When Work Is a Pleasure (4 page)

Justin grinned. “Yeah, they help. But I don’t want to do this for very long anyway. I’m hoping to save up enough money to go back to school and finish the degree I was working on to become a physical therapist. Last time I dropped out it was because I couldn’t balance three jobs and studying at the same time.”

Garrett nodded sympathetically. “School took me a few extra years too. It’s nice to concentrate on just one thing at a time, for sure.” There was a long few moments of silence. “Do you, uh, like it? As a job, I mean?” he asked.

“Mostly, or I wouldn’t have quit my job as a trainer, no matter how good the money is.” Justin shrugged. “There are some things I don’t like, some sex acts; I either have to negotiate my way out of them or just try super hard to, well, stay hard if I’m turned off. Sometimes I actually bring a laptop to the shoot with my own porn stash on it, believe it or not.” He grinned. “If I can’t keep it up, I take a break, go watch some guys I think are hot, and come back and try again.”

Garrett laughed. “I thought they had fluffers for that.”

“I wish.” Justin grinned back, eyes sparkling. “Never seen a fluffer on any set I was on, I can tell you that much.”

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“So… okay, this might be too much, and you don’t have to answer, but what kind of things have you been asked to do that you don’t like?”

“Why, you hoping to get me into bed?” Justin teased, making Garrett flush a little. “Nah, I don’t mind. If I was inhibited about this sort of thing it would have been a really spectacularly bad career choice. Um, let’s see… I don’t really like DP—double penetration—scenes, whether I’m topping or bottoming. Those can be difficult for me to keep it up during.

I hate receiving facials, but it’s part of the job.” He shrugged.

“And then there are a lot of things I’m just kind of neutral about and have to keep my mind focused on the sensations or on some other really hot sex I’ve had in the past.”

“Huh,” was all Garrett could come up with for a reply.

“So how about you? Same question,” Justin grinned, coming over to lean against the wall beside him.

“Uh, well. I’ve never even
had
a threesome, so DP hasn’t been an issue.” He thought about it for a long minute. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything I’ve really been turned off by. I’ve been asked to do some stuff I wasn’t into, I guess. My last boyfriend said I was too vanilla,” he admitted with an awkward, forced laugh.

“Vanilla’s a good flavor,” Justin answered, nudging Garrett with his shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that. So, I take it from the party last night that you’re not much of an exhibitionist, then?”

“Not really,” Garrett said. “I guess I’ve still got it stuck in my head that I’m all gawky and stuff; it took me a long time to grow into my height, and I’ve just started to gain some muscle these past few years.”

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“That makes perfect sense then,” Justin agreed. “I mean,
I
think you’re hot and have a fucking amazing body, but if you’re self-conscious, then yeah, sex in public could be hard for you. Maybe you just need some positive feedback, though.” He grinned.

“Maybe.” Garrett reached up to scratch the back of his neck, trying to ignore the way Justin’s comments on his body made his pulse quicken, and was a lot more relieved than he ought to have been to hear voices as a family of tourists came up to join them in the observation tower.

OVERALL, the morning was fantastic. It was, to be honest, better than ninety percent of the dates Garrett had ever been on, and that was excluding the part where he already knew (sort of) what Justin was like in bed. He was just a really awesome guy to hang out with. Which made it all the more mystifying why Garrett’s insides knotted up as they got closer and closer to the Castro, looking for parking.

The Folsom Street Fair turned out to be pretty much exactly like Garrett remembered it. Debauchery everywhere the eye could see, like a giant sexual amusement park for grown-ups, and mostly queer and kinky ones at that. Assless chaps pretty much set the standard for the dress code. Half the men—and women—were topless and/or in a variety of risqué costumes. However, Garrett was rational enough to note that the less eye-catching half were dressed like normal civilians, so he didn’t feel all that weird.

Well, okay, next to the guy wearing nothing but a leather jockstrap and motorcycle boots, he felt a
little
weird.

