by Alexa Land
“About what?”
“I didn’t, you know, brag about being your boyfriend or anything. I just told them I was waiting for you to finish a meeting, and they jumped to conclusions.”
“I’m glad they thought we were a couple,” I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Do you like me better like this?” Brian asked hesitantly.
“No,” I said, then tilted my head up and smiled at him. “I like being able to see your handsome face, of course. But I liked you even when you looked like a Yeti.”
He chuckled at that. After a while, he said, “I’m not used to this. I look like I did when I was in the service, and it’s weird. I’m not used to being this guy anymore.”
“Do you miss the hair?”
“I’m not going to miss the hassle of it, that’s for sure. It had gotten so long that it was a real bother. But I guess I kind of liked hiding behind it and the beard, which probably sounds stupid.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Before today, my outside matched my inside. It said clearly, ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ People just had to take one look at me, and they’d know there was no point in asking anything of me.”
“So, what changed?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I met you, and all of a sudden, I wanted to stop hiding. I….”
“You what?”
He grinned at me. “Never mind. It’s too corny.”
“You’ve changed my life too, Brian,” I said quietly, so the cab driver wouldn’t overhear our conversation. “I’m different since I’ve known you.”
“How?”
“Well, for one thing, I didn’t let my manager have sex with me today. I’m not going to do that anymore.”
“You used to sleep with your manager?”
“Yeah.”
“I take it by your expression that wasn’t a good thing.”
“It was never what I wanted,” I whispered.
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I guess I kind of figured after the first time, which got me the job at the production company, I was already a whore. I’d used my body to get a job, one where I was going to be fucked again and again by all sorts of strangers. Letting Brad fuck me, and taking that job, meant giving up a part of myself. It kind of felt like my body wasn’t mine anymore, it was just this commodity. I signed a contract, I basically sold myself. So, by the time I’d done all that, by the time I’d debased myself that far, I felt like, why say no when my manager came back for seconds? And thirds, and fourths? I was just this whore now, I traded my decency and respectability for money, and I deserved to be used by whoever wanted me. I mean, what? A whore’s going to have standards? He’s going to say, this stranger can fuck me because the camera’s rolling, but that one can’t because the camera’s off?”
“Christ, Hunter,” Brian murmured. “I wish you didn’t treat yourself like that.”
The cab came to a stop in front of Christopher and Kieran’s building. The downstairs gallery was busy, a few college students carrying paintings inside through the open double doors. A grand opening celebration was happening in a little over two weeks, and Christopher had invited several fellow students from his art school to show their work.
Brian paid the cab driver while I retrieved his chair from the trunk. We didn’t go inside right away, though. Instead, Brian led me to the bench out in front of the building, and took both my hands in his as I sat down across from him. He asked, his voice still low, “What’s changed, Hunter? I mean, I’m thrilled that you’re not letting your manager have sex with you anymore. But what brought on this change of heart?”
“You,” I said. “I didn’t want to come out of that meeting and have to tell you that I’d just had sex with someone I could barely stand. I was afraid of what you’d think of me. I was afraid of letting you down.”
“Letting me down?”
“You look at me like I’m something special, and I didn’t want to see disappointment in your eyes.”
“You couldn’t disappoint me.”
“I told him I couldn’t have sex with him because I belong to someone now. I really wanted that to be true,” I said.
“Oh,” he murmured.
“Please take a chance on me, Brian. I don’t care that it’s going to be hard, or that we’ll have a lot to deal with. This just feels so right.”
He smiled at me. “This is a hell of a conversation to be having on a city street.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I still don’t know why you’d possibly want me,” he said quietly. As he spoke, he placed both of my hands palms up on his uninjured hand, then traced my life line with his fingertip, focusing on that instead of looking right at me.
“Just trust that I do.”
He glanced up at me from beneath his dark lashes. “I want to be with you too, Hunter. I want that so fucking much. I can list a million reasons why this is a terrible idea, but none of them change the fact that I’m completely drawn to you.” After a few moments, he rested my hands on his thigh and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contact list.
“What are you doing?”
“If we’re going to be together,” he said, “you deserve so much better than this.”
“Who are you calling?”
“I’m going to make an appointment with the psychiatrist I saw my first year back from Afghanistan. She’s really good. I came back shattered and she pieced me back together. As bad as I am now, God, you should have seen me then.”
“Really? You’re going back into therapy?”
“I never should have stopped. I quit when my required twelve-month treatment plan was up, because I didn’t have a reason to keep trying to get better.”
“And now you do?”
He grinned at me and nodded.
Chapter Nine
The next couple weeks passed quietly. Brian and I kept living with Christopher and Kieran since I couldn’t quite make myself return to my apartment, and he and I continued to grow closer. We moved slowly, spending our days talking and our nights wrapped in each other’s arms. He was reluctant to jump into a sexual relationship though, so all we did was make out like teenagers. There was no hurry. We were both getting to know each other, and Brian was working through a lot of personal issues. I knew that when the time was right, we’d take that next step.
