Hanging the Chimney Hook - Chapter 1

[RHHorst]

Chapter 10b

As we kissed, his hand rubbed my cock through my jeans, and I knew how he wanted to show me that he felt the same. I had told him that I would feed him anytime, and he wanted it. So, when we got into the roadster, I put the top up and pulled out my cock. He reached over the console between us, playing with my schlong as I drove us to the outreach center on 41st street.

“You know,” he said, “if you had a shorter dick, I would have more trouble doing this.”

Max pulled slack in the shoulder strap of his seatbelt, and with my erect dong stretching out at an odd angle to the right, he leaned over a bit, took my knob along with the first couple of inches into his mouth, and blew me right there. I had never had a blowjob while driving. It felt like a dangerous and incredibly stupid thing to do, but that only made it more exciting. Precum ran from me like a garden hose whose tap had a broken stopcock, and I could feel Max drinking it down. Taking directions from my phone’s navigation, I struggled to maintain my ability to concentrate on the road with the insane amount of pleasure Max gave me.

While on Main Street, the afternoon traffic, coupled with a nasty accident ahead of us, caused us to sit idle in the middle of three narrow lanes surrounded by four delivery vans. Max noticed this and hit the button to put the top down.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax and enjoy.” He shoved my cock into his mouth again as the roof unlatched and began to fold itself into our trunk.

Once we were exposed to our vehicular neighbors, I looked around to see if they could see us. They could, and I saw a couple of thumbs-up. I laid my head against the headrest while Max mouthed my knob and jacked me but knowing that people watched us turned me on so much that it made me realize that I was growing into an exhibitionist. I propped my arm on the back of the passenger’s seat and let him have his way with my stiff meat.

While blowing me, Max always moaned his pleasure and made a lot of sexy cum-pig sounds. It horned me up hearing that continuous flood of the wettest slurping and sucking, guzzling and gulping noises for ten minutes, twenty minutes, even thirty or forty minutes that Max could provide without rest. He was like a milking machine intent on having that load, and I could feel the mercury rising as his efforts made me so hot that I began to sweat. When the involuntary undulating of my head began with every electric surge coursing through me, I knew he had me close. I lingered in that ecstasy for a minute, a pleasure so sweet it reached my toes and fingertips. As the dam burst, I grabbed the headrest of my seat while Max went into overdrive, chugging the torrent of cum from me like a beer bong, every bit down his throat, never a drop wasted. My body jerked as he kept at it, cleaning me up, milking my cock of anything left inside the shaft.

The gray-headed driver to our right had his window down, filming the whole thing on his cell phone, while the younger-looking passenger to our left had a squirt of cum running down the interior of his window. I kissed Max, and he thanked me for feeding him. He flipped the visor down and checked his face in the mirror. With spit in his beard, he cleaned himself with one of the wipes from the glove compartment intended for just such occasions. I hadn’t gone flaccid enough to pack my appendage away before the traffic began moving again, so I left it out.

The sisters had located The Saint Marianne Cope Outreach Center of Franklin in an old long-abandoned brick building that previously housed the business offices of some evangelical church. The city had converted its equally abandoned sanctuary next door into an annex to the main library downtown. The parking lot of the library had far too many spaces for its current usage, so the city had turned three-quarters of it into public parking, and we parked there. After packing away my dick, we left the roadster for the center.

The sisters had cleaned up the building well and had the brick repointed. Someone had cleverly placed the original name of the building into the design of the brickwork; it read Clancy’s Gym and the date 1949. We arrived in time; the center would close in twenty minutes. We entered, and a sister we hadn’t met before greeted us.

She smiled. “Hello, I’m Sister Catherine; how may I help you?”

“I am Howard Millstone, and this is my partner Max Roche. We’re private detectives assisting the Franklin Police Department. We were hoping to speak with Sister Foustina.”

“I’ve heard of you,” she said, “but I’m sorry, Sister Foustina has secluded herself for nearly a week.”

“It’s because of the death of Tommy Haines, isn’t it? If you could let her know that we’re here to speak to her about that, with some urgency, she may be able to assist us in finding who killed him.”

“Killed him? But the police officer told us that Tommy had taken his own life.”

“That’s a relatively recent retraction,” I said, “I expect her heart will feel a bit less broken if you let her know that.”

She smiled a bit, and with eyes wet, she asked us to wait in the little waiting room nearby while she told Sister Foustina.

Another sister we hadn’t met sat in the waiting room. She looked to be in her early 20s and wore the same white shirt under a simple gray dress and a matching veil that all the sisters wore. She sat crocheting a rather large afghan of cotton yarn.

She looked up from her work and smiled, “Good afternoon. Please, have a seat. I’m Sister Mary Eloise. I heard what you said about Tommy; you bring good news, and that’s always welcome.”

We greeted her in return. The waiting room had a couple of chairs and the couch upon which we seated ourselves. I put my arm around Max, and he looked a tad uncomfortable.

He whispered into my ear, “Are you sure you want your arm around me here.”

“Not if it bothers you.”

He held my hand that lay on his shoulder to keep me from pulling it away.

“Sister Foustina spoke of the two of you,” said the sister. “Welcome to Franklin.”

“Thank you,” said Max, “that’s much appreciated.”

“I have a question of you,” I said. “Who is Saint Marianne Cope? I’m not familiar with her.”

She paused in her work and smiled at us. “Oh,” she said, sounding as though she enjoyed the opportunity to reminisce a bit, “the name of the center is an interesting story. Saint Marianne Cope is a relatively new saint, originally from Germany, and she helped a lot of people, especially people with leprosy, but she has become known as the Patron Saint of Outcasts.”

“That sounds perfect for Franklin,” said Max.

“We thought so too,” she said, “and certainly more compassionate and agreeable than the center’s previous name. The sisters who started this outreach several years ago called it Saint Jude’s Outreach Center of Franklin. I’m afraid that the name more reflected the less charitable attitude of the sisters who started it, but we felt that naming it after the Patron Saint of Lost Causes was tone-deaf and rudely inappropriate. We felt sure the community recognized the original name as a slap in the face, and we could hardly blame them.”

We couldn’t help but quietly laugh at the amusingly cringeworthy attitude of some people.

When we heard footsteps coming down the tiled hallway, we stood and thanked Sister Mary Eloise for the conversation. Sister Foustina came around the corner wearing a smile and the same clothing they all did.

She said, “Misters Millstone and Roche, I’m so happy to see you. Please, come into my office, have a seat there, and we’ll talk.”

She led us to a room further down the hallway, and my eyes immediately drew to the antique religiously-themed tapestry that dominated the main wall. Along with her desk, she also had a cozy sitting area, and as she seated herself upon an azure blue wingback, she primly crossed her feet and tucked them beneath her chair. We sat on the comfortable Queen Anne couch across from her.

“Sister Catherine tells me Tommy hadn’t taken his own life. Are you sure?”

“Yes, we are quite sure, and you may be able to help catch who did it. Tommy’s boyfriend told us that several weeks ago, Tommy felt conflicted about something, and he spoke to you about it.”—Max held up his phone with the photo for Sister Foustina—“Would it happen to be about this ring?”

Her gaze of astonishment told me it was. “Yes, do you have it?”

“Currently,” I said, “it’s evidence in the murder of Douglas Chadwell, so the police are holding it for now. What do you know of it?”

“Oh no, Douglas is dead too?”—she made the sign of the cross—“Tommy found the ring; Douglas was there when Tommy found it. Douglas said that he would make sure their boss got it. So, Tommy waited for him to follow through, but whenever he questioned him about it, he hadn’t handed it over. ‘Oh, I forgot. I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.’ That sort of thing. Tommy kept pushing him to turn it in. He told me he felt conflicted for his friend and asked me if he should go to his boss to tell him about it, but he knew that doing so would get his friend in trouble. It seems like such a minor quandary, but for Tommy, who never had friends, it was serious.

“I asked him about the ring, and he showed me the photo he had taken of it when he found it, and the thing is, I recognized it…well, sort of. I have a friend who’s a historian that jokingly prides herself as a fount of useless information, but she gave me this bit of history because the Thornbrier estate lay so close to Franklin. This story involves Saint Roch, a name that shares the same root word as your own name, Mr. Roche; they both mean rock. Saint Roch is the patron saint of bachelors, dogs, people falsely accused, and the sick.

“Long ago, before the French Revolution, Joseph Bourbon of France, a distant relation of the ruling Bourbon family, believed that Saint Roch cured him of a grave illness, so, as a thank you, he gave a red diamond to a small Church of Saint Roch. They accepted the diamond and had it installed on a chalice used in Holy Communion. Eventually, the man died, years passed, and his line of the Bourbon family found themselves in dire straits when they had to flee for their lives during the French Revolution, but before they left for Spain, they demanded the church return the diamond to their family. When they were refused, they stole it and fled. We don’t know what happened during the interim years. They may have sold it and eventually bought it back, or not have sold it at all and just kept it in the family; we don’t know, but eventually, it came to the hands of Helene Bourbon, who we would come to know as Lady Thornbrier. Back in the 1800s, diamond cutters in France knew of the Bourbon Diamond of Saint Roch due to its notoriety among jewelers. When Lady Thornbrier sought to have it cut by an expert and mounted, he refused and told her she needed to return it to the Roman Catholic Church. Not receiving satisfaction, she took it elsewhere, but the jeweler told the bishop of the incident and that the diamond had turned up again. After my discussion with Tommy, I knew what I needed to do. Sister Mary and Sister Agnes were taking a trip to the Vatican one last time before they grew too old to fly the distance, so I volunteered to accompany them to ensure they were okay and to search the Vatican Archives for the records necessary to petition the city for the stone, and I found them. I called Tommy the day we returned, telling him that I found all the information we needed. So, he told me he would tell his boss about the ring and about how it belonged to the church.”

“What was the name of his boss, do you know?” asked Max.

“Oh, it was something rude sounding.”

“Was the name Bo Pecker?” I asked.

“Yes! That’s it.”

I turned to Max, who said, “I hoped it wouldn’t be him.”

“How much do you think that diamond would be worth right now?” I asked her.

“Even with Lady Thornbrier having it recut, due to its history and that it’s a flawless red diamond, it’s practically priceless.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 11a

When we reached the third floor of the precinct, we found a few uniformed officers at their desks writing reports and Detective Edgerton in the conference room getting chummy with James Malor as they both ate dinner. Before them, they had a mouthwatering medium grilled steak, a plain sweet potato, and grilled asparagus.

“Having a date, are we?” asked Max.

“Hardly,” said Edgerton.

Malor cleared his throat to gain Edgerton’s attention. “Maybe once this is all over, we can have a proper one.” Malor winked at the detective, and it made him laugh.

I hovered over Edgerton’s plate and sniffed repeatedly. “That smells delicious; is that Delmonico? What restaurant is that from?”

With lowered brows and his mouth pressed into a thin line, he moved me away in irritation. “Yes, it is! Do you mind? I’m trying to eat, and you’re sucking up all the smell.”—he picked up his plastic utensils—“It’s from Kovac’s a couple of blocks from here. I highly recommend it, but unless you get takeaway, you need a reservation.”—he resumed eating—“So, what do you have for us?”

“You won’t believe it,” I said, “but Sister Foustina says the stone in that ring belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, and she claims to have brought documentation from the Vatican to prove it.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe it.”—he continued to saw at his steak—“If the RCC wants that ring, they better have something definitive to prove it.”

“The condensed version is that, apparently, Tommy told her that Chadwell had the ring but was dragging his feet about reporting the find. She recognized it and believed that it belonged to the RCC, so she went to the Vatican to get proof. She called Tommy about having the documents the day they left to return home. Tommy spoke to his boss about it that day, and she says that would have been Bo Pecker.”

“The sisters got back early last Thursday morning,” said Max.

Malor stopped chewing for a moment. “If she called the day they left, that could be no later than Wednesday.”

Max checked the calendar on his phone. “So, he told Pecker on the 24th or 25th of June.”

Malor swallowed and shook his head. “No, that can’t be. The Thornbrier job ended on Flag Day, Friday the 14th of June, and I heard Pecker say that day how he felt exhausted and couldn’t wait to leave Monday to spend his two-week vacation in Greece.”

“So,” said Max, “he would have gotten back last Monday on the 1st of July.”

“Who had he left in charge?” I asked.

Malor began cutting his asparagus and shrugged. “There’s many people it could have been. I only know my foreman when on specific jobs, so Tommy might have meant his foremen or whoever Pecker left in charge overall? Delilah, the office manager, could help you narrow that down.”

Max said, “So, Tommy must have quit Alliance on Tuesday or Wednesday when he told whoever it was about the ring.”

“Probably,” said Malor. “I just know that on our date Wednesday night, Tommy said he had quit Alliance, and his roommate helped him get a job at the cab company.”

“Wouldn’t he have given them notice?” asked Max.

“Oh no,” said Malor, “Tommy never had a specialized job, and Alliance never cares when peons quit without notice, they just plug another one into the assignment.”

“You did good, fellas,” Edgerton said. “I’m pleased.”—he turned to his dining companion—“And we could not have gotten this far without your invaluable assistance, Mr. Malor.”

“You’re welcome, detective,” he said, “and you’re also welcome to call me James.”

“Once the case is closed, we’ll see.”

Malor’s brows rose with the tip of his head. “I do like a man who plays hard to get.”

Edgerton turned to us. “Go home, fellas. The killer’s not going anywhere. They want the ring. And by the way, starting tomorrow, you’ll have some assistance.”

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“Your neighbor,” he said.

I leaned over the table to look him in the face. “You didn’t…,” I said.

“Yes, I did,” he said with satisfaction. “I won’t steal his thunder. He’ll be ecstatic to give you the details himself. So, get going, guys. Mr. Malor and I have a conversation to finish.”

“One last thing,” I said, “will you stakeout the Chadwell home for the next few nights?”

“Oh, so you think the killer will continue to look for the ring, do you?” he asked.

“There’s a possibility.”

He laughed. “I already have that covered. Good-Bye,” he said, urging us to leave.

The sun wouldn’t set until just after 8:30 that evening, so we still had plenty of light outside, and the air felt cooler than earlier. Once we settled into the roadster, I texted Winter to set up a time to update her on the case, and she promptly replied that we should come by at nine o’clock the next morning at her apartment. We invited Albert to dinner, but he invited us to join him and a couple from the club to a gay venue called Gymnosity on Cable Street, so we agreed and changed course.

Max searched the net for Gymnosity. He learned that it opened at five in the afternoon, and it functioned as a restaurant until ten at night; afterward, it became a nightclub that stayed open until five in the morning. Max downloaded their app, and once they verified our age, they would allow us entry. You could order from their waiters or over their app, and they charged things to your account automatically by scanning your QR-code. Unlike any restaurant I had experienced, the instant you enter Gymnosity—gymnos meaning naked, all clothing must come off. Naturally, Max loved any excuse to strip down, and I was growing accustomed to others seeing me.

Gymnosity had valet parking for those who wanted it, but we self-parked and walked inside. We checked-in by the QR-code on Max’s phone, and once we showed them our IDs to verify our age, they gave us two complimentary towels with a secure bag for our clothing in the disrobing room. They hoped we would enjoy ourselves and asked that we never remove our footwear.

The relatively dark environment, with its rich, deep colors, had a far quieter atmosphere than I figured it would; we heard only high-energy techno played at an elevator-music volume. We informed the staff that we were meeting Albert Sawyer, and they told us his party had taken room 23. Upon reaching the main room, we discovered an enormous dance floor that they had surrounded by lounge booths, and along the outside wall, we saw rooms enclosed by heavy merlot-colored draperies.

Beyond the curtain of room 23, Albert sat at an oversized square table for eight, with a handsome, massive-looking, 30-year-old man, who wore his black hair in a fade style that blended into his thick stubble beard and had a hairy muscular body. The space was empty besides the table, and we noticed they had draped their towels over their parsons chairs.

“Cousin!” Albert greeted us with a hug. “May I introduce friends of mine; they live at the club too on the first floor. This is Freddy Owens, known at the club as Huge because he’s 7 foot 2, and well, as you can see, he’s huge.”

Freddy reached out his hand to us, and we shook it. “Sorry for not standing,” he said, pointing down at the tabletop. “Joey wouldn’t want me to interrupt.”

Max and I both glanced under the table to see a shadowy figure there with his head between Freddy’s legs.

“Don’t worry about him,” said Albert. “That’s Joey Dvorak; he’ll come up for air after Freddy cums again.”

Max laughed. “Again? How many times have you cum, Freddy?”

Clearly, he was enjoying his blowjob; his breathing sounded erratic, he couldn’t keep his head still, and he would grunt on occasion. “Just once, here,” he said, “but when Joey wants it, I give it to him.”

“And Joey wants it a lot,” Albert said. “But speaking of getting off, guess what! I have news. Not only has Edgerton gotten me off suspension, but he said that they will still offer me the test to make detective.”

“Congratulations!” said Max.

“That’s great! So, how did he do it?”

“He spoke to the inspector and said that if I hadn’t done what I did, it could have caused trouble with the investigation of Chadwell’s death. Tommy’s body was set for cremation; that’s a free service by the City of Franklin for those without specific requests. When the autopsy results came back, it hadn’t told us much, but what it hadn’t said is just as important. If they had cremated him without it, we could have lacked critical information. So, he convinced them that not only should the inspector lift the suspension, but I should be commended for taking the initiative. And in doing that, they won’t pass me over for the test.”

“When will they give the test?” asked Max.

“The last Monday of the month,” he said. “When he talked to me, he caught me up on the case, so I’m good on that end.”

