I Dream of Justin Chapter 1: “Sorry Mr. Kinney ... the guys'll be working down in the boiler room for most of the week ... the whole pipework system down there needed replacing ... you know what it's like with these old buildings ...” stated Donnelly, the janitor for the converted warehouse that had been Brian's home now for several years. But no, he didn't know what it was like. In fact the maintenance of the building had never remotely interested him; Brian wasn't terribly 'hands on'. Well, not in this realm at least. “Oh ... by the way ... I had to let myself into the storage areas ... you weren't around ... sorry about that ... and as there's no space down there while the contractors are working ... you better keep an eye on this yourself,” and with some difficulty, the janitor pushed the heavy old sea-trunk across the floor from the elevator and towards Brian. Barefoot and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, Brian had answered the banging on the door; he'd been about to step into the shower and it had been a hot and trying day. “What the fuck's this?” asked Brian, not at all pleased at being interrupted and Donnelly shrugged. “It was in your storage area ... got your number on it ...” “What storage area? I didn't even know I had one ...” exclaimed Brian and he ran his hand through his hair and wondered why was he being bothered with this shit. “I'm sorry Sir,” the janitor apologized. “But I can't take responsibility ...” “Fine ... that's ... that's just fine ...” mumbled Brian and leaning down he grabbed hold of the leather handle as Donnelly made a hasty retreat downstairs, glad to get away. Mr. Kinney had already bitched like hell when he was told there was a likelihood the water was going to be off from time to time over the next few days while the work was being carried out, but the trunk had looked too important to be left where either water damage or nosy contractors might get at it. 'Christ ... what the fuck is in this thing?' wondered Brian as he heaved the obviously well-traveled trunk into the loft and he pushed it into the corner. Brian tried to open the lid, but it appeared to be locked and with no sign of a key, he frowned. Brian had no recollection of this old trunk; it didn't belong to him. It must have belonged to the loft's former occupant and not bothering to think about it any more for the moment, he returned to what he was doing when the janitor had knocked on the door, and that was getting ready to meet the guys for a drink at Woody's. Normally, he would have met the gang straight from work and he could have showered before he left the office, courtesy of the executive washroom, but Brian had forgotten to take a change of clothes in with him and the temperature in the office, despite the air conditioning, had been stifling; the summer had been long and hot and didn't look like it was ending any time soon. And thankful that the water was on for the moment at least, Brian now jumped in the shower before dressing; jeans and wife-beater the order of the day as the guys were more than likely going on to Babylon after stopping off at Woody's first. But even if the gang didn't go, Brian most certainly would. He seemed to be doing that more these days; going to Babylon on his own that is, with the rest of the gang into boyfriends and often occupied elsewhere: even Michael. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was the usual Friday night crowd at Babylon and Brian had been casting his eye over the possibilities. There were one or two options who'd met with his approval; he just had to decide who was going to be the lucky trick tonight. “So ... what have you got planned for the weekend?” yelled Michael over the noise of the music as he and Brian looked down onto the dance floor from the gallery above. “What do you care?” Brian turned to him and unable to hide his feelings. He and Michael used to spend so much of their spare time together, when Brian didn't have a better offer that was. But these days, since Ben had come on the scene, Michael had been less available to fill in the gaps between guys. “Do you wanna come over?” asked Michael, deciding to ignore the snarkiness and he turned to smile at Ben who had returned from the bar with their drinks. “And play gooseberry?” came back Brian, disgusted at the very thought and he shuddered and reached out for his beer. “I'd rather lose a kidney ...” “Well ... if you're gonna be like that ...” but Brian was gone; he'd spotted a guy who'd caught his eye earlier and the heat seeking missile that was Brian Kinney had homed in on his target. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taking a couple of deep swallows of his beer, Brian left the bottle at the foot of the steps before pushing his way through the crowd. The man in question was probably a little younger than himself, but tall, well built and as hot as hell; an obvious top, just how Brian liked them and he closed in for the kill. No one ever really knew what Brian said to the tricks, but whatever it was it always seemed to work and after a just a cursory exchange of words, both men headed for the door. Apparently, it wasn't to be a quick fuck or blow job in the back room tonight; the man was honored enough to be invited back to the loft. “I guess it's goodnight then,” proclaimed Michael, sarcastically, as he watched Brian and his companion leave, his friend now ignoring him and Ben shook his head. “I don't know why the hell you bother ... he only wants you around when he has time to kill between tricks ...” “Well ... thanks ...” sulked Michael and he turned and left Ben still standing on the gallery and made his way down the steps, but his boyfriend caught up with him half way down. “I just meant he uses you ...” continued Ben, but instead of words of comfort, he was only digging himself a deeper hole. “And you think I don't know?” came back Michael, but the unpalatable truth was they probably used each other. Ever since they were 14 and in school together, Michael had a crush on Brian and 15 years later, despite Michael's relationship with Ben, those feelings didn't seem to have disappeared entirely. And whereas Michael enjoyed being in the company of his beautiful friend, waiting for Brian to dish out any crumb of affection or the merest hint that he felt