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[personal profile] kachelofen

Summary: AU, set in S3. Brian and Justin have yet to meet. Brian is pretty much in the familiar situation, working for Vangard and Stockwell. Most canon events are the same up to that point, with the obvious exception of those involving Justin. One or two events in S3 may be a little out of sync. Also: some things about Justin may seem a bit strange. Just go with the flow for now. ;-)

Mainly Brian’s POV with the odd sprinkling of Justin.


A/N: I was trying out a new style and would class this as hokum. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always the story is already complete and comments of any kind are very welcome.

Also: there will be some credit given later on in the fic.







PARTNERS IN CRIME



PART ONE

The room is buzzing with quiet conversations. Occasionally someone laughs and it jars my nerves, which are already somewhat frayed. Here I am with a unique opportunity to network the most influential people in town, but boy! are they provincial and all the more pretentious for that. It should be no different from all the other potential clients I court on a daily basis – all I’m ever interested in is people’s money anyway – but somehow this is much harder. I’ve been schmoozing them for hours – although it feels more like days – and I can always pull it off, but why am I not more buzzed about this? This is just one step removed from achieving my life-long ambition. I shouldn’t hate it so much.

At the moment, I’m cursing all the way to the restroom, albeit only in my head and it doesn’t even have anything to do with the guests. I would have thought that at a five-star hotel and at five thousand dollars a ticket, they could afford to employ waiters who don’t drop canapés on my clothes. Luckily, there‘s just a small drop of mayonnaise on my shirt, but I don’t like the idea of smelling of egg for the rest of the night, so I’d better wash it out.

I weave my way through the crowd of overdressed idiots, smiling with fake sincerity at the people I know and suppress a groan when a look at the ornate wall clock makes me realize we’re only halfway through the evening. At least now there’s no need to go to Babylon afterwards because the waiter made it quite clear how much he’d like to compensate me for the mishap at his earliest opportunity. I’ve been so busy recently that any and all timesaving measures are welcome.

The whole evening would be so much more bearable if Vance hadn’t decided that Vangard needs to be represented by both partners at this fundraiser for his favorite client. Rather than rejoicing at the fact that he takes the most obnoxious people off my hands so I can concentrate on the really important ones, his inane side remarks for my ears only make me want to gouge my eyes out. How did I end up with this guy as a senior partner? Come back, Marty, all’s forgiven.

In a weird sense, Jim Stockwell isn’t just Vance’s favorite client. I can’t stand the smarmy guy or any of his cronies, but if I can get him elected through the campaign I’ve devised, Stockwell has promised Vangard his sponsor list. And I’m determined to become head of the New York office, which Vangard will be able to open if just half the people on that list decide to sign with us. Which, as a side effect, would also remove me from Vance’s scrutiny and his tedious chatter. Does that guy ever shut up?

The election campaign is going well. Stockwell, who was trailing behind, is rising steadily in the polls. There are still some weeks left to go and I have some brilliant ideas, so I’ve no doubt that we’ll succeed. I can’t wait. Never mind enjoying the fruits of success, I’m also looking forward to not having to deal with the pompous ass and his snobby assistants any longer.

Running a political campaign is very different from running an ordinary advertising campaign. There’s a lot more hand-holding involved because, from the self-important man at the top down to the tiniest cog in the party headquarter machine, everyone thinks that I've nothing better to do and no other clients to attend to. I’m expected to be available 24/7. Vance would be so much better suited to this kind of toadyism, but Stockwell is astute enough to realize that I’m the one giving him a shot at becoming mayor, not Vance. Which is good news in one way – the me-personally-reaping-the-rewards way – and bad news in another – mainly having to actually put up with these people.

I’m under no illusion that Stockwell and his team don’t despise me from the bottom of their little homophobic hearts, but they need me and they’ve finally come to realize it – after firing me for a mere two days when they found out I’m gay. I just hate the fact that I need them, too. But I finally have the chance to get out of Pittsburgh and I’m determined to seize it with both hands and consequences be damned. It’s business. I have no problem with that. My problem is more about how much I loathe these people. It’s very taxing.

The restroom is large, with a multitude of lights and mirrors. If it were possible, the diffuse lighting makes me look even hotter than normal. I take off my suit jacket and tie – both of them thankfully mayonnaise-free – and unbutton my shirt. The stain is small and could easily be covered by the tie. It’s the smell that bothers me more than the size. I don’t even like the stuff.

I inspect myself in the tinted mirror for a moment, then decide that it’ll be easier to limit the water stain if I take the shirt off altogether. There’s no one in the room and all the toilet cubicles are empty with the doors slightly ajar. But even if someone does turn up, another look at my chest – which bears witness to the hours I spend in the gym and on the tanning bed – confirms that I can expect admiration or envy rather than scorn even here at Breeder Central.

As if to test my theory, the door opens as I’m just wiping the stain – after dabbing some surprisingly pleasant smelling soap on it – with some tissue paper I’ve run under the hot water. In the mirror, I can see you stop in the doorway. You run your eyes over my body, then smirk and let the door fall shut.

I know that look. No straight man would ever linger that long on my naked skin, never mind smile that way to himself. I look you over. Nice expensive suit, worn with a comfortable air. Blond hair, slightly shaggy, just down to the collar of your pristine white shirt. A little on the short side but so are most people compared to me. Good body, well-proportioned and slim. Unfortunately your package is covered by the suit jacket, but I have no doubt I’ll get a better look soon enough.

We grin at each other in the mirror. Then you move closer and lean your hip against the sink next to me. “Have I come to the wrong type of establishment by mistake?” Your voice trembles with amusement. Your smile is broad and inviting, while your eyes are starting to show that expression of obvious lust that I always engender.

“No, but I think I may have.” I grin. “What is this? Bring your kid to the nice politician’s fundraiser day?”

Your broad smile never falters. “Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m twenty-three.”

“Really?” I dab my shirt with a dry paper towel and put it back on without buttoning it yet. Under the circumstances it would be a waste of time. Then I turn to face you properly. “So, you’re legal?” You look like a teenager, even though your suit and the fact that you’re at this very expensive event are enough to refute that impression.