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The crowd was only part of it, though. It was like the party from the night before had exploded out into the daylight. There were guys getting blowjobs in the middle of the street around them, guys hanging off of balconies and second-story windows getting fucked, people groping and making out against every wall, no matter how flimsy. And the booths, while they looked like normal fair booths from a distance, were selling sex toys, leather gear, and “novelties”

of infinite sexual possibility.

The normal fund-raising booths were for HIV and queer-youth type organizations, but rather than dunk-tanks, there were spanking booths. An older man in a leather harness grabbed Garrett’s arm and started dragging him inside, insisting “It’s for charity” with an evil grin, and who knew what would have happened if Justin hadn’t come to his rescue. He dragged Garrett away, saying they had an appointment elsewhere and throwing a giggling promise over his shoulder to bring “my naughty boy” back later.

Just like the party the night before, Garrett was having a hard time keeping all of the sexuality from getting to him.

He was aroused. And he was also totally embarrassed by his crush on Justin.

It was bad enough when it was just a crush on a dude in a porno on his computer screen. But now, in the presence of this gorgeous and very sexual man, Garrett found himself in a semi-permanent state of arousal, flushed and warm and extremely aware of his dick. The fact that Justin had turned out to be a generally awesome guy, that he was friendly to shop clerks and tourists and even geeky journalists, that he was so motherfucking touchy-feely, was just more icing on an already very, very pretty cake. When he stood next to When Work Is a Pleasure |
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Garrett—and the guy had to be at least six feet tall and wasn’t exactly a fragile flower—he seemed small and delicate, and Garrett wanted to protect him, wrap him in his arms, take him home, and fuck him until neither of them could remember their own names.

Yeah. So the crush thing? Not going well.

They wandered around for a while, looking at people and displays, and despite some eyebrow-raising attractions like a couple of cute twinks who couldn’t have been more than eighteen wanting to pay people to pee on them or the woman getting fisted by a domme in a gas mask, Garrett was having a decent time. Between the beer and the sunshine, he was feeling more relaxed and less shocked by the openly sexual displays all around him.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” he complained, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple.

Justin turned away from the flogging he was watching.

“You mean that literally or figuratively, sport?”

Garrett bumped him with his shoulder. “Literally, jerk.

It’s warm.”

“You could take off a few of those protective layers you’re wearing.”

“You just wanna get me out of my clothes.”

“Guilty as charged. Here, let me help you.” Justin smirked, reaching for Garrett’s button-down.

That left Garrett in a white T-shirt that was a bit tighter than he usually liked, more worn, and a little thinner than he’d normally wear out in public.

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Justin liked it, though. “Jesus Christ, dude, look at the size of your chest. You should be doing porn, not me,” he said, running admiring fingers over Garrett’s pecs.

Garrett shivered. It was so not fair. He was surrounded by sex, with semi-naked hot guys everywhere, and the star of his favorite porno fantasy was touching him. “I need a drink,” he said in a strangled voice as he hurried to the nearest beer tent. He could have sworn he heard Justin chuckle behind him.

“Got a problem there?”

Garrett thrust a plastic cup of beer at him. “No. Shut up.”

Justin didn’t bother to hide his laugh. “Okay now, listen up. It’s time for me to get to the Hawk booth. Remember, it’s

‘Alec’ now, not ‘Justin’, yeah?”

“Got it,” he answered, downing half of his beer in one go and hoping fervently that the next few hours weren’t as much of a torment as he suspected they were going to be.

The Hawk Studios booth—all the porno company booths—was crowded with men. Kris and Carl were there, as were Jeremy and many other familiar faces from the night before. There was a steady supply of drinks, both alcoholic and not, music, groping, and a few tables set up as a makeshift stage so the crowd could more easily observe the groping. Mostly it was the stars chatting and interacting with their fans, signing DVDs, posters, T-shirts, and naked flesh.

It turned out that the Folsom Street Fair wasn’t really the best place to try and conduct an interview. After asking a few of his questions, Garrett ended up rescheduling most of the appointments he’d made, too distracted to listen to the When Work Is a Pleasure |
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answers as attentively as he would have liked. Worst-case scenario, he was pretty sure he’d have enough to work with from his observations and conversations from the last few days.

