Special thanks for the beta, Becky!!! Chapter 3----------- Guess what? I’ve got a stalker. I mean a real one. It’s not that I’m not used to the attention I usually get. And I’m not talking about my art. I’m talking about being used to the staring eyes I feel on my body when I’m on Liberty Avenue. It’s like they’re burning holes in the clothes I wear and I almost feel like walking totally naked in front of all of them. But this person is really making me lose my patience and goodwill. It’s driving me fucking nuts. I’ve never thought that being stalked could be such a torture, but it really is. At first it seemed to be a bit flattering but things have gotten out of control. I even thought about committing murder or causing permanent injury. I know, I know it sounds quite weird, especially from me. But I’ve really had enough. Oh and have I mentioned the best part yet? It’s a girl… I’ll try to write down the whole thing as it happened. Where did it start…ah yes. I went to that exhibition last week – the one I was writing about when I had that elevator “accident” – and it was pretty enjoyable actually. I mean the exhibition. It took place in a quite modern and large but still very friendly gallery. It’s the newest in the Pitts and I think they did a pretty good job on this one. Eight other young artists and I got the opportunity to have our best works being shown at this gallery. It’s a great acknowledgement. Everything went smoothly, the reviews were good. But let’s get back to the point. As I stood next to one of my paintings while having an amusing conversation with some balding art collector - he tried to convince me to paint a picture of his penis for his wife’s birthday, how kinky is that? Anyway, I felt someone’s eyes on me. From the corner of my eye I noticed that it was a girl. It surprised me. It was the kind of gaze I usually get from men who want to pick me up. She stood just a few steps away. She was staring at me so intently that I wasn’t able to concentrate on the funny story the bald man was trying to tell me. I was getting more and more nervous; I didn’t understand why she was doing it. When the chatty man excused himself and left me standing alone for a while I turned to the girl’s direction. She blushed instantly and tried to hide her embarrassment with a faltering smile. I smiled back at her encouragingly – and probably that was the biggest mistake I have ever made. (Besides leaving Brian for Ethan of course.) She came a bit closer but she still seemed to be pretty sheepish. I wondered why that was. Since she said nothing I thought I had to do something to break this unpleasant silence. I asked her how she liked the exhibition. Not a very original idea to start a conversation with, but nothing else came into my mind and it was still better than remaining silent. She said she liked it a lot and she was more than ecstatic when she heard I was one of the artists. “Oh, how wonderful! I knew you had to be an artist! You look so sensual…” At this point she blushed even more “um…I mean…sensitive…” She suddenly changed the subject and turned to my painting. “Is it yours?” She asked inquiringly. I nodded. This girl was so strange. I couldn’t tell, but I already felt that something was definitely not ok with this situation. (Reality hit me a day later). So she praised my talent for a while and then started to tell me about herself. She told me that her name was Hannah. She had just moved to Pittsburgh and she was studying art history; that’s why it was so fantastic for her to meet an artist like me. I started to feel awkward about listening to such compliments over my art. It’s usually good to hear, but this was way too much. I wished that Brian wouldn’t have had that business dinner that evening, that way it would have been much easier to stop this glorification. And she just went on and finally asked me if I wanted to meet her somewhere for a coffee or something. She told me she wanted to talk about my works because she was writing an essay and I would be the perfect subject for it. I didn’t feel like doing it, but since she was so eager and she had to do that essay I thought that would be the least I could do. So I said yes. The next day we met at a cafe near the gallery. I wanted to get through that meeting as soon as possible. We spent almost a half an hour there, she was talking about God only knows what, but still hadn’t said a word about what she wanted me to do. I hardly heard what she said; I just kept looking at her and pretending that I was interested in whatever she was trying to talk about. I took a good look at her. She wasn’t very pretty but she wasn’t ugly either. I would say she was just an ordinary girl with long, blondish hair and light-brown eyes. Nothing really special about her, except for one thing; I saw a dreadful desperation in her eyes while she was talking. It really was intimidating. I was getting impatient and told her to get to the point and ask me whatever she wanted. She hesitated for a minute then asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” I thought I had misheard the question. I was just staring at her with a confused look on my face so she repeated the question. I didn’t mishear. I asked her what on earth had this to do with my paintings. She smiled in a weird kind of way then said, “I have to tell you something.” Oh God. I suddenly got a feeling that I was not going to like what she was about to say. “The truth is there isn’t an essay I have to write. And I haven’t attended the university yet.” “Great. So would you tell me what the hell it is you want from me then?” I asked angrily. I had so many other things to do; I really didn’t want to waste more time on her. “I thought you’d have figured that out by now.” She just kept on smiling. “No, I haven’t.” She didn’t respond. But suddenly I felt her knee touching mine under the table. At this moment it hit me. What the fuck?! Was this supposed to be a date? “Look Hannah. I think there’s something we should clarify.” I started carefully. She was just looking at me with that embarrassing smile. I went ahead. “I don’t know what you were thinking. But it won’t happen.” “Why? So you HAVE a girlfriend!” She stated, still smiling. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a boyfriend.” The former smile disappeared and an obtuse expression spread across her face. “You’re just joking, aren’t you?” “I don’t see anybody laughing here.” I answered impatiently. “You’re right. I don’t understand.” She said. “What is it that you don’t understand? That I am gay? Haven’t you heard that word before? “No, I mean…you can’t be… You look so…normal…” Her voice got weaker. “I am normal. It’s just that I fuck men. That’s all. Well, if there’s nothing else I can do for you I think I’m going to leave now. I have a lot to do. I hope you’ll find what you are looking for. Bye!” With that I left her sitting at the table with an empty expression on her face. I felt sorry for her a little, but I thought it was the best way I could do it. I thought I’d never see her again. I was wrong. Next day I was in the loft, working on my newest picture. I was just sketching but I still had to concentrate very hard. I decided to capture the moment I saw earlier that morning. It was just a little thing, almost insensible but it had a huge effect on me. I was coming out of the bathroom when I saw it. Brian was getting ready for work but he stopped in front of the picture I had painted a few weeks ago. The picture illustrated the first night we met. The first time we made love; the way I saw it and the way I felt. It was an abstract painting though, but he knew what it was about. When I showed this to him for the first time he shook his head and told me that I was hopelessly lost in that romance bullshit. But now he was standing in front of that picture. He stretched his arm slowly and ran his fingers gently across the canvas while having the sweetest smile I have ever seen on his gorgeous face. It was so beautiful. I wanted to save that moment. I almost forgot about this whole Hannah thing. I didn’t even mention it to Brian. I was so lost in sketching I hardly could hear my cell ring. I stood up and headed for my phone. The number was unfamiliar but I answered it anyway and regretted it immediately. I heard Hannah’s voice: “Hi Justin, it’s Hannah. Hope you don’t mind I’ve called you.” But how did she know my phone number? She didn’t answer that question. “I just wanted to ask if you would like to come to a new exhibition I’ve heard about. It’s just been opened. I thought you might like it and...” “Another essay?” I asked with obvious sarcasm. She didn’t respond at first, but then she said carefully, “Look, I know I haven’t been completely honest with you…” “No, you were lying.” I stated. “But I deserve a second chance.” I couldn’t believe that. Is she totally dumb or what? “Tell me Hannah. Which part of I’m a cock-sucking faggot is so hard to understand?” I felt my anger increasing with every minute. God, why do you punish me with psychos?! “But…you can’t be sure. Have you ever tried with girls?” Won’t she ever give up? I think she is a clinical case. “As a matter of fact, I have.” And it was true. “And it did nothing for me.” “Maybe you haven’t met the right girl yet.” Oh how I hate this shit. Which book do they read that from? “Look Hannah, I think we should finish this pointless discussion. And if I may ask for a favor - please don’t call me again. Thanks.” And with that I hung up. I couldn’t believe this whole freak show. I’ve never been accused of being straight. I couldn’t handle it. Anyone in the Pitts could tell her who I am, that I’m a natural born queer. Why didn’t she accept the fact? The next day I went shopping, because we ran out of almost everything that’s edible and I wanted to cook something special for dinner. I know how much Brian likes when I cook, though he would rather die than admit it. I bought all the supplies I needed and I headed home. On my way back I constantly felt like someone was following me. I knew it wasn’t just my imagination; I was quite sure about that. I turned around a few times but didn’t see anybody. I didn’t have to. I knew very well who it was. How did she find me? I thought it was worth considering calling the police. Ridiculous, I know. Two days later I went to PIFA, because I had an appointment with a former art teacher of mine. He helps me with my work quite a lot lately, and I’m really grateful for him. In the middle of our discussion he asked, “By the way, has your friend found you?” I asked him who he was talking about. “A nice young lady was inquiring about you a few days ago. She said she was an old friend of yours. I gave her your number I hope you don’t mind.” Great. At least I knew how she got my phone number. I decided to change it immediately. Someone was obviously punishing me. I am not going to mention the emails she was sending me with poems about true love. I wasn’t even surprised that she got my email address. She was a professional, I