Revisiting Brian, 2010- chapter 2
Thanks for the great response to the first entry! It really means a lot to me. It was so great to see all the old familiar names again. And some new ones! Here is entry number two. Icon by minion and picture by Heather. This entry is for ADULTS ONLY due to sexual content. Do not open it unless you are 21 or older.
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Revisiting Brian, Chapter 2
Between the sessions (continued)
Justin’s artistic soul appreciated the grace and beauty of the Mercedes Benz SLS AMG gull wing that Brian recently purchased. But his practical side winced at the nearly two hundred thousand dollar price tag the Germans slapped on this latest model. He knew Brian could afford it. He knew Brian loved boy toys and not just the hot young male variety. He also knew that, at forty, Brian needed to reaffirm his cool vibe with an automotive fix.
Justin admired the way the doors spread wings like a gull in flight to admit a passenger into its luxurious leather interior, although for someone as tall as Brian, it was impractical. Brian had the bumps to prove it. What Justin didn’t like was the attention the car drew, not all of it positive. Times were tough outside Brian Kinney Land, and the car was a tin bulls eye that Brian took with him wherever he drove. The best case scenario, it might arouse the scorn of the people who were barely getting by, and the worst case scenario was that he took the starring role for those looking for a rich mark.
“What was that we just ate?” Brian asked as he eased his expensive bulls eye into the highway traffic at a speed far lower than its 190 MPH maximum. Traffic was thick for the hour, and the little silver sports car was dwarfed by the trucks and suv’s being chauffeured by the less privileged. “It’s still sitting in my stomach like a bag of stones.”
The silver bullet weaved expertly in and out of traffic, searching for the fastest path. Justin smiled and spread his hand on Brian’s flat stomach. “You ate three helpings. That may be why it’s just sitting there.”
“That should tell you how hungry I was. At first I just wanted to identify the ingredients, it was almost a game for me, and then I ate a little more to be polite and finally I realized if I ate enough of the casserole I could refuse that disgusting chocolate thing he was serving for dessert without mortally wounding his ego.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Justin massaged his lover’s belly in a slow circular motion.
“It wasn’t even cooked. I watched you cut into it and wet chocolate ran all over your plate. It reminded me of something that happened to me after eating some street food in Mexico when I was a kid.”
“It was supposed to do that. It’s a molten cake or lava cake or whatever the fuck they call it.”
“Yeah, Michael made a volcano for a science fair project when we were in fifth grade, and it too spewed all over the table.” Brian glanced over at his passenger as Justin’s nimble fingers slipped to Brian’s belt and unfastened it. The button of his trousers came next and then the zipper was lowered. “Lose something?” Brian teased as Justin reached in and made contact with the forest before the tree.
“No, it’s here somewhere,” Justin smiled at the driver as he freed Brian’s thick cock from cover. Brian might be struggling with advancing age, but his cock remained true to the Peter Pan principle. It had not given in to forty, instead it sprang up as hard and fast as ever after Justin gave it a couple tugs. Brian shook his head.
“You know, we are so low in this car, and so many Americans drive those big ass suvs, so the chances that someone is going to get a free show as they…..oh….” he paused and exhaled slowly as he felt Justin’s mouth glide over the tip and down the stem, artfully using his tongue as he went. “Shit.” Brian took one hand off the wheel and buried it in Justin’s thick blond hair as he gave his hips a slight upward thrust to find the back of his lover’s throat with the head of his cock.
Justin knew just what to do. How fast and how wet and how deep and how long to draw it out and when to finish Brian off, which he did just as they entered the underground garage of their building. They owned the penthouse that took up two complete floors, both of which offered a staggering view of the city and of the Susquehanna River.
Justin ran the back of his hand over his lips as he gave Brian a triumphant smile. “Now that’s what I call an after dinner drink.”
“You sick twist,” Brian laughed and returned the works to cover as he parked in his assigned spot next to a private elevator that only the penthouse owner could operate. A key was required and he threw an arm over Justin’s shoulders as the doors closed and they glided silently towards the 29th floor.
All around them, on every wall, and even covering the ceiling and the doors, were mirrors. Despite the fact they had a comfortable bed waiting for them, a few seconds away, Brian stopped the elevator and pushed Justin’s back to the wall as he kissed him and thrust his hands under his shirt to feel his skin against his palms. Justin dropped his backpack next to Brian’s Ferragamo briefcase and tugged his lover’s jacket off his shoulders, dumping the impeccable tailoring onto the heap of discarded baggage.
