Ten Tremont - Chapter 15
In which Adrian and Marc entertain visitors.
After that debacle of a party across the way, Adrian and I checked out the loft and Brian’s activities even more often than usual. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much to see. Justin was in and out as usual, but we didn’t see Big Q Guy at all. (I know his name is Michael, but I got used to thinking of him as Big Q Guy, and it’s hard to shift gears.) Nor did we see any of his other friends: Mom and the baby, her partner, the big queenie guy, or the nerdy guy…the one Adrian is crushing on. Only Justin hung on, and me…I continued to feel that that his presence and Adrian’s continued stability were somehow linked. I know: superstition.
Despite how poorly Brian’s party turned out, it got me thinking: we should do some entertaining. Adrian has been here in Pittsburgh almost two years, and he still has very few friends. He has lunch every so often with people he met while working on commissions, there are a couple of guys he sees at the gym, and I guess he talks to the girl at the dry cleaner’s and the produce guy at the Whole Foods, but that’s it. Time to broaden his horizons.
The Monday after the party, while we were eating dinner, I said, “You know what I was thinking about?”
Adrian rolled his eyes and said what he always says, “Yes, and I didn’t do it.”
I smiled, like I always do, and said, “I was thinking we should go out for dinner with a couple of the people from the hospital. Have them in first for a drink and some hors d’oeuvres, then go out to a good restaurant for dinner.”
Adrian put down his fork. “What couple of people?”
“Well, more than a couple actually,” I replied, “I was thinking of Max Upshaw and his wife…you met them at the Department holiday party,” Adrian was nodding, “and I think you’d like Maryanne McDonald - she’s the administrator for General Surgery - and Alex Wilder. Alex is a shrink, but a nice guy…almost normal.” Max and Cathy are straight but gay-friendly, and I’m sure they can handle a dinner with three gay guys and a lesbian.”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “Could be fun, we could make our salmon bruchetta.”
“I was thinking of your blini’s with sour cream and caviar.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think the blini’s are a good idea. You can’t really make them ahead of time. I like the idea of caviar, but I’d rather make a good egg salad to serve with it and get a package of those little toast thingies.”
“Right. And how about that broccoli and cheddar dip with some really good chips?”
“The bruchetta, caviar and egg salad, and broccoli and cheddar dip with…what? Red wine?”
“And beer or martini’s, depending on what people want.”
“So… when do you want to do it?” He looked sincerely enthusiastic.
“Soon,” I told him. “Saturday?”
“Sure, or we could even plan for Friday night,” Adrian said, his voice a little hesitant.
One of our points of friction has been my tendency to plan activities that cut into Adrian’s workday. I guessed that Adrian was afraid he was setting a precedent when he volunteered to host a get-together on a Friday night. That meant it was going to be Adrian who ran the vacuum on Friday afternoon, Adrian who did most of the preparation, Adrian who made sure the beer was cold and that we had vermouth in the house. He must really be looking forward to entertaining, to make that offer.
“We’ll see what works for everybody. If it turns out Friday’s good, I’ll try to get home earlier than usual on Thursday so we can go shopping together. You know I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.”
In the event, everybody accepted, and Friday night was fine. The pre-party planning went smoothly - I was home before six on Thursday - and the only hitch was that Max Upshaw called me early Friday morning. He said he was in bed with a killer virus and that Kathy didn’t feel she knew us well enough to come by herself. I said all the appropriate things, then called Adrian and told him he could cut back on the nibblies and change the reservation at Papagano’s.
I’d asked everybody for 7:00. Alex and Maryanne arrived minutes apart at about a quarter past. After the obligatory tour of the apartment - the blinds on the window that over-looks the alley were carefully drawn - I poured drinks and we made ourselves comfortable. The conversation took off immediately. Maryanne is a gifted storyteller, with a sly wit, and she started the ball rolling with some stories about the more eccentric members of the Department of General Surgery…edited to protect the guilty, of course.
From there, the conversation segued naturally to characters in Pittsburgh’s queer community. I was looking for an opening where I could turn the topic naturally to Brian and Justin, when Alex brought Brian up with no prompting. “If I’m right, a guy who’s active…ahem!…very active in the club scene lives right in the building next to this one.”
I was about to say, “You mean Brian Kinney. We’ve noticed,” when Adrian caught my eye.
“No kidding,” he said, an apparently genuine look of curiosity on his face. “What’s he look like? Maybe we’ve met.”
“He’s tall, brown hair, great build…if you went to Babylon or Woody’s once in a while, you’d have definitely met him by now. Probably had a threesome already.” Alex was looking directly at Adrian now. “You’d love his loft. He’s got some great pieces.”