I knew it couldn’t have gone as simply as that. Nothing is that simple, especially when it comes to such situations. If the view changed to Albert having done the right thing, worthy of commending, it meant that Edgerton must take the rap for not having requested the autopsy from the start. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about it at the station, so perhaps he merely got a slap on the hand. Whatever the case, he took a chance; he must care about Albert enormously.

Suddenly, Freddy began to huff and convulse, and his eyes closed during his orgasm. It must have been a good one and watching him brought a smile to my face.

A few moments later, he moved his seat back and stood. The guy looked like he had a professional basketball player’s height, and he had an uncut cock that looked about nine inches, but of average thickness, it arched out and downward, the perfect size and shape for blowing, so I understood why Joey wanted it a lot. Once he had backed away, Joey emerged from beneath the table. The guy had dirty blonde hair and almost the build of a fireplug, short and a bit thick. Standing beside Freddy, who squatted to kiss him, the effect of appearing short looked even more exaggerated.

Joey turned to us. “Not what you expected, right?”—in boldness, he came forward to shake our hands, and we introduced ourselves—“Just to head-off the common questions,” he said, “no, I don’t have dwarfism; everyone in my family just has an extraordinary vertical challenge. I’m 4 feet 7 inches tall, and while I may look like a teenager, I’m actually 26.”

“Joey and I have a lot of fun,” said Freddy with a mischievous smile and looked down upon him from his incredible height. Once Joey sat, Freddy politely pushed him up to the table and took his own chair beside him.

“Trouble tells us you’re both private dicks,” said Joey, “that sounds intriguing.”

“Trouble likes that phrase a lot,” I said.

Albert glanced at me and smiled. “What, you don’t like the phrase ‘private dicks?’”

I laughed. “You’re a naughty man, Al.” I turned to Joey and Freddy. “So, what do you guys do?”

“We run a phenomenally successful website, called Jack and the Giant, where people all over the world pay to watch us have sex. We have a studio, and everything on camera is made in proportion to my size, so I appear of average height, and that gives the illusion that Freddy is even bigger. We have sex on camera, and people seem to love it, especially those with a size-difference fetish. You might be surprised at how many of those people there are. I figured, since Freddy and I have so much sex, we should cash in on what we do best. It more than pays the bills, and we live comfortably.”

“Joey is really smart,” said Freddy.

“I’m not really smart, sweetheart, just enterprising.” He reached up to put his hand on Freddy’s chin. “Come here...”

Freddy bent to kiss him. “I love you, Joey.”

“And I love you, my handsome hunk of beefcake.”

Freddy smiled broadly and laughed a little, his face turning red.

Joey said to us, “Before we started the website two years ago, Freddy drove a forklift at the dock here in Franklin for like seven years—a terrible way to squander his amazing talents, and I worked in the I.T. department for the City of Franklin. Why don’t we order some food? Blowing Fred gives me an appetite.”

During dinner, I discovered that not only does Joey know Winter, but she partnered with them on their website project. He said that Winter thought the idea too scrumptious—her word—not to invest. She heard about their project and wanted to give him the money outright, but he insisted that she receive something for her investment. I had little doubt that she might try the same ploy with us, and if she did, I found it nice to know that an alternative existed. I asked him if he were willing to say what percentage she received, and he hadn’t minded telling me that she got 5% of the profits quarterly. He wanted her to recoup some of her investment, so she could help someone else with it, and with that understanding, she agreed to it.

Between the two of them, Joey seemed the dominant one, especially in conversation. I have a hard time describing Freddy, except to say that he had a mild intellectual disability because anyone who could run a forklift couldn’t have too much of one. Perhaps, he was just a bit slow to learn. One thing for sure, though, he seemed incredibly kind and friendly; you couldn’t help but like him, and he had an endearing charm. I had no doubt that he and Joey loved one another, they needed each other, and in their own way, they protected one another.

I asked Joey if we ever needed an I.T. person if he were willing to assist, and he said he would love to help and that it sounded like fun. He offered to help with a website too, but I told him I would need to think about it. A website would likely have our photos, and I thought Thomas Sawyer would frown at putting myself on the net that way. I still needed to keep a relatively low profile nationally speaking.

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 11b

After dinner, we made an early night of it; we had things to do the next morning. Since the three of them stopped off at a store, we made it home before Albert. When we arrived on the fifth level of the Minotaur, we found Edgerton, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sitting on the floor with his back against our door. He stood when he saw us.

“Good evening, fellas,” he said.

“Good evening, detective,” said Max.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Max unlocked our door, and the three of us entered, greeted by a living area with nowhere comfortable for company to sit.

“Jeez, you guys need furniture,” he said.

“That’s on our ever-shortening list.” I gestured to our dining table for him to sit. “What can we do for you?”

“As James and I ate dinner, we chatted. I got to know him; he got to know me. Apparently, I’m the type of guy he’s attracted to, which hadn’t hurt any. During all that, he volunteered some information that he didn’t feel comfortable mentioning before. He had answered our questions to the best of his ability and knowledge, but we didn’t ask this one specific question. It’s one thing to ask who might want to pin two murders on him, but it’s quite another to ask him, of the people he works with, who he believes might have done it.”

“And…,” I said.

“He sounds like he’s observant and a decent judge of character. That’s why he requested to speak to the two of you. He says he trusts you both, and especially you, Max. He said that in the past, he had always dismissed this as something else, his imagination or interest perhaps, but there is one guy where he works, he knows nothing about him, but there have been occasions where he caught him staring at him. He admits that it’s extremely loose evidence; that’s the reason he hadn’t mentioned it. It could mean nothing, but the guy is the only person he can think of that, in some manner, acts a little odd toward him. He gave us the name Robert Neuhouser.”

“That’s the guy who wouldn’t give us Chadwell’s address,” said Max.

“I take it you have people digging as we speak,” I said.

“I have people digging deep into him and Daniel Newberry for a connection. I asked James how sure he felt about it based on his impressions. He said about 70% sure, and Neuhouser is on the list of people that Pecker might have left in charge.”

“Newberry…Neuhouser…coincidence?” asked Max.

“We don’t know. It could be,” said Edgerton.

“So, what are you thinking?” I asked.

“James said he would do whatever we asked of him to catch the guy, not that he has much choice. If we don’t catch him, he remains the target of a killer, and he can’t live his life like that. Worst case scenario…we find nothing or not enough, and that could happen; we’ll have to see. I wanted to let you know what’s going on. I’ll speak to Trouble about it.”—he rose from his seat, and we followed—“This could take a while, but whether we’re still searching tomorrow, or we got the guy, do all your friends a favor and go buy some furniture. Trouble can help you find a good place. Goodnight, fellas.”

We wished him goodnight, and Max hugged me. “Did you hear the detective call Malor, James?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I noticed that. Sadist or not, I think he likes him.”

“Like I told you, I don’t think he is a sadist, not a real one anyway. His nature caused him to feel he must be one, out of circumstantial necessity.”

“As many people like to point out, I have a horse cock, so why hadn’t I become a sadist?” Max unbuttoned my shirt to remove it.

“Nature doesn’t comply with the human sentiment behind the blanket statement, ‘If I can do it, so can you,’” he said, “because that’s not always the case.”

“Malor rides the outer fringes of morality,” I said, “but I admit, he sounds like he’s as ethical as possible with it; his sex partners know what they’re getting into. I just hope he doesn’t hurt Edgerton.”

Max unbuttoned his shirt. “The detective’s a big boy; he can take care of himself.” Max removed his shirt and kissed me. “I don’t know about you, but watching Freddy cum made me really horny, and I want you.”

“I was hoping you would say that. How do you want it?”

“Right here…on the table.”

My brows rose practically into my hairline. “Where we eat?”

He began undoing my pants. “In this place, I guarantee you it’s happened before.” Max squatted as he pulled my pants and underwear down just far enough to take out my dong, and he began to blow me.

It hadn’t taken long for him to have to stand and bend a bit as my cock hardened. Once it had, he undid his pants, pulled them down below his ass, turned around, and leaned over completely with his head lying on the table. Max and I had not had sex like that. Normally, we were naked and took more time, but Max wanted it right then. He wanted it fast and rough like we fucked on the table of some restaurant and were afraid to get caught by the waiter returning with our change. The globes of his golden furry ass cheeks looked so inviting that I squatted behind him and jammed my tongue against my little friend whose depths I had often plundered that week.

Max moaned and squirmed as I pleasured him, the prelude to the main attraction that stood as firm as ever. I spit on his hole one last time and onto the head of my cock, and once satisfied with their wetness, I stood, bent a bit to aim, and I felt the heat of Max’s hole. I opened my mouth to ask him how he wanted it, but he told me to just fuck him hard and thoroughly. So, grasping his hips, I gave a mighty pull, entering him as smoothly and quickly as I dared. He arched his back and yelled, “Fuck!” When my pelvis lay against his cheeks, I waited. He put his forehead onto the table, his breathing shallow and uneven. “I love how full you make me feel.”

When he said that, I asked myself if Tommy had that goal with Malor, to fill a void inside him. Was that what my Golden Bear needed? I pulled back and held it there for a second and surged forward, refilling him, and Max grunted. Was I hurting him? Did he enjoy the pain? Did I enjoy that I pleased him if he did, or despite it? I pulled back and slammed into him again, and a rumble deep in Max’s chest emerged like the sound of a bear. I pulled back and slammed into him again, and once again, he growled. So, I slammed him again…and again…and again…and again. As I continued to fuck my beautiful Golden Bear, I began to think he was right about Malor. Funny, the human capacity to rationalize our own behavior and motives.

I held myself fully embedded inside my man, and I raised his torso off the table, holding him against me. I ground myself into him, and I whispered into his ear. “I’ve got you hooked…haven’t I?”

He nodded his head and rubbed it against mine.

“Let’s take a walk,” I said, and when I turned, he turned with me. Wrapping my arms around him in a gentle hug, I began cock-walking him. With every step, Max made a little grunt, and about halfway around the room, without even touching himself, he stopped and began to convulse as he grunted and growled, shooting a load of jizz all over the floor in front of us. I turned us and continued walking. He had no choice but to walk, his body jerking and convulsing as he grunted with every step. We heard Albert in the hallway saying goodnight to Edgerton, and after making one more circuit around the room, Max had to stop again.

“I’m gonna cum!” He quickly held my head against his as he grunted and groaned, his cock creaming the floor.

Once it had stopped, I said, “I’m feeling sociable.” I cock-walked Max out of our quarters, into the hallway, and he knocked on Albert’s door. As we waited, I fucked a few inches of cock in and out of Max.

When Albert opened the door, he smiled, seeing Max’s pants pulled down a bit and his stiff cock waving in the air. “Hi, fellas,” he said.

“Millstone says he’s feeling sociable, and I’m-”—I pumped Max’s ass a few times, causing him to grunt repeatedly—“And I’m full of cock.”

Albert’s smile broadened.

“Are you busy?” I asked him.

“I’m never too busy for this.” He ushered us inside, and as we passed him, he said, “My god, he’s taking all of you, isn’t he?”

“Every time,” I said, “may we borrow your table?”

“Mi mesa es tu mesa,” he said.

“Thanks.” I cock-walked Max to the table identical to our own, and I pushed him onto the end of it, exactly as this began in our quarters. I pulled back and slammed into Max a few times, and Albert squatted to watch me impale Max repeatedly with my weapon of ass destruction. As I slam-fucked Max, I said to my Golden Bear, thrusting with emphasis on the hard syllables, “You’re likely to cum a third time Max, and we wouldn’t want to dirty up Cousin’s nice clean floor. Can Al have your load?”

Between his grunting and groaning, he said, “Y…Y…Yes.”

I turned to Albert. “Do you want it?”

“Hell yeah, I want it!” He crawled under the table and stuck Max’s rock-solid cock into his mouth.

With great haulage, I drew my piston back and laboriously slammed him again and again. Fucking Max often took considerable effort on my part but only because I wanted to give him the best ride I could. I felt him squeeze me, so I knew he was about to cum again. I released the muscle that prevented me from cumming too soon, and just as I knew he was feeding his load to Albert, I leaned on top of him just as I came. I punch-fucked a few inches inside Max, filling his body so deeply that my thick load wouldn’t come out anytime soon. I heard Albert noisily sucking Max, who obviously enjoyed it. I laid my weight on his back, trying to catch my breath.

Max kept moaning and grunting; apparently, Albert hadn’t stopped sucking him after he came. Once Albert had a cock in his mouth, he was reluctant to let it go. I licked and sucked on Max’s ear and whispered to him, “Is my beautiful Golden Bear having fun?” He nodded, began to shudder, and his forehead tapped the table a couple of times as he came. When it ended, Al climbed from beneath the table, licking his lips, and I stood my bear up again, my cock still fully planted inside him.

“You are delicious, Max,” said Albert. “What a shame I didn’t get those first two loads.”

“We’ll have to clean them off the floor when we get back to our quarters.”

“Aww man…I really hate to hear that your cum has gone to waste,” said Albert, “next time, just call me over, and I’ll take it.”

Max reached out and grabbed Albert, kissed him, and said, “Thank you, you were great.” He then hugged him, and I wrapped my arms around them both as far as I could reach.

When Albert took a seat at his table, he asked, “Are you two permanently attached at the hip now or what?”

“We’ve slept like this,” said Max.

“Really? Wow. And you fuck with such intensity; do you two always fuck like that?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” I said.

“Jeez, if you guys had a similar website to Joey and Freddy, you’d be rolling in dough. You know, Joey had understated it when he said it more than paid their bills. They make a lot of money just by Freddy fucking the hell out of Joey on camera. I’ve had a subscription to their site, it’s surprisingly entertaining, and their production values are really high.”

“Yeah, I always notice the production values when I watch porn,” said Max, smirking.

Generally, my Golden Bear had the deciding factor on if or when my cock left his ass. If he told me that he wanted it inside him all night or most of the day, I had no problem with it. Just then, though, he told me he needed me to pull out, and Albert watched as inch after inch of my nearly flaccid appendage emerged from Max’s slippery hole. Not surprisingly, all the cum stayed inside him once the head popped out. Albert offered the use of his modified bathroom sink, so I could wash my cock. His words had Max and me curious, so we had a look.

Both his sink and industrial cabinet looked just like ours, but attached to the side was a smaller sink, slightly lower than cock height with a strange faucet without a spout. Instead, it had a sprayer with a hose, like those on a kitchen sink, but more specialized looking.

I asked him as I began washing my cock. “Where the hell did you get this bit of brilliance?”

“One of Franklin’s own citizens invented it. It just came onto the market, so I rushed out to get one and installed it the day I rain-checked breakfast with you guys. It’s called a Gentlemen’s Lave, the height is adjustable for the user, and it’s specifically intended for men to wash their cock. Washing your dick in a bathroom sink is a bit gross and too difficult with many sinks because they’re too high or have too much of a lip. Not every man has a huge cock, but every man should wash their penis more than the once a day they’re in the shower, especially if they have foreskin like me.”

He had us convinced that we needed one, but once Henry saw Al’s, he ordered them for the entire club.

After a long, exhausting day, Max and I slept, waking at five o’clock the next morning as usual. As we worked out on the ground floor, Edgerton brought me the newest edition of The Daily Herald, and inside it, the Naked Reporter had written something for the gossip column…


Franklin’s New Studly Detective

Not quite on the receding wheels of the disgraced and kneecapped gambling addict, our fair city of Franklin has once again received a new private detective to add to its stable. Howard Ellis Millstone and Max Roche have opened Millstone & Roche Investigations LLC. Having met this rugged sinewy stallion and his pulchritudinous partner, I can state without equivocation that I believe the citizens of Franklin are not only in excellent hands, but from my observations and several reputable sources, extraordinarily large hands. You’ll find the details forthcoming in future editions.


“I knew you’d want to see it,” said Edgerton.

“You better arrest me now,” I said, “because I’m going to wring his fucking neck.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 12a

My beautiful man had slept in my arms all night, half his brawny body lying atop mine. I had dug my fingers into his golden pelt, inhaled his masculine scent, and that worked its magic on me in my slumber. I had awakened in an excellent mood, and that morning I felt ready to take on whatever may come. I only joked that Max had become addicted to me because I think I had the addiction. His physicality, his levelheaded temperament, his loving embrace, and his desire for me felt almost beguiling.

Once up and about, we readied ourselves for our workout, and things were progressing until Edgerton approached me holding that damn newspaper, and that’s when my wonderful morning turned to shit.



“What’s the problem?” Max asked me as we climbed into the roadster. “So, everyone will know you have extraordinarily large hands, big deal...”

I had fumed over the gossip column of the daily paper since I read it. It had me in no mood for playing in the shower, and I ate breakfast in such a huff, it surprised me that I hadn’t jammed the fork into my mouth. In route to update Winter about the case, the whole damn thing had me so upset, I found myself white-knuckling the steering wheel like a kid would the safety bar of a Coney Island roller coaster, but for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, Max…you know that ‘large hands’ is a euphemism.”

“Yeah, so what specifically has you upset about it?” he asked. “And don’t give me the surface stuff, all that’s painfully clear. I want to know the thoughts you’ve kept to yourself the last couple of hours.”

We had stopped at the traffic light near the Minotaur, and that gave me some time. “I just wanted to keep our business separate from my cock, that’s all. I want people to take us seriously.”

“Do you really think anyone would refuse to take you seriously as a private investigator because they know you’re hung like a horse?”

“It happens.”

“Meaning that it happened before.”

“Yes.”