the same way, giving him something to cling on to for the future, for Brian, Michael was his emotional crutch. Telling himself and anyone who cared to listen that he didn't believe in love; that he 'didn't do boyfriends' almost sounded a little stale these days, but why buy a book when there's a library anyhow? Why look for love and commitment when you can fuck every beautiful guy you like and still have a friendly shoulder to lean on when you need it? But it's easier to say you don't want or need love if you believe you're not capable of giving it, or worthy of receiving it and years of not just a little physical abuse by a drunken Father and with an emotionally devoid and cold-hearted unfeeling Mother, had left their unseen scars. What is it they say? If you want to screw up an adult, abuse a child. And as a kid, when your own Father tells you that you should have been aborted, well that kind of screws up what you think love is. After all, if the two people in the world who are supposed to love you unconditionally make you feel so unloved and unwanted, how could anyone else possibly love you like love is supposed to be. Yes, of course Brian knew Michael had feelings for him, but there was something that stopped Brian crossing that line. Could it be that he knew that if he did, that it would more than likely screw up their friendship forever and then he'd have no one? Definitely. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Nice place,” stated the trick as Brian closed the door behind them and he walked across the polished wooden floor to the refrigerator. “Wanna drink?” and opening the door, Brian reached inside for the bottled water. “Just what we need to wash these down ...” stated the trick and from his pocket he brought out the little plastic bag with the pretty colored tablets. “No thanks ...” replied Brian and he took off the top of the bottle and took a deep swallow. “No?” asked the man, confused and Brian shook his head. Not that he didn't do recreational drugs, but he'd always made it a policy to only use trusted dealers and to only do drugs with friends; people who would look out for you, and he didn't know this man from Adam. “I only do drugs with friends ...” stated Brian and the man grinned at him. “And I thought that's exactly what we intended to do ... get to know each other a little better ...” and walking over to him, he removed the bottle from Brian's hand and took a swallow and holding Brian's gaze. Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and grinned to himself; this man obviously had an idea of how this scene was going to play out. Was he going to be surprised. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It wasn't that Brian was able to physically dominate the men he bedded, though he was fit and strong, but so mostly were the men he chose. But a few minutes after they'd moved to the raised bedroom area and undressed, the trick was putty in his hands. What Brian didn't know how to do with his mouth or his tongue, long before his cock came into play, wasn't worth knowing. Having found himself unintentionally surrendering completely, the shuddering form and guttural sounds of pleasure from the man beneath him, as Brian's body rose and fell; his thrusts pushing the trick even further down into the mattress on the platform bed, confirmed what he already knew. He was number one; the Stud of Liberty Avenue and men worshipped at his feet, though usually when they were on their knees they were occupied a little higher up Brian's body. And both men bathed in sweat, the trick came first, shooting spurts of cum onto the bedding and even though he was climaxing a thought went through Brian's mind. That he was probably keeping his laundry service in business single-handedly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In a land far, far away from Pittsburgh, a long, long time ago: “What do you think, Justin ... should I wear the pink ... or the purple?” asked Princess Fahliah of the young servant and she picked up the length of pink chiffon material and held it against her body. With one of her friend's birthday parties to attend, Fahliah was having to choose what to wear and the other choice, the purple, lay on the bed beside her and she tossed back her hair as she surveyed herself in the mirror. Justin was a slave, but born free and appointed to the Princess by her Father a few months before on her 16th birthday to be her own personal servant. Fahliah had often seen Justin when he was working around the palace and had badgered her Father until she finally got her way. And with her Mother having died in childbirth, the King spoiled his daughter, and had showered her with some fabulous clothing and jewels, including a ring with the royal seal. But as far as Justin was concerned, the Princess and her Father's ideas of precisely what personal services should be performed by that young man were, it appeared, somewhat different. An extremely pretty girl, Fahliah looked demurely up at Justin through long dark eyelashes and watched as the young man's startling blue eyes innocently looked her up and down and the Princess felt herself start to redden under his gaze. Justin was so beautiful and quite unlike anyone else she knew and stood out from everyone. He was 17 years old and of a slight build with hair the color of spun gold and eyes the blue of the lagoon the young ladies sometimes bathed in when it was too hot to stay even inside the marble-walled palace. And Justin's complexion, despite the climate, was pale and blemish free; like alabaster and he was talented too. Being free born, Justin had been permitted to learn how to read and write, but more than this, he was incredibly artistic and had drawn his Mistress many times, though only with her permission of course. But the likeness was unmistakable and Fahliah loved to sit and pose for him; watching the concentration on Justin's face as he drew. And these were times when she felt close to the young man and presumed because of the care he took over his drawings, that Justin felt close to her too. And now surveying the princess, Justin scratched behind his ear and he frowned. “The pink,” he replied after a few moments careful thought. “The contrast to your hair is more striking ...” and Fahliah nodded in agreement. “The pink