Adrian nodded. “I think I’ve seen him. Doesn’t he drive a Jeep?”
“That’s him. What did you think?” Alex smiled. With his shock of prematurely white hair above a smoothly tanned face, he is a very attractive guy.
“Hot. Definitely hot.” Adrian leaned toward Alex a little and asked, “How well do you know him?”
“Well enough to know that he has enough disorders to merit his own classification in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual.” Alex’ whole attention was on Adrian.
Something was definitely going on here. I got the feeling that our guest was coming on to my very attractive partner. I couldn’t decide whether I was amused or annoyed. I glanced at Maryanne, and she gave me a lifted eyebrow and a sly smile. I decided I was amused. I did feel the need to get back into the conversation, though.
I said, “I haven’t seen any signs of a significant disorder. I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but he’s always been in a suit that cost more than my entire wardrobe.” Which is not all that difficult to achieve, actually. “What’s he do? Lawyer?”
“Despite having some serious issues, he still manages to be one of the most well-adjusted and high-functioning bastards I’ve ever met. He’s an ad executive with one of the major firms here in Pittsburgh. His annual bonuses are probably more than I earn at Carnegie-Mellon in a year.”
I nodded. “That jibes with the times I’ve (officially!) seen him. He looked completely professional, which was why I was sort of surprised you said he was into the club scene.”
Adrian said, “The club scene is where those significant disorders manifest themselves, right?”
“Right.” Alex picked up another piece of salmon bruchetta. “Brian’s more than into clubbing. He rules. Fucks whomever he wants, once.”
Adrian looked skeptical. “What do you mean…once?”
“No repeats. Once he’s had you, he moves on. Seems to work for him.”
“Yeah, but too much of that life and the disorders you think you have under control can bite you in the ass,” Adrian said, lowering his voice.
Uh-oh. Thin ice. I spoke up quickly. “Not everybody he leaves behind is a happy camper. We had a kid, once, out on the street, yelling Brian’s name for half an hour.”
“What happened?”
Adrian answered. “Not much. Brian came out and talked to the kid for a couple of minutes, then the kid drove away.”
Alex gave a little smile. “And that was the end of that.”
Well, no.
There was a pause in the conversation, and then Maryanne said, “You know what’s funny? I’m invited to a baby shower later this month. This woman named Lindsay Peterson is giving it for a close friend of mine…Zoiee and her partner, Frannie…they’re having their first about six weeks from now. What’s funny is, I’m pretty sure I heard that Brian Kinney is the father of Lindsay’s baby.” She made a moue. “I don’t know Lindsay at all…I’ll be meeting her for the first time at the shower…and I never heard of Brian Kinney before I had lunch with my friend Dusty yesterday. Then tonight…here I am, having a drink with Kinney’s next-door-neighbors.”
“Isn’t that always the way? As soon as you hear about somebody, suddenly they’re everywhere you turn.” I stood up. “Ready for dinner?” We got ourselves organized and left for Papagano’s, and that was the end of any conversation about Brian Kinney.
It was pretty late when we got home, or at least pretty late for someone who got up at 5:15 a.m. I locked the door behind us, leaned against it, shut my eyes, and sighed.
Adrian ran curled his hand around the back of my head and kissed me softly. “Long day, sugar?” he asked.
I nodded and smiled. “But so worth it. I enjoyed myself.” I looked at him closely. “How about you?”
“I did, too. I liked them both. I hope we get together again.”
“We will, and I’ll reschedule Max and Kathy.”
Adrian laughed. “Reschedule? I love it when you talk anesthesia-talk. You know that makes me hot.”
I shook my head. “We’ll have to reschedule that for the morning. I’m dead on my feet.”
“Poor baby. Let’s just pull up the blinds, and then we’ll get you into bed.”
Of course, when we pulled up the blinds, we could see two naked bodies moving together on the chaise across the alley. Adrian pulled open a drawer and grabbed the binoculars. He adjusted them and watched.
Even without the binoculars, I had a pretty good view of what was going on. Justin was astride Brian as he lay on the chaise, riding him. He was moving slowly, licking and nipping along Brian’s chin and down his chest. Brian’s head was thrown back, and his hands were clutching Justin’s ass. Adrian passed me the glasses and I focused in on Brian’s hands. I could see that he was gripping Justin hard enough to indent the skin. There’ll be bruising tomorrow, I thought, and I could feel my body react.
I panned up to Brian’s face in time to see him open his eyes and look down on the blond head so busy at his tits. An expression flitted across his face that looked to me like more than lust, but it was gone before I could be sure.
