Date: Fri, 1 Aug 2003 16:10:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Parlance <par_lance1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sex *N the City Episode 3

Title: Sex *N the City, Episode 3: Senor

Author: Parlance (par_lance1@yahoo.com),
	With final draft punch-ups by Sammie
 Based on a story idea by Parlance and Sammie
(lalabebe76@aol.com)

Honest, constructive feedback always appreciated.
Flames will be diverted to JC.

Website:  Sublimation at boyskank.com:
http://www.geocities.com/par_lance1  Previous episodes
can be found there.

Pairing:  All over the map, including one surprise
pairing.

Classification: AU, real person slash.  Drama,
humor... call it a dramedy.

Rating: PG-13 for foul mouths and references to
(homo)sexual situations.

Summary: Four friends live, love and get laid in San
Francisco.  JC's a superstar-rah.  Inspired by
Justin's "Senorita" video.  This is a much shorter
episode than usual -- consider it the half-hour
version.

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Fiction.  Don't know 'em,
don't wanna.  Loosely (and we do mean *loosely*) based
on "Sex and the City," which belongs to Darren Star
and HBO.   Any similarities are completely
intentional.  Don't sue, unless you want a bunch of
*Nsync beanies.  Yeah, those are worth a lot.  Don't
read if you're under18 or offended by the subject
matter.

Shout outs to Cat for a  most excellent beta read.
And to Jess, Flut and kennedy for their input.  All
the boyskanks just because.

**************************
ACT I

Summer, 2003

"Baked crab and cheese dip," Lance announced, briskly
setting a bowl on the coffee table in his living room
before rushing back to the kitchen.  "Cool," was
Justin's response before grabbing some Wheat Thins and
digging in.

Lance was hosting a small slumber party in his
apartment on a Friday night, and his floor was
littered with air mattresses and sleeping bags.  The
guests chatted in hushed voices in anticipation of a
music video that would not premiere until the wee
hours of the morning.  Only scattered candles and the
dim glow of Lance's flat screen TV illuminated the
living room.

As with most of these get-togethers, Lance cooked
enough to feed a starving army for a week ("light fare
I just threw together") even though his friends were
bringing their own contributions.  Chris was in the
kitchen filling a cooler with sodas and beer.  Kevin
and Brian were sitting on the floor with plates of
jicama salad on their laps and glasses of chardonnay
they had contributed to the party beside them.  JC
knew them through Lance, as they were fellow emigres
from the South who were considered members of Lance's
self-styled "Friends of Scarlett" crew.  Christina and
her girlfriend, Britney - another of Scarlett's
friends - had just arrived with homemade buffalo
wings.  Justin, of course, provided the Wheat Thins.
Jacques was wearing his best doleful puppy eyes,
hoping to con someone into giving him scraps.

JC hungrily watched Justin wipe melted cheese from his
chin, but it was Grapefruit Diet week and any dairy
was a no-no.  Lance, once again proving that no fad
diet was too challenging for his culinary skills,
still managed to concoct something tasty for JC, who
was now spooning mouthfuls of a grapefruit tart which
his friend had flavored with a thimbleful of Grand
Marnier.

"Here we go -- ooh, Jacques, watch out, sweetie -- I
think this is everything," Lance informed his guests,
setting down a plate of cupcakes.  "Does anyone need
anything?  C, can I freshen your drink?"

"Siddown, already, Lance," Chris told Lance as he sat
cross-legged beside Justin with a plateful of food.
"We can get our own refills."

Lance grimaced.  He loved entertaining.  "Just trying
to be a good host.  I'm in my element."

"It's a video party with 7 of your closest friends,
for chrissakes.  Relax, you're making me nervous."
Lance obeyed and, muttering, helped himself to the
buttermilk-battered okra he had fried that only the
Southern gay mafia would touch.

"Oh, Lance, these are adorable," Christina commented,
picking up a cupcake.  "I almost don't want to eat
one."

Lance had decorated the cupcakes in honor of Papi
Chulo, the Latino boyband whose music video was
premiering that night, using candied sprinkles to
create a reasonable facsimile of their logo.

"Ohmigod!  That is.  So. Cute.  We need to take
pictures!" Britney gushed.

"I did that this afternoon," JC told her.  He picked
up Lance's digital camera and showed her a photo of a
beaming Lance holding up a Tupperware full of his
latest creation.

Kevin and Brian looked over her shoulder at the
digital image.  "Well, there's no question you've
outdone any of the other parties tonight, Lance,"
Brian commented with admiration.

Lance grinned modestly.  "I had to.  We have the star
in our midst," he said, smiling in JC's direction.

"The star-rah!" Justin and Chris said in unison before
breaking into a fit of laughter.

"Are there other parties tonight?" Lance leaned
foward, ignoring his giggling friends.  His eyes lit
up at the prospect of a competition already won.

"Nathan's hosting one at his home," Kevin began.  "And
there's a viewing party at Esta Noche and somewhere
else..." he looked to his cousin for help.

