Date: Tue, 05 Feb 2002 10:40:19 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 59

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've
enjoyed hearing from all of you.

This season would not have happened if not for a discussion I had with
Clive, who is generous enough to cohost this story on his site. Stop and
tell him hello at www.authorclive.co.uk.

That said, back to the show.

***Justin***

"I can't believe you guys have been awake and haven't fixed any breakfast
yet," Britney said from the stove, where she was frying some eggs in one
pan and some bacon in the other. I realized after she opened the
refrigerator that my housekeeper must have stocked up the kitchen, knowing
I'd be back. "Josh, how do you want your eggs?"

Josh and I were sitting at the table, staring at her back, both of us still
surprised to just open the door and find her on the step. I couldn't
believe that after I had explained to her on the phone how upset Josh was,
and how I was trying really hard to be there for him, she had just shown
up, and thrown herself in the middle. She hadn't been here twenty minutes
yet, and she was already pushing Josh out of the way as she went for things
in the fridge, or stepping around him to kiss me on the cheek every time
she went by. I wanted Josh to feel comfortable here, not like a third
wheel.

"I don't want any," Josh answered quietly, belatedly adding, "Thanks."

Britney turned around, spatula in hand, and stared at him.

"What was that? I didn't catch it," she asked. I couldn't tell by her tone
if she really hadn't heard or not, but she better not have been just
pushing him for no reason.

"I don't want any eggs," Josh repeated, looking at his hands, not raising
his voice one decibel higher. "Sorry."

Britney glared at him, at his rejection of her eggs, but Josh wasn't
looking at her, and didn't seem to notice. He looked miserable sitting
there in his pajamas, the baggy black silk hanging on his firm shoulders
and showing off a wedge of his tanned chest. Britney has a domestic streak,
oddly enough, ground in there by her mom during the lean years.  Brit is
also, again like her mom, rather pushy, and when the two traits collide,
it's not pretty. When Brit cooks, she expects you to eat it, and sees
rejection of the food as personal rejection of her. I remembered that time
in L.A. when she made all those dozens of cookies, and how I eventually
gave them to Jackie to take to her friends at the retirement home while
Britney wasn't looking. Do you know how many hours I'd have to work out to
burn off six dozen cookies?

Britney crossed her arms, spatula in hand, and waited for Josh to recognize
his error and correct it. Josh, on the other hand, stared at the sugar
bowl, or at least stared toward it.  Britney's face began to twist into an
angry sneer, another of the many traits she shared with her mom. Don't get
me wrong, I love Brit, and I like her mom, kind of, but honestly, can you
say, "Stage mother"? My mom had always supported me while letting me go
after what I wanted, and Josh's parents had more or less given him free
reign and a checkbook to go find himself, but Brit's mom had raised her
with this horrible idea that she was the center of the world, and that
everyone needed to pay attention to her all the time, and then she had
pushed Brit to go out and be a star. She'd pushed her onto "Star Search",
pushed her into working for The Mouse, and kept pushing her until she got a
record contract. Now she was pushing her toward the movies, and she pushed
me, too, mentioning grandkids all the time and how in her day as a teenager
kids didn't wait so long to propose. I watched Britney slowly turning into
her mother in my kitchen and realized I needed to head this off.

"Don't be sorry, Josh," I said softly. Josh looked up at me slowly, but
Brit's head snapped toward me, her eyes flashing. "There's nothing wrong
with not wanting any eggs. Do you want some cereal?"

"Justin, I'm not really hungry," Josh began, and I tried to remember the
last time he'd eaten. We hadn't had dinner yesterday, and he'd skipped the
snack on the plane, too.

"I have Apple Jacks, though," I said brightly, smiling at him. "Come on,
I'll get you some, and I'll have a bowl, too. It'll be fun!"

