Emmett read aloud from the brochure: “Provincetown, also known as ‘P-Town,’ is a quaint, little village nestled on the northern tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts.  Its normal population is three thousand, except in summer, when the population can zoom up to sixty thousand.  It is a town known for its beaches, artists, tourist industry, and its status as a vacation destination of lesbians and GAY MEN!”

Emmett shouted out the last two words, which set off a chain reaction in the other four passengers that were riding along with him in the Cadillac Escalade.  Ted, Michael, Ben, and Justin whooped and hollered, clapped and beat on various parts inside the SUV.  As their laughter died down, Ted asked Brian, who was driving the plush, mammoth icon of American decadence, “Brian, are you starting to regret bringing us all along?”

Brian crisply replied, “’Starting to regret it’, Theodore?  Not at all… I’ve been regretting it for some time now, way before we boarded our plane in Pittsburgh.” 

Michael and Emmett laughed out loud, while Ben playfully pounded on the back of Brian’s seat, “Hey, now, if you keep saying things like that, we’ll start thinking that you don’t like us.”

Brian quipped back at the professor, “Oh, I don’t want that to happen.  I might need some of you to carry my luggage.” 

While his friends shouted insults and questioned the legitimacy of his birth, a giggling Justin leaned over to sweetly kiss Brian on the cheek.  He whispered in the older man’s ear, “You’re doing well.  Just keep tolerating them until we check into the inn and you’ll get one of my spectacular blow jobs.  I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

Brian smiled and quietly responded, “I might have to up the ante, Sunshine.  I might just have to up it way the fuck up.”

Justin nuzzled Brian’s ear, before giving the earlobe an affectionate nip.

Michael howled from the back, “Knock that off!  If you get him started, then he’ll pull over and you’ll both be going at it, and we’ll-” 

Emmett jumped in and shouted, “And we’ll miss the inn’s three o’clock, ‘English High Tea’!   I will not miss that, Mr. Brian-I-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck Kinney! Oh, oh, ooooh!  They have a six o’clock ‘Cocktails & Canapés’ social hour!  Oh Teddy, that’s a complete costume change.  I don’t know if I brought enough outfits!” 

Brian pressed down on the accelerator pedal and the SUV surged ahead, nearly doubling their speed in three seconds.  All the passengers were thrown back and slammed into the back of their seats.  Brian shouted above the roar of the motor, mockingly exuberant.  “Holy shit!  We don’t want to miss any of that, now do we?!”

Michael and Ted shouted at Brian to slow down, and Justin groused through gritted teeth, “I said ‘when we check into the inn’ – not ‘check into a hospital’.  Slow down!”

The handsome, auburn-haired driver planted his tongue firmly in his cheek to stop himself from further fueling the building fight.   The twinkle in his eyes was the one hint that he thoroughly enjoyed jerking his friends’ chain.  He would have loved to ask if anyone pissed themselves, but he didn’t want to sour Justin’s mood. 

For a moment, Brian mused on how a business trip to P-Town had turned into a ‘fun-filled weekend with Justin and the boys.’  He glanced over at Justin… It’s all his fault.  I asked him to consider coming, and the next thing I know, everyone was ordering plane tickets.

He flicked his eyes to the rear-view mirror to see what the group in the back seats was doing.  They were still grousing and adjusting themselves from being thrown around by his driving.  I will enjoy tormenting them this weekend; it will be fun and will make up for the bullshit that I know they will put me through. 

Then, he glanced to his right, to look at his young lover.  But I’m going to be ecstatic when I torture you!  Brian smiled to himself, imagining the sound of Justin’s voice begging for sexual release.

For no apparent reason, Emmet started to sing, “Sweet Caroline.”  All the men, except for the frowning driver, joined in for the refrain, “Bum, bum, bum.”

Brian wasn’t immune to the jubilation that his friends were feeling.  He let his guard down for a few minutes and quietly joined them in song.  Justin’s keen eyes caught him mouthing the words, “Good times never seemed so good.”  The blond poked his auburn-haired lover in the side and flashed a knowing grin at him.

Despite himself, Brian had to smile in return.  Those words rang true for him, especially at that very moment.  He had his beautiful, blond lover at his side, he was driving an extremely expensive, rental vehicle, and heading for an exclusive guest facility located in the most famous, gay vacation spot on the East Coast. 

He glanced back over at his lover, who was turned around in his seat, and was watching the antics of their friends.

It has been eight years of ‘us’… eight years – fucking unbelievable… from baseball bats to bombs, with a greasy fiddler in between… while living in different cities for the last three years… despite it all, we’re still together… Life is good… and a hell of a lot better than the last time I was in P-Town.