He’d begun twice-weekly therapy sessions with Doctor Natalie Holbrook, the woman who’d helped him when he first returned stateside, and had also started physical therapy. “I want to give us a fighting chance,” he’d said, and was really showing his commitment to getting better.
Since he took his bodyguard duties seriously, we were constantly together. I accompanied him to his appointments, reading People magazines from 2006 in the little waiting room at the V.A. while he met with the doctor. In turn, he went with me to the gym every day. We got him a membership and a personal trainer, and he built on what he was doing in physical therapy. Also, three afternoons a week, I met Kaia at a yoga studio in the lower Haight and took self-defense classes while Brian watched and learned along with me.
My stalker was absent during this time. There were no calls, no spray-painted messages, and according to my manager (who had texted me with an apology and was really making an effort to smooth things over – and not lose his most profitable client), no more letters had shown up at his office. It almost seemed like this person had lost interest, and that made me let my guard down a little, while at the same time worrying that he was going to disappear before the police could catch him.
But maybe things were about to change. Brad had pulled together a short-notice public appearance at an adult store in the Castro, where I would be signing autographs. I’d pitched the idea of making this event a fund-raiser for a local charity that brought meals to people living with advanced HIV, cancer, and other life-threatening illnesses. I figured some good should come out of this evening, whether or not
the stalker showed up and was arrested.
The S.F.P.D. had assigned three officers to work undercover. Detective Sanchez wasn’t all that convinced the stalker would show, not in this kind of public, chaotic environment, so he’d been reluctant to pull a lot of personnel for this event. But the three cops would be placed strategically at every exit, so if the stalker came into the shop, his only way out would be through them.
I was nervous, especially about messing up and blowing the whole operation. If I saw him before any of the police officers did, it was vital that I didn’t react. The stalker had no idea that I knew what he looked like. If my face gave something away, that would alert him, and he’d probably bolt.
The day of the event, I tried to burn off my anxiety with an extra-long session at the gym, including two advanced yoga classes and over an hour on the elliptical. Brian finished his workout after forty-five minutes, then stayed close, watching me. When I started to head for the treadmill after all of that, he caught my hand and said gently, “That’s enough for now.”
“I’m just going to run a couple miles,” I told him. “I’m sorry, I know this must be boring for you. But I won’t be much longer, I promise.”
“You’re wearing yourself out,” he said. “I know you’re nervous about tonight, but you’re really overdoing it.” He reached up and captured my left hand, which had been in my mouth. “And you’re biting your nails again, Hunter. You’re making yourself bleed.”
I turned over my hands, which were in his, and saw he was right. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d reverted back to nail biting. “Sorry,” I murmured.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, drawing me into a hug. I put my arms around him and rested my head on his. “I just pointed it out because I know you do it unconsciously, and I hate watching you hurt yourself.”
“I’m really a mess today,” I admitted, stroking his short, silky hair as I held on to him.
“Just remember, I’m going to be right by your side tonight, you won’t be alone. And if the stalker shows up, he’s not going to try anything, not with that many people around. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“You’re right. I’m just being stupid.”
Brian pulled back to look at me. “You’re just being human. We all get scared, Hunter. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”
I bent down and kissed him, then whispered, “What would I do without you?”
He gave me a big smile. “Let’s never find out.”
When we arrived at Adam and Adam, the adult shop hosting my event that night, a crowd had already gathered. People were lined up down the sidewalk, even though the doors wouldn’t open for another hour. The shop had hired private security for crowd control, and they’d cordoned off the front of the store. When I got out of the cab, the crowd cheered and applauded, flashes going off. I stuck a smile on my face and waved, then went and retrieved Brian’s chair from the trunk.
“That’s a lot of people,” he said as he got out of the cab. “You’re more famous than I realized.”
“Not really, not when I step outside the Castro.”
A couple beefy guys with the word ‘security’ emblazoned on their billboard-like chests came up to us, and ushered Brian and me into the building. Brad was already inside, all smiles as if nothing had ever happened between us, and he introduced me to the shop owner and a couple of local reporters. I had to hand it to my manager, he knew how to get things done. I did a quick round of interviews and tried not to sound like a total tool, then smiled for the cameras. A few more people were introduced to me. One worked for the company that distributed my films, and another owned a business that produced, according to him, “…high-end sex toys for the discerning, upscale gay.” Um, okay. He really wanted me to endorse his products, and I smiled politely as he launched into a lengthy discussion about his company’s innovations in dildo design. Good lord.
By the time seven p.m. rolled around and the doors were about to open for the event, I was already mentally exhausted. Man, was this going to be a long night. I made my way over to a folding table that had been set up in the middle of the space. Racks of DVDs, sex toys, and other ‘adult novelties’ had been moved over to the sides of the shop to make room for this event. Brian was already behind the table, and had been watching the goings-on with an amused expression. When I took a seat beside him, I plucked a DVD from his hands and returned it to the display beside me.