I know what you're thinking. You're going, "Oh yeah, Apple Jacks. Loads of
fun there, Justin." I know it was lame, and actually kind of corny, but I
was hoping that acting chipper might perk Josh up a little, and he was a
sucker for lame cornball stuff. He gave me a weak smile, his lips barely
moving, but I felt rewarded. I jumped up to get the bowls and cereal and
saw the look on Britney's face. As she glared at me, I realized that I'd
not only taken Josh's side, but I was now also rejecting her eggs, in favor
of Josh's Apple Jacks. Could my kitchen get any less mature?

"Your eggs are almost ready," Britney hissed, brandishing the spatula at me
as I pulled out two cereal bowls.

"I know," I answered innocently. "Can you put them on toast for me?"

"Sure," Brit answered, somewhat mollified.

This was going to be the visit from Hell.

As soon as we were all seated and eating, she started up again.

"So, baby, what are we gonna do today?" she asked me, ignoring Josh.

"I don't know," I answered. "I mean, I didn't know you were coming, since
you didn't say anything when I talked to you last night, so I didn't really
plan on doing anything.  Josh, was there anything you wanted to do?"

"No," Josh answered quietly, staring at his cereal as he slowly,
mechanically, moved the spoon to his mouth. He was eating his Apple Jacks
one loop at a time, as if to force himself not to enjoy them.

"Well we can't just stay in the house all day!" Brit whined. "We need to
get out and have some fun, and get you perked up."

Josh blinked at her.

"I don't want to go out right now," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"Oh, come on," she said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. Josh shied
away from her, and I wondered how she could fail to notice that everything
she was doing was wrong.  Maybe it was hard for her to see him through all
the mascara she was wearing. Mascara, at breakfast. "Maybe we could take
you and get you a haircut, get this little beard thing shaved off, you
know. We could give you a makeover!"

"Brit," I said carefully, trying to catch her attention.

"I don't want a makeover," Josh said, shaking his head. Was she Jenny
Jones?  A makeover wasn't the answer to every problem.

"But Josh, how else are we gonna get you a new boyfriend?" she asked, and I
almost fell off my chair. What the hell was she thinking? Josh blinked at
her, his face going white again. An Apple Jack fell out of his mouth,
plopping onto the table, but she continued, oblivious. "You know what? The
guy who does my hair is gay, and he's really cute, too.  We could fix you
two up! You'll love him."

"What?" Josh asked, his voice barely a squeak.

"Josh, when you fall off the horse, you gotta get right back on," Brit
said, smiling. Wow, I guess it was going to be really easy for her to get
over me when I dumped her on her ass for being this stupid. "I mean, how
else are you going to get over Jack?  Besides, I never said this, because,
you know, you guys were in love, but you could have done a lot better than
him, Josh. He was all wrong for you. I mean, he was cute and all, but
really, that whole, 'I don't care if you're a celebrity or not, because I
love you for who you are' thing, did anyone really believe that? I mean,
honestly?"

I kicked her under the table, and she shut up suddenly, but the damage was
done. Josh stood quickly, dropping his spoon into the half eaten bowl of
cereal, and tossed the whole thing into the sink. Milk and Apple Jacks
splashed up onto the counter, but Josh seemed not to notice.

"I'm done with breakfast," Josh said to me, his eyes watering. "Excuse me."

He walked quickly out of the room, almost running for the stairs, and I
glared at Britney.

"You hurt my leg," she whined, rubbing it under the table.

"Shut the fuck up," I said, gathering up my dishes and carrying them to the
sink.

"What?" she yelped behind me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, wiping up the milk from
Josh's overflow with a paper towel. "How could you say that?"

"What? I'm just trying to cheer him up," she said, crossing her arms.

"How can you be so stupid?" I snapped at her, and saw her eyes tearing up,
too. Great.  Now everyone in the house was crying except me. I dropped down
to my knees beside her, and took one of her hands as she sniffled. A black
tear slid down her cheek. "Brit, I'm sorry, and I know you're just trying
to help, but they just broke up yesterday, you know? This isn't like when
we get in a fight, and go sleep with somebody else so we feel better. Josh
loved Jack, and he still does. I don't think he's ready to think about
dating someone else right now, and he might not be for a while."