“Very.” Blue eyes travel up and down my body and your tongue peeks out to wet full lips.

I usually like my tricks more muscular and a little taller – and looking their age – but I’m happy to make exceptions when the other guy’s this hot, in a twinkie kind of way, and so obviously willing. I run a finger down your chest to just below your navel and it makes you shiver a little. Then I pull you closer by placing my hand around the back of your neck and kiss you.

You obviously have some experience because you’re a great kisser. I don’t mind guys who aren’t but appreciate the ones who are. I walk backwards, pulling you by your tie until I hit one of the stalls. Getting caught at this by the kind of sponsors Stockwell attracts is really not such a good idea, so I drag you inside the cubicle and lock the door.

Then I forget all about where I am under the onslaught of eager hands and a very talented mouth. You linger at my nipples longer than I’m used to but under the circumstances I just lean back and enjoy it. Then you slowly run your tongue down my stomach and along the trail of hair leading to my cock. I’m fully hard before you even get there.

While a blowjob is always welcome, there are blowjobs and there are blowjobs. With my long experience I can tell very quickly when things aren’t likely to turn out great and I don’t really like to think about the fact that occasionally I actually get bored. Usually, I just pull the other guy to his feet and fuck him because that gives me more control over my own pleasure. But I have no intention of stopping this any time soon. This… is something else.

I groan when you pull your mouth off my dick and get up. But then we’re kissing again and you pull your pants down and pass me a condom and some lube. Okay, so some guys don’t like giving head when there’s no guarantee of a pay-off for themselves. I can relate to that, although I rarely suck cock nowadays, as I mainly fuck in the backroom. No way will I ever get on my knees for anyone.

I turn you around while I’m preparing myself. It’s hard to shift the feeling that I should prepare you very carefully but that’s just because you look so damned young, like a teenager almost. When I start pushing in, there’s a quick jerk of your hips, which makes me sink in almost to my balls. Nice. Guided by the little noises my fucking elicits from you, I find a rhythm and I’m struck by how well we fit together. That’s not always the case or even very often. Just the luck of the draw. Some fucks are better than others.

When I come, pressed against your back, one hand cramped around the top of the stall partition for leverage, I don’t even try to suppress my moan. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway, because you’re rather loud, too.

For long moments, we just stand close to each other, trying to level out our breathing, basking in the afterglow of our respective orgasms. Then I pull out gently and dispose of the condom in the toilet.

“That was great,” you say, leaning against the partition and watching me wipe myself with tissue paper, and sporting that broad smile that you have.

“Obviously,” I mutter in a bored voice, but in my head I have to admit that it’s true. Maybe it’s just the idea of doing it here, amidst these people who’d have an apoplectic fit if they knew. I grin at the thought of it but listen carefully for anybody in the restroom before I leave the stall. We’re still alone. Which is just as well, not just for the fact that getting caught would probably mean getting fired again but also because my suit jacket and tie are still hanging up next to the hand dryer.

By the time you come out of the stall after cleaning yourself up, I’m already adjusting my tie and checking that I’m generally presentable.

“I’m Justin, by the way.” You smile at me while washing your hands.

I stare at you in the mirror and finally smile sardonically. “Really? How nice for you.”

You don’t seem perturbed in any way, just nod. “Ah, you’re one of those. Fair enough.” You’re just finishing cleaning your hands and walk towards the door, still drying them with a paper towel. “Thanks for making my evening a little less tedious.”

“What do you mean, ‘a little’?” I ask in mock consternation.

You turn around and we grin at each other in genuine mirth. “All right. A lot less tedious. Later.” Neatly lobbing the balled-up paper towel into the trash, you slip out of the room.

I adjust my tie one last time and take a deep breath before I rejoin the freak show that is Jim Stockwell’s election fundraiser.




On Monday, Cynthia can barely suppress her anger when she informs me that Claudia Warner will be arriving at a quarter to nine. The woman doesn’t have an appointment, naturally, but being one of Stockwell’s campaign managers, she doesn’t need one. Luckily, I’ve come in early, as I have every day since Vangard has taken on Stockwell as a client. There’s always something or other that needs to be done for the campaign without delay or prior notice. I usually try to get my other work out of the way as much as I can beforehand.

“Do we have coffee?” I ask in a long-suffering voice.

Cynthia smiles a sympathetic smile. “I’ll get Tim to go to Starbucks. What do you want me to do about the witch?”

“Send her in when she arrives and postpone the finance meeting until she’s gone. Hopefully she won’t have hundreds of requests that I have to attend to before the meeting.”

“Yeah, like that’s likely,” Cynthia mutters darkly before leaving the room.

For twenty blissful minutes, I can concentrate on my other accounts without interruptions. I’m good at shutting out distractions and not worrying about things until it’s the proper time to worry about them. I’ll attend to Ms Warner when she arrives and to finances when the accountants sit in front of my desk. Until then, Potter Leisure Wear has my undivided attention.

I’m in luck that my coffee arrives with five minutes to spare and by that time I’ve already had a fruitful telephone conversation with Henry Potter. Since we’ve progressed to first name terms, I have to suppress the unfortunate urge to call the man ‘Harry’, like Cynthia is wont to do, although she’s too professional to do it to his face, even accidentally.

Ms Warner arrives with the usual flourish, meaning that all the advance warning I have is hearing her slightly nasal voice bidding Cynthia a curt good morning. I sigh and smile at the woman, when she invades my office, nodding to Cynthia, who only has time to follow her to my office door so she can shut it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I keep my annoyance and any sarcasm out of my voice as much as I can. It’s not easy.

“The fundraiser went well.”

Of course, it did – I helped organize it. Although with the people who attended, there was never any doubt that it would go well. Every single person there almost smelled of money and all of them were only too keen to give it to what they consider a worthy cause. And get a tax rebate in return, of course.

“In fact, we’ve been approached by a sponsor who’s willing to donate a rather large sum of money to the campaign.”