"I think the EndUp as well."  Brian made his living as
an event organizer and made a point of keeping aware
of San Francisco's key parties.

"Onyx if hafing one, too," added Justin, his mouth
full of chicken.

Lance turned to Justin and cocked his head in
admiration.  "You chose your lily white friends over
your whips-and-chains-wielding ones?"

Justin shrugged his shoulders.  "Food's better here."
He licked blue cheese from the corner of his mouth.

Lance rolled his eyes.  "I guess I'll take that as a
compliment."

"Did you see _Camp_, JC?" Britney asked, helping
herself to crab dip.  "Your Papi Chulo interview made
the front page."

"Yes, we have it up there, already."  Lance pointed a
framed copy of the latest issue of San Francisco's
largest gay weekly, for which JC wrote a sex advice
column.  Lance had hung the newspaper on the wall next
to a picture of Papi Chulo he had found in an old copy
of a teenybopper magazine, back when Papi Chulo was
assumed to be straight.  JC's editor had tabled the
usual column in favor of an exclusive interview with
Papi Chulo on the set of their latest video, "Senor."

"Impressive," Brian remarked, nodding, as the others
echoed him.

"Thank you." JC responded, frowning.  "This is bigger
than I thought."

Kevin raised an eyebrow.  "And the problem with that
would be...?"

Lance dismissively waved his hand at JC.  "Our little
wallflower's publicity shy.  Get used to it, C, after
tonight, you're not going to be able to walk down the
Castro without getting noticed.  It's not everyday the
biggest gay boyband in America releases a new video -
even if it's not premiering until 3am on M2."

"No, I'm happy for them," JC said miserably.  "I just
didn't want any attention.  It's not about me.  If I'd
been a woman, I'd just be a video hootchie."

"*Head* video hootchie."

"The star-rah!" Justin and Chris yelled, laughing
again.  Their friends shushed them.

"Oh, gosh, you two, take it down a notch, please?"  It
was 2:30 in the morning, and Lance was hypersensitive
about waking up his neighbors and tenants.  "C, if it
means more work for you, this is a good thing.
Between this and the Miller Lite commercial, you're
like the gay poster boy right now."

"But I'm not looking for more modeling."

"I think you'll get more writing gigs out of this one,
C," Christina told him.  "That was an excellent
interview."  JC sheepishly thanked her.  "I loved that
part where they talked about being outed and they all
said `well they all know we're gay now -'"

"'So, fuck it, we're gonna be, like, *uber*-gay!'"
others who'd read the article chimed in.

"They seemed nice," Kevin commented.

"Was Jon as cute in person?" Brian asked.

Kevin turned to him.  "You never told me you had a
crush on Jon."

"Well, you know... I'm not into boybands.  But Jon's
hot."   They gave each other knowing smiles, and Chris
shuddered as Kevin's hand rested on Brian's thigh.
Those two gave him creeps.  Everyone but Lance
suspected they might be more to each other than
"roommates," and it wasn't just the fact that they
were from Kentucky.

"What I wanna know, JC," Justin began, munching a
cupcake, "is did you ever get a chance to tap some o'
dat?"

His inquiry was met with groans of "Oh, Justin!" "For
God's sake, Justin."  "Why do you have to go there?"

JC pursed his lips.  "I'm in a relationship, you
know."

"Well, that's not an answer.  Where is loverboy
tonight, anyway?"

"He had a concert tonight.  He was going to come but
he was too tired."  JC hoped he managed to conceal the
disappointment in his voice.  He knew the likelihood
of Gordon Sumner joining his friends for a slumber
party -- even one in honor of his boyfriend's first
starring role - was pretty much nil.  Gordon was
polite to JC's friends, but privately did not make a
secret of the fact that he considered them immature.

Lance, sensing the awkward pause, cleared his throat.
"I better turn to M2, it's going to start soon."
Lance switched from The Food Network, which seemed to
have a semi-permanent home on Lance's screen, to a
White Stripes video on M2.

CUT TO COMMERCIAL

**************************

ACT II

"It's such bullshit that they have to play it so late
at night," Lance grumbled.

"Actually, I'm surprised they're showing it at all."
This came from Chris, the former corporate minion.

"I really like the song.  I was hoping they'd make a
video," Kevin commented.

"Not like there ain't an audience for it," Britney
added.  She did public relations for Virgin Records
and prided herself on her knowledge of the music
industry.  "They're in such heavy rotation at all
dance clubs, not just the Hispanic ones.  They already
had name recognition, and they retained a lot of their
fans even after they came out.   KISS-FM's been
playing the song.  I think M2 could afford to show
them in a better timeslot."

"Nah, I'm sure M2 gets plenty of pressure from the
other side," Chris countered.  "You remember how much
their sales dropped after they got outed, and now
they're viewed as radical.  M2 can't afford to
alienate their core audience."