Justin shifted his position, and I looked down Brian’s body again. The hand that had been bruising Justin’s ass had moved between their bodies and doubtless had a gentler grip elsewhere. Without taking my eyes off the action, I handed the binoculars back to Adrian who accepted them with a grunt. Justin was moving faster now, and Brian’s head was again thrown back. I gritted my teeth in sympathy, then Brian was arching up into Justin. Justin sat up a little and stopped moving, his mouth dropping open, and then I could see his hand drop below his waist to guide Brian.
“Jesus Christ,” Adrian hissed.
“I know,” I whispered and I dragged his head down to mine. He dropped the binoculars and covered my cock with his hand. I humped against him and shoved my tongue into his mouth.
He pulled away and growled, “I need somebody to ride me.” His face was stark with lust.
I unsnapped his jeans and shoved my hand down. Hot hot hot. I pushed his shirt up and nipped his tit. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and wrenched me around, heading me toward the bedroom. “Strip, damn it,” he said. “Get those fucking pants off.”
I stripped, my eyes on him. He pushed his pants down, and his cock sprang out, hard and ready. He pulled his shirt over his head, and I pushed him toward the bed. By the time I had the lube in my hand, he had thrown back the duvet and was lying down. I drizzled the lube over his dick, then lubed my fingers. I knelt over him and put two, then three, fingers up my ass, scissoring them. Adrian’s hands were on my thighs, warm, insistent, urging me down. I looked into his eyes as I grasped his dick, positioning it. “God,” I said, “I want you in me.” He moaned and arched as I slowly settled onto his dick, until finally he was in, in up to the hilt.
In this position, I had the control. I pinned his wrists to the bed, then I worked him hard, bringing him close, then backing off. I moved more strongly again, taking him as deeply as I could, while he arched up as much as he could. I was dripping on him, my penis so hard it hurt. I twisted my feet under his ass, to give him more leverage, let go of his wrists, and started pumping my dick. His hands flew to my hips and pushed down, and we both came.
Afterwards, collapsed on the bed next to him, I said, “Poor Maryanne. Poor Alex. No one to go home to for a hot fuck.”
Adrian mumbled, “And no highly functioning, fucked up neighbor either.”
We slept.
Hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into life at both Six and Ten Tremont. For now, at least, that's all, folks.
After that debacle of a party across the way, Adrian and I checked out the loft and Brian’s activities even more often than usual. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much to see. Justin was in and out as usual, but we didn’t see Big Q Guy at all. (I know his name is Michael, but I got used to thinking of him as Big Q Guy, and it’s hard to shift gears.) Nor did we see any of his other friends: Mom and the baby, her partner, the big queenie guy, or the nerdy guy…the one Adrian is crushing on. Only Justin hung on, and me…I continued to feel that that his presence and Adrian’s continued stability were somehow linked. I know: superstition.
Despite how poorly Brian’s party turned out, it got me thinking: we should do some entertaining. Adrian has been here in Pittsburgh almost two years, and he still has very few friends. He has lunch every so often with people he met while working on commissions, there are a couple of guys he sees at the gym, and I guess he talks to the girl at the dry cleaner’s and the produce guy at the Whole Foods, but that’s it. Time to broaden his horizons.
The Monday after the party, while we were eating dinner, I said, “You know what I was thinking about?”
Adrian rolled his eyes and said what he always says, “Yes, and I didn’t do it.”
I smiled, like I always do, and said, “I was thinking we should go out for dinner with a couple of the people from the hospital. Have them in first for a drink and some hors d’oeuvres, then go out to a good restaurant for dinner.”
Adrian put down his fork. “What couple of people?”
“Well, more than a couple actually,” I replied, “I was thinking of Max Upshaw and his wife…you met them at the Department holiday party,” Adrian was nodding, “and I think you’d like Maryanne McDonald - she’s the administrator for General Surgery - and Alex Wilder. Alex is a shrink, but a nice guy…almost normal.” Max and Cathy are straight but gay-friendly, and I’m sure they can handle a dinner with three gay guys and a lesbian.”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “Could be fun, we could make our salmon bruchetta.”
“I was thinking of your blini’s with sour cream and caviar.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think the blini’s are a good idea. You can’t really make them ahead of time. I like the idea of caviar, but I’d rather make a good egg salad to serve with it and get a package of those little toast thingies.”
“Right. And how about that broccoli and cheddar dip with some really good chips?”
“The bruchetta, caviar and egg salad, and broccoli and cheddar dip with…what? Red wine?”
“And beer or martini’s, depending on what people want.”
