anus, and he spoke as if it were a matter of life and death.
Rush arched his back and lifted his leg. This was ridiculous. But he didn’t want to
stop. He pressed his knee into Lance’s hard body and said, “Put it on.”
Lance didn’t bother to remove his clothes. He pulled a condom out of his wallet
and tore it open with his teeth. While he put the condom on, Rush stood in the middle of
the elevator, leaned forward, and grabbed the metal gate. The gate was cold; the elevator
smelled musty; he had to stand on his tiptoes because the grated floor irritated the
bottoms of his feet. When he spread his legs and arched his back, he felt Lance’s strong
hand on his left hip. With his right hand, Lance probed his opening a few times and
prepared to mount him. Rush felt the head of Lance’s erection enter his body; he closed
his eyes and bit his lip hard when Lance plunged all the way in with one fast thrust.
For a brief second, Rush felt so much pain he couldn’t catch his breath. He almost
choked on his own saliva. But a second after that, his muscles relaxed and the only
sensation he felt was subtle pain slipping into absolute pleasure. The man of his dreams
was standing behind him, holding his hips with sturdy hands, bucking into his body so
hard the entire elevator rocked back and forth. The metal clanked and squeaked; their
deep breaths and controlled gasps echoed through the cold brick walls that surrounded
the open elevator. It was a good thing that Lance hadn’t removed his clothes, too. If
Lance had been naked, there would have been loud slaps against Rush’s body. They both knew this wouldn’t take long. To drag it out with foreplay would have
ruined the entire spontaneous experience. Lance whispered, “I’m close.” He bucked his
pelvis faster and pressed hard on Rush’s hips.
Rush reached down and took his own erection, holding the metal door with the
other. “Me too,” he said. He was still on his tiptoes, maintaining his balance with his legs.
He couldn’t catch his breath. While he jerked his penis, he tossed his head back and
closed his eyes.
They climaxed together, stood still for a moment, then Lance pulled out and
helped Rush stand up straight. Lance placed his palm flat on Rush’s hard stomach and
turned him around. “I’ve never done anything like this in my own elevator,” Lance said.
“It was wonderful.” Then he wrapped his arms around Rush’s body and kissed him on the
lips. He laughed and said, “You surprised me.”
Rush put his arms around Lance’s shoulders and smiled. “I surprised myself this
time.” Then he pressed his lips to Lance’s and gently slipped his tongue into Lance’s
mouth.
While they were kissing, someone shouted, “Is everything okay up there?” It was
a deep hollow voice, coming from below.
“It’s fine, Chuck,” Lance shouted. “I stopped the elevator on purpose. I’ll get it
moving in a minute. Nothing to worry about.”
Rush’s eyes opened wide. He’d almost forgotten he was standing naked in a
public elevator, on the tips of his toes, in a strange man’s arms. And the man still had a
condom attached to his shrinking penis. “Who is that?” Lance smiled and kissed his forehead. “It’s the super who does the night shift.
He’s probably wondering why the elevator isn’t working. Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’m
not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Chapter Five
After Lance Sharp made the announcement about getting a major record contract
for Cody and the TV show for Joey, no one’s life was ever the same again. Rush, Cody,
and Anderson became fast friends. Anderson hadn’t had a good friend in a long time, and
now he had two. The only problem was there wasn’t as much time to see each other as
often as they would have liked. Cody and Roy were working hard to prepare for a new
album and an international concert tour. And Rush was busy with Lance, learning
entertainment law and working his way up the ladder at firm.
Though Anderson had been a successful model, making most of his income by
shamelessly flaunting his perfect muscular body in expensive male underwear catalogues,
his only real ambition in life was to be with the man he loved. Anderson longed for a
quiet, secure life that didn’t involve spotlights and cameras. He didn’t want to go into
acting and get a contract for a TV series, he didn’t care about getting his face on the
cover of magazines, and he wasn’t interested in being on anyone’s A-list. The only thing
he wanted to do in life was to take care of Joey, and if possible, adopt a few children that
he and Joey could raise together.
But there were a few problems. With Joey working hard on his new TV series,
Joey didn’t have much time to concentrate on anything but work. Even though they were
moving to Hollywood so Joey wouldn’t have to commute back and forth to New York,
Anderson knew adopting a child would have to be put on hold until their lives settled
down. Then there was Joey’s sister, Harriet. She was fifteen years older than Joey and
she’d devoted her entire life to him. She’d raised him after their mother had died, then she’d helped him build his career as a performer. From the first day that Anderson met
Harriet, she’d made it known without hesitating that she was in control of Joey’s career
and that Joey’s career came first in his life. She even told Anderson once, with a sneaky
smile and a puff of cigarette smoke, “You’ll always be second fiddle, sweetheart,” hoping
to scare him away.
But that didn’t happen. Joey was the love of his life, and no one was going to
push him away, especially not Joey’s unmarried, abrasive sister. After that, whenever he
thought about Harriet or mentioned her to his friends, he sometimes referred to her
sarcastically as “Harriet Lane,” the aggressive sister of the only “bachelor” United States
president, James Buchanan, who ran the White House during Buchanan’s administration.
According to Anderson, Harriet Lane was also the most boring woman who ever walked
the face of the Earth.
Whenever Anderson was around, Harriet’s face tightened and she chain smoked.