Britney and Chris continued a passionate but friendly
banter about homophobia and music while Kevin and
Brian listened.  Meanwhile, Christina and Justin tuned
out and began their own conversation about motorbike
mechanics until Lance interrupted them all.
"Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.   It's starting."  A late-night VJ no
one recognized was introducing the video.

The video was set entirely in a dusty cantina in what
was made to look like Tijuana.  JC wanted to point out
that it was actually shot in Daly City, but Lance had
instituted a strict "no talking" policy until the
video was over, which amused JC considering the only
thing anyone would have missed hearing was the song,
which they already knew.

On paper, there was nothing controversial about the
video at all.  It was an average performance video
featuring the band singing on stage, seizure-inducing
jump cuts, and couples swaying and dancing seductively
in time to a languid rhythm.  The difference was that
the couples were all same-sex, and each member of Papi
Chulo had a male dancing partner of his choice.  The
lead singer serenaded a lone man, played by JC, who in
return sashayed and ground his hips against him,
making him the envy of millions of men and women
across the nation.

"Ladies... good night," Jon, the lead singer,told the
dancers at the end of the song.  "Gentlemen..."  Jon
indicated JC, who was wearing a fire-red tank top,
low-rise jeans and a cocksure grin.  "Good morning,"
the singer finished, followed by sly laughter.

After the premiere, everyone clapped.  Justin was the
first to comment.  "That was hot, C."  There were
murmurs of agreement.

"Yeah, C, you were positively glowing," Lance cooed.

Chris snorted.  "Most people call that sweat."

JC grinned.  In spite of the fact that he was
self-conscious about watching himself, he was pleased
with the end product.

Lance rewound the Tivo to show the video again so JC
could finally add his commentary.

"So, that one dancing with Steve - he was my final
competition for the lead, and he was not happy with
me.  He `accidentally' spilled a pitcher of beer on me
so everything had to stop while I changed outfits.
That girl was a bitch - I think she was straight and
she was pissed her agent had sent her out.  That was
just before Jon grabbed my ass, they cut that out."
Brian giggled at this.  "Um, that was the make-up
girl, they didn't have enough girls, so they threw her
in at the last minute.  That was bottled sweat, by the
way, it wasn't that hot in Daly.  And that guy macked
on every extra on the set - boy and girl.  Oh, and the
director's gay, but you didn't hear that from me."

After the second viewing, Lance fussed and fretted
over his guests, making sure everyone had bedding and
pillows.  It was already 4am and it did not take long
for the living room to go quiet.

**************************

It was almost noon before the guests awoke that
Saturday, but Lance was already making breakfast.
Justin was acting strangely that morning, and his
behavior was not just a sign of typical morning
grumpiness.  He did not speak to anyone, and he gulped
down a bowl of cereal Lance had kindly provided him so
quickly that Chris thought he was going to choke.

"You okay?" Chris asked.  He was leisurely working his
way through a plate of biscuits with country gravy.

Justin jumped when his friend gently placed his hand
on his shoulder.  "I have to work at the gym."  Which
was true; the usual Saturday brunch of four had been
switched to dinner in lieu of the slumber party, so
Justin had scheduled a training session.

After breakfast, Justin raced to the bathroom for a
cursory shower using toiletries Lance had stolen from
world-class hotels and graciously provided for
overnight guests.  He ran out of Lance's apartment
with a quick thank you and goodbye to his friends,
just barely missing a head-on collision with JC, who
was sipping a mug of Jamaican Blue Mountain blend to
accompany his morning dose of grapefruit.

Justin felt guilty for running out so abruptly, but he
could not share with anyone that he had spent the
night dreaming about the "Senor" video and that he was
the lead singer dancing and serenading the lone man.
That alone was not much cause for concern or
embarrassment, and Justin, who was fairly bold and
unapologetic about his sexuality, normally would have
laughed it off.

Problem was, in this version, the lone man Justin was
singing to was no hired model.  It was Chris.  Chris,
his best friend in the world.  His best *platonic*
friend in the world.  Chris, of whom he had never had
a sexual thought in all the years they had known each
other.  And now he could not get the images out his
mind because it had been a *damn hot dream.*

Justin recalled holding Chris by the waist and locking
hips with him as they swayed in unison.  The dream was
so vivid he could feel Chris' cheek next to his and
his breath on his neck.  And Chris raised his head
gave him a look that said, "You're gonna get fucked
tonight, you know that, don't you?"

//Good morning.// Justin whispered to him at the end,
and Chris smiled wickedly in return just before he
awoke.

On the way to work, Justin found himself inadvertently
replaying both the dream and the moment when Chris
touched his shoulder in his head.  //This ain't good.
I'm not a teenager, I can't be having wet dreams about
my friend.//  Justin was afraid of looking Chris in
the eye without flashing back to the dream.

In Justin's world, there were best friends.  And then
there were fuck buddies.  He never mixed the two.
Well... there was JC, but that was before he knew him.
No way would he fuck up the friendship with sex now.
//And this is fucked up.//

This was one development Justin was not going to be
able to shrug off as a casual fling.

ROLL END CREDITS