Outside of the night

Outside of the Night

Lance flipped through the pile of mail on his desk, all carefully
opened and sorted by his secretary. He skipped over the junk mail for
now, trusting her judgement. Moved on to the semi-junk, the stuff
that you have to look at and make instant decisions— trash or no.

He was up to the *important business* mail. It was a small pile
today, thank God, as he had a million other things to do. He went
through it rapidly, making notes for Jane, pleased when he reached
the bottom in less than five minutes.

The last envelope was unopened, clearly marked personal. Jane was
good that way, never let her curiosity take over. He frowned at it,
recognizing the handwriting. He slit it open and pulled out the
black and orange invitation—

You are invited to a Halloween Evening
      Given by Justin and Lance
   At 899 Park Avenue Apt. 1201
      On Friday, October 26
          8 PM to ????
Wear a Costume.

"What the fuck? It's tonight." he said aloud and then sat back,
wracking his brain for any recollection of this party. He couldn't
come up with anything. He was pissed. This was Justin's way of
saying he was working too hard— sending him an invitation at the
office to his own house, no less.

"Bad timing, Jus," he said, thinking of the three major cases he had
going on right this minute. He had planned on working most of the
weekend and Justin knew that.

He sat back and allowed himself to daydream back to last night, no,
not last night. When the hell had it been?   It was weeks ago. He
had walked in well after midnight and Justin was still up waiting,
smiling that sexy smile that still got Lance the same way it had when
he first saw it five years ago.

Lance had started removing his tie and loosening his collar in the
elevator so when he walked in the door, he was already starting on
the shirt buttons. Justin came over and brushed his hands out of the
way, picking at the buttons himself and pulling Lance's shirt out and
off.

Lance grinned but shook his head, "Not tonight, baby, I'm beat."

A real look of hurt crossed Justin's face before he replaced it with
the sexy pout that had always worked in the past. Lance shook his
head again and the grin was more forced, "No, Justin, not even for
that look."

"Please, Lance, I can't even remember the last time we made love," he
whined.

"Stop with the drama queen shit," Lance said, the smile completely
gone now. "I'm exhausted and I have to get up early for these cases
I'm working on."

"What about working on us?" Justin asked quietly.

"We've been together nearly five years. What's to work on, Justin?"

Justin was the romantic, "We need to work on remembering why we fell
in love in the first place, to have some of that passion and magic
that was there in the beginning."

"I can't do this tonight, Justin, I'm too damned tired," Lance
answered.

"Then when? Make a date. Just like the old days."

Lance pressed his lips together, "I have to check my calendar at the
office."

Justin stiffened and looked as if he would cry. "You do that and let
me know," he said softly. "I'll make myself available."

"Oh God, Jus, don't. No theatrics. Please." Justin turned his back
and went into their bedroom, letting Lance decide whether they would
even sleep in the same bed.

Justin was hunched under the covers when Lance came in, smelling of
Jack and cologne, a powerfully sexy smell that made Justin want to
cry with need. But he refused to turn to face his lover and
pretended that he was already asleep.

Lance knew better but didn't want any more confrontation that night
so he stripped and slid between the sheets, spooning into Justin's
body, holding his breath until he felt Justin relax. Justin wanted
to throw him off, to move away, but the touches were like air and
water to him and he couldn't do it.

Lance had been up and out the next morning before 6AM. Justin moved
into the empty warm space and sniffed the pillow and prayed to
whoever was listening to make Lance love him again before it was too
late.

When he got out of bed himself, it was after 10AM and it was only to
answer the door and let JC into the apartment. They were working on
some new songs in the small studio in the back. They worked well
together, bouncing ideas back and forth, arguing creatively, getting
excited about a particular song or chord or snippet of lyrics.

They were working on Justin's song today so JC had more time to kick
back and relax, waiting for Justin to ask for help. He watched
Justin concentrate, his whole body into it, like a child, and he
marveled at the beautiful face and sexy body that nature had bestowed
on his friend.

Justin finally felt JC's stare and looked up, smiling. "What?"

JC blushed and Justin reddened himself, before standing and
stretching, "How about some coffee?"

JC readily agreed and they had enjoyed a break together, talking
about all of the movies and new restaurants they wanted to check
out. They enjoyed one another's companionship, so it was a jarring
reality when Lance had blown off Justin's suggestion to go out to the
new Indian place around the corner. And he never mentioned the "date"
he was supposed to check on his calendar. Justin noticed it and
wondered if this road was getting just a little too bumpy. That had
been awhile ago.

Lance looked at the invitation again. It didn't say RSVP so Lance
didn't have to call Justin and play this stupid game. He put it
aside and dragged the huge pile of work to the middle of his desk.
He told Jane to hold his calls and hesitated before adding, "Even
Justin." He rationalized that if he didn't talk to him, then he just
*might* be able to make his own party.

