Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2000 14:21:09 EDT
From: Dmetri Xavier (dmetrixavier@hotmail.com)
Subject: "He's All I Need" Part III

Well, here is the third part of this series.  I know it has taken me
awhile, but I have been unemployed and hitting the streets.for a
job.errr..well, you know what I mean!  Thanks to everyone that wrote me
asking me to finish.  I know where this story is going now, so installments
should come more quickly.  Anyhow, this story contains descriptions of
male/male relationships.  If this is illegal for you to be reading, or if
you are underage, then this is a no-no.  Also, this story is purely fiction
and written for entertainment value.  The author nor the forum on which it
is posted does not claim to know anything about the true sexual orientation
of singer Ricky Martin.  We'll just leave the presumptions to the media.

He's All I Need, Part III:
	 "Let me love you for a day, let me have you for a night."
			     By: Dmetri Xavier

	I awoke to the feeling of Ricky's lips pressing against my neck.
Without thinking, I arched my head back to give him better access.  I could
feel him kissing and nibbling the area around my Adam's apple.  Then he
moved farther back, to the softer area where my neck meets my shoulder, and
began licking and kissing the jugular area.  Instinctively, I moved my
hands up to his head, almost guiding him around the sensitive spots on my
neck.  I could feel his heat has he moved to be on top of me, he body
fitting again to mine like a puzzle piece.  I could feel his left hand
behind my neck, massaging while he was kissing, and I could feel his right
straying under the top folds of my robe.  I let out a moan has he began to
touch and caress my pecs, but as soon as he touched my nipples and that
immediate sexual current shocked through my body, I almost screamed out.  I
jumped up, almost knocking him off me.
	"Stop, please." I said breathlessly.
	He looked at me, broken out of his lustful revelry, "Huh?  Jimmy
what's wrong?"
	"I can't do this." I answered weakly.
	"Do what? Make out?  I thought that's what a couple did." he looked
at me hurt.
	I looked at him point-blank, "But we aren't a couple Ricky," he
looked almost dejected, "Not yet anyway.  I mean, you're a nice guy, but
that felt like more than the standard make-out session to me.  That felt
like it was meant to lead somewhere else."
	Ricky looked at me, like I was the hardest thing to understand,
"And would that have been so wrong?  I mean, I though that after yesterday
we were closer somehow."
	He looked as if he were about to cry.  I looked at him closer.  I
thought I saw what the problem was, so I put it out on the table, "Ricky,
forgive me for asking this, and you don't have to answer, but how long was
it before you slept with Pablo after meeting him?"
	He looked at me as if a small light was coming on, "Well.uhmm.the
first night." he looked away from me shyly, like he was ashamed, "But I am
not a slut Jimmy.I mean, I don't think I am.I just.well.I felt that he
loved me."
	I reached out to him, "Ricky I am not calling you a slut.  A slut
is something that sleeps around with many people not caring about their
feelings.  You aren't that, but I think that you make your relationships
move to fast.  You fall for somebody, and you automatically think that the
next step should be sex.  Did you ever stop to think that what you felt
from Pablo wasn't really love, but more like hero worship?"
	Ricky just sat there, looking at me dejectedly. I didn't know what
else to say, because I already felt terrible.  He was looking off out the
window, almost like he was shutting me out.  I reached out to touch him,
but he shied away from me.  I didn't know what else to do so I stood up and
stood in front of him.  I looked down at him, he glanced away quickly to
avoid my gaze.  "Ricky, why are you acting this way? I am just being honest
with you.  You say you might want a relationship with me, but we can't have
a relationship without trust.  And I am sorry, but I can't have a
relationship with you until I know you, " he was still looking down at the
floor, avoiding my gaze, "Well, since you want to be a child and you don't
want to talk this over, then I think it's time that you go." I said,
getting up and opening the door for him.
	I waited for what seemed like an eternity, Ricky then stood up and
got his coat.  As he walked by the roses, he briefly touched them gently,
then he just walked right past me out the door, not even glancing at me or
saying anything to me.  I wanted to say something to him, but I was so
angry at that point I figured the best thing to do was let him go.  He