“So… when do you want to do it?” He looked sincerely enthusiastic.
“Soon,” I told him. “Saturday?”
“Sure, or we could even plan for Friday night,” Adrian said, his voice a little hesitant.
One of our points of friction has been my tendency to plan activities that cut into Adrian’s workday. I guessed that Adrian was afraid he was setting a precedent when he volunteered to host a get-together on a Friday night. That meant it was going to be Adrian who ran the vacuum on Friday afternoon, Adrian who did most of the preparation, Adrian who made sure the beer was cold and that we had vermouth in the house. He must really be looking forward to entertaining, to make that offer.
“We’ll see what works for everybody. If it turns out Friday’s good, I’ll try to get home earlier than usual on Thursday so we can go shopping together. You know I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.”
In the event, everybody accepted, and Friday night was fine. The pre-party planning went smoothly - I was home before six on Thursday - and the only hitch was that Max Upshaw called me early Friday morning. He said he was in bed with a killer virus and that Kathy didn’t feel she knew us well enough to come by herself. I said all the appropriate things, then called Adrian and told him he could cut back on the nibblies and change the reservation at Papagano’s.
I’d asked everybody for 7:00. Alex and Maryanne arrived minutes apart at about a quarter past. After the obligatory tour of the apartment - the blinds on the window that over-looks the alley were carefully drawn - I poured drinks and we made ourselves comfortable. The conversation took off immediately. Maryanne is a gifted storyteller, with a sly wit, and she started the ball rolling with some stories about the more eccentric members of the Department of General Surgery…edited to protect the guilty, of course.
From there, the conversation segued naturally to characters in Pittsburgh’s queer community. I was looking for an opening where I could turn the topic naturally to Brian and Justin, when Alex brought Brian up with no prompting. “If I’m right, a guy who’s active…ahem!…very active in the club scene lives right in the building next to this one.”
I was about to say, “You mean Brian Kinney. We’ve noticed,” when Adrian caught my eye.
“No kidding,” he said, an apparently genuine look of curiosity on his face. “What’s he look like? Maybe we’ve met.”
“He’s tall, brown hair, great build…if you went to Babylon or Woody’s once in a while, you’d have definitely met him by now. Probably had a threesome already.” Alex was looking directly at Adrian now. “You’d love his loft. He’s got some great pieces.”
Adrian nodded. “I think I’ve seen him. Doesn’t he drive a Jeep?”
“That’s him. What did you think?” Alex smiled. With his shock of prematurely white hair above a smoothly tanned face, he is a very attractive guy.
“Hot. Definitely hot.” Adrian leaned toward Alex a little and asked, “How well do you know him?”
“Well enough to know that he has enough disorders to merit his own classification in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual.” Alex’ whole attention was on Adrian.
Something was definitely going on here. I got the feeling that our guest was coming on to my very attractive partner. I couldn’t decide whether I was amused or annoyed. I glanced at Maryanne, and she gave me a lifted eyebrow and a sly smile. I decided I was amused. I did feel the need to get back into the conversation, though.
I said, “I haven’t seen any signs of a significant disorder. I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but he’s always been in a suit that cost more than my entire wardrobe.” Which is not all that difficult to achieve, actually. “What’s he do? Lawyer?”
“Despite having some serious issues, he still manages to be one of the most well-adjusted and high-functioning bastards I’ve ever met. He’s an ad executive with one of the major firms here in Pittsburgh. His annual bonuses are probably more than I earn at Carnegie-Mellon in a year.”
I nodded. “That jibes with the times I’ve (officially!) seen him. He looked completely professional, which was why I was sort of surprised you said he was into the club scene.”
Adrian said, “The club scene is where those significant disorders manifest themselves, right?”
“Right.” Alex picked up another piece of salmon bruchetta. “Brian’s more than into clubbing. He rules. Fucks whomever he wants, once.”
Adrian looked skeptical. “What do you mean…once?”
“No repeats. Once he’s had you, he moves on. Seems to work for him.”
“Yeah, but too much of that life and the disorders you think you have under control can bite you in the ass,” Adrian said, lowering his voice.
Uh-oh. Thin ice. I spoke up quickly. “Not everybody he leaves behind is a happy camper. We had a kid, once, out on the street, yelling Brian’s name for half an hour.”
“What happened?”
Adrian answered. “Not much. Brian came out and talked to the kid for a couple of minutes, then the kid drove away.”
Alex gave a little smile. “And that was the end of that.”
Well, no.