“Well, so what if it happens again!”

“So what?”

“Yeah, so what! And I’m not being dismissive of how it made you feel. I don’t know the circumstances behind your experiences with that, how it came to be, or how often it may have happened, but I know this…you can’t control how others view you. How someone views you says far less about you than it says about them. And yes, that aphorism is old, but it remains true.”

“You don’t know what was said.”

“It doesn’t matter what they said. It obviously hurt you personally or perhaps even injured your business, and for that, I’m sorry, but none of that matters.”

“So, I’m overreacting. Is that what you think?” The light turned green, and we continued.

“No, I don’t think you’re overreacting,” he said. “I think you are reacting based on your previous life in the outside world. You’ve amazed me at how quickly you’ve begun to embrace life here, but you will have times, like this one, where your past life meets your present one, and rather than acting on current events, you’ll react the way you did in the past. People have said this to you, again and again, this is Franklin. The people here are different, and it’s a different world. We have yet to meet anyone who hasn’t thought the best of you, so give them a chance to show you just how different they really are. And sure, we’ll probably run across the odd asshole, but act when the fight comes to you, don’t go looking for it, because with that attitude, I promise, you will find one.”

I sat with an excessive grip on the wheel, thinking about what he said until we reached the pea gravel drive of the Thornbrier Mansion on Blueberry Lane. Once I switched off the engine, I turned to Max.

“Okay, I admit that I’m reacting based on previous experience, and that’s turned the volume way up on how I’m feeling, so you’re right. And I know this is Franklin; it’s different.”

“Good. I’m glad you can see all that.”

“But that’s not everything. I have this thing with reporters; it’s like they enjoy pissing me off. And before you say it, yes, I’ve been showing my cock around the city a bit. So, I realize that people will know eventually; I’m not trying to hide myself or stop people from knowing at all, but that’s different. I would rather people find out gradually, either directly from me or word of mouth, but his input into the gossip column spoke of our business and my cock practically in the same sentence. It has a similar equivalent to publicly outing me, and that’s not okay. Right?”

“On that point, I agree, but you should talk it over with him in a reasonable manner. He hasn’t disrupted your life to the degree that outing someone as gay might; it’s not a strangling offense.”

“I wouldn’t have actually wrung his neck.”

“I never believed you would, but your extreme anger was unnecessary because (if you look at it this way) apart from outing you, he actually did us a favor. He mentioned us and the business by name. What if he just wanted to help us, because he’s not a bad guy, and he could think of no other way to get our new business some free attention? And this being Franklin, like everyone else, he had no notion that people knowing your size would be an issue.”

That thought made me feel better about it. I smiled a little, reached for Max’s hand and kissed it. “You’re a beautiful human being, you know that?”

He cupped my cheek with his hand. “I know your detective mind tends toward suspicion, but for me, I try not to assume someone’s malicious until it’s clear they mean harm.” He glanced at his phone. “We have three minutes; we should go.”

I put my arm around my Golden Bear as we walked to the apartment door at the back of the mansion. “You know, our differing points of view could assist us. I see things you don’t see, and you see things I don’t see.”

“I know I’m an asset,” he said, “you need me. So, how much will we tell Winter? We can’t tell her everything.”

“Just follow my lead and watch a master at work.”

“Right…,” he said and rang the doorbell.

Winter answered the door with a smile, and we complimented her on the lacy white corset dress that she wore. She invited us in, and we all sat at the dining table.

“I would love to stay and chat,” she said. Max pulled a chair out for her. “Thank you, Max, that’s kind of you, but unnecessary.”—she took the seat—“As I was saying, my dressmaker, Clara, needs me for a fitting at ten o’clock. I am so looking forward to Saturday night, Max. And Taylor the tailor, tells me that your suit is coming along flawlessly. He’ll probably need a fitting this afternoon or tomorrow, so expect it.”

“We’ll make a note of that,” he said, “but I thought you already had your dress.”

“Oh no, the only thing I have of that dress are the sketches. So,” she said, coming to the heart of our visit, “you have an update on the case. I have heard your involvement caused the police to change their tune on Tommy’s death; that alone makes you worth whatever I end up paying you. Within me, I felt he hadn’t killed himself…poor boy. Also, I heard another young man has died and that the police have James Malor in custody. Have they charged him?”

“You must keep what I tell you in the strictest of confidence,” I said. “They’re holding Malor on suspicion while they sift the evidence, but Max and I think he’s innocent.”

“So, if he’s innocent, have I still invited a murderer to the party?”

“Possibly,” I said.

“Well, not knowing is worse than thinking Malor did it. Should we just cancel or postpone it?”

“No, don’t do that,” I said. “We have leads in the case, and with luck, we could have this wrapped up by Friday.”

“What leads do you have?” she asked.

“Well…I say ‘we.’ We’re assisting the police, and as that portion of it is their case, I couldn’t say without breaking their confidence.”

“Very well. So, what plan have we, if by Saturday, you have yet to catch the killer? Because canceling parties at the final hour is terribly gauche.”

“Give us until Friday. At that point, we’ll reassess the options. That’s the best we can do.”

“I can do that,” she said, “but I want to know if you haven’t caught them, and the party continued as planned, could the guests attend in safety?”

“The deaths aren’t random. I can’t tell you how we know that, but they’re connected. So, in my opinion, there’s a good chance that the guests could attend safely, but naturally, I couldn’t guarantee that.”

She glanced at her watch. “I must go. Okay. For now, I will await your call on Friday.”

Our conversation with Winter ended there, and we followed her out as she left for her appointment. Once she drove away, Max said, “So, that’s how you tell someone something without actually telling them anything.”

“I had to be cautious. I gave her the bare minimum of what I could tell her, and those parts have the greatest relevance to the reason she hired us. Note that I said that you and I believed Malor innocent, and I hadn’t spoken for the police. This leaves the plan regarding Malor in place. She needed what I told her because the situation could force her to cancel or postpone the party, and I wouldn’t want to spring that idea on her at the last minute.”

“She might not forgive you for causing her to appear gauche,” said Max.

“And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

When I started the roadster, Max received a text message. “Ah-ha!” he said. “My former roommate informs me that the shipping company has made the pick-up of my personal items. The three boxes should reach us by Monday.”

“Just three boxes?”

“He’s sending my personal items only, nothing that I could replace here. And it’s not like I owned tons of physical media; I streamed most things, and I brought all the rest with me.” He indicated the phone in his hand.

Before we left the Minotaur for the day, Edgerton told us specifically that if he hadn’t called us that we could consider it “no news” on the case, and he would personally ask Pecker who he had left in charge—rather than chance asking the office manager, and they would dig into that person’s background. Before the gossip column incident that morning, we asked Albert if he would help us find some furniture, and Edgerton gave him a few hours before lunch to help us with it.

Albert suggested a newer furniture store on Tarragon Drive called Steamy Pete, and he wanted to accompany us, so when we left the mansion, we texted him to meet us there. Located northwest of the city, the outside of the building looked like a typical furniture store, and as they had just opened for the day, we found only four vehicles in the parking lot.

Upon exiting his Toyota Camry, my cousin stood by the car and began removing his uniform. “I appreciate your letting me know you were coming here.”

“Have you a rule about shopping in your uniform?” asked Max.

Albert smiled and laughed a little. “Oh no…it’s not that. There’s a guy who works here that I want to get in good with. See that chromed-out black Volvo? That’s his car, so I know he’s here.” He slipped on a bulldog harness and a provocative pair of form-fitting, black leather shorts with a zipper that ran from the front to the back.

Albert really loved his leather, and I imagined he had a wardrobe filled with it. I never made an issue of any clothing I saw in Franklin, no matter how unusual it seemed, and neither did anyone else. People treated the freedom of expression in Franklin as almost sacrosanct. Besides, with the rate of my own evolution, I figured Max would have me in something similar before I knew it.

“Do those come in pants?” I asked.

“You like? They’re custom made for me, but I’ll give you the card of the guy who made them. These fit my ass like a glove.”

“You’re going to a lot of trouble, cousin. This guy must be something.”

He nodded. “He is. You know, I really wish this store had opened before I bought my living room furniture, but right now I need a new bed; mine broke last month with a couple of fellas, and I haven’t taken the time to replace it.”

My brow furrowed. “You broke your bed?”

“Yeah, I have bad luck with beds. This is the second one in three years. Embarrassingly, I have this one held up by a couple of blocks. I’ve had some fun times on that bed, but unlike me, I guess it couldn’t take the pounding.”

He had Max and me laughing.

“Braggart…,” said Max.

“So, besides the guy,” I said, “what’s special about this place?”

He finished zipping himself into his shorts. “There are several reasons to pick this place. You’ll have to see.”

As we entered, I saw a metal cage with a leather sex sling near the door. I nudged Max. “Would you like one of those?”

“Oh no,” he said, “too big and too limiting; I prefer what we do. You realize that we’ve never fucked in a bed with a frame, right?”

“Are you thinking we’ll break ours too?”

“I’ve seen you two fuck,” said Albert, “don’t think it couldn’t happen.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 12b

A handsome, middle-aged man with carefully coiffed hair, wearing a stylish, Italian-cut linen suit, came forward. “Good morning, gentlemen, and to which salesperson could I direct you?”

Albert spoke up. “Good morning. I’m Albert Sawyer, and I spoke to Master Brice on the phone a couple of days ago. He said he would be here mornings; is he available?”

He looked at his watch. “He’s available. Please, help yourself, look around, and I’ll send him to you.” And with that, he left.

It took less than two minutes for Max to zero-in on a distressed, saddle brown leather Chesterfield with its two coordinating chairs. When the three of us sat upon it, it felt sturdy. Even with Max in the middle and our combined weight, it wouldn’t budge.

“This store is unlike anywhere else,” said Albert as we stood to glance around. “The foundation of everything you see here they’ve overbuilt, so it’s made to last.”

Max checked the tag that dangled from the back of the Chesterfield. “At this price, it better last,” he said. “They’re asking too much for our beer-bottle pockets.”

“Well,” I said, “with furniture, you really do get what you pay for.” I took a gander at the tag. “Wow, that’s half the price of a new automobile.”

“I’ve seen their website,” said Albert, “not everything here’s that expensive.”

I lifted one end of the couch; it easily weighed triple what I expected. They’d built it of quality leather, and while it sat a little hard, that probably indicated it would wear-in before it ever wore-out. I always preferred to purchase things that would last. I asked Max, “Do you like this set?”

“It’s too expensive.”

“I know your thoughts on the price tag; I asked if you liked it.”

“Of course, I like it, but we couldn’t afford it.”

“Good morning, gentlemen; I’m Master Brice.” The unhurried, deep masculine voice behind us drew our attention. He had spoken to Max and me, but then he turned toward Albert. “And I hear you requested me by name.”

A hairy stalwart hunk, about our age, stood before us. He had slickened raven hair in a side part and a well maintained, finely clipped beard. He dressed only in a harness, armbands above his big biceps, gloves, pants, and boots, all of which were black leather. I realized then why Albert had changed clothes. A few paces behind him, we saw a handsome, young, well-built, sandy-blonde-haired man of about 22. He wore a pair of black leather boots, indigo jeans, and a black leather collar with a chrome lock dangling from it. On his bulging left pec, he had a black tattoo of a name tag that read Farron. In his hands, he held a tablet, and he watched the man in leather closely.

Master Brice studied Albert without expression but spoke to us. “One moment, gentlemen.” He raised a gloved hand, and his fingers gestured our direction. Immediately, the young man came forward to greet us, and Brice spoke with Albert for a moment before leading him toward the bed area.

“Good morning,” said the young man to us with a bright smile, “My name is Farron. How may I assist you, sirs?”

The entire scene had me a little weirded out for a moment, and it must have shown on my face.

“If you will allow me, sir. Master Brice tells those who wish it exactly what they need, and I help those who choose for themselves. However, as I’m the actual employee, I take all orders regardless. I see you are viewing the Chesterfield set. As part of our Heirloom Series, it comes fully insured for the lifetime of the owner and the lifetime of the first person to receive it upon bequest. It comes with free delivery by our incredibly handsome and talented delivery men who provide our extra special white-glove service.”

I said, “We’ll take it.”

Max jerked his head in my direction. “Millstone!”

I put my arm around him, held his hand, and leaned into his ear. “Trust me, let us discuss it later.”

Max squeezed my hand with an expression of confusion upon his face. He hadn’t understood, and that was my fault; we hadn’t taken the time to discuss finances, not fully anyway.

“You want the set, sir?” Farron asked, disbelieving.

“Yes,” I said. “You sound really surprised.”

“Yes, sir, I am! I’ve never sold anything in this series without a lot of sex involved.”

“What?”

“Does that happen often?” asked Max.

“Yes, sirs. The woman of a straight couple who came in last week liked me a lot, and after she inquired about my sexual orientation, I informed her that I was bisexual. The couple said they would buy based on how well I pleasured her. We started on that red couch, and we ended against that wall. I serviced her for two hours as her husband looked on. Once satisfied, they purchased the most expensive set we carry, sir. Will this set be all for you today, sirs?”

The entire experience at Steamy Pete had me befuddled. Farron was making statements that, on an average day and in the average location, could not be taken seriously; however, he wasn’t joking. Apparently, being serviced was all part of the service, and buyers who lived in Franklin knew that, and no doubt, so did Albert.

We looked around for a few minutes to ensure we wanted that specific set, and seeing nothing else, we told him of our need for a bed frame, so he guided us to the bed section. We found Albert and Master Brice there, their faces six inches apart. Albert stood paralyzed at the end of a display bed with cum in his beard as Master Brice lightly jacked his leaking erection from his fully unzipped shorts.

“You will buy this bed,” said Brice with a voice sounding as though he were channeling Dirty Harry. “It comes with a full warranty and a guarantee not to break. It’s in stock, so they’ll deliver it Friday afternoon. You will only sleep in this bed before I arrive at your home Saturday at midnight, at which point, we’ll make a thorough test of that no-break guarantee. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Master Brice,” said Albert. “Thank you, Master Brice.”

“When Farron finishes with these gentlemen, he will take care of your paperwork and this down here.” And with that, Master Brice backed off, ready to walk away, but a glance at his gloved hand made him sneer. Albert’s cock had dribbled pre-cum on it, so he held it near Al’s mouth. “Clean it.” He ordered him to lick his pre-cum from the glove, and once he had, Master Brice left.

Albert relaxed against the end of the bed. With a smile on his face, he turned to us, mouthing the words, “He’s so hot!”

Once Brice had disappeared, Max whispered, “Holy shit.”

“Interesting,” said Farron. “Master Brice never goes to a customer’s home.”

“Looks like someone has a date Saturday night,” I said.

“If I may, sir,” said Farron. “Master Brice doesn’t date; he dominates.”

We ended up buying the same Master-Brice-approved bed as Albert. They made the frame with a canopy of thick stainless-steel square tubing in a smooth, matte finish. Most of it held together by the excellent work of a professional welder (I could tell). It had reinforced corners, and even with both of us making an attempt, it hadn’t flexed in the least, and its appearance perfectly suited our industrial living space.

As we stood there filling out the paperwork, I saw that Albert continued to have an erection, and suddenly, I began to feel the tingle beneath the head of my cock, and the pressure in my nuts. “Uh-oh…fuck.”

“It’s happening, isn’t it? I haven’t milked you today; I wondered how long it would take. Would you like me to take care of it? I’m a couple of quarts low as it is.”

“Be our guest, sir,” Farron said to me. “At Steamy Pete, we wish for our customers a most enjoyable experience.”

So, leaning against the bed behind me, I opened my pants without hesitation, and when my half-hard dong popped out, Farron couldn’t keep his eyes off it. As Max began blowing me, Albert leaned against the same bed to my left and invited Farron to suck him, which he did. I put my hand on Albert’s shoulder in a show of familial solidarity as we watched each other get an expert knob job.

While blowing Albert, Farron watched Max bury my rod deep inside his throat, repeatedly drawing back with a loud slurp that drew a groan from me. Max showed off his skills, demonstrating to his audience how far he could take me, and with two fingers, he grabbed the skin of my nuts, pulling it downward, massaging it, stimulating me further. My cock began to throb in his throat, and he knew he had me close. He ascended to the head just as I came, and when I did, so did Albert. We fed them our loads, and Albert grabbed Farron’s blonde head and held him on his cock, not that Farron would allow any to escape. Master Brice had apparently trained him well. Max sucked me a little more, draining my shaft of any remaining cum. He cleaned me up, and when he stood, I planted my mouth on his, tasting my load.

“That was awesome, Farron,” said Albert. “You’re really good. Thanks for that.”

“I’m happy I pleased you, sir. I will accompany Master Brice Saturday, sir, so I will no doubt please you that night many times.”

“You will?”

“I am Farron, sir, Master Brice’s servant. I accompany him everywhere.”

“Okay, great. The more, the merrier.” Albert turned to me. “And you,” he said as he hugged me, “are the best cousin I could hope for.”

Looking over Albert’s shoulder, I saw Farron staring at his muscular ass, and it made me smile. “You like Al’s ass, Farron?”

He looked up into my eyes. “Yes, sir. I see now why Master Brice made the exception. Mr. Albert, sir, if you enjoy domination, Master Brice has a friend who would also love to, as the man likes to say, ‘pound your bubble on the regular.’ He is quite a unique man.”

Max and I glanced at one another.

“Really,” said Albert. “What’s the guy’s name?”

“Master Brice forbids me to provide real names, sir. However, he’s sometimes known by the nickname, Tenten.”