wasn't worth the effort if he never was going to admit his faults and be an
adult.  Then it dawned on me.  I just kicked Ricky Martin out of my
apartment, and here I was justifying it!
                                                               @~>~~~>
	A few weeks passed, and I hadn't heard nor seen anything of Ricky.
I was trying to block him out of my mind, but all that accomplished was my
remembering his lips on my neck.  Every time something by him played at
work or while I was at home listening to the radio, I shuddered and had the
overwhelming urge to cry. I tried to figure out why he was affecting me so
badly.  I chalked it up to him being famous, but that didn't mesh well with
me.  About three weeks later, I admitted it to myself.  I had fallen in
love with Ricky Martin, and I didn't even know him, and that made me even
more pathetic!
	One particular day, a very handsome man by the name of Keith
McKennant came into the salon and specifically asked for me.  I work on so
many people's hair most of the time; it's hard for me to keep track of all
of them.  Needless to say though, this guy acted like he knew me, and like
we had talked a lot, because I supposedly knew all about his work, and his
kids, and such.  I played along with it, not knowing a darn thing about the
guy at all. But hey, I'm a decent actor.  I cut and styled the guy's hair
to exactly his specifications, while he talked to me about a new touring
show he was working on. He was telling me how great the pay was, and how it
was going to be a world tour, and that he'd finally get to see some of the
places that he had always wanted to go.  I humored him of course. I mean,
he was a client and who am I to bitch when a client wants to prattle?
	When I was done, I spun his chair around to face the mirror, and
with my usual flourish I introduced the new him.  He laughed at this, but
then took on a very serious tone when inspecting his hair.  "This is very
nice James.  You know, you're the only hairdresser I have ever gone to that
can actually follow directions to a tee."
	Hey, I'll admit, I have an ego, and this was a big boost for me,
"Well, thank you sir. My philosophy has always been just to give the client
what they want. No more, no less."
	"Well, I am impressed again.  You know we are looking for
hairdressers and make-up artists for this tour that I am putting together.
We'd love to have someone of your caliber along, because we need a style
director for the show.  Would you be interested in something like this?"
	I was kind of taken aback.  I didn't know what to tell him,
"Well.thank you Mr.  McKennant, but I don't know."
	"Don't say yes or no yet James. Why don't you come out to lunch
with me later this afternoon and we can discuss the specifics. What time is
your lunch hour?" He said to me.
	"Well, today is my short day, so I leave here at two o'clock."
	"Perfect! Meet me at the Plaza Hotel restaurant at 2:30 and we'll
do lunch." And without leaving me time to respond, he left the salon.
"What is it with guy inviting me to their hotels?" I asked myself.
					@~~>~~~>
	I treated myself to a cab rather than take the subway to the hotel
like I normally would have.  When I got there I was just about to go into
the restaurant when McKennant stopped me.  "Hey there James," he said,
extending his hand, "Glad you could make it."
	"Sure, no problem.  Shall we?" I asked indicating the restaurant.
	"Oh yes, I have already reserved us a table.  Let's go." I followed
him into the darkened restaurant.  The maitre'd led us to a secluded table,
and proffered menus.  I took mine and immediately ordered a mineral water.
McKennant ordered a scotch on the rocks.  The maitre'd left to give our
drink order to our waiter, and I then looked directly into the eyes of my
host and asking frankly, "Okay, Mr. McKennant.  You've got me here, what do
you want from me?"
	"Well, James, it's like I told you.  I am organizing a world tour
for a famous music act, and we are in need of make-up and hair artists.
You would be on a team, you wouldn't be in charge, we already have someone
for that, but she is actually planning on leaving the show sometime in the
middle, which at that time you will be placed in charge of the group.
Until then, you will be her second in command, and she has been on my case
to find someone she can work with.  I definitely think you are the one.
She's a bit of a pistol, if you know what I mean, and she has a tendency to
frighten people off."
	I chuckled at this, "You've never worked for Orlando,
Mr. McKennant.  He is the original pistol, if you know what I mean."
	"Well, then, I'll just get on with the details then.  The tour
starts here in New York, then continues east to London, making several