They stripped to skin as they kissed each other with their usual ferocity, able to watch the complete coupling from the vantage point of the many mirrors. Even though they knew the elevator had a security camera, and the security guard was watching everything they did, neither of them cared. In fact, it added to the experience to know some straight guy was getting chub against his will, and they both knew he was.
Facing each other, Brian looped his arm under Justin’s thigh and held it against his hip so he could get good penetration. Justin threw his head back and looked up at the bird’s eye view from the ceiling mirrors, watching his lover grind into him with increasing rapidity. When it was over and Brian restarted the elevator, they didn’t even attempt to dress. The doors opened into the penthouse foyer and they dropped their clothes and bags on a low taupe leather couch. Tightly rolled leather pillows ran the length of the sofa and hooked up with a matching sectional, placed for the best view offered by the floor to ceiling windows beyond.
There was no need to discuss what would happen next. They went straight to the master bathroom, where there waited yet another panoramic view of the city. Justin filled up the free standing ceramic tub that resembled an oblong work of art while Brian fetched a silver box containing some serious chronic and the papers and matches to make it magic. Settled into the warm water of the tub, facing each other, smoking, their limbs intertwined, Brian asked,“You’re renting a house in Tuscany?” he referred to the rental agreement that had fallen out of Justin’s backpack at his office a few hours earlier.
“No, you are. I can’t afford to rent a house in Tuscany.”
“Why am I renting a house in Tuscany?”
“Because I can’t afford to do it myself.”
“Yes, I got that much. Continue.”
“I’ve asked you and begged you and pleaded with you and now I am just going, Brian. You always said you will, someday, take a house in Tuscany for a couple months of R and R. Then something gets in the way. You never do it. I need a change of scenery. I’m getting stale in my work. I want to spend some time on the land, in all that natural beauty, travel to Florence to see the wonders of the art world that are there, and just reconnect with art.”
“Who’s going with you?” Brian exhaled as he made the question sound casual.“That little hottie in New York? He’d probably like to spend a couple months in a house I’m paying for in Tuscany.”
Justin looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, J, I saw you kissing that kid goodbye when I showed up on your doorstep unexpectedly.”
“You mean Paul?”
“Paul, Trent, Quasimodo, I don’t know his fucking name! You tell me.”
Justin laughed. “Paul was just a trick, Brian. He works at a gallery where that displays some of my work. He sweeps up and serves champagne at the receptions. He is a zero on the Richter scale. Are you jealous?”
Brian scowled at the question. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, I’m not jealous.”
“I know you are,” Justin ran his toes up Brian’s inner thigh. “I love it how you act so nonchalant but you are transparent, Mr. Kinney.”
“Yeah, that seems to be true.”
“He was a one trick pony, Brian. God. But I am taking someone with me to Tuscany, at least for part of the time I plan to be there.”
Brian raised a brow, refusing to ask whom. Justin let him dangle, but then said, “I’ve asked Daphne to go.”
“And her husband? And her brat?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “She got divorced two years ago, remember? And her brat goes to boarding school in Connecticut. Daph is going through a hard time. While she gets enough child support and alimony to live well, if not lavishly, she really wants to contribute something, to do something, but she doesn’t know what. Her daughter is living elsewhere most of the year, and she feels adrift.”
“So you are taking your hag to Italy with you so she can find herself?”
“She’s my friend, Brian, not my hag. And yes, I am. I would rather have her company than be alone.”
His blue eyes sent ice spears into Brian’s gaze, but Brian refused to flinch. “Someone has to make the money so you can enjoy your sweet ass in Italy.”
Justin splashed him, causing him to re-light his joint. “I am not listening to that bullshit anymore, Brian. We’ve been together how long? It’s not ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ anymore. It’s ‘ours’. So don’t be a martyr to me about how you make the money and I spend it. I never criticize you when you do things like spend two hundred grand on a sports car, without talking to me first, so I don’t intend to let you play the money card on me when I want to spend some time in Tuscany, as I have been asking you to do for years.”