“Tenten,” said Albert. “I’ve never heard of him. Thanks for letting me know; I appreciate it.”

The rest of the paperwork hadn’t taken long for our orders, and before we said goodbye to Albert in the parking lot, we invited him to lunch. He said he hadn’t the time and needed to grab something on the way back to the precinct.

When we climbed into the roadster, Max had his phone out, searching the net for something. “Trying to find us a place to eat?” I asked.

“No, I’m searching for the name Farron.” Once he found it, he nodded. “Aah…this makes sense now. Farron is a variant form of an old English name meaning ‘Handsome Servant.’ He certainly is handsome.”

“Fascinating. So, what did you think of the whole Tenten business?”

“I’m thinking we need to let Albert know who that is before he goes searching for him.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Are you happy with the furniture?”

“Oh, I’m extremely happy,” he said, “however, I’m perturbed that you have yet to clue me in on our financial situation. I had the impression that we lived on the poor side, but you hadn’t made an ‘I’m poor’ purchase back there.

“I apologize. I should have told you this Monday after our visit to the credit union. You know that my parents died a few years ago. Well, my father worked at a successful accounting firm in New York, so we were not poor, but we hadn’t lived a lavish lifestyle. Both my parents had some health issues, but when my father became ill, he retired, and they planned to move to their second home in the countryside of Middle Tennessee, near Nashville. For financial reasons, they invited me to move in with them, and I did. The three of us set up residency in Tennessee, changed everything to our new Tennessee address, and we lived there for five years as my father became more ill. When he died, my mother gave up, and she died three months later. As their only child, I inherited everything, and like a small handful of other states, Tennessee had no inheritance taxes, so I inherited it all. My father had a Swiss bank account, one the US Government knew about; it was completely legal and above board. My father hadn’t deposited much in it, but he created it for me, for later. I kept little of what I inherited on hand and deposited the remainder into the account. I didn’t know what to do with it all. It stayed there, in its entirety, for the last few years, until Monday when I opened the accounts for our business and wired the money into it as an asset and into my personal account for expenses. I moved it all, leaving nothing in Switzerland.”

“Why did you move it all?” he asked.

“Because we’re making a life here, and my leaving it in Switzerland wouldn’t benefit us. I guess it came down to one of those, ‘if not now, when?’ questions. I hope you have no objection to our absence of abject poverty.”

“I appreciate your inclusion of me by saying our,” he said, “but promise me, you’ll never tell me how much it is because I don’t want to know. I’ve never had money, so just the thought of it scares me a little, and I don’t want to be changed by it in any way.”

“You’ll never have to struggle again, and to a degree, that will change you. I’m hoping it will allow you to relax, but so that you know, most of the money is in an LLC, so we don’t have direct access to it. Personally speaking, we’re just well off, and we both get paid wages by our corporation.”

“So, we’re still working for ‘the man,’ so to speak.”

“We are ‘the man,’ or men, rather. We own the business in a partnership, so we’re working for ourselves, but also working for our clients, and largely, our wages come from the profits of the business.”

Max gave a great sigh, sounding relieved. “Okay, that makes me feel better about it.”

I grabbed him by the hand and smiled. “You’re okay, Honey Bear.”

Edgerton called me during lunch at Delamont’s, a steak house on South Main Street. We were surrounded by patrons, so I couldn’t put the call on speaker.

“I’ve spoken with Bo Pecker,” said the detective, “and he said he left Neuhouser in charge. It’s taken time to learn anything definitive, but I can confidently say that Robert Neuhouser has no connection to Daniel Newberry. We had lots of red tape getting information on Neuhouser, but when he arrived here two and a half years ago from Tulsa, Oklahoma, a psychiatrist in Franklin diagnosed him with a severe case of paranoid personality disorder. He’s currently receiving help from a licensed psychologist, and apparently, he’s doing well; that’s why Pecker left him in charge. Neuhouser has never had a presence on the internet, no bills in his name, and until he moved here, he only used cash, getting paid under the table from employers until he began working for Alliance. Talk about paranoid… Anyway, it leaves us with nothing.”

“Have you tried talking to the sister about the boyfriend?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. She says as far as she knows, there was no boyfriend, so now we’ve no suspect. Daniel may have lied to Malor about having one just to get him to leave the hospital. Someone wants us to believe Malor killed Tommy and Douglas, it must have a personal motive, and they must have gotten those finger cuffs somehow. But whoever it is, it isn’t Neuhouser. I wanted to have him brought in for questioning, but given his psychological history, I would rather you asked him if Tommy spoke to him, away from an obvious police presence. I’ve placed Albert on special assignment with you in plain clothing. If you come back to the station, he can drive you. The three of you won’t fit in that two-seater of yours.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”

When the call ended, Max just looked at me, and he already guessed it. “Dead ends, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, “We have one lead with Neuhouser to chase down, but if that doesn’t pan out, we’ve got nothing.”

“That’s not quite true,” he said. “What if Malor is playing the hell out of us?”

“Cultivating a suspicious mind, are we?”

He shrugged. “He still has no alibi, so what if we’re wrong about him?”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 13a

It would be ironic to have Malor sitting at the precinct all cozy in a regular bed at night, mint on his pillow, and flirting with the detective who feeds him Delmonico steak, when all the while, he’s playing us for a bunch of hounds who couldn’t detect a fart downwind.

My gut told me he was innocent, but my gut isn’t evidence. As a thought experiment, I proposed the assumption that he lied to us multiple times. We only had his word of having no knowledge of the ring, that Tommy hadn’t spoken with him about it, that he hadn’t made any finger traps since he lived in Franklin, that he went home from Tommy’s when he said he did, and most importantly, that he hadn’t murdered anyone.

But that led me back where I started. Why would he kill Tommy? Was it just because Tommy knew of the ring? And why would he use the finger trap on him and then leave so many of them at the scene of Chadwell’s murder? If he had left them by accident, wouldn’t all of them either have his prints out of unconcern (intending to ruin them all later) or none of them have his prints out of excessive caution? It’s more like the killer thought, “Well, surely one of these has Malor’s prints on it. I’ll just give the rest to the police and see if that works.” Forensics found Malor’s print on only one trap and a fingerprint of unknown origin on one of the others. I would have had a hard time putting a percentage of chance on it, but it seemed more likely that someone was setting him up, and at that point, I would bet money on the owner of that anomalous print as the culprit.

That afternoon, when Max and I arrived on the third floor of the midtown precinct house, we found Albert at his desk working on a report still wearing his leather shorts and harness.

“You’re going in that?” I asked.

“Oh, hey! And yeah, I have nothing else here. Edge said he wouldn’t care if I went naked, so long as I wouldn’t wear my uniform, and while that’s tempting, I already had this on. Have you any objections, cousin?” Al stood for us to go, and he gestured toward the elevator.

“No, of course not. And they appear quite flattering, but I bet you hear that all the time.”

“Oh, yes.” Albert gave a smug little smile at the thought. “But I appreciate the compliment. You guys should invest in some leather. I would love to see you in it.”

Max, who had mused over the appearance of Albert’s fine ass, gazed up at me. “I would wear them all the time; you couldn’t get me out of them.”

“If they had a zipper back to front like his, I wouldn’t need to get you out of them. If I wore them, though, it would make it harder for me to conceal carry.”

“You don’t have to carry concealed,” said Albert.

“What?” My brows rose as we entered the lift.

Albert pushed the button for sub-level 2. “This isn’t New York. A conceal-carry permit is for the entire state, but this state allows local jurisdictions to make their own laws about open carry. So, while you remain inside Franklin County, which is the entirety of the metropolitan area of the City of Franklin, you can open carry. Most people frown on it for the average citizen, that’s why so few people do it, but as a private detective, no one would think twice about it.”

“Admit it, Millstone,” said Max, “you want to wear some leather.” We exited the elevator into the parking garage.

“Would you like it if I wore something similar?” I asked.

“If I had my way, you’d wear little else.”

When we reached Albert’s Camry, I opened the front passenger door and made a gentlemanly gesture for Max to take my usual seat. “I’ll wear leather on occasion if you will,” I said.

He gazed at me with a little smile, and he kissed me just before climbing into the front. “Deal,” he said.

En route, Max asked me, “Will you tell Albert, or should I?”

“You go ahead.”

“Tell me what?” he asked.

“We know the guy who might want to, and I quote, ‘pound your bubble on the regular.’”

“Tenten? Who is it?”

“It’s James Malor. He used that exact phrase when telling us about Tommy.”

“So, Malor is friends with Brice,” said Albert. “Wow, that’s practically a character reference for Malor.”

“Is it?” I asked. “Why?”

“The Master’s real name is Brice Harper. Master Brice is his dominant sexual persona, one he uses a lot. I know a couple of guys whose judgment I trust, and they know him personally, and they said he’s an upstanding guy. That’s why I was willing to step outside the club for sex, which I rarely do. Brice could qualify as a club member if he wanted, but apparently, he’s not a joiner. If he considers Malor his friend, that says good things about him.”

“Fascinating,” I said. “Do you know if Edgerton has any real interest in Malor, or has he just schmoozed him to learn what he knows?”

“I don’t know,” said Albert, “he seemed a little odd around him today.”

“Perhaps,” said Max, “the detective has found himself unaccountably attracted to him. I admit he does have a strange kind of appeal.”

“You think so?” I asked.

Max turned his head toward me. “I can’t explain it either.”

“It’s probably just the allure of his enormously fat dick,” I said.

“Feeling jealous?” asked Max.

“Of a man the police could charge with rectal endangerment? No.”

When we arrived at the brick building for Alliance, I brought up a concern.

“I understand why the detective sent you, Albert, but now that we’re here, I’m not sure that all of us should go in to speak to Neuhouser. It looks too suspicious.”

“You’re probably right,” he said. “I’ll go in.”

Albert moved to leave the vehicle, but Max stopped him and said, “I should go in.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid forward between the front seats. “You know what to ask him, right?”

“If Tommy spoke with him,” he said, “and I know not to ask within earshot of anyone else.”

“Perfect.” I turned to Albert. “Please, let Max go. He has a way with people; he can do this.”

“Alright,” he said. “Be observant.”

Once Max went inside, Albert relaxed in his seat and said to me, “Today’s gossip column had really pissed you off this morning, hadn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get over it. How well-read is the Daily Herald?”

“It’s the main source of social news and gossip for the city,” he said. “If you want hard news, watch Channel 5 or go to its website—that’s our local independent channel, but for everything else, people read the Daily Herald. The adults-only online version is actually better and has a wider readership, but the print version is more family-friendly.”

“Family-friendly…even with advertisements for the Ramrod?”

“Yes. Unlike the rest of this country, we don’t shield younger people from real life. They see leather men walking down the street here, so what’s the big deal about knowing where they like to hang out?”

“I suppose. Just how popular is the gossip column?”

“It’s a fan favorite.” He used the rear-view mirror to look me in the eye. “Have you that much worry if people know you have the largest dick in the city?”

“In the past, it concerned me for several reasons,” I said, “but I worry less now than this morning. I guess I find some concerns easier to let go of than others. However, I only asked about the gossip column because I think I have the makings of a plan. I need to work out a few of the details, though. You said that the Herald is for social news and gossip. Does it do any hard news at all?”

“Only really big news. Why?”

“The Naked Reporter came to Chadwell’s home while the police were investigating the crime scene.”

“That’s strange since the Naked Reporter only does social interest articles and gossip.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t think that murder would be of social interest. Perhaps he’s trying to break into something more serious.”

A few minutes later, Max returned to the car.

“How did it go?” asked Albert.

“Jeez, Neuhouser really does have a severe case of Paranoid Personality Disorder. I had to coax it out of him by appealing to his sense of paranoia. He said that Tommy, whom he called Tommy-Boy by the way, hadn’t spoken to him directly because he was sick that Tuesday and stayed home. But Tommy called him and left a message at 4:45 that afternoon, informing him that he quit his position, but he hadn’t gotten the message until the next day.”—Max pulled out his cell phone—“Surprisingly, he hadn’t deleted the voicemail, and he sent me a copy.” He played the recording.



“Hi Mr. Neuhouser, it’s Tommy Haines. I’m sorry I missed you today. I wanted to tell you personally that I appreciated your help in getting me the job at Alliance. The income carried me long enough to find some work I prefer, so I must quit my job there. Now that I have enough driving experience, my roommate helped me get that job at the cab company. I start driving a cab tomorrow, and I’m excited about it. I like the idea of getting to meet new people all the time.

“Also, I have something important to talk to you about, but it’s too much for voicemail; I should tell you in person. When you get this message, please call me, and we can arrange a time that’s convenient for you. I hope you feel better soon. Take care.”



The first thing that struck me about it was how terribly sad it made me feel. I had heard his name before and spoke of him with an impersonal detachment, but hearing his voice made him real. He had that fresh voice of a young man in the last year of his teens. He sounded like a good kid with so much life ahead of him, but within 12 hours of making that call, he was dead. The three of us just sat there for several minutes in silence before returning to the station.



“So, we have nothing,” said Edgerton, sounding disgusted.

The detective, Albert, Max, and I sat around the table in the conference room. The case had us stumped. I searched through the files to find anything missed. Tommy’s phone records indicated that he communicated with Alliance, the Hackney Cab Company, Glenn, Chadwell—which stopped about the time Malor said they had the falling out, Sister Foustina, the Winter Foundation, his tutor, and Malor. Chadwell’s phone records indicated that he called Alliance, Tommy, and briefly with his mother, who lived in Iowa. He appeared to have no other friends. Malor says he hadn’t known Chadwell as anything more than a coworker, and records indicated they never had electronic communication with one another away from work.

Forensics could get no DNA from the unknown print, and they found only Chadwell’s prints inside the house. He had taken an extreme measure by swallowing the ring, so if he hadn’t gulped it down to keep it out of the hands of someone else, I couldn’t imagine the reason. A third party must have existed, and I hadn’t believed it was Malor. Tommy understood the importance of the ring because he spoke to Sister Foustina about it, making him unlikely to have told anyone else. Chadwell seemed the more likely candidate to have said something to someone.

“Had Chadwell no one in his life he confided in,” I asked myself, “like someone he hadn’t realized had a connection to the circumstances with Malor in Seattle?”

I pulled out three bags with the finger traps. One bag contained a single trap labeled “unknown fingerprint,” another labeled “fingerprint of James Malor,” and the others in the third bag. I made a close examination of the traps. They looked like they were made of the same heavyweight paper parchment, but they were not all identical.

I laid them onto the middle of the conference table inside their perspective bags. “Remember that children’s song, One of These Things Are Not Like the Others? I was always quite good at that game. The one labeled with Malor’s fingerprint is different from all the others, and apparently, forensics missed it.”

“What’s the difference?” asked the detective as he picked up the bags.

“We assumed that Malor made them all, but no matter which direction you hold it, the one with his print has the strips starting with a left curve over the right, and all the others are the opposite.”

“I noticed Malor is left-handed,” said Albert. “If they’re all the same but that one, the maker was probably right-hand dominant, which means Malor really is innocent. If he had done that to throw us off, he would make sure we noticed.”

“That’s not much, Millstone,” said the detective, “but it’s something, and that means we have more than Malor’s word that he’s innocent. Good. This unknown stray fingerprint could help identify our killer once we have a suspect.”

“I have an idea how to get us one,” I said, “but you may not like it.”

“With no other options on the table,” he said, “I’m listening.”

I knew it was a long shot, but we had nothing else. This person appears to hate Malor so much they were willing to kill, and they wanted the ring badly enough for Chadwell to swallow it to keep it out of their reach. At that moment, besides Sister Foustina and Malor, only the police knew we found the ring, and everyone thought the police had Malor in custody. The killer wants us to think Malor just did a poor job of setting up an obviously fake suicide. So, they probably lowered their guard thinking their plan to get Malor arrested had worked, but what if we changed that?

What if we let Malor go, pretending the police accepted the fake suicide as real and believed that Chadwell had killed Tommy and then took his own life? After all their hard work to point the finger at Malor, that should infuriate the killer beyond measure. And what if our naked friend at the newspaper interviewed Malor, or he had some gossip about him to place in the paper. He could somehow let people know of Malor’s intention to attend the housewarming party with everyone else. And on top of all that, what if he attended the party wearing the ring on his finger?

“You want to use me as bate!” said Malor. “You realize I’m not a masochist, right?”

When we called Malor into the conference room, the detective had asked Max and Albert to wait outside. He wanted to make it feel more like a chat, rather than our pressuring him to do it.

“I don’t like this either, James,” said the detective, “but you cannot continue to live your life as normal with someone out to get you, and believe me, they are.”

“You called me James,” he said with surprise in his voice.

“Now’s not the time for that conversation,” said Edgerton.

“They could give you a protective vest,” I said, “they would have plainclothes officers there and wire you with a microphone.”

“Will the two of you and Max be there?” he asked us.

“Max will escort Winter and stick by her, and I could have my eye on you from the crowd.”

“And you?” he asked the detective.

“It’s my case, so I’ll be there,” he said.

“Right…your case,” he said, sounding a little disappointed, and I got the impression that he hadn’t heard the words he hoped to hear. “I got the invitation for this thing a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t counted on going. I’ve nothing to wear to a party like that; everyone dresses in fancy things, and I’ve never been fancy.”

“If we solve that problem, will you do it?” I asked him.

What we asked of him was dangerous. The line of his mouth frowned a bit, and having lost every ounce of his cocky attitude, he said, “Detective Edgerton’s right. I couldn’t live my life with someone after me. So, I might as well get the confrontation over with, right?”—He nodded—“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Millstone, will you excuse us for a few minutes?” asked the detective.