Justin prepared everything himself— decorations, candles, food,
wine. When he finally looked around, he was pleased. He dialed
Lance's office to make sure that he would be on time and Jane said he
wasn't taking calls. He heard the wince in her voice when she
said, "Even yours."

He faked it. "No problem. I'll catch him later. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and threw himself down on the soft leather sofa
that they had picked out together. Objects that had sentimental
value jumped out at him— the antique knife collection of Lance's that
they had added to everywhere they traveled, Justin's Tibetan
artifacts that represented more than one Christmas or birthday gift,
and the pictures and souvenirs from all of their vacations.

Justin tried to remember the last vacation. It was Paris, but when.
Last year? Shit, no, it had been two years ago. Lance had combined
a business trip with pleasure and they had roamed the streets of
Paris, hand in hand, both agreeing it was the most romantic city in
the world and swearing they would be back.

Justin felt tears prick behind his eyes. There was no romance and if
he was honest, hadn't been any in a while. Lots of sex, on Lance's
schedule only, but it seemed impersonal, like beating off using
someone else's hand.

Tonight was his chance to reconnect. Justin didn't want the
relationship to die but without some watering and feeding, it
couldn't do anything else. And he sighed, knowing JC was waiting to
step into Lance's place when the moment was right.

JC had told Justin that he wanted him, had even tried to kiss him,
and it was a tribute to their artistic respect for one another that
they could still collaborate. But there were days lately when Justin
longed for the romance, to be everything to someone, to share laughs
and kisses and it was obvious that he was not Lance's everything or
anything, for that matter. Work had taken over and Lance was so
immersed in it most days– and nights— that Justin couldn't compete.

Justin found himself out at clubs more often, a note on the mail
stand so Lance wouldn't worry. But he was never very late and
frequently beat Lance home. And Lance never seemed jealous or even
upset those nights Justin did come in later. In fact, most times he
was asleep, snoring softly, and never even woke up.

He nibbled on his finger, worrying the skin the same way he was
worrying the relationship. If he knew what to do, he would do it.
He had tried ignoring the situation, he had tried joking about it, he
had tried crying and whining and yelling and to all of them, Lance
had answered, "Grow up. This is real life."

It frightened Justin that he was down to a last option. He pushed
himself off the couch and went in to change into his costume. He
looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. If Lance didn't respond
tonight.....that was not a place he wanted to go.

Lance pushed back from his desk, satisfied with his progress. Jane
had popped her head in a while ago to say she was leaving and he
waved goodbye without even looking up. He was going to make it to
Justin's party after all, he thought, as he looked down to check his
watch.

He tapped the crystal. Shit, 11 PM? That was impossible. He bolted
out of his chair and ran to Jane's desk, picking up her small desk
clock and verifying that it was indeed that late. Lance ran his hand
over his forehead and through his gelled spikes, trying to decide
whether to call Justin or just join the party and apologize later.

He opted for later. Maybe Justin would be a little drunk and
wouldn't care. He hoped so. He grabbed a cab and settled back, his
eyes closed, wondering if maybe Justin had a point about the romance.

He thought back to the first night they had made love. It hadn't
been long after they met. It always seemed like fate to them so
there was never a reason to wait. Lance already had a "la-di-da"
apartment, as Justin termed it, before they met and he wanted to show
it off to his new boy.

Justin smiled, that great smile that could bring sunshine to an
otherwise dreary day, and said, "Sure, why not." Later he told Lance
that he was none too subtle, laughing as he said it.

As they went up in the elevator, with an operator, no less, Justin
tried hard to keep a straight face. The picture of Julia Roberts with
Richard Gere in "Pretty Woman" kept popping up and he was tempted to
put on a show himself. But he knew that Lance was ultraconservative
and Justin wasn't going to jeopardize this relationship.

He did bend over laughing after the doors closed and got a strange
look from Lance as he went over and unlocked the door. It was
beautiful but sparse. Lance didn't spend much time there so he
didn't need much beyond the bare necessities. What he did have was
expensive. That much Justin knew.

Once Lance had showed him around, they came to that awkward place
where the sexual dance starts and no one wants to lead. They sat and
stood and moved around and fixed a drink and discussed Lance's knives
and finally fell silent.

Justin excused himself and went into the master bath. If Lance
thought it odd, he didn't say so. He followed him into the bedroom
and after Justin shut the door, he kicked off his shoes and fell onto
the bed, wondering how slick he would have to be to get Justin
undressed.

Lance heard the door open and nearly choked. All that boy had on
was a black silk g-string, covering what seemed to be an impressive
erection. Justin put a small tape player on the night table and
pressed play. An old Barry White song started and Justin's hips
swayed erotically to the music. His hands played up and down,
stroking his nipples, and running his fingers in circles over firm
muscles.