stops in Europe, then heads over to Japan, where it will conclude back here
in the states after hitting several major venues.  The pay is what I would
consider outstanding, and your entire trip related expenses and such are
covered by the tour.  You would probably be gone for an entire year, but
then after that depending on our needs, we might be able to us you further
as far as the star performers' music videos and such.  Otherwise, James, to
be honest, if you were smart and banked the money you could earn off a tour
like this, you could probably open your own salon or even better, get into
make-up and hair for the motion picture industry."
	I was flabbergasted.to think me actually being able to pay off
everything I own, plus maybe having something left over to open my own
salon.  I looked directly into McKennant's eyes and asked, "Okay, you've
almost got me convinced.  Honestly though, how much money are we talking
here?"
	McKennant looked at me, pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket,
wrote a figure down on a cocktail napkin and slid it over to me.  I looked
down on the napkin.  Wow.
	"Will that do?" he asked me.
	"Uh, yeah.  When do we leave?" I said jokingly, "No seriously, I
have to give Orlando at least three weeks notice, also during which I will
have to help find a replacement for me so that my client's don't get left
behind, so to speak."
	"The tour doesn't start for another month.  Is that enough time?"
	"It should be.  What should I do about my co-op?"
	"Can you sub-lease it?"
	"Well, I can try.  I'll have to look at my contract.  I just
recently bought it, so I actually will have to see if the association will
allow renters."
	"Well, if that doesn't work, then my company can purchase the co-op
from you, just keep it vacant, and then you can purchase it back from us."
	"Really, you'd do that for me?"
	"Of course Jimmy.  May I call you Jimmy?" I shook my head in
response, "You have talent, and I am not just talking about hair dressing.
You make a customer feel like a star, even thought they may not be one.
That's why I like you.  And since you've agreed to join us, let's celebrate
with a little drink, shall we?"
	I was stunned.  A million questions ran through my head at that
moment, but I all could say was, "Sure, what the hell!"
	McKennant gestured toward the waiter, and all of the sudden another
appeared with two martinis.  We were each handed one, and we toasted my
newfound job.  Everything was just falling into place for me.  I was more
than just thrilled.  McKennant and I talked more about the tour, and what
would be expected of me, and such.  The drinks kept coming, and it was
obvious to me that I was getting a little inebriated.  McKennant was too,
by the look of him.
	"You know McKennant, I've had a really shitty week.  I meant this
wonderful person, and we hit it off really well, and well it turned sour
really quick.  I have had a really bad week, and then you came along and
offered me this job, and now I think I am having a wonderful week."  My God
did that just come out of my mouth?
	"Oh Jimmy, please.  Call me Keith." He answered, slurring every
other word.
	"Ok Keith, thank you." I said, proffering my hand for a handshake.
	Keith took my hand in his, and looked me in the eye, "Jimmy, I
think we've had a little too much to drink.  I don't think that you will be
able to make it home in this pre- dic-a-ment, so I think you should just
stay in my room this even-ing." Oh my, was he drunk! Punctulating every
syllabale.
	"You know, I think I have to agree with you.  Let's go." I said,
trying to stand, but only succeeding in falling back into my chair.  I
giggled.  I then finally got up after three unsuccessful tries.
	We made our way up to Keith's room, and as he fumbled with the
little keycard, he point-blank asked me, "You know Jimmy, I wonder, do you
find me attractive?"
	Under normal circumstances, I probably would've been pissed and
slugged him, but being that I was drunk, "Yeah, Keith.  You are cute.  I
think I would say attractive."
	The door opened, and we stepped inside.  As soon as the door was
closed, we were all over each other.  Clothes were flying everywhere, and
the next thing I know we stumbled our way over to the bed.  I could feel
heat everywhere, and we were both sweating profusely.  Keith pulled me down
onto the bed, and shut out the lights..

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

Well? What do you think? Did they or didn't they?  Don't make any
judgements yet guys, because there is always the morning after.  Questions
or comment can be directed to dmetrixavier@hotmail.com Flames of course
will be doused.