“Sure,” I said. “Thank you, Mr. Malor.” I rose to leave, and before I could get to the door-

“Hey, Millstone!” Malor called after me. “I would like it if you and Max called me James.”

His request had me smiling a little. If we were seeing the real James Malor, he seemed much more likable. “Okay, James. We’ll get things started.”

I could only guess what their conversation consisted of, but when I left the conference room, I found Max and Albert at his desk, speculating on the situation between the detective and James.

“Well?” asked Albert.

“He’ll do it, but he has nothing to wear, and whatever we get him, he needs the ability to wear a protective vest under it. And while you’re at it, could you get him something to protect his groin area?”

“Good idea,” said Max. “He has a lot to cover down there, so it needs to be something big.”

“Well, it will only take three minutes to get a vest,” said Albert, “but I’m unsure about the pad. It might help if I had a visual of what we’re trying to cover. So, what are we talking about, the size of a tarp?”

“They don’t call him Tenten for nothing,” I said.

“Holy shit,” he said, “I just got what that means.”

“If his dick caused the legal troubles in Seattle,” I said, “this person might go after it, so he could never harm anyone again.”

Cringing, he said, “Ouch,” and left to find what we needed.

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 13b

I asked Max, “Could you call Taylor the tailor? Ask him if it’s possible to make a suit in just a couple of days. It’s fine if he charges extra for a rush job.”

“I’ll also ask him if he’s ready for our fitting,” he said. “What will you do?”

I pulled out my phone. “I will contact our friendly neighborhood naked reporter.”

I stepped away from Max as we made our perspective calls. As I expected, it took a few transfers to reach someone who, once they discovered my name, give me the reporter’s cell number without a fuss. I texted him a message.

TEXT: [Hello, Mr. Santiago, this is Howard Millstone. If you want first crack at a hard-news story, I have something for you.]

It took less than 60 seconds to receive a call from him. I told him the situation, what I needed, what I hoped he could do for us, and what reward I would give him if he helped us. He agreed to my terms. As I spoke with him, Max mouthed that the tailor could see us at 4:30 that afternoon, and I invited the reporter to the tailor shop at that time.

While Albert tried a few different protective vests on James, Edgerton called me into his office. He closed the door behind us and shut the blind.

“That’s a do-not-disturb signal,” he said.

I glanced around his office and saw baseball memorabilia on his walls, most notably the Franklin Coppers. Apparently, the police department had its own baseball team. His office was cozy, and it looked like one for a busy detective with files stacked on his desk and an empty mug that held coffee that morning.

“Please, sit for a minute,” he said, “I have something to ask you.” We both sat, and he just looked at me for a moment like he hadn’t known where to begin. I had to assume drawing me into his office had occurred as a last-second decision.

“It’s about James, isn’t it?”

He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. “I’m beginning to appreciate your ability to jump to correct conclusions,” he said. Leaning forward again, he looked me in the eye. “Am I out of my mind?”

“That depends on how far you’ve taken it and on how far you intend to let it go.”

“It hasn’t gone far at all, but you’ve no idea how much it pleased me when you noticed the discrepancy in those finger traps.”

“So, your doubts had you keeping him at arm’s length, but that reason no longer exists.”

He nodded.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather speak to Max? He’s more the clinical type.”

“No, you may have an insight due to that one thing you both have in common. Besides, I have two people I consider my peers, Thomas Sawyer and you. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“Oh, it won’t,” I said. “I’m still struggling to earn a spot in your good books, and I’ve yet to understand why I care about that. So, are you seeking advice from a peer or a sounding board?”

“Either will do,” he said. “James learned pretty quickly that if he ever wanted to have sex, it would help if the guy enjoyed pain, because, until they grew accustomed to him, it would hurt, but no one has ever gotten that far. James liked Tommy, but they had only a collection of negative experiences in common, and he felt no physical attraction to him. It seems that James has a high sex drive and few opportunities to satisfy it. It came down to a beggars-can’t-be-choosers problem, and he agreed to fuck him when Tommy asked.”

“So, Max was right; he told me James wasn’t a real sadist. So, what’s your problem?”

“I like him, and I want to see him.”

“But you’re afraid of the 10-inch, blunt-nosed, artillery shell he keeps hidden in his pants behind those long shirts he wears.”

“Aah…yeah.”

“I don’t know how much experience you have with dating, but if you want my advice, refrain from that sort of sex until you know that taking the time and effort to grow accustomed to him will be worth it. Have you seen it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“If you drive us to the tailor’s, I guarantee you will have the opportunity to, at least, see it flaccid.”

Legally and technically, the police held James in custody, so releasing him required some paperwork. Edgerton had Albert write up the report on Malor’s release while he drove James, Max, and me to the tailor’s in The Village.

He owned a black Mercedes G-wagon only a few years old. I recall seeing them on the lot at the Mercedes dealer, but as we had a used vehicle in mind at the time, I hadn’t considered it. Neither of us had ridden in one before; it had an impressive ride, and we both liked it. Max suggested that we go to the dealer one day to see the newest model, and I had thought that it would probably suit our needs better than the two-seater, which already was proving itself inadequate.

I would occasionally see James’s eyes linger on Edgerton behind the wheel, and his interest was more than casual. If Max could grow accustomed to someone my size, I saw no reason to think Edgerton couldn’t grow accustomed to James. I stared at the side of his head and tried to see what Max saw in him. He needed it cut, but he had a beautiful head-full of auburn hair, and his pale skin had few freckles. Facially speaking, I supposed he had a devilish appeal, in a bad-boy sort of way. He certainly contrasted Edgerton’s more clean-cut and uptight appearance, which I knew belied the far more liberal nature of his sexual interests. If he tended toward the same direction as Albert, he could enjoy all sorts of things, so, for all I knew, James suited him perfectly.

For myself, he had none of the appeal characterized by my beautiful Golden Bear, and from what I knew, James was strictly a top. Which made me question whether I would ever consider asking Max to fuck the hell out of me, just to understand why he loved it. If I gave it a try, I would only ever trust Max.

It’s amazing the difference a few days can make. When Edgerton parked his SUV in a nearby parking garage (on the opposite end from where Max and I had parked), the first thing I did was take Max’s hand when we exited the vehicle. He looked at me with those adoring eyes of his, gave me a knowing smile, and gripped my hand with both of his for a moment.

He kissed me and said, “I love you.”

I cupped his cheek, feeling his soft golden blonde beard. “And I love you, my Honey Bear.”

“You two are plum cute together,” said James.

“Oh, you haven’t seen cute yet,” said Max.

“What do you mean?” Edgerton asked as he rounded the vehicle to the passenger side.

“Have either of you ever shopped at Wilson’s Tailoring?” I asked them.

James shook his head. “It’s too rich for my blood.”

“I’ve not needed a tailor,” said the detective, “I’m an easy fit.”

“Oh…well, you’re in for an experience.”

As the holiday occurred the next day, many stores had Fourth of July sales, which had many shoppers out, even on a Wednesday afternoon. James and Edgerton walked ahead of us, and I held Max’s hand as we strolled the cobblestone streets of the pedestrian zone, feeling none of the fear and uncertainty that I had before, and Max seemed relaxed.

When we reached Taylor’s shop, we noticed the “closed” sign was hanging on the door. However, the instant we came into view, the tailor unlocked and opened the shop allowing us entry, but he relocked it behind us.

Taylor smiled. That day he wore the pants and vest of a cranberry-colored suit with a white shirt. I noted he left the jacket behind the counter draped on a mahogany valet stand, a nifty item he carried in the shop, and something we had yet to obtain. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, “I am so please you called for my assistance. This is just marvelous.” He gazed upon James and Edgerton. “Now, which of you is the gentleman in need?”

James raised a finger. “That’s me.”

Mr. Santiago stood naked and unnoticed in a corner, and we joined him at the back of the store to greet him as Taylor helped James.

“Hello again,” he said and shook our hands. “I appreciate this opportunity you’re giving me.”

“You know what we need, right?” I asked him.

“Yep. And I want you to know that, as a community member, I would help you catch a killer without the scoop, but I appreciate it all the same.”

We heard James sounding a little upset. “You want me to remove my clothes?”

“It’s part of my creative process,” said Taylor.

“Oh, I don’t know…”

I excused myself and moved to the lit platform on which James stood. Edgerton stood nearby, finding the situation amusing, but said nothing. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

The reflection off James’s pale skin had further illuminated the well-lit space. He stood a stout, sturdy-looking muscular fellow and wore a long-tailed untucked button-up shirt, with its sleeves rolled just below the elbow, and a pair of loose-fit jeans that hadn’t fit very loosely on him. When he heard me, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding beams of light until I reached the platform’s edge. Viewing him with a bit of distance, I think I realized what gave him a difficult-to-explain attractiveness. He looked fine from what I could see, but his appearance wasn’t the thing. He exuded a raw masculinity in his secondary and tertiary cues that, unless you’re looking for them specifically, humans usually perceive in a subtle, almost subliminal manner, like his stance, his body language, his walk, the movement of his torso, his limbs, his facial expressions, and much more. I admit, I also found that attractive.

“He wants me to remove my clothes,” he said.

“Is that an issue?” I asked. “You seem to have no problem the other day at the Alliance van.”

“Yeah, but I feel that I can trust you,” he said, then glanced at Taylor. “No offense.”

“I took my clothes off when Taylor asked me,” I said.

“Yeah, well…you’ve not got my problem, do ya?” he asked, apparently unaware to whom he was talking.

I made a deep sigh and mumbled to myself, “I may as well go all the way with this.” I spoke up, “Mr. Santiago, please, come here for a moment.”

He came forward and stood where he could see me as I faced James. I hadn’t realized I would take things in that direction, and I admit that it made me a bit nervous. When I said I had no desire to live in fear, however, I meant it, but I still felt it. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a little excited too. The tingling sensation beneath the head of my cock started, and it wouldn’t take much.

“Clearly, James, you’ve not seen Mr. Santiago’s gossip column,” I said. “I admit that it upset me, because like you, I wanted people to know on my terms.” I turned to the reporter. “When you write this up, do it justice and make it a good one. Okay?”

Once I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, I shoved them down to my knees.

“Holy fucking shamoley,” said James.

Santiago just stood speechless.

“He’s magnificent, isn’t he?” asked Taylor as he looked on.

“So, yeah, I do kinda have your problem.” Max, who stood behind me, wrapped his arm around my torso and grabbed my cock a few inches from the base to jack me.

He whispered into my ear. “I’m proud of you.”

In less than a minute, he had me at full erection, and James began removing his clothing.

“Okay, I get the picture,” he said.

I glanced over at Mr. Santiago, whose uncut dick jutted upward, looking like a fat, 6-inch, Puerto Rican cigar. However, when James removed his pants, all eyes went right to his thick meat that, even flaccid, hung from his body like some prize-winning white wonder cucumber.

James had a great upper body, but apart from his hefty meat, the real showcase was his well-developed lower extremities, which looked like he’d never skipped leg-day in his life.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” I said, raising my pants enough to move out of the way and let Taylor do his job. No way would my cock fit back into my jeans without some assistance from Max.

I heard James ask Edgerton, “Have I scared you?” I never heard his reply, but I already knew what he would say. He had an attraction strong enough to feel the need to ask my opinion, so, in the end, I think he wouldn’t have cared if it was the size of James’s thigh.

Santiago followed us and asked questions as Max went down on me. I had a unique experience getting interviewed and blown simultaneously.

“Just how big are you?” he asked.

“That depends on who and when you ask. If you had asked me twenty years ago, I would have said too big, but Max has helped me to understand that my size isn’t a problem.”

“Has Max taken all of you?”

He began asking me seriously personal questions, but apparently, a blowjob works like truth serum on me, and I couldn’t stop myself from telling him whatever he wanted to know. As the Q & A continued, Max began to work harder to get me off, and just before I came, Max pulled off me but jacked my cock. He had me right on the line, and I could do nothing but stand there as my brain felt like scrambled eggs.

He asked Santiago if he wanted a white shower, and the instant he said yes with great enthusiasm, Max aimed my hose, and I came, shot after shot, covering the reporter in a thick white coating. I had left his face, his torso, and his cock looking like a sugar-coated cinnamon bun.

“My god! When was the last time you came?”

I hadn’t realized it at the time, but Max was angry. He lightly held Santiago by the arm. “You’ve asked him enough questions; I want a word with you in private.” And he took him to Taylor’s back room for a few minutes.

I held myself up by a table near the cashier, and when the others, who stayed back to give us a bit of space, wondered what had happened, they came forward and helped me by giving me the stool from behind the counter.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Have you gotten the measurements and everything?”

“Oh, yes,” said James. “ALL of them.” He gave the tailor a contemptuous glance.

“It was not out of mere curiosity, I assure you.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 14a

Gossip Column:

Franklin’s Studly Detective: UPDATE

As promised, I bring more savory morsels of our sinewy stallion. I had it on good authority that within our fair city lived a man with such an extreme extremity that if his burden were more ponderous, one naked jog could self-inflict a kneecapping. Such cock-and-bull stories have floated about for ages, but having had the privilege of a firsthand witness, not only has the appendage in question received an accurate appraisal, buk also, he gives a whitewash so thorough, he could singlehandedly ice an entire kake. Look for more in future editions as information becomes available.

“I see what that shameless reporter did there.” After slapping the folded newspaper onto the dining table, I snatched the spoon from the place setting before me and finished eating the last few bites of breakfast.

Max and I had awakened by 5 o’clock, exercised, showered, and Albert jumped on our invitation to join us for breakfast that morning. He brought the paper with him, and after giving the pertinent section a once-over, I admit that it bothered me, but I hadn’t felt angry about it.

Max had suggested we start having a naked breakfast after our shower to allow our skin some air. Naturally, I went along with it because it made good sense, but for Max, he needed little excuse to remove his clothing. He sat across from me, and our legs intertwined a bit beneath the table, while my equally naked cousin Albert took the end seat.

I tapped the paper in irritation. “He goes too far in his claims. I mean, am I really a one-man supplier of an entire bukkake?”

Max paused mid-chew. “My stomach says yes.”

“You have two loads in there, and I note you still have plenty of room for our standard breakfast.”

“You know that I delight in gorging on you.” He took a sip of coffee.

Albert said, “I would love to have seen you bukkake the Naked Reporter.”

“I’m not even sure why he let him have it.”—I turned to my Golden Bear—“You’re not usually one to share.”

“It’s true,” said Max, who turned to Albert, “I failed sharing in kindergarten. But after what he did, he deserved the embarrassment of walking back to his car looking like he’d fellated a Clydesdale. We will never again combine interviews with blowjobs. I couldn’t imagine why you told him all that.”

“That’s never happened before, but I told you, I think better if I’ve cum a few times, and I only came that once at the furniture store.”

“He will probably use everything you told him in the paper,” said Albert.

Max laughed. “Oh no, he won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“He won’t tell you,” I said. “That’s the only answer I get out of him too.”

“I told you that you needed me,” said Max. “I took care of it; that’s all that matters. On another note, where has Edgerton been hiding?”

“He went missing yesterday evening,” said Albert, “and I suspect he’s with James.”

“James can’t go home,” I said, “especially after the article this morning.”

The piece in question, a not too disappointing boxed article at the back of the paper, stated that the police had released James without charge. How he wanted to put the whole unfortunate mess behind him, and that he missed Tommy, wishing he could join him at the upcoming housewarming on Saturday evening. Accompanying the article was a color photo of James, propping his head on the counter at the tailor’s, his pinky adorned with the ring in clear view. It looked good enough on the print version, but the ring in the online photo stood out crystal clear.

Albert checked his phone for the time. “Woah, it’s 7:30; I better get dressed and go.” He took the last sip of his coffee and stood from the table. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll have to return the favor and show you what I typically have.”

“Sounds great,” I said as Albert headed to the door.

“Bye, Al.”

The private number on my phone rang. “It’s Edgerton.” I put it on speaker. “Good morning, detective.”

“Yes, it is a good morning, isn’t it?”

“You sound chipper,” said Max.

“I might be,” he said, and I could almost hear the smile on his face. “I have a favor to ask of you, and it’s important.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“With no leads on the Haines/Chadwell case, potentially until Saturday, I have other cases to work, so I have much to do the next couple of days. The trouble is, James can’t go home or to work, and he needs someplace to be, with people he trusts who can help protect him. The inspector wouldn’t allow me to assign any officers to him, and there’s no way he would agree to a safe house.”

“Okay,” I said. “I understand what you’re asking, but we have a few things to do today, and we have only our two-seater.”

“I’m more than willing to swap keys with you for the next couple of days,” he said.

Max began to clear the table of dishes.

“That’s acceptable,” I said, “but keep in mind the roadster is Winter’s, so if anything happens to it, we’re responsible.”

“To work and home,” he said, “that’s a promise.”

“Okay, I believe you. Where should we meet?”

A knock came upon our front door. “We’re in the hallway.”

Max and I both laughed and shook our heads while I answered the door.

“Good morning,” said Edgerton.

The detective wore a suit, as he often did. James wore the jeans he had on the previous day and a different long-tailed button-up shirt.

It seemed that we both tended to shop at the big & tall section, and we both felt the need to use a shirttail to cover our bulge. I couldn’t see myself the way others saw me, but viewing James, I realized how slouchy that appeared. I mostly covered myself when I wore jeans; I liked the ones of lighter color most, even though dark colors would hide it better.

“Wow,” said James, over our lack of clothing, “is it Bare as You Dare Day already?”