“Well, I have to work, Justin, if we want sports cars or villas in Italy. To date, your art sales do not pay the freight. And I’m not complaining about that fact. Your work is important to me and you know it. I don’t want to see you do anything else, because I think you are brilliant. Your income off your work has gone way up, but it doesn’t pay for all this,” he gestured to their gracious surroundings. “You never give me any credit for the fact I have built up a business that allows you to pursue the art that you love and still have a good life. You resent my working so hard but the fruits of that labor are sweet.”
Justin slipped out from under Brian’s leg and exited the tub, wrapping in a thick Egyptian cotton towel as he glared at his lover. “You have no balance, Brian. I am proud of your work, of your agency. I am proud of the fact you make so much money that you can afford all this and grateful that you genuinely support my work. But I would take a little less of ‘this’,” he mimicked Brian’s sweeping gesture, “In exchange for more time together. For doing some of the things we’ve wanted to do for so long before we are too fucking old to enjoy them! And for the record, it’s not a fucking villa, it’s a fucking house!”
Brian let him go and then slowly finished his joint, dried off, put on his robe, towel dried his hair and only then went into the bedroom, where Justin had climbed into the bed and was pretending to sleep. Brian looked at the slight lump he made under the charcoal silk duvet and shook his head. Justin was right. He knew he was right. He climbed in bed beside him, careful not to encroach on his lover’s space. Brian turned on his side, his back to Justin, his eyes still wide open, wondering why he couldn’t tell him he was right when he knew damned well that he was.
Doctor’s Notes: Session with Brian Kinney, August 20, 2010.
Doctor: You look a little ragged. Trouble sleeping or out celebrating?
Brian: Neither, just age.
Doctor: Then you aged more than expected in one week. What’s up, Brian?
Brian: Nothing.
Doctor: Don’t make me use my little doctor tricks to open you up, Brian. We’ve known each other far too long for games. What’s stressing you?
Brian: Justin.
Doctor: This other person in his life?
Brian: No, he tells me he was just a trick.
Doctor: Do you doubt him?
Brian: Not really.
Doctor: Then?
Brian: He’s going to spend a couple months in Tuscany. He rented a villa, that is, a “house”, over there. That is, I rented a house over there. My credit. I had to sign the lease.
Doctor: And you’re not invited?
Brian: I’m invited.
Doctor: So what’s the issue? It sounds heavenly. Late summer and early fall in Tuscany is a wonderful thing to do.
Brian: Crazy little thing called work, Doc.
Doctor: Really? When is the last time you had a vacation that lasted more than a long weekend?
Brian: We went on that cruise to the Caribbean on a private yacht a couple years ago.
Doctor: Wasn’t that a working vacation, since the yacht belonged to a principal client and you had your team there working on a new ad campaign?
Brian: It was still a vacation.
Doctor: Was it? How much down time did you have? When you got back, you were exhausted, and not from partying.
Brian: What’s your point, Lydia?
Doctor: My point is, are you resenting the fact you feel abandoned by Justin and his decision to take some time off in Tuscany or are you resenting the fact you won’t let yourself go?
Brian: Yes.
Doctor: Which?
Brian: Both.
Doctor: So go.
Brian: He’s taking his little fag hag, Daphne, with him. Daphne is the one who married well and then left her man to “find herself”, which she has yet to do. Maybe if she stopped looking at Saks, and Nordstroms, and Neiman Marcus, she might make some progress.
Doctor: Isn’t she his long standing best friend?
Brian: So?
Doctor: I find the term “fag hag” demeaning, don’t you?
Brian: Since when do I have to be politically correct in here?
Doctor: You don’t. But you are very angry, Brian, and I suspect irrationally so, and we need to take a look at why.
Brian: I just told you why. Are you listening?
Doctor: To every word. Are you?
Brian: Am I what?
Doctor: Listening to what you are saying?
Brian: That’s your job.
Doctor: Is this the way this session is going to go? Verbal combat?
Brian: I’ve had enough verbal combat to last me for a year. Before Justin left on Saturday, we were locked in verbal combat every fucking day.
Doctor: And now it is Thursday and he’s been gone a few days and you are still fuming.
Brian: Yeah, I guess I am. While he and Daphne are having pasta in the garden of their idyllic home in Tuscany, that I am paying for, I had dinner last night with some jackass micro brewer who wants to do targeted ad campaigns at Pennsylvania colleges. He asked me to get us a couple “escorts” at dinner, and by that I mean whores. I declined and he was none too happy with me, the fat fuck. He can go on the internet and order some working girl to his hotel room but I draw the line at procuring.