"I was just trying to help," she said stubbornly.

"I know," I said, kissing her on the cheek. "And I'm sorry I snapped at
you.  Tell you what. Why don't you go upstairs, and get my gold card out of
my wallet, and go buy yourself something pretty, ok?"

"OK!" she answered, all tears forgotten.

She jumped up and ran upstairs, leaving me to clean up the breakfast
dishes.  I scraped everything into the garbage, and then threw the dishes
in the dishwasher.  Britney raced back down the stairs with my gold card
and my car keys, and kissed me before flying out the door. With one problem
solved, at least for the moment, I walked up the stairs to go check on
Josh, praying the whole way that Brit wouldn't buy a new SUV or the Hope
Diamond. I knocked on Josh's bedroom door.

"Josh, it's Justin," I said, listening through the door. I could hear him
moving around in there, but couldn't tell what he was doing. "Can I come
in?"

There was a pause, and then he said, "Sure."

I pushed open the door slowly, not sure if he was behind it. I didn't want
to hit him with it, after all. He had his suitcases laid out on the bed,
and was very carefully folding his clothes up and packing them. His eyes
were red, and his face was blotchy, so I could tell he'd been crying again,
but he had apparently finished up for the moment.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Packing," Josh answered, not looking at me. "Justin, I appreciate you
inviting me to stay here, but I don't want to be in your way, and I don't
think that, you know, Brit really wants me around."

"Josh, you could never be in my way," I said, shaking my head. "Please,
Josh, please don't leave."

"Justin," he began, but I took his hand and sat down on the end of the bed
with him.

"Josh, if I let you go home, you're just going to see all those boxes, and
you're going to spend all your time thinking about him," I began, not sure
if I was going to say this the right way or not. Then again, I'd already
made Brit cry, so why not Josh, too? "And you're just going to get more and
more unhappy, and then you'll lock yourself in your house, and I won't see
you again. You'll just get paler and paler, and you'll start wearing
pajamas all the time, and your hair'll get really long, and your beard, and
then you'll start wearing tissue boxes on your feet, and muttering about
germs, and really, Josh, nobody wants that."

Josh smiled at me, despite himself, and I chalked up a point on my mental
scorecard.

"So you're telling me I'll turn into Howard Hughes unless I stay here with
you?" he asked, squeezing my hand.

"Well, I'm not guaranteeing it, but the odds are good," I answered. Josh
sighed, and then leaned over and gave me a hug.

"Thanks, Justin," he said. He pulled back, and I saw that he was still
upset. "Justin, what about the rest of it? What Brit said? Is that what you
guys really think? Is that what everyone really thought about Jack?"

"Josh, don't listen to what Brit says," I said, hugging him again. "She
means well, but, you know, she was being Brit. Nobody who really knew you
guys thought that.  Brit probably just thought that since you broke up, she
was supposed to trash talk him or something. You know how she is."

"I guess," Josh said, wiping at his eyes again. "Are you sure you want me
to stay?"

"Josh, I told you, I don't want you to be alone, and I like having you
here," I said, hugging him again. "Now let's get these clothes put away."

"Thanks, Justin," Josh said, squeezing my hand again.

"Nothing to thank me for," I said, standing. He stood with me, and we began
returning his clothes to the dresser and the closet. "So, what are we going
to do now?"

"I don't know," Josh answered, shrugging. "I don't really want to do
anything."

"I have this idea," I said, ignoring his statement. "Remember all those
times you wanted me to play chess with you, but I didn't know how? Let's
play, right now. I have a set in the closet."

"But you don't know how," Josh said, cocking his head quizzically to one
side.

"But I will, because you're going to teach me," I said, grinning at him.
Before he could think to protest I grabbed his hand and led him to the
closet, skipping through the hallway as I jerked him along behind me. I
grabbed the box and led him downstairs to the living room. Sitting down,
cross-legged, on the carpet, I opened the board and began to separate the
pieces. "How do we set up the board?"