“Does Franklin have a Bare as You Dare Day?” asked Max. “What day is it?”

“That’s a Franklin Funday that occurs on the second Saturday of July,” said Edgerton, “so next week on the 13th.”

“Personally, I’ve never participated,” said James.

“Sounds like a Funday to me,” said Max.

“Let me get you that key, detective.”

Edgerton gripped James’s shoulders. “Okay, young man, you’re spending the day with the sitters.”—James indulged the detective in his little jest, laughing to himself—“Be a good boy, don’t get yourself into trouble, and eat your vegetables at lunchtime.”

“Right, Pops.” And gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.

Edgerton pointed to Max and me. “You guys didn’t see that.”—I swapped keys with him—“Thanks, and I’ll be careful. See ya later, fellas.”

The instant I closed the door, James said, “Well, the `rent’s gone, let’s have some fun!”

“We have an appointment on the twelfth floor of the Lancashire Building in an hour,” said Max, “so we haven’t even the time for a quick round of Pinochle.”

“Well, I would suggest strip poker,” he said, “but you’ve nothing to bet with. I hoped we could play, if you know what I mean, but I’m sensing that neither of you feels entirely comfortable with me. Is it because of the case?”

I turned to Max, who had leaned against the island of the kitchen. That I hadn’t expressed an opinion on the matter when given the opportunity told him that I hadn’t known what to say.

Max moved toward the table. “Let’s sit for a minute, James.”

I took the seat at the end, Max returned to his usual seat, and James took the one I had vacated across from Max.

“You seem to have taken to us rather quickly,” said Max, “and you trust us. Can you articulate why?”

“I trusted you almost immediately,” he said. “and at first, I trusted Millstone because you were together. On the job the other day, you treated me as though you knew I was innocent. Even if you hadn’t known for a fact, you still gave me the benefit of the doubt when no one else had bothered. I’d had fingers pointing at me for several days.

“Over my life, people have made me feel like I’m someone to suspect, someone to be wary of, or just some porn-parody of a real human being. The guys in high school gym class suggested I star in a porn film with this clever title, James and the Giant Penis.”—he turned to me—“Since yesterday, I know we have something big in common, so that helps like we’re brothers under the belt or something. I’ve never met anyone like me before. When I’m around the two of you and Wade, I feel normal, and until now, I have had no one in my life that makes me feel that way.”

“With others,” said Max, “it probably hadn’t helped that you presented yourself as a sadist.”

He shrugged a little. “You know why I did,” he said. “Wade told me you realized it wasn’t true. I had gotten so tired of finding someone I really liked, but whenever the time for sex arrived, the clothes would come off, and they would leave immediately, suddenly want to shove me into the friend zone, or it would end in an unpleasant one-night stand. I even tried putting off sex, so they could get to know me first, but that never made a difference. So, I invented the sadist persona and settled with regulars that wanted the sex, but I felt no attraction.”—James looked straight at me—“And I bet you’ve had similar experiences, haven’t you?”

I nodded. “I’m not as thick as you, so I have gotten more blow jobs than I care to count, but nothing else worked out until Max.”

“You’re lucky,” he said. “I always feel like I’m getting blown by a shark, just a mouth full of teeth, scraping me until I’m raw. Not that I’m opposed to anyone letting me fuck their fists and catching my load in their mouth. I just wouldn’t want anyone thinking they can stuff my cock into their face because it won’t go in. And I can’t tell you how many times people have suggested that going into porn was my solution. As if, when you have a huge cock, you have no other options in life, and you’re nothing more than life support for an enormous penis.”

“Many people suggested I should do porn too,” I said. “So, would you like to have something with Wade?”

“We like each other, and we had an unusual night together; we had no sex, just lots of what he called intimacy. I enjoyed it a lot, and strangely, I feel energized today. But he has…I couldn’t say fear, really. It’s more like a deep concern about my size.”

“Realistically,” I said, “that’s understandable with guys like us. Give him time.”

“I’m willing to give him all the time he wants.”

“Let’s go back a bit,” I said, “you told us that you had fingers pointing at you for days. Besides the police, who else pointed their finger?”

“Oh…some of that’s less actual finger-pointing than coworkers acting suspicious toward me, but a couple of the fellas at work were more vocal of their suspicions during coffee, and then the day I met you guys, Delilah called to tell me that I would replace Chadwell on the painting job, and she wasn’t nice either.”

“Well, no wonder you had your nose out of joint,” said Max.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “So, should I consider playing with you guys permanently off the menu?”

I looked at Max. We had discussed the topic, and he knew I would leave the initial decision of whether we should ever play with anyone up to him. Although, if I had any objections, I would certainly tell him.

“Not permanently,” said Max, “just for the moment. Millstone’s busy refilling his tanks, and I’m full of a big breakfast that included two loads. So, if the right time should come, it isn’t right now. Let me get dressed.”—he stood from the table—“Why don’t you entertain our guest while I do that?” He kissed me and left.

“I noticed that we have cultivated the same habit,” I said to James.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I suspect that, over the years, we have both been made to feel so self-conscious about our size that we’ve taken to wearing long untucked shirts to make it less obtrusive.”

He glanced down at his lap. “Oh…that. I guess it just makes things easier. I started that when I turned 16, so for the last 12 years. People used to stare, and they whispered to one another. But the shirts aren’t a perfect cover, especially if I’m sitting. As an adult in the outside world, people would even confront me about it, just to tell me how inappropriate I was. One time, a woman on the subway in Baltimore went ballistic when she saw me. She got up in my face, accused me of being a pervert, and that I stuffed my pants to get attention. She went on and on. She caught me at a bad moment, so I stood up, pulled my junk out, and yelled, ‘I can’t hide this, lady! So, get the fuck out of my face and learn to mind your own goddamn business!’ Fortunately, the subway car had few people in it, and I got off at the next stop, so I had no trouble with the law. But things like that make me wear the shirts.”

Not surprisingly, I had had similar experiences, but I questioned myself whether it mattered anymore. As of that morning’s gossip column, it seemed that people would know about me. It reminded me of Bo Pecker, our playmate. He said, “When I came here, I decided to embrace my body and my size. I don’t care who knows anymore.”

When Max came from behind the partition, he put his arm around me, kissed me, and I left to get ready.

After brushing my teeth, I dressed, and as I buttoned my gray and white striped shirt over my faded blue, gusseted jeans, I stood there looking down at the obvious snake-like bulge in the mirror. I knew I had nothing to feel ashamed of. I took a deep breath, said, “Fuck it,” opened my pants, and proceeded to tuck my shirttail, leaving me exposed to possible ridicule, stares, and the not too surreptitious whispers. I kept telling myself, “I will not live in fear.” But I had just begun to understand the power densely packed into the phrase, “I don’t give a fuck.” Judiciously applied, those five little words could help someone take their power back that they needed to control their own life. Then a disturbing thought entered my mind, and I wondered just how deeply the outside world had controlled me. And I questioned how many more times I would have to consciously struggle to free myself of its manipulations, both subtle and gross.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Max took one look at me, smiled, and kissed me. He never told me what I should do, but he always told me when he was proud of me and never discouraged my attempts to think for myself, make my own mistakes without shoving them into my face, or to discover things at my own pace. He was generous like that, and I loved him for it. James noticed, too, especially since we had just had that conversation. He said nothing but gave me an expectant gaze as if to ask, “Why?”

I told him, “We have no obligation to treat the opinion of haters with any kind of validity. The idea we should hide ourselves because they don’t want to see it lets them control us. Screw those people. Why should we let their wishes stand as some default normal? It’s like they consider themselves a model of what everyone else should aspire to; they want us to hide our so-called ‘abnormality,’ so they can pretend no one different from themselves exists; they want us to comply with their dictates on how we should live as if our needs and desires should forever take a back seat to theirs. Well, fuck that, I refuse to live like that anymore.”

I could tell that he accepted what I said, but he still needed to think about it.

Besides a look at the office space that morning, we had a few errands to run, and as I intended to tuck my shirts from that point, I really needed some that wouldn’t bunch up in my pants, so I thought we should get a few.

We found the Lancashire Building located in a relatively nice area of town. It had several restaurants nearby and a park with lots of trees. As for the building itself, it surprised me that they hadn’t built it as one of those visually boring glass structures that I expected to see and always despised; instead, it had a symmetrical, contemporary appearance with lots of appeal. At 8:45, we met the agent on the twelfth floor, a woman named Carla Delgado. She looked about five feet four and had a pretty face.

“The owner renovated the building about eight years ago,” she said, “and we’ve taken good care of it.”

“Who owns the building?” I asked.

“Winter owns it in a subsidiary called Anorak Holdings.”

“How much of Franklin does Winter actually own?” asked Max.

“Given how wealthy she is, surprisingly little,” she said. “That I’m aware, she owns four office buildings in this area and a flawless estate on the other side of the bay in Queensbury.”

The space for lease had a reception area with a powder room for clients and three offices. One office, the largest one, had an executive washroom fully lined in quartz tile. One office had no windows, but the other two had a great view of downtown. And as for security, it had a wireless, monitored system.

I asked Ms. Delgado if she would leave us for a few minutes while we discussed it. She went to the ground floor to get a cup of coffee from the Dungeon Cafe there.

“I think this is perfect,” I said.

“Even the price?” asked Max. “You don’t think it’s too big? What would we use the other two offices for?”

“This place is cheaper than I had in New York. The big one with the bathroom we would use for the main office; we could keep all the business in there, the bills, taxes, records, and the computer. The smaller office with the view, we could use as a conference room. We wouldn’t have to buy a huge table, just someplace comfortable to talk with clients, and the room with no window we could use for storage. Detective work requires all sorts of things for various types of cases. It could all go in there.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 14b

James stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, admiring the view. Neither Max nor I had spoken a word to him since we arrived, and I’m unsure what possessed me to ask, but… “What do you think, James?”

He turned to face me, and he looked around for a moment. “It’s nice, but you don’t need this.”

“Why?” I asked.

“This is old-school,” he said. “For small businesses, having an office space is outdated; this isn’t the 20th century. Technology has allowed people to move away from this sort of thing. People would rather optimize their business from home. What I think you should do, rather than having a permanent space like this, where clients come to you, instead, you could go to your clients, or meet them somewhere, or have an internet meeting. You could make all your money transactions over the internet by using banking apps, taking credit cards, or use one of the many online pay services. Rather than having a filing cabinet, you could store all your cases inside encoded files on a secure server in the cloud. You could carry your business with you on laptops, tablets, and cellphones. You could keep the things you need for your job at home, and you have plenty of space for that. But…if you insist on having an office space, this place looks great, but for a modern small business, you would be leasing a dinosaur.”

I was speechless. In my head, my thoughts had taken an entirely different direction than anything James had just suggested. But he was right, and I felt embarrassed because I hadn’t thought of it myself. I wouldn’t, however, let that get in the way of an amazing idea.

Max had a smile on his face. “How do you know all this?” he asked him.

“I looked it up,” he said. “I figured I would need to know if I wanted my own business. Alliance is literally an alliance of individual businesses and subcontractors. If I became a licensed plumber and not just working under the license of someone else, I could have my own business. I could work for myself, and if I show Alliance my worth, they might take me on; they only ally with the best specialists, and that’s why people go to them. I would make more money doing that than just subcontracting my labor with Alliance as a peon, but you must have a license for a specialized job and your own business. So, recently, I got on with a plumber friend who was showing me the ropes a few days a week with some on-the-job training.”

I stood there looking at James for a moment, and a thought occurred to me. “Are you married to the idea of becoming a plumber?”

“What are you thinking?” Max asked me.

“I try to take good opportunities,” said James, “and that one came along. Are you about to make me an offer?”

I turned to Max. “Would you have any objections?”

“No, I trust you.”

“I appreciate that, Max.” I returned my eyes to the man before me and stepped closer to him. “I like you, and I want to trust you. When this case blows over, and it will. I would like you to work for us. We’ll pay you to take a couple of classes to better yourself and show me you’re willing to commit; I’m sure we could find something appropriate here in Franklin. You could help us set up the technical things, assist in running the business, and you can help with the leg work on our cases. You’ve lived here longer than us, so that’s an asset. If you could show us a commitment, loyalty, and that you’re worthy of the level of trust that I’m willing to give you—because you must earn it—you could go far. And over time, you could have a good life working with us as part of our team, rather than just working for us. Are you interested?”

He looked a bit dumbfounded. “Wow,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting that kind of offer.”

Ms. Delgado returned with a cup of coffee. “So, should we break out the lease contracts?”

“Well, ma’am, that depends on our friend here,” I said. “What do you say, James?”

He gave me a little smile and turned to the agent. “I think we’re going to try something else.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

“But we appreciate your time.” I shook her hand.

“No problem,” she said, “this is my job. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

Max took my hand on the way out and said, “Her coffee smelled delicious. Would you guys like some before we leave? My treat.”

“That sounds great,” said James. “I would love a cup, creamer, no sugar, please. And I really need to use the restroom.

“Yeah, me too,” I said, “on both counts.”

As Max ordered the coffee, James and I took a leak. I always had to stand back a bit when I pee at a urinal, and over the years, I had given an eyeful to many a man as a result. James noticed and just laughed.

“I want to thank you for the opportunity,” he said. “I know what this could mean for my life. But could you tell me why you’re giving me the chance?”

“You dropped that bullshit persona and let us see who you really are. If you hadn’t, I would never have trusted you.”

“I won’t go back to that,” he said, “I promise.”

“Good.” I packed my appendage away, tucked my shirt, and buttoned up. “Let me give you a tip that too many people never realize. Genuineness and a polite manner will take someone quite far in this world; it opens doors, and when that happens, you have an opportunity to shine, like the one I’m giving you now.”

I moved to the sink to wash my hands, and as I stood there, James waited his turn. I glanced at him as I dried my hands with a paper towel and saw that he had tucked his shirt, showing quite a bulge. He saw that I noticed, and I smiled at him.

“I figured showing some confidence might help,” he said, smiling a little.

“It just might.” I clapped him on the shoulder and left to get my coffee.

The rest of the day we spent replacing the long-tailed shirts that both James and I had in our wardrobes. I decided to help him make a clean break from them, and he swore that he wouldn’t go back to it. I thought of it as a celebration of our new-found independence from the societal pressure of the outside world, an appropriate sentiment for the Fourth of July.

The limited availability of shirts with long tails meant a poor selection, so neither James nor I had worn anything decent in over a decade. We even took the time to visit Albert’s leather artisan, who constructed his shorts. He measured the three of us, and he said he would contact us when he had a few designs ready for our viewing. Apparently, he makes sketches before he even touches the leather. He said he had some amazing ideas in mind and assured us we would love them.



“You guys need some furniture,” said James.

We had arrived home a few minutes before Edgerton. Once again, we all sat at the dining table. I admit that mealtimes hadn’t caused an issue with discomfort, but I wouldn’t have wanted to sit there permanently.

“The guys at Steamy Pete said the living room furniture will arrive on Monday,” said Max, “but our bed will get here tomorrow between three and five in the afternoon.”

“You bought furniture at Steamy Pete?” asked James.

“Yeah,” I said, “what about it?”

“I have a friend who works there,” he said. “Will they deliver anything with their extra special white-glove service?”

“Yeah, the living room suit on Monday,” said Max.

“Oh man…may I be here when they come?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sure, but what’s the big deal?”

“You mean, you don’t know? Steamy Pete has some seriously hot delivery men, and their extra special white-glove service comes with sex.”

I burst out laughing.

“Really?” asked Max.

The whole thing gave me a belly laugh. “I should have guessed. We met your friend Master Brice.”

“Oh, did you? What’s ol’ Bricie up to?”

“About seven and a half inches, according to Albert,” said Max, sending a text message.

James laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like Brice.”

“I texted Edgerton,” Max said. “I told him to not bother knocking when he got here.”

“Guys, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” said James. “And I had a great time today. I look forward to getting this case over and working with you guys. I think together, we could create a modern business that you will find worth the initial effort, especially financially. I suspect, even with whatever you guys decide to pay me, it would still be less than half what you would have paid per month in rent at that office space, maybe even a third if you included the utilities, phone, internet, and whatever else.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m glad you spoke your mind when I asked. Never be afraid to do that, okay?”

“Not many bosses would say that, so thanks. And I won’t forget that tip you gave me.”

“Good.”

The detective entered the apartment. “Good afternoon, fellas! Has the big boy behaved himself today?”

“As good as gold,” said Max.

Laughing to himself, James got up from the table and went to Edgerton.

He smiled at James. “Well, look at you.” He noticed his shirt and that he hadn’t left it hanging out.

“I guess I’m a tucker from now on,” he said. “Is that alright?”

“That’s more than alright. Come here, Tucker.” They kissed for almost a full minute, and when it ended, Edgerton pointed at us.

“We know,” I said. “We didn’t see that.”

“Will you guys come to the roof tonight?” he asked us.

“What for?” asked Max.

“For the city’s Fourth of July fireworks display. They shoot it high over the ballpark from a nearby tower, and we have a great view of it from the roof. It starts at ten tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We’ll be there,” I said.

Max and I enjoyed seeing the smile on James’s face all that day, especially when Edgerton came home. I wondered the last time that James felt happy. He took his shopping bags with him when they left, and they would have a lot to discuss over dinner that evening.

The detective and I swapped keys back, and after Max and I saw them out the door, my Golden Bear kissed and hugged me. “I am so proud of you,” he said.

“I hope I never tire of hearing you say that.”

“In that case, I hope I always have a reason to say it.”