“So, I have a question for you,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“If you’re gay, how have you never seen any of my films?”
He burst out laughing at that. “I didn’t realize they were mandatory viewing for those crossing over to the pink side.”
“Really, though.”
“I don’t know. I don’t tend to watch a ton of porn, I like leaving some things to the imagination. And when I do, apparently I steer away from movies with bad bondage puns in the title.”
I grinned at that. “They’re not all puns.”
“I know, but they’re still pretty funny.” He reached across me and started pulling DVDs from the rack, piling them on the tabletop. “Bound and Determined. Fit to be Tied. Showing Him the Ropes. James Bound – that’s my favorite.” With an English accent, he quipped, “Bound. James Bound.”
I chuckled and said, “Stop it.”
“Did you get to wear a tux and drink a martini?”
“I got to be naked, and tied to the hood of a Mercedes.”
“Crimson Tied – that’s pretty good, too.” He was grinning at me wickedly, and I rolled my eyes at him. “How many movies have you made, exactly?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“Holy shit, that’s a lot.”
“Well, like I told you, they only take a day or two to make. We’re not exactly filming Titanic here.”
“Ugh, thank God. That song makes me want to roll in front of a bus.”
“Agreed.” The shop owner pulled open the front door and the crowd surged forward, the first eager fans actually running toward the table. “Here goes nothing,” I murmured, and stuck a smile on my face.
The event was scheduled to run for two hours, and it was nonstop. I was kind of surprised so many people had turned out for it, especially since it had only been announced a few days ago. It was so hectic, in fact, that I didn’t really have time to obsessively scan the crowd, looking for my stalker. The police officers on duty could handle that, they’d all studied his photo and knew who they were looking for.
I glanced at the cop by the front door. He should really be wearing a black t-shirt labeled ‘security,’ because he was totally failing to blend in, and that would have given him an excuse for standing around awkwardly. He was dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans, but he might as well have been in full uniform, that was how uptight he looked. Couldn’t they have found a gay cop or two to send over? This one hadn’t stopped frowning since the moment he arrived. I felt judged from clear across the room.
By nine p.m., the designated stopping point, my face hurt from smiling so much and I was seeing spots from all the camera flashes that had gone off in my face. But there were still some people in line, and they’d been waiting forever, so I asked the shop owner if we could keep going. “Hell yes,” he said. “Sales are up four hundred percent. You can stay all night if you want.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said. The next eager fan was ushered forward, and I stuck a smile on my face again.
This particular gentleman was elderly, with shaggy gray hair that hung in his face, a mustache, bulbous nose, and glasses. “Hunter,” he said, shaking my hand. “It’s a real pleasure.”
“Thank you for coming,” I said politely. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have passed this up for anything,” he said. The man paid the cashier to my right for a photo (all going to the charity I’d selected), then handed another shop assistant his phone as he came around to my side of the table. I stood up and smil
ed for the camera, and he put his arm around me as a flash once again blinded me. Then his hand actually slid down my back and caressed my left butt cheek before he let go of me. I bit back a surprised laugh. Grandpa had game.
He turned to Brian then. “Are you Hunter’s boyfriend?” he asked.
Brian looked at me and smiled, then said, “I guess you’d have to ask him that.”
I smiled, too. “Oh yes. He definitely is.”
“You’re one lucky fella,” the old gentleman told him. “You’ve got yourself a real treasure there.”
Brian was still smiling at me, and murmured, “I really don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“Neither do I,” the man said, his voice dropping slightly. He then smiled cheerfully and bustled back around the table, retrieving his phone from the assistant. “A real pleasure, Hunter,” he said before heading for the door.
Almost immediately, a gawky kid of about nineteen with thick glasses, braces, and greasy hair rushed up to the table. “Oh mah gawd, you’re even more beautiful in person!” the teen exclaimed. “I’ve seen all your films. I love you, Hunter Storm! I’m Artie, by the way.” He grabbed my hand and pumped it vigorously.
“It’s nice to meet you, Artie. Thank you for waiting in that long line.”
“I’d crawl over broken glass to meet you, Hunter Storm,” he gushed.
“Um, thanks?” Awkward!
“So, I’ve been thinking about breaking into the porn industry. Can we meet for coffee so you can give me some pointers?” he asked. Criminy.
“Oh. Well, I don’t really have any pointers. You could just call the Man-on-Man offices and set up an appointment with a casting agent. That’s pretty much all there is to it.”
“I’d love to co-star in some of your films,” Artie said, his gaze running down my body like I was a piece of meat. “I’d do you real good.”
Brian tried to cover a laugh by coughing into his fist, and I said, “Yeah…so, you know, just call the offices.”
“I’m calling first thing tomorrow! Bye, Hunter Storm!” Artie exclaimed, and headed to the exit without a photo or autograph.