Doctor: Sounds like you need a break.
.
Brian: (glares) To where? Italy?
Doctor: Would that be so terrible? Brian, why do you resent that you are paying for this house?
Brian: I don’t give a shit about the money. It’s not that much money anyway.
Doctor: Then do you resent the fact that he has the freedom to do this?
Brian: No.
Doctor: Do you resent being left behind?
Brian: I told him I would go sometime, I just can’t go now.
Doctor: So he shouldn’t go either?
Brian: Why are you on his side?
Doctor: I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m just trying to break down the root of your anger.
Brian: (stands) Let me know how that comes out, Doc. I’ve had enough for the day.
Doctor: Your hour’s not up.
Brian: I’m calling it up. Have a nice day, Lydia. Later.
Doctor’s Notes:
Brian Kinney left the session early today, unwilling to delve into his anger issues over his partner’s taking an extended trip to Tuscany with a non-romantic friend. His concern is not motivated by finances, rather it involves Brian’s longstanding abandonment issues and his tendency to allow his work to subsume his personal life. He finds his work environment to be more easily controlled than his personal life, as he is the boss at his agency while his relationship involves another highly motivated and strong individual. Justin has shown he will not allow himself to be controlled, and that both attracts and repels Brian.
Brian has convinced himself he is irreplaceable at his agency and thus cannot be gone for more than a few days at a time lest disaster strike. In fact it is his own insecurity about being out of touch with current trends due to his age and feeling out of touch with the youth dynamic and present technology that is driving this behavior. He doesn’t want to relinquish any control at work that might show his associates they can carry on without his oversight. As a result, he wants to be free to go to Italy with his partner, but he can’t relinquish the control necessary to do so.
This frustration is setting up a perfect storm for him to fall back into destructive habits in order to restore internal calm and reassurance. Unfortunately, it would have the opposite effect. I don’t fault Justin for taking this trip, he should not be forced to subjugate his own desire to have this time in Tuscany because of Brian’s issues. Never the less, by going he may have lit an untimely fuse.
I will have my assistant call Brian tomorrow to make a follow up appointment and his willingness or lack of willingness to meet with me will be a good indicator of how deep this irrational anger has gone.
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Revisiting Brian, Chapter 2
Between the sessions (continued)
Justin’s artistic soul appreciated the grace and beauty of the Mercedes Benz SLS AMG gull wing that Brian recently purchased. But his practical side winced at the nearly two hundred thousand dollar price tag the Germans slapped on this latest model. He knew Brian could afford it. He knew Brian loved boy toys and not just the hot young male variety. He also knew that, at forty, Brian needed to reaffirm his cool vibe with an automotive fix.
Justin admired the way the doors spread wings like a gull in flight to admit a passenger into its luxurious leather interior, although for someone as tall as Brian, it was impractical. Brian had the bumps to prove it. What Justin didn’t like was the attention the car drew, not all of it positive. Times were tough outside Brian Kinney Land, and the car was a tin bulls eye that Brian took with him wherever he drove. The best case scenario, it might arouse the scorn of the people who were barely getting by, and the worst case scenario was that he took the starring role for those looking for a rich mark.
“What was that we just ate?” Brian asked as he eased his expensive bulls eye into the highway traffic at a speed far lower than its 190 MPH maximum. Traffic was thick for the hour, and the little silver sports car was dwarfed by the trucks and suv’s being chauffeured by the less privileged. “It’s still sitting in my stomach like a bag of stones.”
The silver bullet weaved expertly in and out of traffic, searching for the fastest path. Justin smiled and spread his hand on Brian’s flat stomach. “You ate three helpings. That may be why it’s just sitting there.”
“That should tell you how hungry I was. At first I just wanted to identify the ingredients, it was almost a game for me, and then I ate a little more to be polite and finally I realized if I ate enough of the casserole I could refuse that disgusting chocolate thing he was serving for dessert without mortally wounding his ego.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Justin massaged his lover’s belly in a slow circular motion.
“It wasn’t even cooked. I watched you cut into it and wet chocolate ran all over your plate. It reminded me of something that happened to me after eating some street food in Mexico when I was a kid.”
“It was supposed to do that. It’s a molten cake or lava cake or whatever the fuck they call it.”