"Pick a color," Josh said, lowering himself to the floor.

Picking up the stereo remote, I clicked it on, and softly muted jazz began
to filter smokily through the room, rolling out of the surround sound
speakers like fog. I hated jazz, but Josh loved it, and I smiled when I saw
his lips twitch a little. Maybe today would be a good day after all, or at
least not such a bad one. We played until well after lunch, just sitting
across from each other quietly as Josh taught me the rules and tried to
teach me the names of the pieces.

"It's not a horsey thing, Justin," Josh sighed. "And that one's not a
castle."

"Can I call it a castle anyway?" I asked, grinning.

"No," Josh answered, smiling back. "And if you call it that again, I'm
going to slide right through that big hole you just left, and take your
castle away."

"You're mean," I whined playfully.

"Sometimes learning is painful, young grasshopper," Josh said, slipping
into his fake "Kung Fu" voice.

After a while we broke for a late lunch, just a quick little batch of
sandwiches, and then decided that maybe we should shower. Sometimes in the
old days, when we still shared hotel rooms to save money, we'd not only
shared the bathroom, but had shared the shower if we were running late. I
found myself thinking of those days while I was in the shower, washing
myself off, thinking about the fact that Josh was across the hall in the
bathroom attached to the guest room, doing the same thing. I immediately
tried to think of Brit, but once the image of Josh, wet and soapy, had
crawled into my head again, it was hard to push it away. I was hard, too,
imagining all the times that Josh, shy, bashful Josh, had soaped up next to
me, not speaking, keeping his eyes turned away.  I wondered, for the first
time, what might have happened if, just once, one of us had actually
reached out to the other, or even just spoken, rather than just pretending
we were in gym class or something. I sighed and twisted the shower over to
cold.

After we showered, I asked Josh if he wanted to do anything, or play more
chess, but he didn't seem really interested. I wanted to go out to the
backyard, and hit a couple balls with my new putting iron, because it was
too nice outside to waste the whole day on the living room floor, even if
we were having a good time.

"Josh, are you sure?" I asked again. "You can borrow one of mine if you
just want to hit a couple balls around."

"I have something I want to work on," he said quietly, shrugging as he
fidgeted uncomfortably with his plain black t-shirt. He lifted a hand to
run it through his hair, and the bottom of the shirt lifted up a little
from his jeans, giving me a little flash of tanned abs and happy trail.

"OK," I said, realizing that I probably shouldn't be right in his face
trying to cheer him up all the time. I had to give him a little space, too,
and let him reach out to me when he needed a friend. "I'll be right out
back if you want to come work out there."

"Thanks, Justin," Josh said. He looked uncomfortable for a second, and then
hugged me, hard, and when he spoke again his voice was close to
tears. "Thank you, for everything."

"We'll get through this, Josh," I said, holding him tightly. I squeezed,
and then let go, and he started to step away. "I'm here for you, right
here. I'll be outside if you need me, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Josh said, wiping at his eyes to clear the tears standing in
them unshed.

He turned away, heading back to his room, and I sighed and walked down to
the backyard. I was outside for a while, just tapping the balls around,
trying to get a feel for the club. Chris and I were somehow becoming avid
golfers, although he was much more obsessed than I was. We both figured
that next time we went on tour, though, we'd be able to hit a lot of
different courses, almost like being on our own little PGA. I heard a door
open, and looked up to see Josh carrying one of his notebooks out to the
back table.  He squinted in the sun, looking down the yard at me, and I
grinned and waved. He raised a hand back, and went back to whatever he was
working on. He looked upset, but at least he'd come outside. The fresh air
might do him a little good. I kept tapping my balls around the yard, losing
a couple in the high grass, but also kept an eye on Josh. He was working
pretty hard, writing something, crossing a lot of words out and rubbing at
his eyes a lot. I was too far away to tell for sure, but figured he was
crying a little. I didn't want to run right over, so I just kept hitting
the ball and letting him work, figuring he'd wave or come over if he needed
me.