“Oh?” I’m not really very interested in the monetary aspect of the campaign, apart from the money Vangard will get paid at the end of it and my subsequent bonus. Nor does anybody in the Stockwell camp usually discuss this with me.

“We made a decision to accept the money and the condition attached to it.”

I immediately know without the shadow of a doubt that I won’t like this condition – at all. For a moment, I worry that they’ll take the PR aspect off me altogether, but in that case Ms Warner wouldn’t be paying me a personal visit. A simple phone call would terminate Vangard’s contract. No, this is a courtesy call to sweeten me up, probably forced on Ms Warner by Stockwell himself.

I lean back in my chair, cross my legs and look at her with a diffident smile. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“Our sponsor wishes to stay anonymous to the public eye, but I can tell you that it’s one Ethan Gold. He’s the son of Nathaniel Goldstein.” She looks at me expectantly with barely suppressed glee.

“I know who he is.” Billionaire recluse, philanthropist – I don’t feel the need to prove my knowledge to her. “Since when does he involve himself in politics?”

“He doesn’t. His son takes care of all his financial affairs, at least in public. Or rather, he has an agent who takes care of it. Mr. Gold is just the official face of it. All the contacts and all the work’s done by a Mr. Tramayne. He was the one at the fundraiser last night. And he’s the one who approached us.”

“Okay. So Nathanial Goldstein wants to give you a bunch of money. He sends his son to do it but sonnyboy’s too lazy to do it himself, so he sends an agent. Where does Vangard come in?”

“Mr. Tramayne owns a graphics design business. Mr. Gold wants us to use him for the campaign.”

I try to remain calm. So they’re firing me after all? Even Stockwell couldn’t be that stupid. “I understand that the donation will be very welcome, but what good will it do you if you lose the election because of it? You can’t win without me.”

“I beg to differ.”

I shrug and just look at her silently. I’ve been fired before and I try to calculate if there’s still enough time for the campaign to slump and for me to then get re-hired once more before the election. And crucially, will I be able to save them if they leave it too long?

But Ms Warner isn’t finished. “Unfortunately, Jim agrees with you. So he’d like you to just use this guy as your art department. You’ll retain full control over the work and you’ll get all the credit, except obviously for the actual artwork.”

“We don’t work with outsiders. I know our art department and what is more, they know me. They can transform my ideas. And Vangard only hires the best. I don’t even know if this Tramayne guy’s any good. What’s his company called?”

“Uhm… Tramaphics?”

“Never heard of them. Which isn’t a good sign.” That isn’t quite the truth. With Vangard having its own art department, I’ve never had any reason to look at graphic design companies. They could be very well-known and I wouldn’t necessarily know about them. But I really don’t want to share the credit with anyone.

“Well, this is what Jim wants. I’ve asked Mr. Tramayne to come in to see you this afternoon. I’m just here as a courtesy. And I can guarantee you that if you can’t work with him, you’ll be the one left out in the cold.”

“Wow. He must be donating quite a bundle if you’re willing to risk the election on it.”

“You’re overestimating your importance, Mr. Kinney.” She gets up and smoothes her skirt down. The only thing I like about her is her open animosity towards me. At least she’s honest, unlike most of the others in her camp, including Stockwell himself.

“Not if winning the election is of any importance to you,” I say with a false smile. What I would hate the most is for Stockwell to win the election without me. I don’t think it’s likely, but you can never overestimate the stupidity of the American voter. In fact, I’m relying heavily on it to succeed.

“We’ll win either way,” she says and gives me an equally false smile. “It’s your decision. Make this work or face the consequences. Good day, Mr. Kinney.”

I know that Stockwell wouldn’t be quite as happy as she would be if I quit, but the fact remains that without Stockwell, there’ll be no New York. I have to remind myself of that frequently when dealing with these people.

“Wow. That was quick and painless,” Cynthia quips, after Ms Warner has swept out of the office mere minutes after her arrival.

“Oh, it was very painful, believe me.” I fill her in on the newest developments and let her vent her anger as my proxy. It’s always fun to listen to her when she’s riled up. Then I ask her for another coffee and to call the finance meeting. Maybe work will distract me enough not to scream out my frustration. There’s got to be a better way to get to New York, but after having failed with Kennedy & Collins even hot on the heels of winning a Clio award, I really don’t know how.




After a two hour lunch, I arrive back at the office invigorated and mellow at the same time. Two fucks at the baths during my break have taken care of my frustration but also left me pleasantly tired. I needed the distraction after the morning I’ve had. My meeting with Ms Warner was followed by two hours sequestered with two accountants and Vance and another hour where Vance speculated how this new development with Stockwell would impact on Vangard, with very little input from me. We’re both aware that with the artwork being outsourced, our only claim to the eventual success will be the ideas behind the campaign. Good for me as the brains behind it, not so good for the agency as a whole.

As I walk past, I pick up the coffee which is waiting for me perched on the corner of Cynthia’s desk. “Any messages?” I half-expect Stockwell’s team to have come up with some new surprises while I’ve been away.

She nods towards the visitors’ chairs. “Mr. Tramayne’s arrived.”

I turn and nearly drop my coffee when I come face to face with you, grinning widely at me.

“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself, for a moment too surprised not to react. Then I chuckle. “You’re Tramayne?”

You get up and come closer. “I am indeed. Justin Tramayne. Nice to see you again, Mr. Kinney.”

Perceiving the situation perfectly, Cynthia rolls her eyes. I shake my head, still chuckling, and make an inviting gesture toward my office. Smiling broadly, you sashay past me, your perfect butt filling out your designer jeans nicely and I can’t help tilting my head a little, appreciating the view.

“Hold my calls as much as feasible.”

“Will do. Is he as good as he looks?” Cynthia’s lowered her voice to just above a whisper.

I shrug with feigned indifference. “He was adequate.” I never praise my tricks to anyone. It would give the impression that the quality of my sex life depends on how good the tricks are. It doesn’t. Whomever I’m with, always has a great fuck, and so do I.

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“Doubt it. If he wants to work with Stockwell, he’ll keep very quiet.”

When I enter the office, you’re standing in contemplation of the painting behind the desk.