“Yeah, Michael made a volcano for a science fair project when we were in fifth grade, and it too spewed all over the table.” Brian glanced over at his passenger as Justin’s nimble fingers slipped to Brian’s belt and unfastened it. The button of his trousers came next and then the zipper was lowered. “Lose something?” Brian teased as Justin reached in and made contact with the forest before the tree.
“No, it’s here somewhere,” Justin smiled at the driver as he freed Brian’s thick cock from cover. Brian might be struggling with advancing age, but his cock remained true to the Peter Pan principle. It had not given in to forty, instead it sprang up as hard and fast as ever after Justin gave it a couple tugs. Brian shook his head.
“You know, we are so low in this car, and so many Americans drive those big ass suvs, so the chances that someone is going to get a free show as they…..oh….” he paused and exhaled slowly as he felt Justin’s mouth glide over the tip and down the stem, artfully using his tongue as he went. “Shit.” Brian took one hand off the wheel and buried it in Justin’s thick blond hair as he gave his hips a slight upward thrust to find the back of his lover’s throat with the head of his cock.
Justin knew just what to do. How fast and how wet and how deep and how long to draw it out and when to finish Brian off, which he did just as they entered the underground garage of their building. They owned the penthouse that took up two complete floors, both of which offered a staggering view of the city and of the Susquehanna River.
Justin ran the back of his hand over his lips as he gave Brian a triumphant smile. “Now that’s what I call an after dinner drink.”
“You sick twist,” Brian laughed and returned the works to cover as he parked in his assigned spot next to a private elevator that only the penthouse owner could operate. A key was required and he threw an arm over Justin’s shoulders as the doors closed and they glided silently towards the 29th floor.
All around them, on every wall, and even covering the ceiling and the doors, were mirrors. Despite the fact they had a comfortable bed waiting for them, a few seconds away, Brian stopped the elevator and pushed Justin’s back to the wall as he kissed him and thrust his hands under his shirt to feel his skin against his palms. Justin dropped his backpack next to Brian’s Ferragamo briefcase and tugged his lover’s jacket off his shoulders, dumping the impeccable tailoring onto the heap of discarded baggage.
They stripped to skin as they kissed each other with their usual ferocity, able to watch the complete coupling from the vantage point of the many mirrors. Even though they knew the elevator had a security camera, and the security guard was watching everything they did, neither of them cared. In fact, it added to the experience to know some straight guy was getting chub against his will, and they both knew he was.
Facing each other, Brian looped his arm under Justin’s thigh and held it against his hip so he could get good penetration. Justin threw his head back and looked up at the bird’s eye view from the ceiling mirrors, watching his lover grind into him with increasing rapidity. When it was over and Brian restarted the elevator, they didn’t even attempt to dress. The doors opened into the penthouse foyer and they dropped their clothes and bags on a low taupe leather couch. Tightly rolled leather pillows ran the length of the sofa and hooked up with a matching sectional, placed for the best view offered by the floor to ceiling windows beyond.
There was no need to discuss what would happen next. They went straight to the master bathroom, where there waited yet another panoramic view of the city. Justin filled up the free standing ceramic tub that resembled an oblong work of art while Brian fetched a silver box containing some serious chronic and the papers and matches to make it magic. Settled into the warm water of the tub, facing each other, smoking, their limbs intertwined, Brian asked,“You’re renting a house in Tuscany?” he referred to the rental agreement that had fallen out of Justin’s backpack at his office a few hours earlier.
“No, you are. I can’t afford to rent a house in Tuscany.”
“Why am I renting a house in Tuscany?”
“Because I can’t afford to do it myself.”
“Yes, I got that much. Continue.”
“I’ve asked you and begged you and pleaded with you and now I am just going, Brian. You always said you will, someday, take a house in Tuscany for a couple months of R and R. Then something gets in the way. You never do it. I need a change of scenery. I’m getting stale in my work. I want to spend some time on the land, in all that natural beauty, travel to Florence to see the wonders of the art world that are there, and just reconnect with art.”
“Who’s going with you?” Brian exhaled as he made the question sound casual.“That little hottie in New York? He’d probably like to spend a couple months in a house I’m paying for in Tuscany.”
Justin looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, J, I saw you kissing that kid goodbye when I showed up on your doorstep unexpectedly.”