The group finished “Sweet Caroline,” and Emmett began singing “Oklahoma.” Justin settled back into his seat and sang along, while watching the landscape of Cape Cod race by his car window.  The sun was high in the clear, vivid blue sky; and thankfully, the air was cooler and lacked the suffocating humidity of Pittsburgh.  It’s such a perfect day.  I can get used to this…

Eventually, topography outside the vehicle changed from clumps of wooded areas and bits of small towns to rolling sand dunes and patches of tall, straw grass.  Brian called out, “We’re about ten minutes out of town.”

Brian’s announcement sent an adrenalin-charged thrill through his friends.  Everyone started to talk, laugh, or joke all at the same time, and no one really cared if anyone else was listening to them.  Each person relayed what they planned to do, see, and where they planned to go.

The thing that came to the forefront of Justin’s mind was he wanted to kiss and hold hands with Brian, whenever he wanted, wherever in town, without censorship or harassment from hostile homophobes.   

It’s not just a street like Liberty Avenue… or area like in San Francisco… but a whole town, run primarily by gay men and women – where everyone can openly show affection and love… and are free to be themselves… whoever they are.  And haters aren’t tolerated!    

Justin looped his left arm around his lover’s neck, and leaned against Brian’s shoulder.  He lovingly said, “I can’t wait to kiss you in broad daylight, in the middle of town!”

Brian just nodded his head and softly smiled; he completely understood all the subtext of Justin’s statement.

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To say that the gang was impressed with their accommodations in P-Town was an understatement.

The Brass Lantern Inn & Spa was a huge, regal, historical-registered, white, gingerbread-trimmed Victorian mansion.  Protected by a tall, wrought iron fence, and situated on an immaculately landscaped, ½ acre of land, it stood majestically, drawing the eye of every passer-by.

The inn was rated as the best inn/hotel/bed-and-breakfast in town, and was extremely popular with the discriminating, affluent, gay and lesbian population that visited P-Town.  It had a very long waiting list year-round, even though the prices were exorbitant.  Comments on various travel websites praised the inn for its Egyptian cotton sheets, superb breakfasts, luxurious toiletries, magical spa treatments, and other wonderful amenities. 

Brian had to pull a few strings but he was able to secure rooms for the guys.  Unbeknownst to his four friends, he was supplementing the cost of their rooms.  He quoted the guys a price that was less than half the cost of the rooms, but he knew that they couldn’t comfortably afford the full price, so he was secretly handling the balance due.  Only Justin knew the truth and Brian knew the blond would keep his confidence. 

Upon their arrival, they were offered refreshments while their luggage was delivered to their rooms.  The manager gave them a quick tour of the floral laden grounds and impeccably decorated communal spaces in the house.  Though no one would ever admit it, more than one member of the gang was somewhat intimidated by the refinement or their surroundings.

Brian had arranged for special accommodations for Justin and himself.  So, when the gang was escorted to their rooms, Brian and Justin were lead in a different direction, away from their friends, to the outdoors.  They walked down a tranquil pathway, through an English-style garden, to their final destination – a picturesque, private, Victorian cottage. 

Justin's initial thought was that the cottage looked like a Ralph Lauren home décor showcase.  The cottage’s three rooms were chic and comfortable.  The living room was decorated in a montage of oak, leather, plaid, and a touch of chintz; peppered with maritime-themed antiques and souvenirs from the seas.  Its primary focus was rugged-but-charming stone fireplace, and on the mantle was mounted a state-of-art flat screen television. 

He was completely thrilled when he wandered into the bedroom and saw the king-sized, cherry wood, canopied bed.  It conjured up secret, sexual fantasies of being ravished by a certain auburn-haired lothario.

In Brian’s mind, the pièce de résistance of the cottage was large bathroom.  Decorated with a Mexican, hand-painted tile floor and Teak wood cabinets, it was outfitted with both a double occupancy walk-in shower and a built-for-two Jacuzzi tub.  He imagined thoroughly enjoying both with Justin.

Brian walked into the bedroom and caught Justin daydreaming, while staring at the bed.  He wrapped his arms around the blond and gently kissed Justin’s golden hair.  He quietly asked, “What do you think?  Does the cottage pass your inspection?”

Justin turned to face his lover.  “This is perfection… it’s… ” Justin bit his lower lip and then released it.  Brian watched the color of the plump lip turn from pink to red; which caused his cock to change from being flaccid to being semi-hard.  “It’s wonderfully… ridiculously romantic and I love it.”