“Have a seat, Mr. Tramayne.” I deposit my coffee on the desk, noticing for the first time that you’re holding a cup of your own, and sit down.

You do the same in the chair in front of my desk, slightly slumped and with your hands folded around your coffee on your stomach. “You’re not going to insist on calling me Mr. Tramayne after you had your dick up my ass, are you?”

I smile and concede the point. “So you found out my name after all.”

“I already knew it at the fundraiser. I make it my business to do my homework. You’re Brian Kinney, thirty-one, father of one, Vangard’s junior partner since last year. You’ve been working on the Stockwell campaign for around two months.”

I purse my lips, amused. “Should I get out a restraining order?”

“Hardly. I googled you, mostly. I knew I’d be working with you, so I found out what I could. Didn’t you do the same? Or did you only just find out that you’re working with me?” There’s a slight pause. “You do know that we’ll be working together, don’t you?”

I smile. “We will not be working together. You will be working for me.”

You nod once in an exaggerated fashion. “I see. I think I have to apologize for insisting on doing the artwork for the campaign. Ethan’s a good friend of mine and he’s doing me a favor. I’m just trying to make a name for myself. Tramaphics has only been in business for a year. But I can assure you, I’m up to the task.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I was on Saturday night, wasn’t I?” The broad smile reappears and I find myself smiling back almost against my will.

“I’m a little more discerning with my work, than I am with my tricks.”

You smile a little wider. “I find that it pays to be discerning in every aspect of your life.”

Your eyebrows come up, indicating that I fall into that category and I’m annoyed with myself for feeling flattered. Getting praise from my tricks is par for the course, pleasing but unimportant and ultimately no more than my due.

“Show me some of your stuff.” When you smile suggestively again, I glare at you. At this rate, we’ll never get any work done, especially since I can already feel my dick stir at the memory of the fundraiser. “Your graphics stuff.”

You have an extensive resume, a degree from Dartmouth and the Tramaphics website is impressive even by my standards. Although I’ve never heard of the obviously very small companies you’ve done work for, the work itself is outstanding and wide-ranging, including videos, animation and stills. You’re obviously very talented in more than one area.

You’re also indeed twenty-three years old, a fact I would be inclined to dispute even more in the bright light of the office. Your looks make me aware that I’ve passed thirty nearly two years ago, which I didn’t really need reminding of.

However, I’m pleased by your obvious deference to my expertise. You show your work with the air of a student trying to impress his teacher and glow with pride when I make some positive remarks. At no point do you suggest that you’d like some input into the work you’re expected to do, beyond artistic considerations. If you’re really as good as your samples suggest, this collaboration may actually work out because I’m not going to relinquish any aspect of my ideas but don’t really care who carries them out, as long as the execution is up to my standards.

I really hope that you’ll prove to be an asset because I find myself enjoying our conversation. It’s different from working with the in-house staff, who never lose sight of the fact that I have the power to supply them with a promotion or a pink slip according to their work. You’re just full of enthusiasm and admiration for my work, which you know rather well. I try not to be too flattered.

This is shaping up to be a pleasant surprise. We quickly establish a relationship of mentor and protégé and while you have your own ideas and question me when you disagree, in the long run you acquiesce to everything. I can work with that.

After three hours, Cynthia reminds me of the conference call I have scheduled in another fifteen minutes and you power down your laptop and store it in your messenger bag. “So you’ll contact me when you want me to start?”

“Yeah, we’ll probably get going next week. The campaign’s really heating up now.”

“Great. What do you do for fun around here?”

I can’t help but raise my eyebrows suggestively and you laugh. “Besides that.”

“There’s Woody’s on Liberty Avenue. Nice atmosphere and lots of willing men. Babylon’s the club to be. But there are others if your tastes are more specific, like Meathook and Boytoy. Stay away from Poppers.”

“Okay. Thanks. I might check some of those out. Later.” You raise your hand in goodbye and leave the room.

I like people who know when it’s time to go and don’t draw it out unnecessarily. Then I pull out the file to prepare for my conference. Ten minutes ought to do it. I push you from my mind.




Woody’s is exactly the same as it always is. I take a look around with studied nonchalance, marking two guys as ‘possible’ and then make my way over to the bar. Josh, the bartender, smiles invitingly and sets a bottle of beer on the counter for me without being asked. He’s obviously still hoping that I’ll fuck him one day, but the way I look at it, he’ll always be here, whereas some of the patrons may not. So, while I’m considering it, there’s always someone here who needs my attention more urgently. Still, a bit of mild flirting gets me preferential treatment.

When I turn around, my elbows on the counter to study the scene, I see a familiar yet somewhat unexpected face. You’re making your way from the door straight towards me, your trademark smile wide on your face.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you say happily.

“The ubiquitous Justin Tramayne,” I drawl, no longer as bored as I sound. There’s something about your bounciness that makes me want to smile whenever I see you. It amuses me and I wonder if there’s anything that could quash it. Although that would be a shame.

“Well, you said this is a good place to come.”

“Quite.” I raise my eyebrows once at the double entendre.

You chuckle. “Didn’t really mean it like that, but is it?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for.” I take another look around. “I can give you the low-down on most of these guys.”

“Really? Impressive.” You look around as well, then point to one of the tables, suggesting that it’ll be less conspicuous to talk about people away from the bar. I don’t mind. I’m waiting for Michael anyway, and you’re good company.

We spend a good half an hour and another bottle of beer on discussing the other patrons. You laugh heartily at my assessments of their performances and we naturally drift to sexual encounters in general – the amusing and the terrible.

“So, let’s narrow it down. Of the ones you recommended, which one have you done the most?”

“I don’t usually do repeats.” It’s just a habit. I don’t have a hard and fast rule about that. I’ve fucked some guys more than once although never more than twice and even that rarely. I usually get bored after the first time. There’s no challenge once I’ve had a guy.

“Oh. That’s disappointing.” You smile at me seductively.

I already feel my dick starting to pay attention at the thought of fucking you again. We will work together for another three months, so having you as a ready-made fuck source may come in handy with the workload I’m anticipating. On the other hand, it might lead to complications I’d much rather avoid, but either way, I can’t help teasing.

