Ten Tremont - Chapter 10
In which Marc celebrates his birthday....




I don’t know how he continues to do it, but he has succeeded once again.

Today is my birthday and, as usual, Adrian couldn’t wait to give me my gift so I got it last night. Also, as usual, it was something he secretly wanted for himself, and, as usual, I really don’t care.

I believe that after age twelve or so, birthdays aren’t a big deal. I’ve been blessed. Being the only child in a relatively affluent family, my parents went all out each year to celebrate my special day. There was always an extravagant party of some sort or other and, of course, presents. Lots and lots of presents.

By the time I was a teenager, quantity was replaced with quality. We lived on a picturesque, upstate New York lake that afforded us plenty of year round recreation. My thirteenth birthday produced a snowmobile; my fourteenth, a jet ski; my fifteenth, the ski boat to go with it; and my sixteenth brought me the obligatory automobile.

In stark contrast to that, Adrian honestly could not remember a specific birthday gift from his youth. It’s not that he didn’t get any, they just weren’t memorable. His mom always made a special meal and baked a homemade cake that they shared with a couple of gallons of ice cream. With nine members in a family living on one modest income, that alone was something to celebrate. He says there were gifts, too, but they usually consisted of necessary things. A new pair of jeans, socks and underwear, maybe a CD or new sneakers, and that was about it. He knew he was loved and never felt deprived, that’s just the way it was.

Once he moved out to go to college, birthday gifts consisted of a card from his parents with a twenty-dollar bill tucked in. Since he was funding his own way through school with work-study, financial aid, waiting tables at a local pizzeria, and loans, $20 was sincerely appreciated. He told me all this in a casual discussion we had on one of our early dates and, as you can imagine, the wheels in my head started turning. I knew that I wanted this guy to stick around and while his birthday was still a good four months away, I was bound and determined to make it one he would always remember.

I do believe I succeeded, but not in the way I had hoped, at least not initially. We weren’t living together at the time, but I saw to it that the presents started arriving at least a week in advance. I think I sent a plant to his office the first day, followed by show tickets, a large gift basket, several bottles of expensive wine, his favorite cologne, and a cashmere sweater. On his actual birthday I secretly arranged for a limousine to pick him up from work and deliver him to Barron’s. At the time it was one of New York’s premier restaurants; very over the top and reeking of testosterone. There, at a secluded corner table, looking out over Manhattan I presented him with a handsome Cartier watch and witnessed Adrian cry for the first and only time in the nearly four years that we have been together.

He opened the fucking box and stared at the watch for a moment. Then I saw a tear roll down one of his cheeks. Next thing I knew he snapped the box shut, whispered a quick ‘thank you,’ and headed to the restroom. I sat there dumbfounded. Ten minutes later, when he was still in the damn restroom, I went in after him.

It was one of those swank bathrooms with a lounge area staffed by a gentleman’s attendant. He appeared a bit flustered when I entered.

“Excuse me, sir, but are you Dr. Spencer?”

“Yes,” I answered, both a bit annoyed and curious as to how this guy knew my name.

“Mr. Lantz has requested that I ask you to leave.”

“What?” The guy was standing in the doorway to the lavatory by then, attempting to block my way. He was at least a head shorter than I and had to have thirty years on me. Still I’m not the type to mow him down.

“Adrian!” I called, straining to look around the guy. “What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He called out from one of the stalls. “Just go…please.”

I looked down at the attendant, and he looked up at me helplessly.

“I’m not leaving until I can talk to you,” I shouted. “So either tell this man to let me in, or be prepared to spend the night in there. At least I have a nice couch out here.”

He was silent for what seemed like a very long time while both the attendant and I stood our ground. Finally we heard a feeble, “Okay,” and the gentleman breathed a sigh of relief. I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my wallet and produced a one hundred dollar bill.

“Take this and don’t let anyone in here for the next twenty minutes,” I instructed. “No patrons, no waiters, no manager. Can you do that?’’

He nodded silently, took the bill and moved out of the way while I walked through the door and over to the one occupied stall.

“Adrian, open the door.” I demanded. “You only have to put up with me for twenty more minutes. If you still want me to leave after that I will. If you never want to see me again, you won’t.”

I heard the click of the door lock and then he gently pulled it open. There he sat, fully clothed, on the toilet seat, looking up at me with wet eyes.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.

“This isn’t going to work, Marc,” he said in a whisper. “It’s been nice, but just go now so I don’t get my heart broke later.”

I was bewildered. “Heart broken?” I asked. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You will,” he said, and then went on, “when you see that I can’t measure up. We come from two different worlds, Marc. I’m never going to be able to give you this kind of stuff. I don’t run with the same class of people you do, and even though you say it doesn’t matter now, eventually it will. I’ll be an embarrassment to you.”

