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Sixty Tricks in Sixty Days Part 4

Image by Heather


Brian was alarmed by how enormous Lindsay had become. He couldn't really allow himself to think of that giant growth in her belly as being part of him or he might become ill. She could barely fit in the booth at the diner and just walking from the Jeep to the table seemed to exhaust her. She caught his appalled expression and scowled.

"Don't look at me like I'm a circus freak."

Brian had to chomp down on many pithy rejoinders as he reminded himself that her sense of humor was at an all-time low. Not that he could blame her. If he looked like that, he would have walked off a high cliff long ago. "Food? Can you eat anything here or are you on some special diet?"

"I can eat, Brian. This is all baby weight. I'll be svelte again after this elephant dof yours is born."

He wasn't sure he could eat, however. His appetite had suddenly waned. His baby. What a weird thought that was. If there was one thing he never thought he'd have to worry about, it was knocking someone up. Of course Lindsay, and God knows, her uberbitch partner, would be quick to say this wasn't his baby. All he did was jerk into a cup and they did the turkey baster thing themselves.  What did they do with the baster after it was rammed up her twat, he wondered? Rinse it out and butter the turkey? Or toss it in the trash and buy another? He made a mental note to decline a Thanksgiving invitation to Chez Lesbo.

"Isn't it late? Overdue?" He asked as he watched her scan the menu.

"No. My due date is next Monday, but first babies are notoriously slow to get here. The problem is, since it dropped, its head is resting on my bladder and I'm uncomfortable all the time and peeing every five minutes."

"Just coffee," Brian said to the waiter. It was official. He had no appetite. God had a wicked sense of humor. Not only did He fail to give women a dick, but He made them go through this. Cruel, really cruel. She ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and orange juice, causing Brian to long for the morning sickness she experienced early on when she was still roughly the size of a normal human.

"So, are you coming to the hospital when it's time?" She asked him, again, and he answered, again,

"Of course. I told you I would. If you can control Melanie's hatred of me."

"She doesn't hate you, Brian. She's just a little jealous of the fact we used to date."

"That wasn't all we did," he smirked at her, recalling his brief and not very creative foray into heterosexuality when they were in college.

She beamed at him. "Lucky I didn't get this way back then. We probably would have gotten married and can you even imagine anything worse?"

"No," he said bluntly. "I can't. And I used double strength condoms, as you recall."

"To avoid a fate worse than death?"

"For both of us, Linds. We're both queer."

He twirled the plastic coated menu in his hands, sensing she was about to get weepy. Her hormones were so out of control now, it didn't take much to make her cry. "I hope it's a boy and he looks just like you," she warbled and Brian winced, becoming even more uncomfortable.

"He could do worse," he glanced at his watch. That irritated her.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be? It's Saturday! Relax!"

"I have an appointment for a steam and a massage," he said, also known as number fifty- one and fifty-two.

"I remember the days when I could lay- -or is it lie-- face down on a massage table," she said wistfully and he smiled.

"Without rocking back and forth you mean? With your shoulders and legs not touching the surface?"

She had to smile. "You are so cruel."

"They should come up with a pregnancy massage table with a hole cut out for the belly the way they cut out a hole for the face."

She laughed. "I've seen plenty of pot-bellied men who could benefit from that, too."

"I went to this gay massage place in Las Vegas, once, and they had a place cut out for your cock. Some guy would crawl under the table and suck your dick while another massaged your back. It was hot."

"You're absolutely incorrigible."

"No shit."

"Have you ever been on a vacation where the main point was other than getting fucked?"

"Yeah. I went to Disneyland when I was four and sex never entered my head. I mean I found Goofy mildly attractive, but…"

She threw a wadded up napkin at him. " Stop! I want you to take our baby to Disneyland some day, Brian."

"You think Goofy is still there? Waiting for me?"

"Don't make me laugh! Damn! Now I have to pee, again."

