Date: Sat, 17 Jun 2000 07:58:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: tiberius <tiberius224@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pillow Talk

***  !!WARNING!!  *** Gay fiction about to begin!

If you're not old enough please come back when you are. If you're not
allowed to see this wherever you're accessing it from don't! You should
go now at a run--if not, it's your neck and don't say I didn't warn you
to leave.  And last but not least--if you are offended by the thought of
homosexuality then you're in the wrong place. Please go back the way
you came in or you will be offended.

Now that you've been properly warned the story can begin, but first a
word from the author.

The story thus far--oh wait! There is no story thus far! This is how it
all started. I was asked how Ian and Jeremy in my story Pillow Talk
met. Intrigued, this is the answer I imagined.

Before you read any further there is no sex in this chapter, so if that's
your reason for reading you'll be disappointed. Like the story that it
came from my intention is to give the sexual content a meaningful
purpose and not just a lustful diversion. You can blame something
positive on Hollywood for once or maybe not.

This came about because someone wanted to know how Ian and Jeremy
first met. At the time I shrugged I hadn't given that a thought. As I
continued to work on the first chapters the idea for this story came to
me. So I hope you will enjoy this digression in to the past. Now on with
the show!

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Ian sat at the baby grand. His fingers danced over the ivory keys as he
let his eyes roam around the restaurant. He smiled to himself as he
realized it was his again. There was no trace of Marcus in the décor of
the dining areas at all anymore. It had cost several thousand dollars, but
Ian's--his restaurant with his name engraved in the window--reflected
his tastes and not those of his manipulative ex-lover. A deep sense of
satisfaction filled him knowing he had taken back control of his own
life again. There were a few rooms left to repaint in the back and then
all traces of Marcus would be gone.

His eyes returned to the keys as he reached a part of the music that was
difficult for him. He concentrated on the notes and before he realized it
he was through them. He was surprised that the music had just seemed
to flow out of him. He smiled slightly with surprised pleasure at his
own performance.

As he finished the piece he looked out at the audience to the applause
of some of the customers. He smiled and nodded in humble gratitude.
The ones who were applauding were regular patrons. They came in at
least once a week usually on the same night. There were a few who
came in as many as three nights a week. Ian realized they came in to
listen to him play, so he always kept a look out for them. He tried to
play his best whenever he saw them.

Just before he turned back to play he noted a table where two people
sat. There were two men sitting there. One was applauding and the
other was trying to stop him. It struck Ian as odd, because the man
applauding was much younger than the other was. In fact, the younger
man looked out of place.

The younger man was dressed well enough in a brown leather jacket
and a light blue turtleneck, but the earrings he wore in each ear was
unusual. His hair was bleached nearly white and his face could only be
described as boyish. Ian felt a physical attraction to the young man.

The older man, whose face was turning bright red, was dressed in a
dark business suit that looked tailor made to fit him. His hair was gray
and thinning, and his eyes glanced nervously about the room as he
grabbed for the young man's arms. It was obvious he had the money.

Ian turned his attention back to the piano's keyboard and began to play
another piece. As the first notes of music filled the room he
remembered seeing the young man in the restaurant before. He had
been with another man that night if Ian remembered correctly.

Ian realized what that could mean. The young man could be a gigolo.
Only countless hours of practice kept him from missing a note. Despite
his colored hair and ear jewelry, Ian thought he was a handsome kid.
He was a little disappointed that such a youth was resorting to
prostitution to make a living.

Ian played through the number and didn't stop before going straight in
to the next one. He heard some voices as he played this time. It was
unusual for patrons at Ian's to make a spectacle, but it did happen on
the rare occasion. He did not look up because he trusted his staff to
handle those `rare' occasions.

When he finished Ian finally looked up. The regular crowd was
applauding politely again.

He noted with mild disappointment that the table where the young man
and his `patron' had been sitting was empty. He easily kept his
disappointment from showing on his face. He silently chastised himself
for letting the beauty of the young man get to him. It was that same
beauty that led him into trouble with Marcus.