“Why? Were you hoping for an encore?”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Your smile widens. “But since I have to abide by your rules at work, I can do it outside the office as well.”

I watch you shift your attention to the guys around us and feel a small stab of consternation that you give up so easily. I’m not used to guys being more or less indifferent. Usually I have to fight them off. I’m brought out of my reverie, when Michael slips into the seat next to me.

“You’re late.” I kiss him on the lips, feeling cold skin. “Wow, you’re freezing. How long have you been out?”

“I was looking for Hunter for two hours. The little shit’s driving me nuts.”

“Well, if you insist on doing your charity bit, you’ll have to put up with standing at street corners at night. He is a hustler after all.” I’m still unclear what the attraction is in taking in a street kid. I suspect that Ben’s hankering after a child, especially now that Michael's going to have one of his own. But who knows what goes on in the professor’s mind? Mostly boring shit, no doubt.

Michael nods, eyeing you with suspicion. Then he looks back at me. “Listen, if you’re tricking anyway, I might as well go home. I want something to eat and most of all, I want to be warm.”

“Curling up with hubby under a blanket in front of the TV?” I sneer more sarcastically than intended. Ever since Michael moved in with Ben, things haven’t been the same. It’s worse than it was with David, because Ben suits Michael much better. And the fact that he doesn’t even try to compete with me for Michael's attention makes him very hard to beat.

Michael sighs.

“This is Justin,” I say to keep the peace. “He works with me. Justin, this is Michael.”

You give Michael a friendly smile as a hello and Michael returns it tiredly. But at least, he’s appeased and enters into a conversation with you when you start asking a lot of questions. Your talk soon turns to comic books and you’re enthusing about mangas and animes, which you claim as one of your interests. You say your ultimate goal is to be an animator. I’m surprised how much less geeky than Mikey you seem while professing the same interests.

I lose track of the conversation after a while – who or what the fuck is Square Enix anyway? – and amuse myself by appraising the two guys I marked as possible tricks. But I’m not interested enough to make a move or even just to encourage them to make their move. I return to my companions again and again, not really listening, just watching you and your habit of gesticulating when you get animated.

I still think that you look a lot younger than you are. Your blue eyes sparkle with enthusiasm or maybe it’s your slightly shaggy blond hair that gives the youthful impression. On the other hand, twenty-three isn’t too far removed from being teenager anyway. It’s only that I know that I was never that young. Never mind that I’ve always looked older than I was at that age, I’ve also never been that carefree. At no point in my life have I not been driven.

When you excuse yourself to go to the men’s room – for its intended purpose, I have no doubt – Michael turns to me. “Nice guy.”

“Yeah. Not all the people I work with are stuffy old geezers.”

“Don’t fuck him.”

I bark out a laugh. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t fuck him. I can see the way you look at him. Just remember Kip Thomas. And Justin’s a nice guy. He’s probably looking for a boyfriend. Just leave this one out, for both your sakes.”

“Don’t tell me who to fuck, Mikey. And anyway, I already had him.”

Michael groans. “When will you ever learn?”

I think that’s a little unfair under the circumstances and fill him in on what happened. Michael listens in silence.

“So when you fucked, he already knew who you are?”

“Looks like it.”

“Maybe I got him all wrong then. But still, it’ll only lead to trouble if you do it again. Be careful.”

I pull him closer and kiss his temple. “Awww, Mikey, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Yeah, you did.” Michael pushes me off with a friendly shove and gets up. “I have to go home. Early delivery tomorrow.”

“Right.” It’s always the same nowadays. Michael’s so wrapped up in work and his domestic situation that he rarely manages to spend much time with me. And with me being so busy myself, we’re mostly reduced to phone calls. “Say hello to the professor for me and the littlest hustler.”

“Yeah, if the little shit hasn’t sneaked out again.”

“You should really keep a better eye on Ben,” I quip, willfully misinterpreting his remark.

Michael laughs and kisses me goodbye. On the way to the door, he runs into you and exchanges a few remarks. It’s got to be the first time that Michael actually likes someone that I associate with. In the past, he’s always been either vitriolic or brooding. Ben is obviously a good influence on him. I try to ignore the little pang I feel at the lack of jealousy on Michael’s part this implies. That’s just stupid. Michael getting over his crush is a good thing. It is.

“Do you wanna go to Babylon?” I ask you when you return to the table. I need to let off steam.

“Sure, why not?”

In the old days, I only ever went to Babylon later on in the evening when it’s so busy I have to squeeze through the crowds. But those were the days before Michael decided to settle down and Ted had not yet reached incredible heights with his porn site, only to fall just as low not long after, when he got arrested. I still cringe when I think about Emmett’s diva-worthy appeal to my better nature and even more when I think about Ted’s thank you afterwards. At least, Emmett chose to embarrass me in private.

So nowadays Michael spends most evenings in domestic bliss and Emmett spends them giving support to an increasingly depressed and pathetic Ted. And I’m reduced to spending them on my own. Gone are leisurely games of pool at Woody’s or conversations at the diner before moving on to the main event of the evening. Now I occasionally find myself at Babylon with the early crowd of losers and trolls out of sheer boredom, but mostly I simply stay at the loft until it’s late enough to make an entrance.

Of course, with the other patrons being so pathetic, my entrance causes twice the stir it would later on. Or make that three times, because you manage to draw quite a few eyes all on your own. So tonight it’s all right. I can dance with you and not look like a loser and even when the better clientele arrives, we pretty much stick with each other.

You’re a good dancer and easily one of the best looking guys around. You’re not smoking hot like I am, of course, more like beautiful in a very traditional sense, which makes you hot in your own way. And you seem totally unaware of it. At least, you ignore the looks people are giving you for the most part. We end up touching from about the second or third song onwards, when you put your hands on my hips and I respond by resting my arms on your shoulders. It has the effect that nobody else approaches either one of us.

In between, we stand at the bar and critique the men, the drinks and the music. I realize that I missed this more than I’ve wanted to admit. Someone to talk to when I’m not dancing or fucking, someone to prowl with, someone who comments on what I’m doing. It’s fun.