Eventually I got bored, and realized it was time to get started on dinner,
so I started walking back up the yard. I stopped to put a hand on Josh's
shoulder, because he had his face buried in his hands. He wasn't crying,
but I could tell he was fighting not to, concentrating on keeping his
breathing level. He had closed the notebook, so I couldn't tell what he was
working on, but when he felt my hand he reached up and took it in one of
his.

"Josh?" I asked, not moving. "I was going to start on dinner."

"Yeah, ok," he said quietly. "I'll come in a little bit."

I walked away after he let go of my hand. As I was opening the door, I
heard him behind me, and I turned, but he was looking at the ground.

"Justin, why didn't he love me?" Josh asked softly, his voice quivering.
"Why didn't he love me enough to stay with me? Why did he leave?"

"I don't know, Josh," I answered, feeling something wrench inside me again.
I didn't know how Jack could have walked away from him, how he could have
left him like this.  None of this added up, but I couldn't force Josh to
face that, not until he was ready. "Do you need me? Can I do anything,
Josh?"

"I don't know," he answered, holding his face in his hands again. "Why
don't you go get started on dinner, ok?"

Brit came back just as I was setting the table, while Josh was upstairs
washing his face and putting his notebook away. He didn't say anything when
he came in, just nodded at me and went upstairs as I told him dinner would
be ready in five to ten.  Brit's arms were weighted heavily with clothing
store bags, and I assumed I was forgiven as she kissed me hello, sliding my
gold card into my back pocket as she did so, spreading her fingers so that
she was cupping my ass at the same time.

"Hi there," I said, kissing her again. "Go put those down. Dinner in five."

"OK," she said, turning away. She giggled and pointed at my face. "You have
lipstick on your cheek."

"Thanks," I said, smiling. "Wonder where that came from?"

The three of us had a comfortable dinner. Brit gushed on and on about what
she had done today, where she had shopped, and who she had seen. She had
brought me a couple shirts, although I'd be hard pressed to call them
presents knowing that I paid for them, and she brought Josh a belt made of
rubber, with vintage soda bottle caps fastened all the way around it. It
was kitschy, kind of ugly, and just the kind of thing that Josh would show
up at an awards show or a photo shoot with. He thanked her and put it on
right there at the table. I smiled, glad to see that the tension between
them this morning seemed to be gone.

After dinner we settled in for some television time, Josh by himself in a
chair and Britney and I sharing a couch. Things were going well, at first,
but Brit kept trying to tickle me, or fool around, or whatever, and I
didn't feel right doing that in front of Josh. He sat with his bowl of
popcorn, appearing to watch the television, but I started to worry. After
all, he'd just lost his boyfriend, just been painfully dumped. It must have
bothered him to see us being so happy, to see Brit being so touchy feely
with me, because it must have reminded him of what he'd lost such a short
time ago. I kept trying to settle Brit down, and kept trying to engage Josh
in discussion about what was on, or the stuff on the commercials, but as
the evening wore on he just got more and more quiet.  Eventually he got up
and bid us goodnight, walking up the stairs with his shoulders down again.

I was watching him go, wondering if I should go after him, or if he needed
to talk, but suddenly Brit was on top of me, straddling me. She began to
gyrate her hips against me, and pressed her chest against mine. I could
feel her hard nipples poking at me through her shirt, and her crotch was
rubbing firmly against mine as she ran her hands over the top of my
head. Despite the fact that I was still worried about Josh, I felt my body
responding to her, felt myself getting hard beneath her. After all, I'm
young, and it is a penis. If you play with it enough, it gets hard, even if
you're not in the mood. Brit jammed her tongue into my mouth, practically
smothering me and she pressed herself all over me on the couch, grinding me
back into the cushions.

"I thought he'd never leave," Brit purred, grabbing her shirt and tugging
it off over her head, so that she was astride me in her bra.

"What?" I asked, not moving, staring up at her as she grabbed my shirt and
pulled it off, too.

