Chapter 4: (Yes, I know this is straight out of the movie, but when I saw it again recently for the first time in years and was reminded of how much sexual tension there was between the main characters [and I mean the original version with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway] and I thought it might be fun to try and create something similar for the boys). “That’s a nice piece”. Justin fought to regain his composure, suddenly finding himself so physically close to the man. His photographs didn’t do him justice; he was even more beautiful in the flesh; dressed in smart casual wear, with fine, strong features and hazel eyes flecked with gold; eyes that were now looking directly into his own. “Er … yes, it is”. He could only just get out the words and coughed to clear his throat. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” he asked, struggling to string together a coherent sentence whilst maintaining eye contact. “Well, I wasn’t …”, came the reply. Brian studied him. As well as those eyes so unbelievably blue, they seemed to have the ability to look deep within him, as if he were trying to read his mind; something Brian found both quite disconcerting and fascinating. He put out his hand and smiled. “Brian ... Brian Kinney”. Justin hesitated for a moment before taking it; returning the smile. “Justin Taylor”. Brian couldn’t help but notice Justin’s slender fingers; an artist’s and realized he had probably been holding the other man’s hand just a heartbeat longer than was absolutely necessary, an action not gone unnoticed by Justin. Finally releasing Justin’s hand, he looked back at the prints on the table. “Are you an artist?” he asked, trying to act casually. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am ... I work a lot in pencil and charcoal ...” Brian nodded. “A … a very good friend of mine was an artist ... I still have all his work”. A pang of guilt shot through Brian as he spoke, not believing how he’d just referred to Paul: as merely a friend. Striving to think rationally, Justin suddenly saw an opening and decided to go for it. “Do you? I’d love to see them ... if that’s possible” and he was now standing facing Brian square on, the man a good head taller than himself and he hoped he couldn’t hear his heart beating as it was thumping in his chest as he waited for an answer. Brian briefly glanced away, as if trying to make a decision and for a moment, Justin thought he’d overplayed his hand, but then Brian looked back at him. “I’d like that ... it’s been a long time since I’ve taken a look at them myself. I’d enjoy showing them to someone else ... someone who’d appreciate them. May I?” Putting down the attaché case, he took the brochure from Justin’s hand and removed a pen from his jacket pocket; he wrote his address on the back cover. “If you’re free this evening, I’ll be home after 6:00 ... feel free to drop by”. "Okay ... thanks ...” Justin’s mouth was so dry, he could hardly get out the words as Brian handed him back the brochure and smiled. Picking up his case he turned and left, leaving Justin reeling at the encounter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin decided not to try following Brian once he’d left the auction house. He doubted he could maintain his distance without Brian realizing what he was doing, so instead, he returned to the hotel. “Justin ... thank god ... I was beginning to get worried ... your cell’s off”. Daphne greeted him as she opened her hotel room door, allowing him in. “Is it? Sorry Daph ... I didn’t realize”. “How come you’re back so early?” she asked, walking back to the laptop set up on the chair. “I ... I ran in to him”. What do you mean ... you ran in to him?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder. “Kinney went to an auction house in town and I followed him in. He met with someone ... the owner or manager I’m guessing ... but then I found myself talking to him when he came out ...” Daphne sat back down on the bed; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Christ, Justin ... what the hell are you doing, allowing yourself to get that close? If he’d thought he’d been sprung you could have been putting yourself in danger”. Justin shook his head. “He knows nothing about me Daph ... other than I’m an artist interested in someone else’s work” and he sat down on the bed beside her and took a deep breath before continuing. “He ... he asked me over to the house tonight”, and he waited for the explosion; he didn’t have to wait very long. “He did what? Are you nuts? You’re not going .... Justin ... tell me you’re not going”. He looked at his hands before meeting her gaze. “I have to Daph ... this is my way in. He said a friend was an artist, so I said I’d like to see their work and he asked me to go over. This could be just the break we need. When I get in the house maybe I can find something ... maybe he’ll let something slip. It’s worth a shot. Now, tell me what else you know”. Daphne brought up the relevant information on the laptop, trying to hide the concern she felt. She was worried about Justin; really worried. She’d never known him to go out on a limb like this before, to get so personally involved in an investigation. Whatever the hell Kinney had, it must be something very special. “Okay ... I tried to find out a bit more about the family. As I said, Paul’s parents were killed in an auto accident and he inherited the house and there was provision in the will for an income for Cynthia ... she was just a kid at the time ... with a proviso that she lived in the house as long as she wanted. There was also a trust fund which she had access to once she reached 21 ... Paul had come into his some years before”. “The parents had been involved in various charitable organizations and it seems Paul took over a lot of that when they died. Strange thing is ... I’ve drawn a bit of a blank on Paul and it all looks a little weird. But it would seem he died when he was 30 and Kinney inherited the house and money”. “As for Kinney ... well, I think Dan’s probably right. I’ve found expenditure around the time of at least 3 art robberies before the Paris one ... Prague, London and Rome. He was in those cities around the same time and there’s records of flights and hotel bookings ... currency exchange”. She looked up at him and sighed. “It puts him in the frame Justin”. Justin’s heart sank. He was hoping above all else that Dan had got it wrong; that Kinney wasn’t involved. But now it looked as if he were right up to his beautiful neck in it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Around 6:30pm. Justin showered and changed. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but the prospect of meeting Brian again had left him both nervous and excited and his hands were sweating slightly when he arrived. Finding the gates to the property already open, he drove straight in and parked on the driveway to the side of the house. He walked around to the front door and rang the bell. He didn’t have to wait very long before it was answered: He was expected. “Mr. Taylor?” enquired Freddy, opening the door. “Er ... yes, that’s right ... Mr. Kinney’s expecting me”. “Thank you Freddy”, he heard Brian’s voice as he stepped inside the hall, the man coming down the stairs to greet him. He’d spent the last hour trying to decide what to wear and in the end settled on jeans and denim shirt, not wanting Justin to think he was going to too much trouble. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually invited him here. In the years since Paul, he’d never taken anyone back to the house. If it wasn’t the back room at Babylon, then it was the loft. Even there it didn’t feel comfortable, going back to the place with all its memories, but the house had always been off limits. “Can I get you both anything”, enquired Freddy. “No that’s fine. I’ll get anything we need,” answered Brian. “Well, if there’s nothing else ... I’ll call it a night. Goodnight to you both”. “Goodnight … um …” called Justin as the man disappeared from view. “Freddy”, Brian informed him. “Well, actually it’s Alfred, but he likes to be known as Freddy” and he led the way to the library. “You have a butler named Alfred?” queried Justin disbelieving, as Brian opened the door. Brian grinned broadly. “Sure … and if you’re very good ... I’ll show you the bat cave later”. Justin laughed, noticing how Brian’s eyes twinkled at the joke he made, but also how quickly his amusement died away as he indicated the large table in the middle of the room. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, walking over to the drinks table. “I’ll have a Beam, if you’ve got one” answered Justin and Brian poured out two shots. Approaching the old, large table, Justin noticed the battered trunk on the floor. It had obviously covered a lot of miles and, laid out on the table before him, were a large number of paintings and drawings, together with sketchpads containing unfinished work and drafts. “I got those down from the attic,” said Brian as he approached him, handing him his drink. Justin took it. “Thanks ... may I?” he asked and Brian nodded. Justin leafed through a sketchpad, turning the pages slowly. “These are very good. Who’s the artist?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. Brian took a sip of his drink and then spoke quietly and with obvious affection. “His name was Paul Sheridan ... this was his house ...” and he picked up a painting, a watercolor. It was of a rose garden with a backdrop of trees: the garden of the house in better days. “What happened to him?” and Justin paused, discovering a pencil drawing of a beautiful young man in his late teens; he hadn’t changed very much. Brian put the painting back down on the table. “He died.” Looking up at him, Justin couldn’t fail to see the pain in his eyes or hear the sorrow in his words. He’d been trying to determine exactly what Brian’s relationship had been with Sheridan and, watching the man tenderly touching the pictures laid out in front of them, it became obvious they must have been lovers and the confirmation that Brian was indeed gay, made Justin’s blood pound in his ears. “I’m sorry … “ “That’s okay ... it was a long time ago”. But many were the times it only felt like yesterday, how great the pain was that Brian still bore. Justin walked around the table. There were so many paintings and sketches; he was genuinely impressed. “These should be exhibited somewhere. It’s a shame not to have them on show ... he was obviously very talented”. He could have spent hours looking through the work, studying the artist’s technique and, though he longed to do just that and linger in the presence of his host, he knew this wasn’t the real reason he was here. He needed to move the investigation along, using the information they’d already acquired. “Sheridan ... didn’t the family have quite an art collection at one time?” he asked. Brian looked at him in surprise. “That’s right, they did ... but everything’s gone now ... there’s nothing left”. Brian surveyed the life’s work of the man he’d loved; the man who’d saved him. “You’re right, they should be exhibited. Maybe I’ll get around to it one day”. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d come home, or had got up in the middle of the night, to find Paul totally absorbed in what he was creating; some days hardly speaking, so engrossed he was in his work. He was so passionate: passionate about his art and passionate about life. Art had been his life and Brian was beginning to realize just how much he’d missed that passion in his own. They fell silent and Brian watched as Justin continued to look over the drawings; appreciating a fellow artist and he recognized in him a familiar look of someone for whom art represented their very being; why they existed at all. And he wondered if this was why he could feel himself being drawn to him. He was certainly attractive, but it wasn’t just his looks or the prospect of sex that were so appealing. He felt he understood what art meant to him, the same way he’d learned to appreciate, albeit so late, just how important Paul’s art was to him; more important than life itself. Eventually, Justin looked up at Brian and smiled and Brian returned the smile. Still sipping his drink, he looked about him and started to move around the library. It had once been a very impressive room, he could see that, but he also noticed how the furnishings were wearing. If Brian was involved in the robberies, then he obviously wasn’t spending the money on the house. Finishing his Beam, Brian moved over to the drinks table and poured himself a refill and then brought the bottle over to where Justin was standing. Justin put his hand over his glass. “I shouldn’t … I’m driving”. “You could always get a cab ... come back for the car later”. Justin nodded. “That’s true” and he held out his glass for Brian to replenish and, as Brian returned the bottle to the table, he wondered if that was an invitation to stay longer than he initially expected. He’d watched Brian as he poured his drink. He was beautiful; not just his features, but the way he held himself, his clothes only just disguising what Justin suspected was a slim, but strong body beneath them. He exuded sex; a raw, powerful sexual presence that Justin had never experienced before and fought to keep a clear head. Maybe the second drink wasn’t a good idea after all. Spotting a chess set laid out on a table near the fireplace Justin went over to it and picked up one of the pieces, turning it over in his hand. He noted the weight. “These are nice” he remarked. “Yes, they are ... do you play?” asked Brian. “A little ... why, do you fancy a game?” Brian smiled. “Yeah, why not?” and he approached the table and put down his glass. He picked up two pawns: one black, one white, which he hid behind his back. He grinned: now holding his arms out in front of him, a pawn hidden in each fist. “This one” and Justin took the opportunity to lightly touch the back of Brian’s hand. Trying not to react at the unexpected physical contact, even though it felt like a lightening bolt had coursed through him, Brian turned his hand over and opened it, revealing the white pawn. Justin smiled: a victory, albeit a small one and they sat down at the table. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Five moves into the game and Brian realized this was no novice he was playing. “I thought you said you only played a little,” and he picked up his glass and took a sip. Justin grinned. “I only get to play a little now ... but I played a lot back in college”. Brian nodded, smiling to himself; he was going to have to watch this one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They continued with the game. Move followed by counter move; both men taking their time, determining strategy and trying to predict the other’s manoeuvres. Justin seemed to be particularly deliberating over his next move and Brian took the opportunity to study him; noting the long eyelashes surrounding those wonderful eyes, the blond, fine hair and pale complexion. With an expression of deep concentration on his face, Justin was biting his bottom lip as he pondered what move to make next. During the game, Justin had glanced up more than once to find Brian watching him. He smiled inwardly, he was beginning to realize the affect he was having on the other man and suddenly professionalism was thrown out of the window. The investigation no longer seemed to matter. All that interested him right now was the man sitting at the table opposite him. He continued to study what his next move should be and whether consciously or not, every expression, every shift of his body sent out signals as Brian continued to survey him. Justin ran his tongue over his lips, moistening them. Then, appearing to be deep in thought, he brought up his hand and drew his finger around the contours of his mouth. Brian watched, imagining just what he would love to do to that mouth: those wonderful, plump, pink lips and darting tongue. Unable to ignore Brian’s gaze any longer, Justin looked up at him. “What are you thinking?” he asked him. Brian sucked in his lips before answering. “What am I thinking?” He paused and picked up his glass, throwing the remainder of his drink down his throat. “I’m thinking that ... if we sit here for much longer ... this table will be tilting”. Justin was unable to prevent the flush that now crept across his face at the blatant sexual remark and, suddenly, Brian rose from his chair and moved towards him. Taking Justin by the elbow he brought him to his feet, knocking over the chessboard as he did so: the pieces falling to the floor. He knew there would be no resistance as he took Justin in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss: their lips parting, tongues seeking dominance in the other’s hot, welcoming mouth. Brian knew he was probably crushing Justin’s lips, but continued the pressure, unable to stop, such was the sudden need for this man; a need not felt for more years than Brian cared to remember. And Justin returned his kiss; of that there was no doubt: His own needs now recognized and acted on. Literally forced to come up for air, Brian nipped Justin’s bottom lip with his teeth as their mouths parted: extracting a low moan of pleasure from the other man. The sudden shock of the kiss was beginning to register on them both: the shock and the mutual acceptance of the urgency with which to move their liaison forward. Neither Brian nor Justin needed to deliberate their next move; they both knew what that would be. To be continued.