“You mean Paul?”
“Paul, Trent, Quasimodo, I don’t know his fucking name! You tell me.”
Justin laughed. “Paul was just a trick, Brian. He works at a gallery where that displays some of my work. He sweeps up and serves champagne at the receptions. He is a zero on the Richter scale. Are you jealous?”
Brian scowled at the question. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, I’m not jealous.”
“I know you are,” Justin ran his toes up Brian’s inner thigh. “I love it how you act so nonchalant but you are transparent, Mr. Kinney.”
“Yeah, that seems to be true.”
“He was a one trick pony, Brian. God. But I am taking someone with me to Tuscany, at least for part of the time I plan to be there.”
Brian raised a brow, refusing to ask whom. Justin let him dangle, but then said, “I’ve asked Daphne to go.”
“And her husband? And her brat?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “She got divorced two years ago, remember? And her brat goes to boarding school in Connecticut. Daph is going through a hard time. While she gets enough child support and alimony to live well, if not lavishly, she really wants to contribute something, to do something, but she doesn’t know what. Her daughter is living elsewhere most of the year, and she feels adrift.”
“So you are taking your hag to Italy with you so she can find herself?”
“She’s my friend, Brian, not my hag. And yes, I am. I would rather have her company than be alone.”
His blue eyes sent ice spears into Brian’s gaze, but Brian refused to flinch. “Someone has to make the money so you can enjoy your sweet ass in Italy.”
Justin splashed him, causing him to re-light his joint. “I am not listening to that bullshit anymore, Brian. We’ve been together how long? It’s not ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ anymore. It’s ‘ours’. So don’t be a martyr to me about how you make the money and I spend it. I never criticize you when you do things like spend two hundred grand on a sports car, without talking to me first, so I don’t intend to let you play the money card on me when I want to spend some time in Tuscany, as I have been asking you to do for years.”
“Well, I have to work, Justin, if we want sports cars or villas in Italy. To date, your art sales do not pay the freight. And I’m not complaining about that fact. Your work is important to me and you know it. I don’t want to see you do anything else, because I think you are brilliant. Your income off your work has gone way up, but it doesn’t pay for all this,” he gestured to their gracious surroundings. “You never give me any credit for the fact I have built up a business that allows you to pursue the art that you love and still have a good life. You resent my working so hard but the fruits of that labor are sweet.”
Justin slipped out from under Brian’s leg and exited the tub, wrapping in a thick Egyptian cotton towel as he glared at his lover. “You have no balance, Brian. I am proud of your work, of your agency. I am proud of the fact you make so much money that you can afford all this and grateful that you genuinely support my work. But I would take a little less of ‘this’,” he mimicked Brian’s sweeping gesture, “In exchange for more time together. For doing some of the things we’ve wanted to do for so long before we are too fucking old to enjoy them! And for the record, it’s not a fucking villa, it’s a fucking house!”
Brian let him go and then slowly finished his joint, dried off, put on his robe, towel dried his hair and only then went into the bedroom, where Justin had climbed into the bed and was pretending to sleep. Brian looked at the slight lump he made under the charcoal silk duvet and shook his head. Justin was right. He knew he was right. He climbed in bed beside him, careful not to encroach on his lover’s space. Brian turned on his side, his back to Justin, his eyes still wide open, wondering why he couldn’t tell him he was right when he knew damned well that he was.
Doctor’s Notes: Session with Brian Kinney, August 20, 2010.
Doctor: You look a little ragged. Trouble sleeping or out celebrating?
Brian: Neither, just age.
Doctor: Then you aged more than expected in one week. What’s up, Brian?
Brian: Nothing.
Doctor: Don’t make me use my little doctor tricks to open you up, Brian. We’ve known each other far too long for games. What’s stressing you?
Brian: Justin.
Doctor: This other person in his life?
Brian: No, he tells me he was just a trick.
Doctor: Do you doubt him?
Brian: Not really.
Doctor: Then?
Brian: He’s going to spend a couple months in Tuscany. He rented a villa, that is, a “house”, over there. That is, I rented a house over there. My credit. I had to sign the lease.
Doctor: And you’re not invited?
Brian: I’m invited.
Doctor: So what’s the issue? It sounds heavenly. Late summer and early fall in Tuscany is a wonderful thing to do.