He watched her get up with some difficulty and then lumber towards the john. "Hi, Brian," a hottie wearing a wifebeater and denim shorts, cut off high on his thighs, smiled at him. "Been playing the other side of the fence?" he nodded towards Lindsay's retreating bulk. Brian vaguely remembered this guy on his knees in front of him in the backroom of Babylon. He thought he might be number twelve, or maybe thirteen. Whatever, he wasn't as good as he looked.

"You mean my wife?" Brian asked, bringing a shocked stare from the guy.

"Sheeya. Right."

He raised a brow as if to say, "What?" and the hottie frowned.

"Man, do I feel sorry for her. If she only knew what a cockhound she had in you."

"We compete for cock. That's what keeps our marriage fresh. We have such fun speculating about who the father of the child might be."

The guy walked on and Brian laughed as Marlon slipped into the booth in Lindsay's place and shook his head. Today he was in his torn "Streetcar Named Desire" t-shirt. "That wasn't very nice, Brian."

"I never claimed to be nice."

"Maybe this is why you were a lonely kid and you're a lonely young man. You were never very nice."

"I'm not lonely. I don't have time to be lonely."

"Lonely people invent imaginary friends."

"You're not imaginary, Marlon. You're real. You just don't look this good anymore."

"Forever young, forever beautiful on celluloid and in your fantasies. How do you feel about that baby?"



"What do I know about being a father, even a putative one? I was raised by hyenas."

"You know what you missed, right?"

"It doesn't matter. They won't give me a place in the baby's life anyway. They made that clear."

Marlon smiled. "Since when do you give a shit what other people want from you? It's up to you, Brian. You're the baby's father. Only you can make that mean something or nothing."

"Did you hear me, Brian?" Lindsay repeated, standing by the booth. He shook his head as Marlon disappeared.


"My back hurts. I think I'd like to go home and lay down."

"Okay, sure." He paid the check and helped her into the Jeep, driving her to her house and walking her to the door. He kissed her cheek and said, "I'll be at the hospital. Just call me."

She reached up to touch his face, when Melanie threw open the door glaring at them as her sandpapery voice snapped, "Interrupting something?"

"Yeah," Brian said with a scowl. "We just had hot torrid sex in the Jeep and were sharing a tender `until next time' moment, Mel."

Lindsay giggled as Mel said, "Fuck you, Brian."

"Sorry, I'm all out of steam. Later, girls," he left, driving to the spa that catered to gay men. While the sex was not part of the service and was certainly not advertised, once he took off his clothes, Brian never had any trouble getting laid.

Today was no different. Number fifty-one was an Asian masseuse named Kai and number fifty-two was a hot fireman who shared the steam room with him, leading to his sharing much more. Dressed, relaxed, Brian headed for Pittsburgh's answer to the Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich, the street of designer shops and consumer excess. Plowing through Armani's new collection, Brian became aware of being cruised by a tall, lean model type who held up a jacket and a shirt.

"Excuse me, but what do you think? Can I wear ecru with gray or is it too yellowy?"

Brian gave him the once over, and then smiled. "I'd have to see you in it."

Their eyes met and they both smiled.

In the dressing room, Brian was able to watch himself be blown in the three way mirror, giving him a hot view of himself that he seldom saw. His jeans pooled around his ankles, his t-shirt pushed up to his tits, the model was on his knees in front of him, stroking his own cock as he sucked. Before he came, Brian stopped him. He leaned over to fish in his pocket for a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. The model smiled, understanding what was coming. "Go slow," he whispered, stepping out of his khaki shorts. "You have a huge cock."

"Don't worry," Brian said with a smirk. "I've done this before."

The model braced his palms on the mirror, leaning forward as Brian penetrated him from behind. Both of them watched in the glass as they fucked. Brian reached around to stroke the other's erection as he pumped himself in and out of the guy's snug ass. If there were security cameras filming this, Brian just hoped the viewers were gay. They both got off, the model striping the mirror with his load, while Brian dropped his full condom in the waste basket. After he dressed and avoided the model's attempts to hook up again, he said, "By the way, I'd get the dove gray shirt. I think the ecru is meant to be worn with the tan collection."