I began unbuttoning his shirt, and he unbuttoned mine. Once our clothes lay scattered on the floor, Max held me and whispered, “Have you any idea how much I love you?”

“Show me.”

He took my hand, guiding me to where the angle of the afternoon sun, streaming through the plate glass, slowly climbed the partition that served as our headboard for one final evening. His skin and fur glowed in its reflection like the vision of some benevolent ursine god, come to carry me in his arms to some paradise. Within minutes, I had lost myself deep inside my beautiful Golden Bear, as thrust after thrust, he rode his unbridled stallion bareback at full gallop, his ass taking every inch of me and the brunt of the pounding. He fucked himself on me and fucked himself on me, grunting in the effort, and he fountained load after load of hot thick cream that rained its heat upon me like lava from a volcano.

I never wanted it to end, but too soon, I had to fight the urge to cum, and held off as long as I could. Just before it started, I pulled Max onto me and kissed him as I filled him with everything I had to give in that moment. When it ended, I smiled when I realized my Honey Bear had fallen asleep on top of me, his sticky cum gluing us together, and my cock fully implanted inside him.

We had had a long and wonderful day, with a promise of more to come, so I hadn’t awakened him. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of the closeness I shared with the man I loved. The intoxicating scent of his sweat and semen filled my nostrils, and with the comforting sound of his steady breath in my ear, I drifted off.

An hour later, hunger awakened us both, and it forced us to shower, dress, and find someplace for dinner. We had some delicious fish at a locally owned restaurant near the bay called The Daily Catch, run by a straight goth couple. We enjoyed that place and would eat there again soon.

Twenty of us stood on the roof that evening. They had started congregating there about nine that night. Some of the guys brought up folding chairs and bottles of wine or coolers of beer. Albert brought a picnic pack with two bottles of his favorite Prosecco and some acrylic glasses for the five of us, namely himself, the detective, James—who everyone began calling Tucker, Max, and me.

I wondered how James would feel about his nickname, so I pulled him aside while everyone else gathered around Albert as he opened a bottle, and I asked him, “Would calling you Tucker bother you?”

“Oh, hell no, please do!”—he smiled broadly—“I think it’s great. Getting a nickname like that kinda makes me feel like I belong somewhere.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never had a family, Millstone; I grew up in an abusive and dysfunctional group home in Maryland.”

“I thought you said your uncle was a lawyer.”

“He’s not my real uncle. His name is Charles Stanley, a pro bono lawyer in Baltimore. I had some legal issues trying to get away from the group home because of the abuse, and he became what he called my avuncular, a kind uncle-like person I could count on. He’s been the closest thing to family I ever had. He even flew to Seattle, just to defend me in the lawsuit.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve had such a hard time.”

“Hey, I’m still here. That’s what matters, right?”

Max brought me a glass of Prosecco. “Here you go.” He handed me the glass. “I think Wade has yours,” he said to Tucker.

“Oh, okay,” he said and left to get it.

“Having a nice conversation with the newly dubbed Tucker, are we?” Max asked.

“In a way. It’s strange how life happens.” I said no more about it, but when I took Max’s hand, we interlocked our fingers. I raised his hand to my face, kissed the back of it, and gave him a little smile, thinking to myself how things could have gone so differently for me.

Holding his glass, Edgerton walked over and asked Max, “May I speak to Millstone alone for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” he said. “It’ll give me an opportunity to ask Trouble about his day.” Max kissed me and left to speak to Albert.

Edgerton stood there for a moment, giving me a bit of a blank stare. “I thought I would have something eloquent to say when I got over here,” he said. “I feel like I should say something, but a simple thank you feels inadequate. Tucker told me what you did.”

“It was purely for selfish reasons.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, “pardon me while I don’t believe that. You know, Thomas told me you were a rare bird, and he’s right.”

“I have never belonged on a pedestal. I would hate to disappoint any of you one day and make you regret it.”

“No one would ever expect you to walk on water, but you have a deep-seated need to do the right thing and to be kind and thoughtful. Those are admirable qualities. I bet you feel that all the way to your bones, don’t you? You just can’t help yourself.”—he gave me a wry smile—“Let’s join the others; they’ll think we’re up to no good. Oh, and by the way, your struggle to get in my good books is over.”

“I don’t know what to say to you, detective.”

“Wade, please call me Wade when we’re not working. And I’m not expecting you to say anything. I’m just letting you know that”—he tapped my chest three times in emphasis—“I see you. Come on, pal.”

Three streaks of light, one each of red, white, and blue, all of which exploded into a brilliant display, kicked off the show. I stood at the parapet wall behind Max, my arms around him as we watched the fireworks, but also, I inhaled the scent of Max’s hair and kissed him repeatedly on the neck. As it continued, the air began to take on the odor of something burned, and the sky turned a bit smoky, as sometimes happens with fireworks.

“I think I smell those fireworks all the way over here,” said Albert.

Fortunately, the show had just enough distance to prevent the noise from overpowering our ability to speak to one another or for Wade to hear his cellphone. The show would last half an hour, and about twenty minutes in, Wade received a call from the precinct. Even in the dim light, we could see his horrified expression.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be right there,” he said to the officer.

“What’s happened?” asked Albert.

“Tucker, you said you live at 2453 Sweet Basil Lane, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Your house is engulfed in flames.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 15a

Tucker asked to accompany Wade when he left, but we managed to convince him that he would only get in the way at the scene. The rest of us stayed with him, and we hung about in Albert’s quarters as he had comfortable furniture. Max clung to the visibly upset Tucker for quite a while, allowing his mind to process what had happened. Even without hearing from the fire inspector, we knew someone had torched his home. Tucker had had a rough life, apparently abused as a kid, and I could only imagine that burning his home felt particularly victimizing and violating.

Everyone living near Tucker on Sweet Basil Lane had gone to see the fireworks, so the flames had fully engulfed the home before anyone noticed. The fire department stood by at the fireworks show, as anyone should expect, but even with it on standby, it took time to get there. Whoever set Tucker’s house ablaze had picked the perfect moment.

I think I understood why Tucker’s avuncular lawyer had helped him. Life deals a bad hand to some people in this world, often from birth. In some ways, I grew a bit protective of Tucker that night, and since I had hired him, I considered him one of us, so I had even more reason to not let the culprit get away.

Albert’s quarters lay in near darkness, apart from one torchiere left on low. As Albert slept in his bed, both Tucker and Max had fallen asleep on the couch with Tucker’s lightly snoring head in Max’s lap. I sat in one of the chairs, sleepless and thinking. Grateful that I had placed my phone onto silent mode, I received a text from Wade just after 2:30. He asked me about Tucker, said he wanted to talk to me, and needed some laundry detergent, so I crept into the hallway, retrieved a couple of detergent packs from the stash in our quarters, and took the elevator to where he awaited me in the locker room. In the silence of the ground floor, he had slumped against the lockers, looking exhausted. Apart from the ring of relatively clean skin left from having worn a mask, his sooty arms, face, and clothes caused him to smell like a chimney sweep.

“That bad?” I asked.

“Yep. I know that I have a rule about talking business here, but it’s unavoidable for the moment, and we’re alone. Tucker lived in an older house that went up like a matchbox. He rented it from a landlord who owned several properties on the street. I’m sure the house had insurance, so the owner will recover, but Tucker has lost everything.”

“Well, that’s not quite true,” I said. “Tucker now has something he’s never had before. He has you, and he has the three of us. Losing everything is devastating, but we will make sure he lands on his feet.”

“I would hug you for that, but I wouldn’t want to get any of this on you. Of course, we must wait for the fire inspector to investigate the scene to determine the exact cause and origin of the fire, but it worries me.”

“Why?”

“Because Tucker left his Jeep there,” he said. “He parked it right next to the house, and that burned too.”

It only took a moment to realize what he was telling me. “I see. Depending on where the fire started and how they may have believed he was home.”

“Exactly. And if so, it means they’ve changed their goal. We thwarted their previous plan to have him arrested, and they’ve killed twice before; maybe they figure they should just kill him and be done with it.” He spoke with derision, but his expression told me just how much that worried him. He unbuttoned his shirt to undress.

I considered his suggestion for a moment, and a possibility occurred to me. “That may be the case; however, I think another possibility exists that’s more probable.”

“What’s that?”

“Thanks to the photo in the paper, the killer thinks Tucker has the ring. I doubt he would burn the house without first giving it a good ransacking. So, he would know that Tucker wasn’t home.”

He looked relieved. “Then our plan caused this.”

“That’s thoughtful of you to take some of the responsibility,” I said, “but the plan was mine.”

“It became mine too when I went along with it,” he said, “and I still think it could work. If what you suggest is true, then that would prove they still want the ring, but perhaps they had a Plan B, so, in lieu of having him arrested, they destroyed all he owns.”

“Maybe. Let’s see what the fire inspector says.”

“They’re going to have a tough time with it. A huge section of the roof collapsed.”

“How have you gotten so dirty? You’d think you were a fireman.”

“I helped the fire department as much as I could,” he said.

“You’re more than just a little sweet on Tucker, aren’t you?”

“You would have to know him as I do. I find it astonishing that anyone would pass on the Tucker I know, just because he’s so big. But then, hey, their loss is my gain, right?”

He removed the rest of his clothing, and I couldn’t help but admire his tight swimmer’s body. Since I hadn’t cum in several hours, I felt the tickling sensation under the head of my cock, and the blood starting to fill it caused a tightness in my pants.

“Please, do me a favor and wash these.” He started wrapping his clothing in a way that I wouldn’t get anything on me. “I wouldn’t want Tucker to see me like this or smell it on me and my clothes.”

“Sure, no problem.” I looked up, and he stared into my eyes.

“You were looking at me, weren’t you?”

“Should I apologize?”

“I thought I wasn’t your type. I mean, Max has a unique appearance and a lot of muscle. I’m fit, but not nearly so big.”

I shrugged. “A handsome naked man is standing in front of me; I’m going to look.”

He smiled. “I appreciate the compliment. Let me get cleaned up; I look like I’ve been shoveling coal. If you think it’s necessary, wash that on hot, will ya?”

At the washing machine, I received a text from Max wondering where I had gone.

TEXT: [Wade returned, and he’s filthy. He asked me to bring down some detergent and wash his clothes while he gets cleaned up. He’s given me an update. I’ll be up in a bit. Just so you know, I have an erection problem. Are you okay? How’s Tucker?]

REPLY: [I’m fine but sleepy. Tucker remains asleep in my lap, and I don’t want to wake him. How bad is the house?]

TEXT: [Tucker lost everything at the house, including his Jeep. Get some rest, Honey Bear. I love you.]

REPLY: [I love you too. You need some relief, and I’m okay with Wade helping you since I’m indisposed.]

TEXT: [Are you really okay with that? I’m not so sure he would be willing.]

REPLY: [Among our little group of five, it’s fine when I’m not available. I know how it is for you, so don’t let yourself go. Trust me, he would love to blow you.]

TEXT: [Thanks, Honey Bear, I’ll see what he says.]

I pried my cock from my pants, and it felt so stiff it almost hurt. After I left my clothes on the washer, I padded over to the door of the shower room, where I saw Wade scrubbing the pore-clogging grime from his lean muscular body. When he turned to rinse off, he noticed me standing in the doorway, my cock towering well above my belly button.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like something’s come up.”

“Yeah, Max thought you and I should discuss it, and if you enjoy the topic, he said he’s fine with us discussing it when he’s not available.”

“I do enjoy a thorough conversation,” he said, “and I’m willing to discuss that topic anytime.”

I walked his direction. “I appreciate that. I need to discuss it often, and if I don’t…well, an issue comes up that just won’t go away until it gets all talked out, you know what I mean?”

Wade was of average height, so I had to bend a bit when I kissed him, and his lips had just the right amount of firmness. He took hold of my cock and gripped it like a nightstick.

“Are you sure that Max is okay with this?” he asked.

“I have the texts to prove it,” I said.

He wrapped his lips around the head of my cock. He couldn’t swallow it, but I enjoyed his attempts, and he had a lot of fun playing with it. Settling into a nice rhythm, he sucked the head and several inches of shaft while jerking me with both hands. What he lacked in throating ability, he made up for in enthusiasm. As I leaned forward a bit, one hand grasped the shower column, and the other rode his head as he bobbed on my knob. It felt different from Max, but it worked its magic, and soon I felt myself on the verge of feeding him.

“Gonna give you something to drink, buddy, so start chugging.”

I held onto the column with both hands as I came. He choked a bit but did his best to get it all. He stood upright when it stopped, and I saw that he had cum on his face. “Damn. You cum a lot.” He jacked his cock, and he asked, “I’m about to cum. Do you want it?”

I squatted a little and mouthed his meat. It felt a bit wide, like an oval, but still comfortable. Since I had little experience, before I knew it, when he let it go, its downward curve caused it to slide right down my throat. It almost gagged me, so I held it near the base to prevent that from happening again. I ran my tongue beneath his foreskin and slurped it as I jacked his cock.

Holding onto my head, he grunted when he came, and he tasted so much like Max that I had no trouble swallowing. I really liked his foreskin, and I wished I still had mine. When I stood, I licked the cum from his chin and fed it to him with a kiss.

“I have a new-found appreciation of Max’s abilities,” he said. “Throating you is a challenge, so he has some serious skills.”

“Oh, he spoils the hell out of me, and I know it.” I kissed him, grabbed his taught ass-cheeks, and squeezed them. “So, will you let Tucker fuck you?”

“Yesterday, Tucker picked up one of those 18.6-ounce soup cans from my kitchen cabinets and said, ‘See that? That’s about how big around I am.’ I saw him erect last night, and he wasn’t pulling my leg. If I ever took him, it would require a lot of work. Do you like my ass?”

“It’s a damn nice one.”

“It’s not as nice as Troubles, and he’s an amazing fuck; it’s a shame you’re his cousin.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the way the buns bounces. Let’s hurry and get upstairs. We have men waiting on us.”

He held my chin for a moment. “Hey, will you allow this to alter our working relationship?”

“What, for a bro-job? Hell no. You’re just helping a buddy out, and I appreciate it.”

By the time we had dried off, Wade’s clothes had finished washing, and since he had a clothes rack in his quarters, he hadn’t bothered tossing them into the dryer. Neither of us dressed; we just draped our clothing over our shoulder and returned to Albert’s place.

We had a few hours of night left, and as for myself, we would take the day off from working out, so I could sleep for a bit. Wade hated to awaken Tucker, even just long enough to get him to his quarters, but we all needed to sleep.

Max stood at the end of our bed, his eyes closed and only partially awake, allowing me to undress him. He sat, and I pulled his pants over his feet. We crawled into bed, I held him, and we slept until morning.

Off and on, I had incredibly erotic dreams that night, but I awoke to find myself feeding Max my special protein shake as he slurped my morning wood.

“I hoped you wouldn’t mind me helping myself,” he said.

I laughed. “Have you sucked me more than this once?”

“Twice,” he said. “I was thirsty, but I tried not to wake you.”

“Oh, Honey Bear, I’ll feed you anytime.”

A knock came upon our door. Max cleaned me in a hurry and left to answer it.

“You’ll find the car key in the pocket of my pants from yesterday,” I said.

As I expected, Wade and Tucker had dropped by, and I heard their voices from the other side of the partition. “Good morning, guys,” said Max. “Have you had enough sleep?”

“I’m alright,” said Wade. “I’ll see you guys this afternoon.” I think I heard Wade kiss Tucker goodbye before the door closed.

I rose from the bed and made myself somewhat presentable. I had only slept four hours and needed more, but I couldn’t afford to stay in bed; we had too many things to do. I could smell the food Max was preparing for breakfast and coffee brewing.

Tucker, who sat with his forehead on the dining table, must have noticed me entering the room from the corner of his eye, and we exchanged good mornings.

Max asked me, “Would you like me to contact Winter to schedule a time to update her?”

“No, you’re making breakfast, so I’ll do that.” And I did so. I took a seat, studying Tucker, who hadn’t moved, looking sad and pathetic. “How are you?”

“I should just become a hobo,” he said.

I leaned forward and tipped my head until my ear practically touched the table, so he could see me in his peripheral. “Hasn’t Wade offered you his home?”

“Yes,”—he raised his head and sat up—“but that felt different when I had someplace else to go. Now I just feel like a burden.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you; you are a burden,”—I raised my hand—“but before you allow that to validate how horrible you feel, let me finish. I know what it feels like to have no one. When you’re truly alone, you could never burden others, but life could burden you. When life runs smoothly, independence is wonderful, and it feels great, but never expect to unwaveringly carry yourself despite whatever hardship that comes along. That’s just not how life works, and fortunately, you’re not alone. So yes, you’re a burden, but you’re one we’re willing to carry because we care about you. You couldn’t help yourself nearly as effectively while living on the street, so just accept our help while you need it.”

Max brought plates of eggs and oatmeal to the table. “The shirts you got him was fortuitous,” he said to me, then turned to Tucker. “Good thing you hadn’t taken them home.”

“Really…that would be awful, wouldn’t it? Thank you for those; I sure need them now.”

“Well, we’re not done,” I said. “You need the rest of it.”

“You’ve spent too much money on me as it is.”

“Don’t worry about the money; it pleases me to do it. Tell me, have you ever worn pants with a gusset? For big men like us, once you go gusset, you never go back.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 15b

He had never even heard of one, and this led to a protracted discussion over breakfast, during which I received a text from Winter. She invited us to the apartment at the mansion at 10:00 that morning, and I informed Max and Tucker of it.

“Winter hasn’t met you, has she?”