Brian pressed his forehead against Justin’s, “It’s my first time staying at a bed and breakfast, and our first time at bed and breakfast together.  I wanted it to be special and this is the best one in town…  The last time I was in P-Town, I stayed at a cheap, bed bug ridden motel on the edge of town, with three other guys.  I could barely afford my share of the motel bill.”

Justin smiled and caressed Brian’s face.  “Well, now you’re back... and one of the most successful,   handsome men in town.”  Justin was surprised when Brian evaded his kiss.

“’One of the most handsome men in town’... damn, Sunshine, that’s harsh.  What happened to the title you gave me before – ‘the most handsome man in town and all around’?” 

Justin sadly patted his lover’s face and said, “Well, we’re not in Pittsburgh.”  The joking blond broke free from his lover’s arms, and backed away, towards the door.  He egged Brian on with exaggerated, shocked expressions and gestures. “What?  Oh, my!  I didn’t just say that, did I?  Oh, no… I guess you’ll have to punish me – if you can catch me.”  The blond took off running.

Brian growled, “You little shit,” and tore out after his partner.  He chased Justin into the bathroom, where the game plan instantly changed.  The thrill of the chase became the thrill of the touch… they grabbed each other and began to frantically kiss, caress, and strip each other’s clothing off.  Their desperation was fueled by their continual need to satiate the insatiable hunger that they felt for the other.

The moment that Justin’s warm, wet mouth encircled his cock, Brian forgave him everything.  Justin made good on his promise to give Brian a spectacular blow job… among other things.  The lovers happily and properly christened the shower.

They didn’t make it to the 3:00, English High Tea.

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That evening…

Brian and Justin emerged from their love nest at 6:30 PM, dressed for the evening.  They joined their friends outside, on the patio by the pool, for “Cocktails and Canapés.”  Though it was still full daylight, Tiki torches and candles had been lit and were scattered throughout the area, adding a festive feel to the social gathering.  Brian went straight for the bar and Justin bee-lined it for the hors d'oeuvres table. 

In addition to their four friends, there were five other male couples and two female couples.  People were standing or sitting, sipping drinks and chatting amongst themselves.  None of the groups intermingled.

Michael greeted his best friend first.  “Brian, our room is incredible!  It’s huge and has a bay window that you can sit in, and a fireplace, and it has its own bathroom!  Emmett and Ted’s room is kinda like ours and they have their own bathroom, too!    How’s your room?  And where is it, I couldn’t find you?”

Brian quietly said, “We’re not staying in the main house.”

“You’re not?!  What the fuck!  That’s not right!  We’re paying good money to have a nice room, and if they are trying to pull one over on us, then I’m going to tell them-” Michael looked like he was about to reenact a scene from the play, Les Misérables, and storm the main house, demanding Brian’s rights.

Brian calmly interrupted Michael.  “We’re staying in one of the private cottages.”

Michael’s face slightly unscrewed from its indignation and he asked, “What cottage?”

For some reason, Brian didn’t answer, so Justin spoke up, “It’s one of four on the property.  Ours is down that little path through that clump of trees.  You can see the roof from here.”

Michael cocked his head, “They stuck you in a cottage?  Shit!  How many people do you have to share it with?”

Brian and Justin shared a “patience needed” glance, before Brian nonchalantly said, “No, Michael.  We have the cottage to ourselves.”

Justin’s romantic side took hold and the he blurted out, “It’s so wonderful… so romantic with a cozy stone fireplace in the living room… and we discovered the hidden, complementary wet bar, actually Brian did – of course!  And, it has this gorgeous king-sized canopied bed… and the bathroom!  We were in the shower for ages, it’s bigger than the one in the loft - and I can’t wait to try out the Jacuzzi tub – it’s built for two!  And…”

Justin looked at the shocked faces of his friends and instantly felt bad about saying anything.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude… it’s just sort of came out…”

Ben reassured the young artist with a smile, and said, “Well, I know Brian Kinney would demand the best, and it sounds like you got it.  Our rooms are incredible, absolutely amazing, so I definitely don’t feel slighted... but… uh… I think we owe you some money.  Those rooms are far more expensive than what we paid you-”

Brian quickly cut Ben off, “Nope, you don’t owe anything more… I got a deal, a great discount-”

Ted interrupted Brian, “A discount?  A place like this doesn’t give discounts.  I bet they have a six month waiting list of homos who would kill to stay here!”