Once again, he found himself surprised at how nice everyone was, how genuine, and how smart and normal the porn stars were. They weren’t weird at all, not in any kind of bad way; if anything, they were a bit friendlier than most people Garrett met. They were just regular guys with a job. A small group sat around Garrett, talking about what making porn was like, joking about how there were some parts that sucked, like contract negotiations and waxing their balls, and some parts that were great, like having sex and getting paid for it. The general consensus seemed to be that they were attractive, worked hard to stay in shape, and had awesome bodies, so why not use them?

And to be honest, they weren’t any more narcissistic than most of the guys Garrett ran into at clubs and parties; they were just more forthright about it.

Justin—“Alec”—introduced Garrett to his friends Tom and Mike. Or “Kent” and “Lance.” Garrett was getting confused by all the stage names. Kent was indeed about Garrett’s size, and he had to stifle a shiver at a sudden flashback to the image of Kent’s hands on Alec’s body. They both seemed like nice enough guys; Garrett was glad that Justin had such good friends looking out for him.

“So how’s it going, big guy?” Kris asked, coming over to steal Garrett’s beer. “Have a good morning with Alec, just the two of you, all alone?” he winked.

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“Fuck off. It wasn’t like that,” Garrett said, shoving Kris a little. “We went shopping and I showed him a few of the local sights.”

“I’ll just bet you did,” Carl teased.

The energy level around them escalated as the afternoon grew warmer. All of San Francisco’s fog-pale bodies were turning pink, so people started rubbing sunblock on each other enthusiastically. Some guy Garrett didn’t know was up on the makeshift stage, coating Jeremy’s pale skin with a thick layer of cream that looked like, well, another kind of cream. The kid was only wearing a jockstrap and was already starting to burn.

Justin came over with a bottle and a suggestive grin.

“Rub some on me?” he asked Garrett as he pulled off his T-shirt.

“Jesus Christ,” Garrett muttered, but he took the sunscreen and started applying it to Justin’s freckled shoulders.

“Something bothering you?” Justin asked as he shifted his weight to lean against Garrett’s crotch.

Garrett whimpered. The guy was right there, sun-warm and so pretty and fucking asking Garrett to touch him. It was torture. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked seriously.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a little death.” Justin grinned and took the lotion back to the person he’d borrowed it from.

If that was bad, then it just got even worse when Jeremy came over and decided that what would cheer Garrett up the most—What? He didn’t need cheering. He needed somewhere When Work Is a Pleasure |
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quiet to go jerk off for a few minutes—was a lap dance. From him.

Now, Jeremy was cute. And quite friendly and nice. And on any ordinary day, at a club or whatever, that probably would have been enough for Garrett to break his usual rules about twinks and kids who looked younger than he did and casual sex, because Garrett was hard. Harder than steel, harder than titanium, harder than a thing so hard that it made diamonds look like jelly. His dick
ached
. And this scene? All of it? So. Not. Fair.

“Move.” Garrett heard a voice he recognized, though it was somewhat gruffer than usual, but he refused to open his eyes or unclench his white-knuckled hands from the side of the folding chair he was sitting on.

And then Justin was in his lap.

“Oh my God,” Garrett moaned, a high and desperate sound, as that perfect round ass rubbed against his dick. He shivered.

With superhuman effort, Garrett reached forward to still Justin’s hips.

“Come on, stop. I’m really not into the public sex thing, Justin.” It should have sounded assertive, Garrett firmly defining his limits. Instead, it came out as a plea.

Justin stopped and leaned back against his chest, head twisted so only Garrett could hear. “If you honestly want me to stop touching you, I will. Just say it again.”

Breathing hard, Garrett opened his mouth. No sound came out. He squeezed Justin’s waist. When he opened his eyes, Justin was smiling, something indefinable in his eyes, When Work Is a Pleasure |
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that same indefinable thing that had made Garrett take notice of him in the porno film.

Justin wasn’t the only one watching, though. A small crowd had gathered around the booth, enjoying the show.