As the evening wears on and we both get drunker – and hornier, as evidenced by our hard cocks rubbing against each other during our dancing – I begin to wonder when you’ll stop this and move on to what we’ve really come here for. I’m willing to wait and choose my own trick then, because I enjoy having company too much and I can always fuck later. I also want to see you in the backroom.

Finally, one of the guys around us makes his move. I remember him from some months ago and his blowjobs are quite something, although not quite on par with yours. The guy dances close to you, rubbing against you from behind despite my presence until you turn to look at him and give him a short smile. Then you turn back to me, pulling me closer and down a bit by my neck, so you can speak in my ear. “If you don’t want me, I’ll take this guy home with me.”

I’m a little perturbed by the idea that you’ll leave instead of going to the backroom as I expected you to do. But I’m also a little annoyed at the challenge. Why should I care if you take the guy home?

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” My voice and expression make it quite clear what I think of that idea.

“Brian.” You stroke the hair at the nape of my neck a little and I want to pull away but I also want to hear what you have to say. “I want to fuck. I want you to fuck me. Preferably all night. I want to feel your cock inside me and I want you to make me scream like I know you can. But if you don’t want to for whatever reason, I’ll take this guy. It’s not an ultimatum, it’s an offer. No strings attached.”

We both draw back a little so we can look at each other better and I can barely breathe, I’m so turned on. I frown a little and then you pull my head down one more time and kiss me. I can’t help but respond. You really are an amazing kisser. It seems to go on forever and by the time you let go of me and move away to turn to your trick, I’m nearly shaking with lust. I grab your shirt and yank you back against my chest.

“You’re coming home with me.”





PART TWO HERE: http://kachelofen.livejournal.com/25780.html




Date: 2013-05-30 10:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mander3-swish.livejournal.com
So this where you've been keeping yourself!
I'll have to read this on the weekend!

Date: 2013-05-31 11:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Hello there. Yeah, I haven't been around much. Hope, you're doing alright. :-)

Date: 2013-05-30 11:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] duffy-60.livejournal.com
Ah-ha!! A new fic. I knew you were missing for a reason!! :-)
Wonderful, fabulous, stupendous opening salvo, sweetie!! I am so now looking forward to "sometime at the weekend."

Edited Date: 2013-05-31 12:51 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-05-31 11:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thanks, Daphne. I'm hoping to able to put it up tomorrow. Pesky RL always getting in the way.

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Date: 2013-05-30 11:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 95baker.livejournal.com
Oh, Betty...I am beyond excited that you are posting a new story. Yay! How are you? I hope that life is treating you well. I noticed you were uploading new userpics and I thought....could it be a new story from you?

I am loving this so far. I like this Justin, bold and a bit mysterious. Not that Justin was never not bold, but this is a different bold. Maybe because he is meeting Brian at 23 instead of 17. And they are a little more on common ground or maybe even Justin has the upper hand. A little curious about Justin's friendship with the fiddler. Hmmm.....

I love Brian's thoughts. He really tries to be so uncomplicated and yet he has got to be one of the most complicated, complex characters. He treats everyone around him on a surface level yet a truly believe he is so much deeper in his true thoughts and feelings. So glad Justin is coming home with him!!!

I always look forward the weekend. But this weekend even more so.

Your writing always draws me in.

Hugs,
Kate

Date: 2013-05-31 11:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Hi Kate, I'm good. Hope everything's great with you.

Those userpics are really the bane of my life. I thought I was being sneaky and uploaded a bunch some weeks ago. But when I looked at them yesterday, I didn't like any of them that much, so I did a new batch. I don't know why I'm fussing so much, it's not as if anybody cares. :-D

Thank you for your lovely comment.

Hugs,
Betty
Edited Date: 2013-05-31 11:11 am (UTC)

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Date: 2013-05-31 12:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chadmom.livejournal.com
Ooh, I'm intrigued! Nice chapter! Can't wait for the next one!

Date: 2013-05-31 11:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest.

Date: 2013-05-31 01:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jg1225.livejournal.com
Excited to see something new, looking forward to the next part!

Date: 2013-05-31 11:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you. I'm hoping to have it up tomorrow.

Date: 2013-05-31 02:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rulisteningbj.livejournal.com
Oh girl, welcome back. Have missed you. But what a lovely present to open and read this evening. Very interesting, I am hooked. Looking forward to the weekend.

Dee Dee

Date: 2013-05-31 11:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Hi Dee Dee. I've been AWOL for a bit, but I hope this makes up for it. Thank you.

Betty

Date: 2013-05-31 02:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] armandyouidiot.livejournal.com
Always a delight to read something of yours! What an interesting point of view, like he's telling Justin. I enjoyed the way Justin cleared up the difference between an ultimatum and an offer, Rowrr!

Date: 2013-05-31 11:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
I was trying out this new style and it was fun to write. I'm hoping it doesn't distract too much from the story. Thank you for your comment.

Date: 2013-05-31 04:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cheburashka-2.livejournal.com
Loved the first chapter very much! Can't wait for the next one.

Cheers,
Vin

Date: 2013-05-31 11:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you for letting me know. It's nice to hear from you.
Betty

Date: 2013-05-31 05:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 6frog.livejournal.com
What a wonderful surprise, I so love your stories. I see I'm not the only one looking forward to the next chapter. I guess that for every comment at least a hundred people are silently enjoying, to my shame I seldom comment as I can't spend long at my desk so I copy them to my laptop and read in bed but I am one of your most ardent admirers.

Lots of thanks and love from 6frog

Date: 2013-05-31 11:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
I can't really complain because a) I hardly ever comment on anything and b) the comments I do get are incredibly nice. I think commenting in general is on the decline. We need a 'like' button on LJ.

Thank you for taking the time to let me know that you liked this. I'm very flattered by your comment. I hope you enjoy the other chapters as well and that they'll entertain you while you're not able to be active much.