He walked out and left the store, suddenly losing his urge for an Armani. It was still short of noon and he had bagged three more tricks. Marlon fell into step with him as he walked and each lit a cigarette. Marlon was still in Stanley Kowalski drag. "Some say promiscuous sex is an addiction, like nicotine, or heroin," he observed.

Brian shrugged and exhaled. "Cross Addictions R Us."

"What do you get out of it, besides the obvious?"

"Why isn't the obvious enough? It feels good. I like it. It gives me a sense of control, of power. I'm not cut out for coming home to the same little woman, male or female, night after night. I'm more the alley cat type. I like to eat out of strange trashcans. Let some other cat have the silken pillow and the bowl of kibble."

Marlon smiled. "That's a lot easier than going the other way, Brian. No emotional investment whatsoever."


"It's easy for you, because you're beautiful."

"It seems to work."

"But soon you turn thirty. What about that?"

Brian winced. The dreaded 3-0. Homo death. He resented having his denial penetrated. "Maybe I'll luck out and get hit by a car before then."

"Not funny."


"Uh-oh, here comes trouble." Marlon disappeared as Brian saw his father approach. What were the odds? He sighed, mentally calculating how much cash he had on him. In the old days, he feared seeing his father because the man was dangerous when drunk, and he was drunk more than he was sober. Now he resented seeing him because he was always asked for a loan that was never repaid. Since he grew too big to be hit, his father had decided he was just the right size to hit up.

"Sonny Boy!" Jack's big, Irish smile. A firm hand clamped Brian's shoulder. He wasn't drunk, yet, but the day was still young. Jack had no idea Brian was gay. He would never understand. He was a rounder in his youth, never letting marriage stand in the way of his chasing women. He assumed his only son had followed his example. To Jack, gays were "rump wranglers" and "cocksuckers". Few things were more despicable to him than queers. "Where are you off to, this fine day?"

"What are you doing here, Pop? Not your kind of shopping." His father wouldn't know Armani from the K-Mart blue light special.

"It's your mother's birthday, remember?"

No, he didn't, but now he knew why she wanted him to come to dinner. "I forgot."

"I wanted to get her something nice, but I'm a little short and everything is so expensive."

Here it was. The touch. Jack must really be in the doghouse if he was bothering to find a gift for Joanie that he didn't pick up at the bottle shop on his way home. Brian pulled some bills from his wallet and handed them to his father. "Here, get her something she wants and tell her it's from both of us."

"Well now, Sonny Boy, this is a lot of cash. Can you afford it?"

"I can afford it, Pop."

"Why don't you come with me? You have better taste than I do."

That was a "duh". "I can't, I'm meeting someone."

"A lady?" His father leered at him and Brian sighed.

"No, Dad. Michael."

"Christ, are you still friends with that little faggot? I'm telling you, Brian, that kid is as queer as a three dollar bill, always was! You hang around with him, people are going to talk about you."

Brian's smile was stiff. "He's my best friend, Pop. I'm not sleeping with Michael, so what do I care what he does with his dick?"

"He'd like to sleep with you. I've seen how he stares at you. Gives me the creeps. Mark my words, some day he's gonna take a grab at you and then what will you do?"

"I guess that depends on my mood. I have to go. Remember, Mom's favorite perfume is Joy. It's expensive and it would be a real treat for her. You can get it in any good store."

They separated and Brian walked on, knowing his father wouldn't get Joy. He'd buy her some cheap perfume and drink the rest of the money. Brian may have been able to stop that if he went with him, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't spend that much time with the old homophobe. This brief exchange had depressed him inutterably. He needed a drink himself so he got in the Jeep and drove to Woody's where he could have a beer while he awaited Michael's arrival.

