luxembourg. Give me 45.” Then he hung up the phone.

I heard him heading toward me and began to panic. I was an idiot for not guessing that he'd change clothes. I braced myself, waiting to pounce, and as soon as the closet door opened, I flew out and grabbed Neil, pushing him back into the bathroom. “Fuck!” he screamed. He slipped and fell, and it was one of the most satisfying things I’d seen when I watched his head cracking against the toilet.

“Asshole,” I said. He tried to get up, but I picked him up and threw him head first into the bathtub. His head cracked against the tile wall that time, and he fell into the bathtub. He tried to get up again, but I tossed him against the wall again. That time the impact knocked him out; He was passed out cold, lying at the bottom of the tub face down.

I grabbed a towel and put the plug into the tub, then turned on the water, making sure I didn’t leave any fingerprints. I made sure the water was nice and warm, and left it running. I walked out of the bathroom, took a deep breath, then calmly headed out of the apartment and down the stairs. Luck was with me in that there was no one in the building as I left. I hit the street and started walking fast, wondering if Neil's buddies were still looking for me. I waited until I was on the main drag and hailed a cab.