Brian mentally corrected Ted.  Try a fourteen month wait list.  I had to call in favors for this place, but it’s worth it.  You can thank Justin for this. 

What Brian did say aloud was, “I did get a discount.  I would have paid a hell of a lot more to make sure that our room was as far away from yours, as possible.”

Before Brian’s friends could put him in his place, one of the male couples that had been standing off to the side, walked over to the Pittsburg gang.  “Hi, I’m Jaime, and this is my boyfriend Bruce.”  The couple only had eyes for Brian.  “You look so familiar.”

Brian fixed a quizzical eye on the couple, but didn’t bother to respond.  Ben stepped up beside Brian and briefly introduced everyone in the gang, but only by name.

Jaime and Bruce politely greeted everyone in the group, but it was very evident that their interest was primarily with Brian.  Bruce, the taller one in the couple, confirmed it when he suggestively said, “We’ve heard soooo much about… you and your club… and the infamous Backroom… We think it’s wonderful what you are doing with your foundation… we would love to get a chance to talk with you… spend time with you… my boyfriend and I are very open to making new friends.”

Jaime, the shorter man, pointed to Ben and with a hopeful look in his eye, he asked “Is this your partner?”

A sonic boom blasted out from behind Ben.  “Heeeeeyyyyyy!”  Michael pushed his way through Brian and Ben, and snapped at Bruce, “Fuck off! That’s my husband.  And that is Brian’s boyfriend.”  He pointed to a red faced Justin.

Before the conversation could go any further, a high-pitched, theatrical voice bellowed out, “Good evening, darlings!” 

A man, wearing heavy make-up, walked out of the inn and into the patio area.  He threw up his arms in the air and struck a poise that would have made Madonna proud.   He looked like he was in his late forties, of medium height and weight, but his four inch espadrilles made him much taller.  His clothes were dazzling - literally.  He wore royal blue silk, silver trimmed lounge pants and a matching tunic.  Covering the tunic, was a solid silver, ankle-length, silk sheath coat that fluttered with his every move.

But, the real eye-catcher was his headdress.  It was a glittering tower of blue and silver plastic fruit.  He looked like a cross between ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ and Carmen Miranda.

Emmett gushed out, “How fabulous!”  Several other male voices joined his, cooing praise and admiration.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t get to greet you all when you arrived.  I’ve been running all day!  Oh my goodness, I forgot my manners!  My name is Shampagne, and it is spelt with an ‘S’ not a ‘C.’  I’m just a shy gal from Brooklyn!”  Shampagne laughed at her own joke, and a few of the guests politely joined her.

“I and my husband, Mario, are the owners and your hosts, here at the Brass Lantern Inn and Day Spa.  Welcome!  Relax, recharge, take a midnight dip in the pool, or order a massage.  Mi casa, es su casa!  Now, did everyone get a drink?  Do we need to replenish the nibbles?”  Shampagne didn’t wait for anyone to answer him, he moved to the hors d'oeuvres table.  The trays of food had hardly been touched.  “Oh no, they’re fine.”

“Now, mix, mingle, enjoy… Oh, oh, wait!  Don’t move, don’t breathe… Where is Mr. Brian Kinney?  Theeerrreee you are!”  Shampagne dramatically pointed a well manicured hand at a slightly uncomfortable Brian.

“Now, boys and girls... this prime piece of hot, man meat is the Mr. Brian Kinney, owner of the number one, top advertising firm in Pittsburgh, and the proprietor of the infamous club, ‘Babylon.’  Now tomorrow night, you must make your way to the Rose and Thorn Dance Club, it’s all the way at the other end of town, at 9:00 - sharp!  Because, Mr. Kinney and the charity organization that he created, the ‘King of Clubs Foundation,’ will be presenting a very sizable check to the ‘Lambda Legal Defense and Educational Fund.’

Lambda is responsible for taking California’s Proposition 8 to the Supreme Court, and suing various states for discrimination against homosexuals… rights of gays in the military… fighting for our right to marry, to adopt children… survivor rights… and our right to… oh, my…”  Shampagne had been counting on her fingers each legal action that Lambda had or was spearheaded, but had to stop when she became overwhelmed with emotion.

Legitimate tears threatened to streak her perfectly applied face.  “I just,” Shampagne fanned her hands in front of hers eyes, trying to unsuccessfully dry the tears, “… get so emotional… when I think what we, as a community, have been through, and are still going through… even my Mario and I… ”

Emmett hurried over to his new idol and offered Shampagne paper napkins and comfort.  Another man joined Emmett, and together they helped Shampagne dry her tears before they streaked her face.  After a minute, the hostess was able to emotionally regroup, and with Emmett providing a supporting arm, she continued on.