When he stuck a finger in his mouth and started to suck, Lance nearly
came. He moaned loudly and shut his eyes, imagining Judge Judy until
he had some control. He stripped to the buff in record time and saw
Justin's appreciative grin as he looked at Lance's swollen cock.

Justin danced over to him and traced Lance's mouth with his wet
finger and then leaned in for a real kiss, a crush of teeth and lips,
as he moved Lance back toward the bed. Their breathing was loud and
rough, pants of passion as they fell onto the bed and slid backwards
on the silky covers.

"Oh God, Justin," Lance groaned and groped at the bedside table,
searching for the drawer pull. When the silk grazed his erection,
Lance's fingers fluttered and he forgot everything but the exquisite
pleasure coursing through him.

Justin found the condom and the lube and got ready before slicking
his fingers and inserting them one at a time, stretching the muscle
little by little until Lance was ready, dropping kisses all the
while. Finally, Justin knelt up and looked down at Lance.

"Take it off, baby," he whispered in a voice so sexy, Lance gasped
and frantically started the multiplication tables. His hands were
trembling as he untied the string and let the silk fall away. Justin
smiled at the appreciation he read in Lance's eyes, lifted Lance's
legs over his shoulders and entered him, pausing to let Lance adjust
and then slowly starting a rhythm that drove Lance wild. He rode
Lance until the boy was shouting his name and God's together as he
came in great spurts of creamy white fluid. Two more thrusts and
Justin came, too, calling Lance's name in a hoarse cry.

They spent that night together, alternating sex with a cuddling that
would always remain Justin's second favorite activity. Lance sighed
as the taxi drew closer to the building. They, correction, he,
hadn't made much time for that lately. He hoped Justin wouldn't be
too pissed but he was prepared to puff up and back him off if he got
too upset.

He stood outside the door, listening for the sounds of a party, but
all he heard was the sexy sound of Barry White from the stereo. He
opened the door and was surprised at how dark it was. The only lights
were candles, lots of them, flickering out one by one as the wax
burned down.

His eyes swept the room. Halloween decorations hung from every shelf
and there were pumpkins all over filled with fresh flowers. The table
was set for two with their best crystal and china, the candles burnt
down. There was an empty wine bottle on the coffee table next to a
half-filled glass.

With a shock, Lance realized that this was a party for two, Justin's
last stab at restoring the fun and romance in their relationship. He
went over to the sofa where Justin was sprawled on his stomach,
passed out. Lance knelt down next to him.

"Baby boy," he whispered, "wake up." Justin rolled over to his back
and flung his arm over his face. "Jus, you awake?"

There was no answer, just a soft snore. Lance ran his fingers over
the perfectly sculpted abs and down the flat planes of Justin's
stomach, moving down with the intention of arousing the younger man.

He gasped when he realized what Justin was wearing. It was the same
black g-string as the first night. He shook his head, Barry White
now making sense. Lance hadn't cried for a long time but this made
him cry, the effort that Justin had put into this night, trying
desperately to save their foundering love by bringing them back to
that other night..

And he had gotten a much different response from the first time,
Lance ignoring him, thinking it frivolous in his oh-so-serious
world. He shook Justin harder, not caring if he was pissed, just
needing him to know how much Lance loved him.

"Go away," Justin groaned, swatting at the insistent hand that
wouldn't stop bothering him. When Lance didn't stop, Justin's eyelids
fluttered open and he tried to focus. Two or three Lances danced in
front of him, separating and coming together, never standing still.

"Justin, are you listening?" Justin nodded though Lance wasn't sure
if that was for real. "I love you, baby, I am so sorry. I really
fucked up tonight."

Justin finally got the Lances to narrow to one and he sighed,
remembering what had happened. He staggered to his feet and headed
for the bedroom, ripping off the g-string and throwing it angrily on
the floor.

"Jus, please forgive me. I can make it all right."

Justin climbed into the bed and huddled into the blankets. "Can
you? It takes two to make it, two to break it and two to fix it and
right now, I don't want to fix it anymore."

Lance realized he had fucked it all up beyond repair, that this had
been Justin's last try and that tomorrow morning JC would be on the
doorstep waiting to whisk Justin away to a place where he could be
appreciated.

Lance drank himself to sleep and didn't hear Justin moving around,
blowing his nose, and throwing personal items into a box. When all
was said and done, Justin didn't have much to take with him.

When the doorbell rang, Lance woke up and looked around blearily,
trying to orient himself. Justin let JC in, who stood waiting
nervously while the two lovers said goodbye. It was quick, Lance not
willing to beg in front of JC and Justin not willing to ask for even
one more word, one more explanation.

When the door shut behind JC and Justin, Lance went into "their"
bedroom and saw the note on the dresser. "I need more. Something
outside of the night. I tried."

The End

* menu *
* onto Learning To Love *