She would acknowledge him for Joey’s sake, then she’d start talking to Joey about his
career as if Anderson wasn’t even in the room. Anderson tried to get closer to her. After
all, they both had Joey’s best interests in mind. He bought her little gifts he thought she’d
like and he went out of his way to hug her thin, hard body each time he saw her. But the
warmest response he ever received from her was a forced half smile followed by absolute
dismissal. The only thing Anderson could do was let time take its natural course. He
figured that once she finally trusted him and saw he wasn’t interested in doing anything
but loving and caring for Joey, she’d learn to accept him in Joey’s life. Anderson was
hoping that if he remained quiet, and showed her he had good intentions, she’d see he
was the best thing for Joey. When it came to having patience and remaining quiet, Anderson had had a great
deal of practice. His own pit bull of a mother, who lived in New Jersey, had been even
more controlling than Harriet. His mother had once been a debutante from a famous
family who had grown up with old money. But after a serious reversal of fortune due to
bad investments and a few bad marriages, she wound up penniless in her middle age, not
knowing how to survive like the rest of the world. Anderson didn’t see her often; she
lived like a hermit. After his first big modeling job, at nineteen years old, Anderson
moved to New York and he made every excuse possible to avoid seeing her. But that
didn’t stop his mother from calling. And whenever she phoned, she always managed to
twist his stomach into such a tight knot he couldn’t eat for two days.
One evening, right before he and Joey and Harriet were leaving for Hollywood,
the phone rang in the studio apartment that Joey and Anderson shared. The apartment had
been Anderson’s, but Joey had moved in six months earlier—against Harriet’s wishes.
Anderson clenched his teeth and squinted. He knew it was his mother calling. He hadn’t
heard from her in a while, and she knew he was leaving for Hollywood. Joey was out
with Harriet, doing his last performance at a nightclub, and Anderson was packing their
suitcases because they had an early flight out the next morning.
He let the phone ring seven times, hoping she’d give up. On the eighth ring, he
crossed the room and picked up the receiver. His mother’s voice pounded through the
wires and he rolled his eyes. She wanted to know if he was doing his regular workout
routine. She said it was important because he wasn’t getting any younger and he had to
focus on his career and making money while there was still time. She wasn’t happy about the fact that he was leaving New York and following Joey to Hollywood. She thought
Joey was using him and that their relationship would never last.
While she spoke, Anderson looked at himself in the mirror. He was naked except
for white boxer briefs. He rarely wore clothes in the apartment, because Joey liked
watching him walk around naked. He spread his legs apart and flexed his muscles. He
adjusted a large bulge in his briefs and shoved his hips forward. He’d always been lucky.
He knew how to watch his weight and he never gained a pound, and all it took was a
couple of strong workouts each week to maintain his body.
When he made his huge, square pectoral muscles jump, he assured his mother he
was still working out regularly and that his body was just as good as it had ever been. He
promised her he would start to concentrate more seriously on his own career and focus on
getting more modeling assignments. He couldn’t tell her that all he cared about was
having a family and raising his own children. She would have started screaming into the
phone, shouting that he had to get serious and stop living in a world of fantasy. She
would have told him he wasn’t getting any younger and he didn’t have any brains so he’d
better use his body while he still could.
He didn’t want to hear her voice at all. As it was, her normal tone of voice usually
made his ears ring.
So while his mother ranted endlessly about how he was nothing but a lazy, good
for-nothing fool, he frowned and remained quiet, taking her abuse. He told her exactly
what she wanted to hear; it was easier that way. He promised he’d focus on his own
career and that he’d start going to auditions again. And at the end of their conversation,
he looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming. Before his mother said goodbye and hung up, she always asked him to send her money. He sent her
a regular amount every month; he’d been doing this since he’d moved to New York. But
she always wanted more. He’d been sending her money for years and it never seemed to
be enough to keep her satisfied.
When Joey walked into the apartment, Anderson was still talking to his mother.
By that time, he was hanging over the side of a chair and the phone was six inches from
his ear. Anderson smiled at Joey and told his mother he’d put a check in the mail and that
he’d call her from Hollywood. Then he hung up the phone while she was still talking, and
crossed the room so he could greet Joey properly. His entire life revolved around Joey
walking through that door, and he never took it for granted.
Joey smiled and removed his jacket. He looked Anderson’s body up and down
and said, “Every guy should be lucky enough to come home to someone like you after a
hard day at work.”
Anderson put his arms around Joey’s shoulders and whispered, “I’m the lucky
one. I don’t know many other gay guys who have a real man like you.” Then he fell into
Joey’s arms and kissed him on the lips. “You are
all
man, Joey Delaney.”
Anderson knew Joey liked having his male ego stroked this way. But Anderson
meant every word. There were times, while Joey was sleeping, when he would sit and
stare at Joey’s dark wavy hair and his rugged black Irish features. Though Joey wasn’t
male model material, and by no means as attractive as Anderson, he was the man of
Anderson’s dreams. Joey wasn’t bulging with muscle; he had the long lanky body of a
swimmer and the unanimated personality of a straight man. Hr didn’t shave his legs or
color his hair. The only time his pubic hair was trimmed was when Anderson did it for him. Joey couldn’t have cared less about the drapes, the carpets, or the furniture. He even
liked to drink beer and watch baseball in his boxer shorts. Joey Delaney broke every gay