it is then, Justin ... would you get the servants to fetch the water for my bath ...” and bowing quickly, Justin turned and left to order the servant girls to attend to their Mistress. Fahliah smiled to herself as she watched him go; she was the envy of all her friends having Justin attend her every whim. Well, almost every whim, for although she'd thought she'd given him enough encouragement, it would seem the young man didn't notice her and hadn't responded. Even when she'd allowed her hand to touch his when she requested he pass her the mirror or some other item, or when she asked him to brush her long black hair and he would kneel on the couch behind her and she could smell him. Justin always smelled so clean and fresh and he had long artistic fingers that made her scalp tingle as he brushed and combed her tresses. He also had a cute turned up nose and rosebud lips and Fahliah would give anything to kiss them, but to no avail and she sighed and wondered how she was going to get Justin to fall in love with her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Several Days Later: It was getting dark and with only Fatima, one of the servant girls for company, Fahliah set off for the caves; the princess riding a mule, while Fatima was on foot and carried the lamp to guide their way. It was rumored that a wise old Fakir lived in the caves in the foothills; one who for a price, could make spells and potions: cure alls and the means to obtain your heart's desire and in this case, Fahliah's heart desired Justin. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With the sun just a glow on the horizon, the two girls had reached their destination and nervously, Fahliah climbed off the mule and went to the cave's opening and peered into the gloom. “Old man ... are you there?” called the princess and getting increasingly nervous, she looked around her and then jumped as she brushed up against several small bells. Hearing the quiet tinkling sound, Fahliah realized this was probably used to summon the old man and so taking hold of them, she shook them; the sound eerie in the darkness and she called out again. “Are you there?” Fahliah sighed in frustration at the apparent lack of response, but, as she waited, she heard a shuffling sound and could see a shadowy figure carrying a light and moving towards her from within the cave. Fahliah couldn't help herself from taking a step backwards and uttering a small cry of alarm as the man now came into view; dressed in ankle-length white robes and with long hair and an unkempt beard, but she quickly recovered herself and her composure, as befitted a young lady of her standing. To the princess, the man looked to be hundreds of years old and indeed, legend had it that he was at least one thousand years of age and every one of those years appeared to be etched into the lines of his face. But his eyes were bright and fully alert; the eyes of a young man, which he now narrowed as he studied her in the faint light emitted from his lamp. Even in the dimness, he could see she was dressed in finery and of obvious nobility and though she was nervous, she held his gaze and didn't drop her eyes to the ground as a female of low birth would have done when meeting a stranger; especially a man, for the first time. “Well, my child ... you have clearly traveled a long distance ... you must be anxious for something you think I can provide you with ...” stated the Fakir and the princess nodded. “But everything comes at a price,” the old man informed her and from a pocket within her skirts, Fahliah produced a leather pouch containing gold coins. “I think this will more than reward you for what I require,” she stated and she held it out to him. Reaching out with a bony hand, the Fakir took the pouch and grinned as he felt its weight. “It must be something very special ... come inside my dear and we will discuss your requirements ...” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Not a word to anyone ... do you hear me?” Princess Fahliah warned Fatima when some time after entering the cave she reappeared and the young servant girl nodded in fear, having been half scared to death by the darkness of the night as she'd waited. Although a little older than her Mistress, she knew her place and besides, Fahliah would always remind her if she should forget. Carefully, they made their way back to the palace and at Fahliah's command, Fatima chatted to the guard on one of the rear gates, fluttering her eyelashes with unspoken promises that would remain unfulfilled. And while the young man was occupied, Fahliah slipped through the gate, the same method they had used when exiting the palace a few hours earlier and before a changing of the guard. Quickly, Fahliah ran up to her rooms, clutching to her tightly the vial of liquid the Fakir had given her in exchange for the gold: a love potion, guaranteed to make anyone you wish for fall in love with you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Fakir had watched the two girls leave and ran his fingers through his long beard as he pondered. She was a very pretty young girl and once he'd turned up all the lamps in the cave, he'd seen the royal seal on the ring on her finger; no doubt a birthday gift from the King and immediately, the old man had known who she was. “HASSAN,” called the Fakir into the darkness and from within the depths of the cave appeared a young man in his twenties; a great nephew many times removed who was visiting him. “Do you have any idea who that was?” the old man asked him and Hassan shook his head. “I wasn't close enough ... I couldn't see her clearly ...” he answered him. “She didn't say ... but it was obvious by her demeanor and the ring on her finger ... that was Princess Fahliah ...” “The King's daughter?” asked Hassan, incredulously and his Uncle nodded. “She wanted a love potion ... it would seem a young man has caught her eye ... a young servant who is proving to be a little elusive ...” “A servant?” Hassan interrupted him, even more confused as to why a rich and beautiful young woman would want to give herself to a mere surf, for while Hassan was not as noble as the King, his family considered themselves to be of high birth and eminently acceptable as possible suitors. As it was, Hassan was not unattractive and in all probability would have been considered eligible as a future son-in-law, but his Father had fallen out of favor with the King and the family no longer mixed in the same circles. “How can she degrade herself like that ... by throwing herself at a servant boy?” spat Hassan in disgust at the princess' choice of lover, but his Uncle smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Love potions can work in either direction my boy,” the Fakir informed him. “And at first light ... we will make our way to the palace ...” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Following Morning: Princess Fahliah had hardly slept at all, she was so excited and had laid the potion carefully on the pillow by her head, hoping that it wouldn't be too long before it would be Justin lying there instead. What the King would say of course, to the suggestion of that liaison was unthinkable, but Fahliah was convinced she could wrap her Father around her little finger. After all, Justin was a fit and strong young man who always seemed to grasp each task he was set easily. He had a good brain and she was sure he could rise to much more distinguished heights. And with his looks, he was obviously from good breeding stock. With the early morning sun already strong, she heard a familiar laughter from the courtyard under her window and jumping out of bed, ran over and looked out. Justin and Morgiana, another of the servant girls, were happily chatting away together while the girl picked some flowers for her Mistresses bedroom, not that Fahliah appreciated that of course. All she could see was Justin clearly enjoying the company of another young girl and Fahliah began to seethe with rage and ran to her closet to find her clothing, determined to go down there as quickly as possible and call a halt to their enjoyment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By the time Fahliah arrived down in the courtyard, the cobbles were already filling up with people starting their day; servants taking care of the washing and preparing the food for the household, along with merchants and travelers, plying their wares, from clothing and pots and plates to ale and fruit and flowers. Captain Buchanan had traveled inland with a consignment of silks from the far east. He knew the ladies of the richest houses in this land always welcomed new finery and he could practically name his price and Princess Fahliah and the other royal ladies were no exception. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With the gates to the palace compound now open, the young man and his elderly companion with the fine carriage and matched horses were able to pass by the guards who considered them part of the hustle and bustle that occurred every day, with people coming and going continuously. Besides, they were obviously nobility and wouldn't take too kindly to having their presence challenged. “How will we find him?” asked Hassan and his Uncle smiled at him. “The princess described the young man in question to me ... and by his description ... he will not be hard to find ...” and at that moment, he spied the blond haired young man as he climbed the steps into the kitchens and he pointed him out to his nephew. “That ... undoubtedly ... is him,” the old man stated. “How do we know he hasn't been given the potion yet?” Hassan asked him, but their question was answered as the princess appeared in the courtyard, having slipped passed the guard outside her rooms. With one of her servants following on behind and trying to catch up with her in order to protect her from the sun with a parasol, it was not difficult to see by the expression on Fahliah's face that this was not someone filled with the raptures of attained love. Having brought the carriage to a halt close to the palace, both men sat and watched as the princess surveyed the scene, looking for Justin and her servant girl. At that moment, she saw Justin alight down the steps with a goblet, which he handed to Morgiana; the young girl having had a coughing fit and Justin had gone to collect some water to aid her and Fahliah scowled at them. “Quickly my boy ... now is your chance to make yourself known to her ...” stated the Fakir and Hassan jumped down from the carriage. Dressed in his finest robes, he crossed the courtyard, plucking a bouquet from the flower seller's stall and throwing her a few coins in payment. About to move off in order to confront her chosen one, the princess was suddenly brought to a halt by a man who stood before her; shielding her from the sun, which was already teeming down on them and the princess squinted and held her hand up to shade her eyes. “Your Royal Highness ... if I may be so bold ...” and smiling, Hassan bowed and presented the princess with the flowers; iris, desert roses and sweet smelling jasmine and the princess blinked in surprise. Automatically, she glanced in Justin's direction and her servant, having seen his Mistress approached by a stranger, was suddenly alert and by his expression, he obviously felt guilty that he wasn't looking out to protect her and Justin now watched her with this man. Seeing Justin's interest in the two of them, Fahliah then turned to smile at the young handsome stranger before her. From his dress he was obviously wealthy and was also not bad looking. Maybe now was the time to show Justin that she too, could play at being hard to get and she took the flowers and thanked her admirer. “Would you do me the honor of walking with me?” asked Hassan and Fahliah smiled again and turning to her servant girl, took the parasol and waved her away. “Mistress ...” cautioned the servant. “Hush Kaniz ...” scolded Fahliah. “I'm hardly in need of a chaperone ... in broad daylight and with all these people present ...” and dismissing the girl, the princess turned and smiling joined her companion for an early morning walk. Justin continued to watch, uneasy at this man's attentions and who was now talking easily with the princess and soon had her giggling like the young girl that she was; a young girl who was trying her hardest to appear older and more mature. From the carriage, the Fakir surveyed Justin and saw the young man's consternation. He obviously cared for the welfare of his Mistress and he saw the blond-haired young man start to follow the couple and keeping at a safe distance, but still close enough to observe them. The Fakir scowled and hoped that Justin wouldn't become a problem, or he would have to make sure he didn't interfere. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After an hour's walking and talking in the sun and looking at the market stalls and enjoying herself immensely in the young man's presence, the princess began to feel a little faint and realized that in her haste to find Justin, she hadn't had any breakfast and she smiled to herself; with finding the thought of having a little fun with Justin so amusing, it was a perfect opportunity to take Hassan into the palace and parade him in front of her servant further. “Would you take refreshments with me?” asked Fahliah and Hassan gave a little bow. “I would be honored Your Highness ...” and smiling, the princess turned and allowed the young man to escort her towards the Palace confines, all the while under Justin's watchful eye; mistaking the young blond's concern for jealousy. The Fakir smiled; everything was so far going to plan, despite the interest Justin was still taking and now was the time to put the next phase into action. Getting down from the carriage and clutching a large carpet bag, the Fakir called out to his nephew and the princess; halting the two young people's progress. “Nephew ... nephew ... a helping hand please for your old Uncle ...” and he feigned a little unsteadiness in the legs and Hassan went to his Uncle's aid and the princess followed, concerned for the old man's wellbeing. And as his nephew approached, the old man took his arm for support. “I fear the heat is getting to me today ... it is that fierce ... I must find somewhere to rest ...” exclaimed the old man who, in his fine robes and newly trimmed hair and beard was not the figure that the princess would have recognized from her encounter with him the day before. “Would your Uncle like to come inside and out of the sun ... and take refreshments with us?” asked Fahliah, the man's wealth obvious by his dress and rich men were always welcome at the palace; the King anxious to exploit any opportunity for trade and to extend his realm of power. “That is very kind of you, my dear,” stated the old man and taking her arm also, the Fakir allowed himself to be led inside. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Understanding what was expected of such a visit to the palace by a man of his obvious standing, the Fakir knew he would have to pay his respects to the King and then once cordiality had been observed, he could seek out his nephew to see how their plans were progressing. And, at the Fakir's request, one of the King's Ministers took the old man's arm and escorted him to the King's apartments. Calling out for Justin as she entered her own rooms, the princess and her guest made themselves comfortable on the huge cushions. Slipping off his shoes, as was their custom, Justin hadn't been very far behind the princess and now trotted into the room at her bidding. Kaniz had followed her Mistress and her handsome companion inside to act as chaperone as was befitting the young princess and took her place silently some feet away from them; just out of earshot, but close enough to observe them. And as Justin now approached, Hassan whispered something to the princess and the young girl giggled. “Mistress ...” and Justin bowed his head as he addressed her. “Justin ... bring us some refreshments ...” commanded Fahliah and bowing again, Justin turned on his heel to follow out his Mistress' request. “Kaniz ... I'm sure you have things to occupy you ... there is always sewing to be done ... or my bedroom to clean and tidy ...” glared Fahliah at her servant girl, who knowing best not to challenge her Mistress, reluctantly got to her feet and curtsied, before doing as she was told and thinking the princess should be mindful of her reputation. Bringing in the food on large trays and placing them on the low tables, Justin frowned as he realized Kaniz was no longer present to chaperone his Mistress and he bowed to Fahliah again and turned to make his exit in order to find her and intending to ask one of the guards to step inside the room. Normally, inside the palace, Justin wasn't too concerned about security or Fahliah's reputation; Kaniz or one of the other servant girls was supposed to be on hand and there were guards at the door whom the princess could easily summon, but as Justin turned, his Mistress called out to him. “I didn't dismiss you, Justin,” she informed him curtly and unlike discharging Kaniz, Fahliah now didn't want Justin to leave, she wanted him to see her and Hassan together; maybe she wouldn't have to use the love potion on Justin after all, maybe she could just make him jealous enough to respond to her. Justin saw the smirk on Hassan's face at his expense and embarrassed, nodded and moving quickly and silently, went to stand to one side and a few feet away; on hand to carry out any request, but keeping a respectful distance; knowing it was not his place to overhear their private conversation. During their refreshments, consisting of the banana stuffed Mutabak turnovers and the Baklava; the light filo pastry filled with nuts and doused in a honey and lemon syrup just melted in the mouth. Hassan reached over with his napkin to wipe a little syrup from the corner of Fahliah's mouth and the girl giggled. “Try the Khubz Marcook with the Lebenah ...” urged the princess and smiling, Hassan, dipped the bread into the thick creamy cheese, but instead of eating it himself, he held out his hand and, leaning forward, Fahliah took a bite. “Good?” asked Hassan and the Princess smiled and nodded. “Very good ...” Justin reddened with embarrassment for his Mistress at her obvious flirtation and while she and Hassan enjoyed their light meal; washed down with shai; the aromatic spiced black tea, infused with cinnamon, cloves, ginger and star anise, Fahliah could just see Justin out of the corner of her eye. And while she and her guest made conversation, she couldn't resist repeatedly glancing in her servant's direction to see if he was paying any attention and couldn't help but notice his discomfort. But Fahliah's actions didn't go unnoticed by Hassan who was growing increasingly annoyed at the princess' obvious curiosity about Justin. Hassan inwardly sighed; it was only too evident that Fahliah cared more about Justin's opinion of her than she did of Hassan's attentions and they were clearly going to have to follow through on their plan. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Having completed his duties by paying his respects to the King, the Fakir was escorted to Fahliah's rooms to join his nephew and the old man was anxious to know how Hassan was fairing with his seduction of the princess. A little disappointed that the old man had now joined them, Fahliah sent Justin off and he returned with a chair for the Fakir as the old man was obviously too infirm to sit among the cushions. The man smiled at Justin, now taking the opportunity to have a closer look at him. But Justin was dispatched again, in order to get another cup and a fresh supply of tea. The Fakir smiled at Hassan and the princess; at first observation, all looked to be progressing well, but when Kaniz returned and interrupted them with a message from Fahliah's Father, Hassan took the opportunity to talk to his Uncle. “You would make a fine couple,” whispered the Fakir and Hassan snorted. “But she pays more attention to that servant of hers ... she's far more interested in watching him ... she's using me ...” “Then we will have no choice but to use the potion ourselves ... but to make sure of its power ... you must both drink from the same cup ...” stated the Fakir and he patted the large bag he was clutching. “Before the young man returns ...” he continued and from inside the bag, the old man produced a green bottle. Ornately decorated, it looked like an expensive perfume bottle and while Fahliah was still talking to her servant, Hassan took the bottle from the old man. Watching to make sure he wasn't observed by the princess and her servant, Hassan quickly removed the stopper and poured the contents into Fahliah's cup. But not before Justin had returned, more quickly than expected and he saw Hassan's actions. “MISTRESS ...” called out Justin anxiously in warning and shocked at his loud interruption, Fahliah dismissed the servant girl and glared at him. “How dare you shout at me ...” stated Fahliah, embarrassed and stunned by Justin's outburst, but he tried to speak again to warn her, as Justin feared her drink was now poisoned and he blurted this out. Hassan looked suitably shocked, but he was quick to realize that this would work well in his favor and he picked up the Princess' cup. “If this were poisoned ... I would hardly drink from it myself,” he stated and then watching the Princess, Hasson took a large swallow from the cup. “There Justin ... how dare you accuse my guests ...” admonished Fahliah and she reached out for the cup herself intending to take a drink and show her faith in her guest. Justin cried out again, for even though Hassan had drunk from the vessel himself, Justin knew there was something wrong and he leaned forward to knock the cup from his Mistress' grasp and spilling the liquid onto her clothes and the cushions. Shocked at her servant's behavior, Fahliah jumped to her feet, but thankfully the liquid was no longer hot and didn't scald her, but it had soaked her clothes. “How dare ...” but before Princess Fahliah could finish her sentence, Hassan interrupted her. “How dare you insult your Mistress ...” and getting up, Hassan grabbed Justin by the arm. “Should we call the guard?” asked the Fakir, anxious to remove Justin as soon as possible, but the princess put up her hand. Whatever Justin's reasons for his actions, she couldn't believe it would be for anything other than genuine concern and she wanted to show that she was in control of her servants. “No ... I will deal with Justin myself ... but for the moment ... I must go and change out of this wet clothing ...” and calling Kaniz to help her, Fahliah swiftly left the room. “Let me go,” cried Justin and he managed to pull away from Hassan's hold. “Have some respect for your betters, young man,” stated the Fakir but Justin was not to be put off and he turned to Hassan. “I saw you put something in my Mistress' cup ...” and Justin's tone was no less accusing than before. “I think we should call the guards ... I'm sure the King would be glad to know of his servant's interest in his daughter ...” stated Hassan and Justin took a step backwards in surprise at the man's statement. Even though innocent, if the King had any suspicions that Justin's intentions were anything less than proper towards Fahliah and couldn't be persuaded otherwise, than the consequences would be very serious for him indeed and nothing the princess could say or do would save him from a cruel punishment or even death. “I have never acted inappropriately towards the princess,” proclaimed Justin, obviously insulted by the accusation. “But if I'm not mistaken ... it is you who have set out to make a fool of her ... she is still a young girl ... what were you hoping to achieve ... I definitely saw you put something into her cup ...” Justin's voice was getting louder and Hassan and the Fakir were concerned that the guards would be alerted, which might lead to an investigation into the incident; something neither man was too keen on. Justin was becoming too much of a nuisance and in the end it was the young man himself who decided the guards should be summoned and his suspicions looked into, for surely the King would only know he had the princess' safety as paramount. And so: “I will get the guards,” stated Justin and as he turned to call out, Hassan grabbed for him again. “Oh no you don't ...” and with one hand clamped over Justin's mouth, he held the young blond's arm behind his back. Hassan turned to the Fakir. “Uncle ... what are we going to do now?” “Leave him to me ...” stated the Fakir. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Slowly, very slowly, Justin started to regain consciousness; he could hear voices, but his head was so groggy he couldn't even begin to make sense of what was being said. And he was beginning to feel sick and began to realize that somehow, he was moving. Justin shook his head and forced himself to open his eyes and he looked around him. There was very little light but peering up, he seemed to be inside some sort of conical-shaped cell, but that couldn't be so, because cells don't move and Justin could definitely feel the jolting movements: it was like being rocked in time with someone's footsteps. And then Justin felt himself land with a bump. “We sail on the evening tide ...” came the loud words of someone obviously in command, to be confirmed with the the answer. “Aye aye Cap'n ...” “McGregor ... stow this in my cabin ...” and Justin felt a jolt of movement again and fear gripped his heart. Who were these people? How was he being held prisoner and why couldn't he see what was happening to him? And after a few more minutes of swaying from one side to the other, Justin felt himself put down again and he waited. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hearing the footsteps disappear and the closing of a door, Justin let out the breath he'd been holding in. He could still feel a little movement, but it remained too dark to see very much as he felt around him. There didn't appear to be anything on the floor, which like the walls he was now feeling, were smooth to the touch and the compartment allowed him to take just a few small steps from one side to the other and he closed his eyes; trying to recall what had happened before he lost consciousness. Slowly, it started to come back to him; how he'd seen Hassan put something in the princess' cup and then the ensuing argument with Hassan and his Uncle, the old man. The old man; it was coming back to Justin more quickly now. He remembered threatening to call the guards and being held by Hassan and then Hassen had thrown him to the floor as his Uncle spat out the words. “You are nothing but a servant boy ... and your attempts to get in our way will be punished ...” “One day ... someone may set you free ... but you will never know true freedom ... your time each day will be limited ... and then you must return to your prison ...” “And this will continue into eternity ...” Then, following the uttering of some foreign, unintelligible words, there had been a sudden gust of wind that appeared to swirl around him and Justin felt himself picked up by its forces and could feel himself spinning and spinning; the noise crashing into his brain until he'd lost all sense of where he was and everything had gone black and now Justin sighed. That still didn't really explain what had happened to him and how he came to be here and he sat down on the floor with his head in his hands. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Captain Buchanan had been visiting the royal household with his wares and he smiled to himself as he felt the leather money pouch in his pocket. He had sold all the fabrics he'd bought with him and had been asked for more and promised to make another trip back in the months to come and after checking all was well, he went down to his cabin to unpack his bag and for a few hours sleep before setting sail. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin had no idea how long he'd waited, but gradually he could hear footsteps coming back towards him and getting to his feet, he held his breath and then he had to shield his eyes as a bright light suddenly shone down on him and he saw a huge hand coming towards him. Backing up as far as he could go, Justin stifled a scream and dropped to his knees in terror as the hand picked up the receptacle that was holding him and which now set him down on the shelf in the cabin and Justin held his breath as he awaited his fate. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With his heart thumping, Justin watched in horror from his prison; crouched down in the hope that no one would see him. He looked out to what appeared to be a small room with shelving running around the walls with a brass rail along its edge. The room also held a bed, desk and chair, where Captain Buchanan was sitting. Justin had seen the man visiting the palace before and indeed had spoken to many of his kind. Everything around him seemed so huge and Justin felt so small, there on one of the shelves where he'd been set down, and then there was a knock on the door. “Ale Cap'n?” asked Merton, the cabin boy, as he responded to the Captain's command to enter and the youngster, no more than 9 or 10 years old, carefully set the tray containing the flagon and tankard down onto the desk. “Here,” called Buchanan and he tossed the boy a coin; the lowest denomination, but one that was welcomed all the same and the boy grinned. “Thank you Cap'n ...” and as he turned to leave, something caught his eye. “That's new,” he exclaimed and pointing up to the shelf in Justin's direction and the Captain nodded. “An old man sold it to me ... he looked like a beggar and I was feeling generous ...” came the answer. “I think Mrs. Buchanan will like her perfume bottle ... I'll pack it away again before we sail ... so it doesn't get broken ...” The Fakir, discarding his fine robes, had spied the sea captain leaving the palace; what an ideal opportunity to send Justin as far away as possible. The old man's pathetic pleading had not gone unheard and he'd chuckled as he'd pocketed the coins and at the fact that he'd even been paid for sending the young man to a living hell. Recoiling under the gaze of the young boy and Buchanan and hoping still not to be seen, Justin closed his eyes and sank to the floor in horror as realization dawned. “No ...” and he couldn't prevent the quiet sob that escaped before he had a chance to stop himself. He knew the legends of course, the myths of the genie in the bottle: something hidden which cannot be seen. Reputedly created as a servant of Allah, genies or Jinn, were supposed to be formed of smokeless fire and one of three intelligent species intended to populate the world, the two remaining being angels created from light, and humankind, formed of earth or clay. Creatures of substance, much like men, and when living among humans can still reproduce, eat, breath and can be killed. The Kingdom of Jinn was thought to be in the mountains of Qaf, which according to legend, encompass the whole of the planet, being either an actual physical mountain range, or floating firmament around the world. But the first genie, although in a lowly position, refused to prostrate himself before man. “Me Thou hast created of smokeless fire, and shall I reverence a creature made of clay?” and for his sin, he was cast out and forced to wander the world. And though Justin was a mortal and not a genie, was this to be his fate too? Another lowly servant who spoke out of turn against his betters, even though his intentions were for the good, reduced by sorcery to a size small enough to be imprisoned thus? Was Justin doomed to spend eternity wandering the seven seas, and as a prisoner of the bottle that held him? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Present Day: The sun was high when Brian woke up and he was on his own. Vaguely, he could remember letting the trick out before first light. The guy had asked him if they could hook up again, but Brian had smiled and shook his head. “I don't do repeat performances,” he informed him; still not caring that he didn't even know the man's name and probably never would. And then he'd returned to his bed and crashed and not giving the trick another thought. But now awake, Brian moved to the bathroom and after showering and shaving, he dressed in a tee and sweats. When last night Michael had asked him what he was doing for the weekend, he no doubt expected him to be out partying for most if not all of it, but in actual fact, Brian had brought work home with him and he put on the water for coffee before booting up his computer. Marty Ryder had intimated there was a partnership up for grabs at the advertising agency Brian had worked at since graduation; working his way up through junior positions and copy-writing until he secured the post as account manager. Sure he knew how to party, but Brian also knew what was required from him at work. At the start, it had felt like he was running hard in order to stand still; that being a gay man, at every turn, he had to prove himself better then the next guy in order to get ahead. But then he started to bring in the big accounts and even Marty forgot he was gay. Not that Brian cared; never one to openly state his sexuality, he would never deny it when challenged. He just didn't see it as anyone's business but his, or the guy he was fucking. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A couple of pots of coffee, one Chinese take-out and several hours later, Brian stretched his spine and rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head first one way and then the other to try and relieve the tension. He was happy with what he'd achieved and it hadn't taken him quite as long as he'd feared it might; maybe there would be time to party later after all. But that's when he saw it again. Brian had forgotten about the trunk, sitting there in the corner and now he'd seen it again, he couldn't go back to what he was doing without investigating it further; after all, if he didn't how would he ever return it to its rightful owner and he picked up the paper knife. If this didn't work, then he'd have to get a screwdriver or something heavier to break open the lock, though something told him the trunk deserved a lot more respect than that. Going over to the trunk, Brian crouched down and took another look at it. It was a traditional chest with metal bands running around it in order to afford additional strength, with the name C.A. Buchanan engraved on one of the bands. Inserting the paper knife into the lock, he moved it around until he finally found purchase, then, with a twist he heard the click and smiling and using both hands, Brian pulled open the lid of the trunk. It groaned a little to begin with and was a little reluctant to open, but with a little persuasion, he had the trunk open and he frowned. There didn't look to be much more than papers inside, but curious nevertheless, Brian started his search. Justin had been rudely awakened by the jolt when Donnelly had discovered the old trunk in Brian Kinney's storage area and he'd clung on to the sides as he was thrown first one way and then the other and his heart had beaten quickly in panic. What was happening to him? It had been so long since there'd been any movement and he had no idea where he was being taken and then a tiny ray of optimism crept into his thoughts. Would someone's curiosity get the better of them; forcing them to take a look and maybe even set him free? But Justin closed his eyes and forced that thought from his brain. What was the point in clinging onto false hope? He'd been trapped for longer than he had any conception of. Years, maybe even hundreds of years, could have passed and he'd have no idea. No idea of what time it was or of his location and then instead of hope, fear crept into his heart and he'd curled back up into a ball. And now, he heard the trunk being forced open and he held his breath. Taking a bundle of papers from the trunk, Brian went over to the table to sift through them and it wasn't long before he was totally absorbed. Along with an old Sexton, he found scores of ancient sea charts of the orient and middle east. The trunk appeared to have originally belonged to Charles Andrew Buchanan, a sea captain and his ship had been called 'Gypsy'. There were several logbooks, charting the ships travels, together with its cargo, lists of vittles purchased, payments made to the ship's crew and daily weather reports. Brian grinned; the age of the trunk and its contents giving way to fantasies of pirate ships and sailing the seven seas and the Spanish Maine: Long John Silver and Captain Hook and then he remembered. When he'd bought the loft, the owner before him had been named Buchanan, so this trunk must have belonged to one of his ancestors and had been forgotten when he'd moved out. Maybe Brian could trace the owner and he groaned at the thought of having to go to the trouble, but maybe he could just hand it over to his P.A., Cynthia, to handle for him. Without realizing it, he'd spent a good couple of hours looking through everything and with the light now fading, Brian turned on the lamps. Taking the pile of maps and papers back to the trunk to see what else it contained, he moved the last of the contents and found a soft, black velvet bag, which appeared to contain something fairly solid and now more than just a little curious, Brian opened the drawstring and peered in. Reaching inside the velvet bag, Brian brought out a very attractive and ornately decorated green bottle. To be continued. With many thanks to Lois and Judy. References: http://www.thegenieharem.com/history.html