“I beg your pardon, mon petit chou chou… Well… I’m all better now… alrighty then -  ladies and gentlemen, please join me in showing our love and appreciation to Mr. Brian Kinney.”

Shampagne gave Brian a very regal diva-clap: she held her arms straight out in front of her and clapped with only the palms of her hands.  It looked like she was trying to not disturb freshly painted finger nails.  All of her guests politely joined her in clapping, albeit non-diva style, and even if some of them didn’t exactly feel ‘the love.’

When the clapping died down, all eyes were on Brian, waiting for him to say something. The hero of the moment nodded his head a couple of times, and then took a swig of his beer.  After a couple of seconds of just staring back at the crowd, Brian said… “It’s a good size check.”… and… that was it.  No ‘thank you’ or attempts at false humility.  

The gracious hostess’ face slightly twitched, it was obvious that she had expected something a little more formal… or at least a complete sentence.  But, she rebounded quickly with an, “Alrighty then!  Thank you Brian, and much love.”  Shampagne blew him a two-handed, air kiss and went on to share a few bits of news and describe other events that were happening in town over the weekend.

“… So, if you have any questions or need reservations, Carlos or Ruben will be very happy to help.  Now, my darlings, I have to dash off.  My husband, my Mario, my life  – by the way, he owns ‘El Pescado,’ the Spanish, seafood restaurant over on Commerce; it’s ideal for romantic dinners or any gathering of loved ones.  Anyhooo, he has a commitment ceremony reception tonight, and he is a marvelous chef and restaurateur, but can’t decorate or event-coordinate to save his life.  So, I’m off to save his life! Bonne nuit, mes enfants!” 

Shampagne cheek-kissed Emmett and the other man that had come to his aid, then left in a cloud of billowing blue and silver silk.  Most of her guests clapped their appreciation and thanks.

Jaime and Bruce immediately hit on Brian again, with Bruce insipidly oozing, “Well, where were we?  I believe we-”

Brian stopped them cold with, “Fuck off.”  When they started to protest, Michael harangued them, forcing them to walk away.  “You heard him, get the fuck outta here! ‘Fuck off’ means ‘fuck off!’  What are you looking at?  I know you’ve been told to beat it, before!”

Justin curled a possessive arm around Brian’s waist and insipidly called after them.  “So nice to meet you, I’m sure we’ll see you around.”  He casually held out a clenched fist to Michael, who just as casually bumped it with his fist.

An expressionless Brian watched the bonding gesture between the two men.  Through the years, his partner and best friend had become quite close, but that was after years of being rivals for his affection.  He was very grateful for the change, though for one brief moment in time, he did feel a little jealous of the bond... because he had been afraid it was more… 

He slowly turned his head and shared a knowing look with Ben.  Both men wisely chose to remain silent. 

Ted, however, did not.  He wise-cracked, “Nice boys, real nice… it’s lovely seeing Zephyr and J.T. working together to take down the interlopers… and that was a particularly moving speech, Brian… I will remember those words forever.”

Brian cracked back, “Here’s two more for you – ‘you’re fired.’”

Justin interrupted Brian’s 6,532th attempt to fire Ted.  “Come on Ted, give him a break.  He has PCDH - ‘post-coital, dead-head.’  And we ‘coitaled’ a lot in the last several hours.”  Justin protectively hugged Brian close and rested his head on the taller man’s chest.  Brian patiently stood still; he was quite used to being Justin’s pillow, leaning post, or whatever.  Secretly, he was quite happy with the bodily contact and the possessiveness that it implied.

“Post coital, dead-head” (PCDH) was a term that Justin invented while observing the behavior of Brian – and most men - coming out of Babylon’s infamous Backroom.  The brain and motor functions were always muddled for awhile, until the blood fully returned to the brain.  It could go on for up to an hour.  Since Brian had ejaculated at four times in last two hours, Justin was surprised that he was talking at all.

Their friends knowingly sniggered and said “Ooohhh,” in unison.  They all understood, since they each had personally experienced PCDH, to some extent.

Emmett brusquely grabbed everyone’s attention.  “Okay boys, we need to get going for our dinner reservations!  If we leave now, we can do a little shopping along the way!  Let’s go, boys!  Let’s go!  Let’s go!  Come on, move your tush, Teddy!”  Emmett rapidly clapped his hands and bounced around like an overgrown, high school cheerleader, rooting his friends on as they all made their exit from the eventful “Cocktails and Canapés” little fete.

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