I realized immediately what I had done and also knew there were a couple of ways to handle this situation. One would be to pour my heart out and turn us both into emotional wrecks in a public establishment. The other would be to call him on his queening out and save the sweet talk for after dinner. I chose the latter of the two.

“Oh Christ, shut the fuck up.” I knelt down and wedged myself between his knees. Undoing his belt, I continued, “I’m thirty one, Adrian, and I have never met anyone who does the things to me you do. They’re things that can’t be bought…comprendez?”

I pulled him forward on the seat and unzipped his pants.

“Furthermore, the ‘class’ of people I hang around with can only be improved by your presence. Right now, I’m hungry for your cock, so I’m going to suck it right here in the bathroom. Then we’ll both go back to our table and have a nice dinner. Afterwards we are going to my place where I will give you your final present of the evening. You could have it now, but I didn’t bring enough lube.”

I had his dick out by then and he was giggling. I sucked him off in that bathroom stall and later that night was the first time he topped me. There was no more discussion of birthdays or money or class or me leaving. Never has been and I don’t think there ever will be. I just let Adrian guide me through those speed bumps. Purchasing a home together seems to be reassurance enough that neither one of us will be going anywhere.

I have learned my lesson, however, when it comes to presents. I take my gift giving cue from whatever he gives me. I get a camera, he gets the latest cell phone, I get a set of golf clubs, he gets skis. The last two years, however, he has managed to buy me something that eventually ends up as his. I think it’s sort of cute, actually.

Whenever we go anywhere, I drive 90% of the time so the portable DVD player I got for Christmas was solely for his benefit. So was the cappuccino maker I received on my last birthday. According to Adrian, I drink my coffee weak. He rationalized my gift by saying it would stop us from arguing over it in the mornings, and you know what? He was right.

So that’s why I wasn’t the least bit fazed when he shut the lights off and led me by the hand into his office to present me with the new leather love seat he had been salivating over. On it sat a small wrapped box.

“Go ahead,” he prompted. “Open it.”

I smiled slightly and shook my head. Set back from the window, the love seat was positioned perfectly for watching the comings and goings over at Kinney Manor. Even worse, I gingerly unwrapped the package to find a sleek set of Zhumell binoculars.

“Oh my god, Adrian. You’ve got to be kidding!”

He smiled and motioned for me to take a seat. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

Once I was seated – this new sofa was both strategically placed and very comfortable - Adrian stepped back and shut off his office light. Since the rest of the apartment was already dark, for an instant I couldn’t see a thing, but in short order, my eyes focused on a warm glow coming from Brian’s place.

I lifted my new binoculars to my eyes and saw Justin in the kitchen, getting plates out of the cupboard and walking over to set them on the table. He already had candles lit and it looked as if they were in for an elegant, romantic dinner.

My understanding is that Justin’s dad has kicked him out for being queer and Brian has taken him in. Adrian said things were off to a rocky start when Brian brought a trick home right off the bat, but from what I was seeing now, those two had worked something out.

Brian arrived home from work and immediately removed his suit coat. Justin was ladling something into bowls, and they exchanged words across the breakfast bar. At first, Brian looked a bit exasperated, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as Justin sat himself and the bowls down at the table, but then he acquiesced and joined him.

Justin was on the edge of his seat until Brian took that first spoonful, and then the mood definitely changed. Brian smiled, said something, and relief appeared to flood through the kid’s body. He began to eat also. I loved watching the play of their expressions as they ate.

Brian would take a bite and appear to be studying his plate while he chewed. Justin would sneak furtive little glances over at him to check out his response while little smirks played on his lips. When Justin stood up to pour the wine, Brian watched him with a look on his face that seemed to be a compound of surprise, disbelief and admiration. Then, at a later point in the meal, Brian got up to fill his water glass, and on his way back to the table, he bent down and whispered something to Justin who responded with a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

Adrian nudged me. “I think when this dinner is over, you might finally get to see what I’ve been telling you about.” Up until then, the only sex I’d personally witnessed was the blowjob a uniformed Justin gave Brian followed by a blurry vision of two figures going at it on the bed. Adrian, however, had described to me, in detail, a kinder, gentler Brian Kinney that I had yet to see. Tonight, as it turned out, Brian had a birthday gift for me also.

When their dinner was finished, they walked their dishes back to the sink. Justin rinsed and then handed them to Brian who loaded the dishwasher. Who knew this simple act between these two…both still fully clothed…could be so provocative? They touched continuously, far more often than they needed to…hips rubbing against each other, arms touching, hands stroking shoulders or asses…none of which was necessary to get that dishwasher loaded. I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable again.

Adrian was standing behind the sofa, leaning forward, his arms crossed on the loveseat back. He was licking my ear and kissing my neck which didn’t help me relax. I thought guiltily about how this voyeurism had spiced up our sex life. I even found myself hoping that those two would not take their next act into the bedroom. Regardless, I was certain that Adrian was going to give me a very happy birthday quite soon.