have to admit. And I’m not going to mention that teddy bear she sent me in a box either. It held a big, pink heart in its arms that said: “Be Mine”. I haven’t thrown it out though – I think Gus would appreciate a thing like that. But I’m not going to tell Brian. He would say I want to make a pussy out of his precious son. Yesterday evening I told Brian the whole story – except for the teddy bear - while we were having dinner. He was listening with sympathy but I knew he wouldn’t miss a chance to make fun of my horrible situation. “Poor Sunshine. At least now you know what I went through while you were stalking me.” And the well-known smug grin greeted me as an old friend. “Yeah, right.” I replied, “Like you were protesting.” He laughed at my pained expression as he said, “Ok, I admit, it’s even worse when the stalker has no cock.” I had to laugh as well. We finished dinner and started to clear away the table. At this moment we heard someone banging on the door. Brian asked me to open it while he finished with the table. I pulled the door open and Hannah stood in front of me. I’m usually known as a calm and peaceful person but I seriously thought about hitting her. I opened my mouth to say something expressive but she cut me off. “Look, we really need to talk. Just give me a minute please. I know we hardly got to know each other but it doesn’t really matter when you…” At this moment I lost my patience completely and yelled, “What the fuck do you want from me???” I heard my own voice filling the stairway. Hannah stepped back a little and blinked a few times. I heard Brian slowly coming from behind. He said, “Justin, please. Where are your manners?” Then chuckled and started to stroke my back soothingly. He smiled at Hannah and asked, “May we help you?” I’ve never seen him this polite, but the smile he was giving her was a fake one. Hannah looked at me confused. “Is…is he? I thought you just made that up.” “No I didn’t.” I answered and rubbed my face. “We live together. So would you please leave me alone now?” “You two live together like…” She whispered the words. “Like what?” Brian asked with a raised eyebrow. Hannah couldn’t say a word and I saw a devilish smile, which was a real one this time, forming slowly on Brian’s face. “Let’s make it clear for the young lady Justin. Raising doubts is such a shitty thing to do.” And with that he grabbed my face and kissed me with such force that I could hardly stand on my feet. He held me impossibly tight and almost pushed the air out of my lungs. I didn’t mind though. I love it when he gets possessive. His kiss was so passionate that I totally forgot about Hannah. And anything else for that matter. I felt Brian’s tongue in my throat and his hands touching my ass. He certainly wanted to give Hannah a show, but it was working for me as well. And if his hardening cock was any indication I would say he was just as turned on as I was. We broke the kiss a few minutes later and panted into each other’s ear. When I turned to the door I saw that Hannah had left. At last. Hopefully she will leave me alone now. As if reading my thoughts Brian said, “Well, Sunshine I guess we made it quite clear for her.” He kissed my cheek and pulled the door closed. “But you know,” He went on, “my stalker was much more persistent than yours. And persistence is something I really appreciate.” He gave me a tongue in cheek smirk. I pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “You know Brian, maybe you’re right and I really was kind of stalking at the beginning. But considering the following events is it really that easy to tell which one of us could be called a stalker?” I felt his body tense and he grunted into my ear, “You little shit.” Before I knew it, he grabbed me and bent me over the kitchen counter. My chest was pressed against the hard material and I tried to lift myself up, but he held me so firmly I couldn’t move. All I could manage was grabbing the edge of the counter to keep my balance. He pulled my pants down with a swift motion and I knocked some plates off the counter unconsciously. “Now, you’ll get to learn who is in charge here.” He panted as he bent over me. “Understand?” I couldn’t say a word just nodded with surrender. He kicked my legs wider and I felt his hard cock brushing my hole. I could hardly breathe; I was just hanging on the counter as hard as possible. I heard the familiar sound of the condom wrapper and felt the cold lube covering my entrance. He pushed forward in no time and I cried out so loudly, I’m sure the neighbors heard as well. He was pounding into me with such force that I thought I would faint. But in that case I would have missed one of my most intense orgasms. Not to mention his climax. When he finally collapsed on top of me we tried to get our breathing back to normal. A few minutes later he pulled away, slapped my ass playfully and told me, “And now you’re going to clean up this fucking mess you’ve just made.” He turned my head and pointed at the floor where the broken plates lay in silent desolation. I quickly cleaned up and joined Brian in the shower with the speed of light. So, that was my stalker story. I hope it’s over now, because I never ever want to deal with this shit again. I hope Hannah finally gave up. The only thing I don’t mind is the last part – I would do that again any time. Except for the fact that I had to write this whole story lying on my stomach because I won’t be able to sit for a while. Ok, my hand has just given up. I’m off. Later, “J”