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