He noticed two men at the end of the bar staring at him and talking about him in low voices. Neither of them would hit his radar screen as potential sex partners, not even on a slow night. A smidgen of their conversation drifted over to him between songs on the juke box.

"….yeah, gorgeous, but such an asshole. Has this one trick limit rule. Someone tries to come back for more, he tells them to fuck off."

"Short shelf life for that, better enjoy it while he can."

He lit a cigarette and smiled to himself. He was enjoying it and he could. His one trick limit wasn't just because he got bored with monotony. It was also because he had nothing to offer anyone other than his body, and the chances that they would find that out increased after one trick. "Sorry I'm late, " Michael slung an arm over Brian's shoulders and kissed the top of his head before flopping down on the stool beside him. He was dressed in his Big Q drag, even his Big Q ID badge. "We're re-stocking and it's so hard to do that and keep the customers happy at the same time."

"Life in the fast lane, Mikey."

"Come on, let's go eat. I can't have a drink on a workday, anyway, and I only have an hour." As they left, Brian smirked at the two queens at the end of the bar and they gave him a wilted smile in return, because the power of Brian Kinney in their world inspired a strange brand of awe and fear.

Over sushi, Michael shook his head as Brian shared number fifty-three with him. "The only way I'll win this bet is if that fish is bad and you get laid up with food poisoning."

Brian shrugged. "Laid up with food poisoning doesn't mean I can't get laid. Your dick isn't the organ that's affected by food poisoning."

"But it's so unsexy when the man ramming you from the back is barfing off the side of the bed."

"Happen to you often, does it?"

Michael laughed. "Shut up."

"Ran into Jack on the street today. Said he was buying my mother a birthday present. That is, I'm buying her a present, since I gave him the money."

Michael grimaced. "Always a pleasure to see your Dad, I know."

"He reminded me of what a faggot you are."

Michael laughed at that. "I know you are, but what am I?"

"Rubber, glue?" Brian chuckled. "I guess I should send her some flowers or something. For her birthday. Anything to avoid going over there."

"Reminds me, Mom is cooking lasagna tomorrow. You're invited."

Brian nodded. Debbie was his true mother, her house his true home. "Okay. Who else?"

"The usual. Mel and Linds, Ted, Em."

"Lindsay and I had breakfast together. That is, she ate, I lost my appetite when I saw her. She looks like she might explode. Scary."

"It's called being nine months pregnant with your child, Brian. Be a little charitable."

"It's not like I knocked her up in a fit of youthful passion, Mikey. The only pleasure I got out of this is from my own hand. The rest was her choice. Why she would put herself through that, I'll never understand. And she won't even let the doctor tell her if it's a boy or a girl. What's up with that? I hate uncertainty."

"You'll be certain enough in a week or two. Want to do something different tonight? Something other than Babylon?"

"Like? Leather? Baths? Twinks?"

"A movie?"

"That gay porn place behind the gay porn bookshop?"

"No, Brian. A real movie. We used to love going to the movies."

He shrugged. "I have work to do."

"You have to work tonight?"

"Yeah. Number fifty-four, fifty-five…."

Michael laughed. "Early movie and then Babylon?"

"Okay. What time do they let you leave the world of finance also known as the Big Q?"


"I'll pick you up. Hey, do me a favor. Buy me some condoms, would you? I'm running low. You know the kind I like and the size is…"

"I know, I know. Extra large."

"Just think how it will enhance your reputation after all the times you've bought the junior sizes."

Michael whacked Brian's wrist with a chopstick. "Fuck you."

Brian passed him the cash for the condoms. "Only in your dreams, Mikey, only in your dreams."

Continue to Chapters 5-7

Disclaimer: The television show Queer As Folk and its characters are the property of Showtime and CowLip Productions. No money is being made. Stories and discussion are intended purely for the entertainment of fans of Queer as Folk, the Brian and Justin characters, and Randall's writings.
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July 25, 2004