There was a pause in the conversation, and then Maryanne said, “You know what’s funny? I’m invited to a baby shower later this month. This woman named Lindsay Peterson is giving it for a close friend of mine…Zoiee and her partner, Frannie…they’re having their first about six weeks from now. What’s funny is, I’m pretty sure I heard that Brian Kinney is the father of Lindsay’s baby.” She made a moue. “I don’t know Lindsay at all…I’ll be meeting her for the first time at the shower…and I never heard of Brian Kinney before I had lunch with my friend Dusty yesterday. Then tonight…here I am, having a drink with Kinney’s next-door-neighbors.”
“Isn’t that always the way? As soon as you hear about somebody, suddenly they’re everywhere you turn.” I stood up. “Ready for dinner?” We got ourselves organized and left for Papagano’s, and that was the end of any conversation about Brian Kinney.
It was pretty late when we got home, or at least pretty late for someone who got up at 5:15 a.m. I locked the door behind us, leaned against it, shut my eyes, and sighed.
Adrian ran curled his hand around the back of my head and kissed me softly. “Long day, sugar?” he asked.
I nodded and smiled. “But so worth it. I enjoyed myself.” I looked at him closely. “How about you?”
“I did, too. I liked them both. I hope we get together again.”
“We will, and I’ll reschedule Max and Kathy.”
Adrian laughed. “Reschedule? I love it when you talk anesthesia-talk. You know that makes me hot.”
I shook my head. “We’ll have to reschedule that for the morning. I’m dead on my feet.”
“Poor baby. Let’s just pull up the blinds, and then we’ll get you into bed.”
Of course, when we pulled up the blinds, we could see two naked bodies moving together on the chaise across the alley. Adrian pulled open a drawer and grabbed the binoculars. He adjusted them and watched.
Even without the binoculars, I had a pretty good view of what was going on. Justin was astride Brian as he lay on the chaise, riding him. He was moving slowly, licking and nipping along Brian’s chin and down his chest. Brian’s head was thrown back, and his hands were clutching Justin’s ass. Adrian passed me the glasses and I focused in on Brian’s hands. I could see that he was gripping Justin hard enough to indent the skin. There’ll be bruising tomorrow, I thought, and I could feel my body react.
I panned up to Brian’s face in time to see him open his eyes and look down on the blond head so busy at his tits. An expression flitted across his face that looked to me like more than lust, but it was gone before I could be sure.
Justin shifted his position, and I looked down Brian’s body again. The hand that had been bruising Justin’s ass had moved between their bodies and doubtless had a gentler grip elsewhere. Without taking my eyes off the action, I handed the binoculars back to Adrian who accepted them with a grunt. Justin was moving faster now, and Brian’s head was again thrown back. I gritted my teeth in sympathy, then Brian was arching up into Justin. Justin sat up a little and stopped moving, his mouth dropping open, and then I could see his hand drop below his waist to guide Brian.
“Jesus Christ,” Adrian hissed.
“I know,” I whispered and I dragged his head down to mine. He dropped the binoculars and covered my cock with his hand. I humped against him and shoved my tongue into his mouth.
He pulled away and growled, “I need somebody to ride me.” His face was stark with lust.
I unsnapped his jeans and shoved my hand down. Hot hot hot. I pushed his shirt up and nipped his tit. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and wrenched me around, heading me toward the bedroom. “Strip, damn it,” he said. “Get those fucking pants off.”
I stripped, my eyes on him. He pushed his pants down, and his cock sprang out, hard and ready. He pulled his shirt over his head, and I pushed him toward the bed. By the time I had the lube in my hand, he had thrown back the duvet and was lying down. I drizzled the lube over his dick, then lubed my fingers. I knelt over him and put two, then three, fingers up my ass, scissoring them. Adrian’s hands were on my thighs, warm, insistent, urging me down. I looked into his eyes as I grasped his dick, positioning it. “God,” I said, “I want you in me.” He moaned and arched as I slowly settled onto his dick, until finally he was in, in up to the hilt.
In this position, I had the control. I pinned his wrists to the bed, then I worked him hard, bringing him close, then backing off. I moved more strongly again, taking him as deeply as I could, while he arched up as much as he could. I was dripping on him, my penis so hard it hurt. I twisted my feet under his ass, to give him more leverage, let go of his wrists, and started pumping my dick. His hands flew to my hips and pushed down, and we both came.
Afterwards, collapsed on the bed next to him, I said, “Poor Maryanne. Poor Alex. No one to go home to for a hot fuck.”
Adrian mumbled, “And no highly functioning, fucked up neighbor either.”
We slept.
Hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into life at both Six and Ten Tremont. For now, at least, that's all, folks.