"I thought Josh would never leave," she sighed, sucking at my neck as her
skin slid over mine and her hands roamed all over my body. "I've been
waiting all day for this, Justin. I want you so bad."

Her hands dropped into my crotch, kneading my hard cock and squeezing my
balls, and then she was undoing my pants. I still hadn't move, hadn't
responded to her, but she didn't seem to notice as she continued to throw
herself at me. She slid down my body, trailing her hair across my chest, as
she jerked my pants and briefs down to my knees.  She breathed on my cock,
smiling, and then opened her mouth and swallowed me, gobbling my cock like
she was starving for it. I groaned, my hips jerking up toward her, and she
opened her throat and sucked me into her hot, wet mouth.

I closed my eyes, tossing my head back, and tried to enjoy myself, tried to
lose myself in the sensations rolling over me, the feeling of her tongue
sliding over my cock as her lips pressed around it. After all, who doesn't
like a blowjob? How could I not enjoy the practiced skills of someone who
had given so many? But I wasn't enjoying it.  I was too busy trying to
stifle my moans, too worried that Josh would hear us. Britney and I had
never been able to keep it quiet, and I was worried suddenly that Josh
would hear us and get even more upset. If he missed cuddling with Jack, he
must really miss the sex. He didn't need to hear Brit and I fucking in the
middle of the living room.

And I didn't want it.

It was a shock to realize it, but I didn't want to have sex with Brit. I
was too worried about Josh, too concerned about what hearing us might do to
him. That wasn't the only problem, though. With my eyes closed, I couldn't
see Brit, couldn't see that it was her mouth my hard prick was pushing in
and out of. With my eyes closed, I could remember the time Josh had blown
me, could remember the peaceful way his face had looked, the mix of
happiness and raw lust. I could remember the feel of his tongue, the
softness of his lips, the way his little strip of beard had tickled against
my balls. My eyes popped open as I realized that I was getting a blowjob
from my girlfriend but pretending it was from my best friend. What the fuck
was going on in my head?

I grabbed Brit's hair and pulled her off of me, my cock sliding out of her
surprised mouth and smacking my stomach.

"Justin?" she asked, blinking her heavily shadowed eyes at me.

"Brit, we can't do this," I said, pushing her away.

"What?" she asked, her mouth hanging open. If I changed my mind, I could
slide right back in. "You don't want to? You don't want me?"

"I do want to Brit," I lied, not wanting to make this worse. "I'm just, you
know, I don't want Josh to hear us. It might upset him or something. You
understand, right?"

"You don't want to have sex because it'll upset Josh?" she asked, standing,
her mouth set in a grim line. I nodded. "OK, Justin. Fine. Do whatever you
want, Justin.  I'm going out to the pool, unless, you know, you think
that'll bother Josh."

She turned on her heel and began stalking away toward the backyard.

"Brit!" I called after her. "Please don't be mad!"

"Fuck you, Justin!" she answered. "Oh, wait, Josh might hear it!"

"Shit," I sighed, looking down at myself.

I was sitting topless on the couch with my pants down around my ankles, my
hard cock pointing up at the ceiling. I suppose I could have handled that
better, but maybe she shouldn't have just jumped on without asking me
first. Sure, she was pissed, but she was also being selfish, damn it. I
couldn't just be all for her all the time, not when Josh needed me. I
reached for a tissue as I noticed a ring of red lipstick around my
dick. Jesus.  Why did she have to wear so much makeup all the time, and why
couldn't she just wear the smudgeproof kind? I cleaned myself off and
pulled my pants up. Picking up my shirt, I didn't bother to put it back on
as I trudged up the stairs.

Passing Josh's door, I heard a low, whimpering sound. Afraid that he might
be having a nightmare of some kind, or crying again alone in his room
because he didn't want to bother me, I tapped at his door. He didn't
answer, so I twisted the knob open and slowly pushed open the door. I
gasped, and froze in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before me. Eyes
closed, head tossed back, Josh was sprawled naked on the bed as he fisted
his hard cock.

***

Uh oh. More to come soon.