Brian: Crazy little thing called work, Doc.
Doctor: Really? When is the last time you had a vacation that lasted more than a long weekend?
Brian: We went on that cruise to the Caribbean on a private yacht a couple years ago.
Doctor: Wasn’t that a working vacation, since the yacht belonged to a principal client and you had your team there working on a new ad campaign?
Brian: It was still a vacation.
Doctor: Was it? How much down time did you have? When you got back, you were exhausted, and not from partying.
Brian: What’s your point, Lydia?
Doctor: My point is, are you resenting the fact you feel abandoned by Justin and his decision to take some time off in Tuscany or are you resenting the fact you won’t let yourself go?
Brian: Yes.
Doctor: Which?
Brian: Both.
Doctor: So go.
Brian: He’s taking his little fag hag, Daphne, with him. Daphne is the one who married well and then left her man to “find herself”, which she has yet to do. Maybe if she stopped looking at Saks, and Nordstroms, and Neiman Marcus, she might make some progress.
Doctor: Isn’t she his long standing best friend?
Brian: So?
Doctor: I find the term “fag hag” demeaning, don’t you?
Brian: Since when do I have to be politically correct in here?
Doctor: You don’t. But you are very angry, Brian, and I suspect irrationally so, and we need to take a look at why.
Brian: I just told you why. Are you listening?
Doctor: To every word. Are you?
Brian: Am I what?
Doctor: Listening to what you are saying?
Brian: That’s your job.
Doctor: Is this the way this session is going to go? Verbal combat?
Brian: I’ve had enough verbal combat to last me for a year. Before Justin left on Saturday, we were locked in verbal combat every fucking day.
Doctor: And now it is Thursday and he’s been gone a few days and you are still fuming.
Brian: Yeah, I guess I am. While he and Daphne are having pasta in the garden of their idyllic home in Tuscany, that I am paying for, I had dinner last night with some jackass micro brewer who wants to do targeted ad campaigns at Pennsylvania colleges. He asked me to get us a couple “escorts” at dinner, and by that I mean whores. I declined and he was none too happy with me, the fat fuck. He can go on the internet and order some working girl to his hotel room but I draw the line at procuring.
Doctor: Sounds like you need a break.
.
Brian: (glares) To where? Italy?
Doctor: Would that be so terrible? Brian, why do you resent that you are paying for this house?
Brian: I don’t give a shit about the money. It’s not that much money anyway.
Doctor: Then do you resent the fact that he has the freedom to do this?
Brian: No.
Doctor: Do you resent being left behind?
Brian: I told him I would go sometime, I just can’t go now.
Doctor: So he shouldn’t go either?
Brian: Why are you on his side?
Doctor: I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m just trying to break down the root of your anger.
Brian: (stands) Let me know how that comes out, Doc. I’ve had enough for the day.
Doctor: Your hour’s not up.
Brian: I’m calling it up. Have a nice day, Lydia. Later.
Doctor’s Notes:
Brian Kinney left the session early today, unwilling to delve into his anger issues over his partner’s taking an extended trip to Tuscany with a non-romantic friend. His concern is not motivated by finances, rather it involves Brian’s longstanding abandonment issues and his tendency to allow his work to subsume his personal life. He finds his work environment to be more easily controlled than his personal life, as he is the boss at his agency while his relationship involves another highly motivated and strong individual. Justin has shown he will not allow himself to be controlled, and that both attracts and repels Brian.
Brian has convinced himself he is irreplaceable at his agency and thus cannot be gone for more than a few days at a time lest disaster strike. In fact it is his own insecurity about being out of touch with current trends due to his age and feeling out of touch with the youth dynamic and present technology that is driving this behavior. He doesn’t want to relinquish any control at work that might show his associates they can carry on without his oversight. As a result, he wants to be free to go to Italy with his partner, but he can’t relinquish the control necessary to do so.
This frustration is setting up a perfect storm for him to fall back into destructive habits in order to restore internal calm and reassurance. Unfortunately, it would have the opposite effect. I don’t fault Justin for taking this trip, he should not be forced to subjugate his own desire to have this time in Tuscany because of Brian’s issues. Never the less, by going he may have lit an untimely fuse.
I will have my assistant call Brian tomorrow to make a follow up appointment and his willingness or lack of willingness to meet with me will be a good indicator of how deep this irrational anger has gone.