The boys finished up in the kitchen, and Justin, perhaps buoyed up with newfound confidence, grabbed Brian by the tie and led him to the living room. Once there, he pushed Brian down into one of the chairs that face their couch. This meant that Brian’s back was now to us, but Justin was facing us, full on. He was so close and we had such an excellent view that I felt goose bumps rise on the back of my neck.

“Fuck, are you certain he can’t see us?” I asked Adrian, desperately.

“Absolutely. As long as it’s dark here and light there, we’re invisible,” he said.

I knew he was right, but our view was so amazing it just felt wrong. I sucked in my breath as Adrian leaned over and ran his hand inside my shirt.

Justin was still standing in front of Brian, but his hand was on his own crotch, rubbing his dick through his jeans. Brian reached out and tried to grab for him, but the ballzy little fucker swatted him away. He was the seducer in this scene; there was no doubt about it.

Justin took a slight step back, pulled his t-shirt over his head and exposed a perfect twink’s chest. Brian was toeing off his shoes and fiddling with his shirt or, more probably, his tie. His eyes were riveted to the boy in front of him. And why not? It was only with difficulty that I had been able to force myself to stop watching the floorshow long enough to check Brian’s reaction.

Adrian put his binoculars down and reached over my shoulder. He unsnapped and unzipped my pants and slipped his fingers under the waistband of my briefs. He was lightly touching my rigid dick…not enough. I squirmed. Now Justin put two fingers in his mouth. He trailed them, slick with spit, to his left nipple. Oh, my God.

Brian threw his tie on the floor, then his shirt. He stood up and dropped his pants, momentarily blocking our view of Justin but giving us an excellent look at his impressive shoulders and biceps. Adrian slipped his hand a little lower and loosely encircled my penis. I groaned, and he laughed lightly in my ear. Sadist.

Across the alley, Brian had taken control. He stripped Justin’s pants off in one slick move. I raised my hips, and Adrian took the hint. He straightened up and moved around in front of me so he could pull my jeans down below my knees. Brian had one hand on the back of Justin’s head and the other on his ass, pulling both his head and body tightly against him. Adrian cradled my balls and rolled them gently, then pressed two fingers against my perineum. I gasped and pushed my groin forward.

The kiss at Six Tremont went on and on until I thought they were trying to fuse at the mouth. I shut my eyes, and Adrian laughed again, low and sexy. “You keep watching,” he said. “I’ll want a full report afterwards.” My penis throbbed. With difficulty, I kept my eyes open and the binoculars in place.

Brian had finally let Justin come up for air. He said something and Justin looked puzzled. Adrian pressed a finger against my anus, and I jerked. He pressed again, but this time I kept my eyes open. Justin was kneeling on the couch now, his magnificent backside in full view. As I watched, Brian dropped to his knees behind him. I turned a little on the couch, grabbed Adrian’s binoculars, and handed them to him. “You gotta look,” I said.

Adrian pulled away and took the binoculars. Brian’s head was between Justin’s rich, ripe cheeks, and Justin’s head was buried in the crook of one arm while his other hand pounded on the sofa back. Adrian said, “Nice view’” and I said, “Yeah.”

After a minute or two, Adrian put the binoculars on the floor and licked up my dick. I put one hand under his chin and tried to maneuver his head so that he had to take my dick in his mouth. He laughed and the air on my wet dick made me shudder. He looked up at me and said, “Are you watching?”

I said, “Yes,” and put my binoculars up to my eyes again. Brian was standing up now, and Justin had shifted position a bit. Adrian was doing various creative and exciting things with his mouth and my dick. I wanted to pound my hand on the back of our sofa, but there was no way I’d imitate a 17-year-old. Brian had his hands on Justin’s hips, and then his own hips started to move, slowly at first, then a bit more regularly. Adrian slid his mouth down my cock, and I dropped the binoculars. I needed my hands free, one to clench Adrian’s shoulder while I squeezed the back of the new couch with the other. “My God, Adrian…Oh my god…Oh…” until he finally let me come.

Adrian sat back on his heels and smiled up at me. “Happy birthday,” he said.

I looked down at his dripping cock. “I think we need to go somewhere where you can work that off in my ass,” I said.

“But, it’s your birthday treat. That doesn’t seem right.”

“Your cock in my asshole IS a treat,” I kicked my jeans the rest of the way off, stood up, and grabbed his hand. As I pulled him toward the bedroom, I took one more look across the way. Our neighbors had taken their show to their own bedroom and that was fine.

If someone had told me a couple of months ago that I would have just done what I did, I would have laughed outloud. But Adrian has a way of getting what he wants in a relationship. After what I just witnessed, I’d say Justin Taylor does too.

Go to Chapter 11.