Ian dismissed Marcus from his mind. That rotten bastard was out of his
life now and the damage he had caused had been mostly repaired. It
would not be long until there would be nothing to remind him of that
damned man.

Ian's attention was drawn away from cursing his ex-lover by a subtle
signal from the manager. Ian was the owner, but since most of his
evenings were spent on the piano he had hired someone to take care of
the rest of the restaurant's operations.

Looking up, Ian could see that it was nearly time for his first break of
the evening. He wondered what the man felt he needed Ian's input to
take care of.

"Enjoy your meal, Ladies and Gentlemen. I'll be back in a few
minutes." Ian smiled and headed back to meet his manager.

Ian asked quietly, "Is there a problem, Owen?"

"I have a young man in the office who can't pay the check. I was going
to call the police, but well. Maybe you'd better talk to him about it."
Owen sounded nervous.

"Okay." Ian frowned slightly.

Owen Hollings was a good man who knew his job. If he was this
nervous it was because a situation came up he had never encountered
and that the two of them had never discussed before.

They walked back to the office and Ian opened the door. He was
surprised to see the young man he had been admiring earlier sitting
there. Ian felt himself react to the young man.

Ian took the time walking from the door to his desk to gather his wits
and get himself under control. It would not do for this young man to
sense Ian's reaction to him. Ian sat down and looked at the ticket on the
desk in front of him.

He had eaten well, Ian thought to himself. He finally looked up at the
young man.

"Mr. Hollings tells me that you have a problem paying your bill." Ian
said calmly. "Would you care to explain what the problem is?"

The young man shrugged, "My client got mad and left--sticking me
with the check."

"Client?" Ian asked. "You don't buy your client's dinner?"

"My clients pay me to have dinner with them." The young man said.
Then with a grin that Ian was sure was aimed to put him off guard the
young man said, "Among other things."

"I see." Ian replied nonplused. "You're a male escort, then?"

The young man shifted. Ian smiled to himself. The man obviously
expected to gain the upper hand by admitting he was an escort.

"Yes." The man finally said.

"You expect that I won't want it getting around that my restaurant is
frequented by male escorts and their clients, so I'll just let you get away
without paying." Ian said calmly.

The man was nervous now.

Ian decided to push it. "Well, I'm not concerned with that. I can't stay
in business--seedy or otherwise--if I let people go without paying for
their meals."

Ian could see Owen close his eyes behind the young man. Obviously,
he thought this situation should be handled differently. The truth of the
matter was that Ian was unsure how to handle any of it. He knew he
could not just let the young man get away with it. At the same time, the
young man's belief that Ian did not want the negative publicity that
could be attracted by this situation was correct.

Just as Ian was about to relent he noticed the paint cans and plastic drop
cloth sitting in the corner of the office. As he remembered why those
materials were there, Ian knew exactly what he was going to do.

"You're half right, I don't want the publicity the police would draw."
Ian said. "But at the same time, I don't want you spreading the word
that I'm just going to roll over and give any one of you a free meal
either."

Ian leaned forward, "You have identification, don't you?"

"Yeah," the young man said hesitantly.

"Let me see it." Ian held out his hand.

The man hesitated for a minute. Then sighing reached in his back
pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and showed Ian his
driver's license.

Ian took a piece of paper and wrote down the young man's name and
address.

Then he asked, "Do you know how to use a paint brush, Jeremy?"

"Yeah." Jeremy replied. He was clearly not pleased with anything that
was happening here.

"Good," Ian said. "Monday morning, I want you to meet me here at
nine o'clock. You're going to paint this office to pay off your bill."

"You can't make me do that." Jeremy argued.

"It's either that," Ian interrupted. "Or we call the police right now."

Jeremy glared at him. Finally he said, "Fine, I'll paint the office."

"Good." Ian smiled.

Visibly unhappy, Jeremy jumped up from the chair and grabbed up his
wallet. "Can I leave now?"

"Yes." Ian said calmly.

Jeremy walked to the door and just as he took hold of the doorknob Ian
called out, "If you don't show up Monday morning, I will have my staff
refuse to let you back in. You can explain that to your clients."

"I'll be here." Jeremy declared and slammed the door on his way out.