Best wishes to you.
Love,
Betty

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From: [identity profile] pet0511.livejournal.com - Date: 2013-05-31 02:21 pm (UTC) - Expand

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Date: 2013-05-31 06:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] toto-too514.livejournal.com
SO excited whenever I see a new story from you... and this one is so wonderfully different. I just love Brian's play-by-play of the action, and the peek into his thought process.

Can't wait for more! =]

Date: 2013-05-31 11:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
It is a little different in style (although not much in content yet, I dare say). I'm glad you like it because I had my doubts about it. Although I did enjoy writing it.

Thank you.

Date: 2013-05-31 08:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] urugwaj.livejournal.com
I'm very, veeeeery curious about this story. I love your style of writing and I can not wait for this weekend :) I was relieved, too, that it is not a wip, ufff :)

Date: 2013-05-31 11:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Ah, I never start posting before the story is finished. The comments would influence my writing for one and secondly sometimes things get in the way and I'd hate to leave anyone hanging. There's altogether too many abandoned WIPs in this world already. :-)

Thank you for your lovely comment.

Date: 2013-05-31 11:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sjmpets.livejournal.com
I like this and how they meet, I'm just confused as to why not Taylor.
Justin certainly knows how to keep Brian interested. Brian is so fucked, and he's going to enjoy it. Justin and Ethan are only friends? No jealous chin rat? Good.

Date: 2013-05-31 02:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
We don't know much about Justin yet. There are obviously some differences from canon and all will be explained in the end. ;-)

And ah yes, Ethan, he should really come with a warning, shouldn't he? But as I'm not much for warnings anyway, I thought I could sneak him in without. It is S3 after all, so he was bound to creep up somehow.

Thank you.

Date: 2013-05-31 12:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rainbow1907.livejournal.com
Hi Betty, I hope you are doing great! Thanks for another wonderful story :) I'm going to read this one as it's posted and never again repeat my mistake of putting one of yours into my reading file until it's finished posting because my reading file is stuffed full to overflowing and getting fuller every day.
I love your POV, it's very unique and refreshing to read. Great to perceive everything through Brian's eyes, especially this very remarkable Justin you've created here. Huge warm hugs, Rena ♥

Edit for typo, sorry!
Edited Date: 2013-05-31 12:40 pm (UTC)

Date: 2013-05-31 01:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yumyumpm.livejournal.com
Got to admit, this is looking like another masterpiece. I can see the differences already. Justin Tramayne versus Justin Taylor and Mikey likes him. They're starting out on a more equal footing. I just hope that they end up sabotaging the campaign rather then getting him elected, but it's your call and I know the story will be just as interesting and enjoyable either way.

Date: 2013-05-31 04:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
There are significant differences, yes. Justin has a good handle on things so far. Although I have to admit that the Stockwell arc is not my favourite storyline, I somehow ended up writing about it. :-D I hope you'll like my spin on it in the end. Thank you for commenting.

Date: 2013-05-31 02:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pet0511.livejournal.com
Hey there. See, my problem is that sometimes, not always, I really honestly seriously have!!! to answer to a post. This idea of a like-button as possibility to answer to a story bugs me, I think I didn't tell you that before, did I? I can like a pizza or a cream but a story most likely either bores me (is an emotion) or annoys me (another emotion, and you know what happens then!!!) or thrills-and-kills me (and my emotions are exploding!) and how could a like button ever express what I really feel?
Philosophical brabbel over. It's the hormones today.

The story, this chap. I was happily surprised this morning to see that you've written a new BJ. I just finished reading it. I admit when I started I wasn't so "in" it like I normally am - my thoughts were running away to other things, I was "hibbelig", you know? After a few lines I was at the point to stop becauss my personal mood is never allowed to distroy an innocent story but then ...don't know but I forgot that I wanted to wait for another moment to read it and also forgot about every other thought I had had before and then...I was finished with the chap. I'm looking for the word, can't change to my dict, the iPad is in a mood, too - enraptured? Captured? Jeez, I was wowed, completely, let me say it so. This is a beautiful style. You always had your very own, and you know that I named it and loved it and I don't say this is better or worse in my taste, it's just different, and has its place too. The flow is slower, the insights we get from Brian, even for some smaller facts but esp. for his thoughts, feelings, wishes, this is incredibly exciting and interesting to bath in and imo you / he thinks like BK does in the show, would he care to express the thoughts there.

Then the way he adresses Justin - help me, what kind of style is that, this talking about another in the "you"- form? It's like you do by writing a letter, and omfg, me always being a sucker for this style, I can not express how much I love that.

As for the "you" aka Justin WTF (this is my only complain: I never have it with names but Justin Taylor is one exception and now you come up and give my Justin another name???? I know you will have a reason but hey, don't be mad if I name him Justin WTF, ok?): great describtion, likeable from A-Z, playing Brian masterlike and his lines near the end, the non-ultimatum? A killer for our poor Brian. I think it might be a very interesting story and I will have a lot of fun reading.

And hey, you don't have to answer this word diarrhea. Just say "OMG, it is ok!" and I'm good.

Thank you very much for sharing!!!!
Pet :-)

Date: 2013-05-31 05:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Lol. You seem to be having one of those days.

It is strange but just this morning I was thinking what this POV might actually be called. It’s not quite 1st person nor 2nd person, but there must be a name for it, because I certainly didn’t invent it. But I have no clue what the name might be. Where are all the linguists, when you need them? All I can say is that it was fun to write.

And I am so, so sorry that I lumbered you with another name to remember. Lol. Just think of him as Justin Taylor, his other name is not that important. It’s not as if the other characters refer to him by that name a lot. So Justin wtf is completely fine. :-)

This Justin is very different from S1 Justin in canon. I think of him more like late S3 Justin, self-assured and with a good grasp on how to handle Brian. I hope I have one or two surprises in store for you as well.

Thank you for your comment. I had to answer it, although I was sorely tempted to go with “OMG, it is ok!” ;-)
Betty


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Date: 2013-05-31 04:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yvonnereid.livejournal.com
I'm hooked already hon. I loved this first chapter alot ~ Yvonne xx

Date: 2013-05-31 05:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you, Yvonne, for letting me know that you like it.

Date: 2013-05-31 04:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] aveda-83.livejournal.com
I love this already! :)

Date: 2013-05-31 05:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you. More soon.

Date: 2013-05-31 07:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] missbecks1022.livejournal.com
Holy crap! I am so sucked in already! Please don't let Ethan take up more any more space in this story (I beg of you!). LOL. I sooooo love justin in this...especially those last few lines! He doesn't take any of Brian's B.S., just rolls with the punches! Love how you brought justin onto the scene, and I hope he and Michael will become friends. I can't wait to read more! Thanks for sharing it!

Date: 2013-05-31 09:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
A couple of mentions of Ethan already enough for you? Lol. Yeah, I usually feel the same. Sorry, he will be in it a bit more, but not too much, I hope. :-)

Thank you.

Date: 2013-05-31 07:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] love4movies.livejournal.com
Ah! This morning I saw your new user pic and dared to hope. YES!!! A new Kachelofen. This will wake me out of my QAF slumber for sure. But I'll have only time to read (and cherish) your new story this weekend. Will comment later.

Great to see you're back and hope all is well.

Hugs, B.

Date: 2013-05-31 09:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
QAF slumber? Love that. I feel the same way recently. :-(

It's nice of you to pop in. Hope you're well, too.

Hugs,
Betty

Date: 2013-05-31 09:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hopperl.livejournal.com
Okay at the risk of sounding like a crazy stalker. I squealed when I saw you uploaded a new user pic of Brian. Then I quick signed on this morning and sure enough a new fic from you was in my feed. :) Stupid work and RL kept me from reading till just now, but yay!!!!!! Loving every second of it. I love how Justin just makes Brian feel things and somehow connect with emotions. Not to mention how much he turns him on. Love, love, love. Can't wait for more. :)

Date: 2013-05-31 10:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
I've got to find a way to upload userpics without anybody noticing. Lol. Other than that: stalk away, my dear. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Thank you.

Date: 2013-06-01 06:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] itzy68.livejournal.com
Happy to see you back :) And I'm intrigued by this new story ;)

Date: 2013-06-01 07:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Thank you. And you don't have to wait for the next part either. I just put it up. :-)

Date: 2013-06-02 01:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zazuburgh.livejournal.com
Very different sense of place in this story, somehow a bit less airless, a little 'noir' in tone. It's all Brian so far; he has a long way to go and it feels as though it won't be an easy trip. Delicious start.

.. but why am I not more buzzed about this? This is just one step removed from achieving my life-long ambition. I shouldn’t hate it so much.

Ah, Brian has no understanding of himself really, that there are lines he will not be willing to cross to get where he thinks he wants to go. We see "Stockwell" and we know, but for him it's all still ambition.

No way will I ever get on my knees for anyone.

Famous last words?

And get a tax rebate in return, of course.

Leave the fine print to Melanie, Brian! No tax rebates nor tax deductions for contributions made directly to a political campaign in the US. The grasping rich muat play more devious games, and do so eagerly, of course.

I never praise my tricks to anyone. It would give the impression that the quality of my sex life depends on how good the tricks are. It doesn’t. Whomever I’m with, always has a great fuck, and so do I.
It’s only that I know that I was never that young. Never mind that I’ve always looked older than I was at that age, I’ve also never been that carefree. At no point in my life have I not been driven.


This is just sad; Brian seems deeply compartmentalized and tired and depressed. And vaguely aware of that.

Justin, on the other hand, is all sparkle and eagerness and youth in Brian's eyes. Naturally, we're all thinking that Justin is a bigger handful than Brian imagines, is more like canon Justin, and the ease with which he maneuvers Brian at Babylon lets us know we may be right.

And away we go. Thanks for this new story, Betty!




Date: 2013-06-02 12:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
Yes, it is a different tone, 'noir' is probably a good word for it. I see Brian not so much as depressed but as not challenged enough. He sees it as boredom, and thinks New York has all the answers. Only the way to get there is just a tad unpalatable even for him.

I should have put my usual 'I have no clue about anything and just make things up as I go along' warning up. I really know nothing about election campaigns, which is kind of embarrassing since it features so large in this fic. I fear it can only get worse. :-(

I agree that Justin's shiny-ness is a large part of his appeal for Brian here. (I always thought that on the show as well.) His life is a bit in the doldrums, so Justin is like a breath of fresh air.

Thank you for your lovely comment, insightful as always.

Betty

Date: 2013-06-11 01:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kissthestranger.livejournal.com
After spending most of my day studying Spanish Linguistic,(i have a very important exam next week) i told myself that i needed a break. Thank you because you gave me a very beautiful one. Lucky me you have already posted 7 chapters...
Oh and I really love your "you" form when you address Justin. It makes all very very intimate, even the "hello-fuck-nicetomeetyou" of the beginning.

Date: 2013-06-11 05:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
I'm always happy to help people procrastinate. Makes me feel better about my own. :-)

I'm thrilled to hear that you like the POV, since it was a bit of an experiment.

Thank you.

Date: 2013-06-19 01:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] snapegirlusa.livejournal.com
♥ HAPPY BIRTHDAY BETTY!! ♥

You started posting this amazing story on MY birthday, so I take it as a wonderful gift to me -- as I feel all of your writing is -- and in return, I can't wait to give you feedback on every chapter today for your birthday. I had to devour each chapter the second I saw you post it, but it was from my phone when I was 'out and about' so commenting was difficult.

Let me just start by saying that I loved this story, the unique writing style, and the controversial ending. All of it! You consistently find a creative perspective to spin your tales

I hope you have a wonderful birthday and a year filled with health and happiness.

All my best,
JoAnne :)


Date: 2013-06-20 10:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kachelofen.livejournal.com
That's quite a coincidence with our birthsdays, isn't it? If I ever write another fic, I must look out for that and time it like that again. Lol.

Thank you for your good wishes and also for complimenting the story. I wouldn't exactly call the ending controversial, just because some people didn't like but it's been an interesting experience. I'm glad you liked it.

Take care, JoAnne

Hugs,
Betty

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