“No,” Tucker said, “we’ve seen one another, but I was just a peon at the time, so I never met her.”

“I think you should,” I said. “I want to take you into our confidence about things, but as our client, I should discuss it with Winter first. You have your cell phone, right?”

He pulled a flip-phone from his pocket. “Right here.”

“And you lectured us on something old-school,” said Max.

“Yeah, well, when I eventually had my own business, I intended to invest in a smartphone, but I had yet to bother.”

“Can you receive texts on that?” I asked.

“Yeah, but sending them’s a pain, so I don’t.”

“Okay, when we get there, I need you to stay in the SUV until I text you to come inside. At the beginning of next week, we’ll get you a company smartphone and a company laptop; you’ll need it for school.”

“I appreciate that the fire would have destroyed the one I had. I hadn’t owned much, but I can’t believe it’s all gone, even my Wrangler. I hadn’t had that Jeep a year. Fortunately, that was fully insured. I need to contact the co-op and file a claim.”

“Speaking of all that you lost,” said Max, “had you anything at your home, besides your vehicle, that you could not go without?”

“Wade asked me the same thing. I don’t take any medications or anything, so I could only think of toiletries and clothes. Wade volunteered to get my toiletries this evening, but I have money in my savings. I should rebuy all those things myself.”

“How much money do you have in savings?” I asked.

“Currently, it’s a bit over five thousand,” he said.

“Don’t deplete your savings; that’s emergency money.”

“Isn’t this an emergency?” he asked.

“No, this is a catastrophe. An emergency is when you have a traffic ticket, and you pay out an unexpected $500 to the court. An emergency is when your car suddenly needs a transmission, and you must buy a new one, so keep your savings.

“We wouldn’t want to take your independence from you, so this is just temporary. Maybe it hasn’t fully hit you, but somebody has tried to destroy your life. We know you don’t deserve that, so we’ve offered you a major leg-up. Don’t let this person win by making it as hard on yourself as they hope it will be.”

He sat there for a moment. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’m just used to doing everything for myself.”

“With our help, you’ll be back to that like this never happened to you. I enjoy the idea that if we help make this a minor blip on your radar, then your arsonist will have lost.”

At the appointed hour, Max and I stood at the apartment door of the mansion while Tucker remained in the vehicle. Winter answered the door wearing a white chiffon dress with net-like lace sleeves.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” She smiled and invited us to sit at the dining table, as was her habit.

“Your wardrobe never ceases to amaze me,” said Max. “You look beautiful in that.”

“Thank you! Wait until you see my winter wardrobe. I love wearing pure white in winter; it’s so naughty.” She smiled. “Well, since Douglas Chadwell killed Tommy, I guess the case is over.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, “the police have used that as a ruse. Chadwell hadn’t killed Tommy or himself. We have a far more complicated case. It’s about someone taking vengeance on James Malor and about something that I had yet to tell you, but I should no longer avoid; I would like you to understand what’s at stake here. The case includes an engagement ring carrying a priceless five-carat red diamond that might belong to the Catholic Church.”

“You’re joking. Those sound like such widely divergent things. How could they possibly be connected?”

“We’re not sure, but they connect somehow. We have a plan to catch this person, but it’s important that the housewarming continue as planned.”

“Wouldn’t that put my guests in danger?” she asked.

“I think the only one in danger is James Malor,” I said, “and he’s willing to help us catch this person.”

“How can you know that no one else is in danger?”

“Because they burned his house last night, destroying everything he owned, so it’s pretty clear that he’s their focus.”

“Oh my god…I heard a house had burned…so that was his. Ugh, I feel horrible now.”

“Why would you feel horrible?” Max asked.

“Because I thought James killed Tommy, I went to the police, and I mentioned him. That’s apparently what the killer wanted us to think all along. Now I feel like an accomplice. Apart from trusting you about guest safety, how can I help?”

“One, make sure you never mention that ring to anyone. No one knows that we know about it or its significance. Two, as strange as it may sound, I have hired James to work with us from now on, and I would like you to meet him because he will be around.”

“That’s an unusual turn of events,” she said.

“Well, you would have to have been there.”

The private number on my cell phone received a call. “It’s Detective Edgerton. Forgive me; I should take this.” Not knowing the purpose for the call, I kept it private and held the phone to my ear. “Hello detective, what can I do for you?”

“Tucker told me you were speaking with Winter,” he said, “and I apologize for disturbing you. They have managed to remove the collapsed section of roof from the fire scene, and beneath it, they found a heavily charred body. It’s female, according to forensics. The fire inspector says the fire started at its location and involved an accelerant like kerosine. Of course, we’ll have to wait for the autopsy to know how and when she died, but I think I’ve discovered the woman’s identity. I figured since both Tommy and Chadwell worked for Alliance, perhaps she had too. So, I called Bo Pecker, and he told me that Delilah Crows, his office manager, worked yesterday but hadn’t come to work this morning. I’ve called her cellphone, but it goes to voicemail. We found her car located at her home, but she’s neither there nor at the hospital. I asked Tucker about her; he didn’t know her; he kept everything strictly business with the office staff. That’s all I have for now.”

“Okay, I’m glad you let us know,” I said. “What would you like us to do?”

“Tucker told me you had planned to help him with some clothing today. I appreciate that. For now, just stick with your plans. By the way, I noticed last night that his shoes need replacement. And I have a personal request. When it comes to underwear and pants, think sexy.”

I laughed. “Oh, I have no doubt that Max already has that in mind. Thanks for letting me know the situation. We’ll see you this afternoon.”

I relayed the information to Winter and Max. Given the circumstances, I thought it best to delay any further discussion and continue with the presumption that the housewarming would proceed as scheduled. It remained unclear whether the news would have any effect either way on it taking place.

“I agree,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to overreact, and I’ll await more news from you. So, James has lost everything. The Winter Foundation helps people in his situation. What does he need?”

“His Jeep burned along with everything else,” said Max.

“He has insurance on it,” I said.

“Do you know where he has the insurance?”

“He mentioned something about a co-op.”

“Oh, that’s the Franklin Insurance Cooperative,” she said. “Highly recommended. But regardless of where he bought his insurance, they will only pay the current value of the vehicle. So, unless he adds money to it—which he may not have—he will probably end up with a vehicle of lesser value than he lost, especially if you include title, taxes, and registration. We’ve worked with insurance in the past, and we could make up the difference, so he could get a better vehicle.”

“He would probably appreciate that,” I said, “but the insurance would probably just pay-off the loan since he had it less than a year.”

“Oh no… Okay, thanks for letting me know,” she said. “Speaking of vehicles, how’s the jalopy working for you?”

“We love it,” Max said, ‘but it has one insurmountable issue.”

She nodded. “It only holds two people, right? I thought that it might present a problem for you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We have a different vehicle in mind, and we’ll see to that fairly soon, but thank you for allowing us to use the roadster. It helped us accomplish more than we ever could without it.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I was thinking of giving it to Grey. He remarked how much he liked it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Well, we should go; we have much to do.” We rose to leave.

She leaned forward onto the table. “Max, before you go, may I speak with you in private?”

“Of course,” he said.

“I’ll wait for you in the vehicle,” I said. “See you later, Winter.”

On the way to the SUV, Tucker stuck his head out the window. “You haven’t texted me!”

“Yeah, today’s not a good day to meet Winter. It’ll happen soon, though.” I climbed behind the wheel.

“Where’s Max?”

“Talking to Winter about something,” I said, “I have no idea what.”

“Maybe they’re planning your surprise birthday party.”

“If so, they’re eleven months early. How are you feeling about the body found in your house?”

“It’s terrible,” he said, “but I know nothing about it. On the bright side, I finally have an alibi for someone’s death.”

“Thank goodness,” I said. “We need to shop for clothes, have lunch, and get back to the Minotaur before three o’clock. Steamy Pete will deliver our bed today, and no, this doesn’t include their extra special white-glove service; it’s just the regular.”

“Well, at least they’ll be shirtless.”

When Max returned to the vehicle a few minutes later, he had a bemused expression. “Okay, we can go now.”

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Let’s discuss it tonight.”

Tucker moved up between the front seats. “If you’re waiting because of me, I could stick my fingers in my ears and hum a tune.”

Max laughed and smiled at him. “That’s thoughtful, but no, I just need to think about it for a while first.”

“Okay, no rush,” I said.

I had no way to know how long it would take to get the autopsy results about the woman, it would depend on the coroner, and I wondered if it could mean the closure of the case. For all we knew, in a real fit of remorse for having killed two people with nothing to show for it, she could have poured fuel around the interior of Tucker’s home, doused herself, and struck a match. I could think of less painful ways to go about killing one’s self, but stranger things had happened.

The search for Tucker’s sexy clothing was going well, but we stopped for lunch. He recommended an unusual rustic-styled restaurant in The Village called Lumberjacks, where all the hunky waiters wore plaid shirts rolled at the sleeves, suspenders, tight jeans showing fine asses and nice bulges, and boots like a logger.

Tucker had apparently eaten there so often that every waiter knew him by the nickname Tenten, but he asked them to start calling him Tucker and told us he intended to leave Tenten in the past along with the persona.

We saw many muscular guys among the people in the booths there, and as they had geared the place toward guys trying to get big, the portions were huge, but they also had half-portions upon request. If Tucker ate there as often as he said, no wonder he had such a thick build. We loved our experience there and decided to make it one of our go-to restaurants.

At the end of our meal, while awaiting the bill, Tucker said, “I think the name James doesn’t suit me, and I’ve never liked it. Did you know that, in the West, it’s the number one name for males used in the last century?”

“I figured number one would be John,” said Max.

“No, that’s number two. And when my lawyer friend found my birth mother (who I decided not to meet, by the way), he discovered that my last name Malor is a misspelling.”

“Really?” I asked. “What was it supposed to be?”

“M-a-i-l-o-r. They misspelled it on my birth certificate, and no one bothered to fix it. They probably thought that, since my mother had given me up anyway, what’s the difference. You have no idea how much I love you guys calling me Tucker. Last night, after you asked me about my nickname, the thought occurred to me to change my name to that, and the idea crossed my mind again when we got here.”

“Would you change your last name with it?” asked Max.

“Oh yeah, I see no reason not to, and Tucker Malor sounds like shit, so I’ll have to give it some thought.”

“I think changing your name is a great idea,” said Max. “You seem more like a Tucker to me anyway.”

“We heard that name changes happen all the time here in Franklin,” I said, “especially among the goth community. If you feel unsatisfied with the name you have, then change it.”

The detective called me on my private number, just as Hunter, our waiter, returned with the bill.

Max said, “I’ll take care of this,” and he signed the ticket so we could leave.

“Hello, Wade, could you hold on a second? We’re leaving a restaurant, and I want the three of us to hear.”

“Sure.”

We stopped at the side of the enclosed vestibule on the way out, and I put the phone on speaker. “Okay, have you something for us?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “We just got the forensic tests back from Delilah’s home. We believe it’s her right index finger, but it matches the stray print on that one finger trap.”

“Well, that’s great! So, we got her then.”

“Not quite,” he said, “there’s an issue with ability. It’s questionable whether she could maneuver Chadwell into position to make it appear like suicide. And one more thing, a burned kerosene container sat near the back door, just as though someone had left it on the way out.”

“Then we’ve been looking for a Bonnie and Clyde all along.”

“So it seems,” he said, “but it looks like this Clyde bumped-off Bonnie.”

“Are we talking two people with the same agenda,” asked Max, “or two people with two different agendas?”

“That’s an excellent question,” he said. “I think it’s pretty clear that Clyde wants the ring. Even with the fire, we couldn’t miss the fact that they had rifled through the house before Clyde burned it.”

“Not sure if you know, detective,” said Max, ‘but Delilah Crows was goth, and I suspect that’s not her original name, just from something Bo Pecker said to us.”

“I appreciate your letting me know. It’s kind of hard to tell from her current appearance. I’ll have Sawyer check into her name change, and we’ll see if she had ever lived in Seattle. I’m willing to bet she had.”

“If she were the one trying to get me,” said Tucker, “and she’s dead, would that mean at least that part will stop?”

“Possibly,” he said, “I’m sorry, Tucker, I wish I could give you a definitive answer. I need to go; I just wanted to give you the update.”

So, our conversation ended there, which was just as well. We had more clothing to acquire and needed to return to the Minotaur by three.

Once we had replenished Tucker’s wardrobe, we headed home. I noticed him in the mirror sitting in the back, looking pensive. “Are you okay back there?”

“I’m just thinking about what Wade told us. Before this, if I ever wanted to have a normal life again, I really had no choice, but I want you guys to know, if the heat’s off me, and Clyde just wants the ring, I will still help with the plan for Tommy. He and I talked a lot before the night he died, and I learned that, while growing up, we both had a shit life. And then, as Tommy began to get his life together, this asshole kills him. It’s like you just can’t get a break without someone trying to take it from you. So, I want to help catch this guy. And I want to thank you for the break you’ve given me because I see that’s what it is, and if I have to fight someone to keep it, I will.”

I felt I had just experienced a glimpse of the Tucker that Wade spoke of. He had a lot of strength and determination within him, and I suppose he would have needed that to survive the abuse. In that moment, I knew he would mesh well with us, and I saw that my offer meant far more to him than I ever realized.

We reached the Minotaur with a few minutes to spare. “There’s Cousin Albert’s Camry,” I said. “I wondered if he would get time to accept his bed today.”

“Trouble’s your cousin?” asked Tucker.

“His brother Thomas told me he and Albert are my first cousins once removed.”

“Once removed,” he said. “Does that mean you were on-the-outs with the family, and eventually they forgave you, or what?”

I laughed and asked Max, “It kinda sounds like that, doesn’t it? Apparently, in our case, it means that we share great grandmothers or something.”

We entered the building and Henry Cole, the perennially naked owner, staffed the concierge desk.

“Good afternoon, Henry,” I said.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He noticed Tucker and left the desk to approach him, his dong flopping with every step. “I have yet to meet you, but I know you by that beautiful head of hair. I’m Henry Cole. Wade said we should call you Tucker.” He shook his hand. “I am so sorry to hear about your home.”

“I appreciate that, but I think I’ll be okay. I know I’m not a club member, so thank you for letting me stay with Wade.”

“Wade lived alone, so he could always have a guest. You can stay while he agrees, especially given your circumstance, and looking at you, I could never imagine him not agreeing. I can tell you exercise; those arms and meaty looking thighs of yours are a dead giveaway. Please, enjoy our gym, where I hope we will see just how big you really are.”

Tucker smiled. “I will enjoy making sure you do.”

“Excellent.” He turned to Max and me. “Gentlemen, Trouble tells me you’re both expecting a delivery. I will send them up when they arrive.”

Once in the elevator, Max noticed Tucker had a funny expression. “Are you blushing?”

He gave an awkward laugh. “You might be surprised at just how little I’m accustomed to getting that kind of attention. Even at Kinks, people would look and talk, but not like that.”

“Wait until your makeover tomorrow,” said Max. “We’ll have you positively eye-catching.”

“A makeover?”

“We’re all three getting a haircut, our beard trimmed and shaped for the party tomorrow night. We wouldn’t want you to go looking like Raggedy Andy.”

“Ugh…my hair’s not that red.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 15c

Waiting for the delivery, Albert had left his door open, and he hung about in our quarters until they arrived. The movers wore short shorts and no shirts. They had some fine physiques, easily as nice as many club members. One hunky guy, according to Albert, would return after work for dinner and provide some extra-special white-glove service off-the-clock, somewhere other than Albert’s new bed, of course, as Master Brice would get the privilege of the first fuck.

Wade had forgotten that Albert had the delivery and allocated the task of researching Delilah Crows to another officer. He gave us the rundown when he arrived that afternoon.

“Delilah Crows’ maiden name was Delilah Franques. She married Alistair Crows, divorced him, and kept the last name. Delilah went by Lilah Franques when she lived in Seattle, and she was Daniel Newberry’s gal pal. So, there’s our connection. Her phone records indicate that she called many employees of Alliance, which isn’t too surprising as she held the job of office manager. Autopsy records show she had smoke in her lungs, so, apparently, Clyde had left her to burn to death.

“Tucker, I get the impression that she wanted to harm you but not necessarily kill you. Somehow, she used Clyde to do her dirty work, and he killed her, probably because she knew about the ring. That seems to be the common denominator. We’ve managed to keep our knowledge of that quiet. So, if he wants the ring, he thinks only the two of you know it exists. This guy is more dangerous than I realized, and I’m having reservations about our plan. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“No one will take me from you if that’s what worries you,” he said to him. “I’m not Tommy. I’m not Chadwell, and I’m not Delilah. I grew up on the bad side of Baltimore. If you never learn to fight there, you won’t last. I look forward to us getting to know one another better because if you already knew me, you wouldn’t worry. I can take care of myself.” He stepped closer to Wade and gently held his face staring him in the eye. “Trust me.” He kissed him.

Wade nodded in agreement to trust him, so we would proceed as planned.

We loved our new bed frame, and we found climbing into bed that evening a pleasant change from all the previous nights of falling into it. Before we fooled around a bit, Max wanted to just hold one another and talk for a while. He found his favorite position, half on top of me, resting his head on my shoulder. I loved to rake my fingers through the golden fur on his back.

“I think I’m ready to talk to you about my conversation with Winter,” he said.

“I’m listening.”

“Remember when I said that I thought she wanted me to fuck her?”

“Did she proposition you?”

“Well…sort of. She said she wants to have my children.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 16a

As Max and I lay cozy in bed, I enjoyed the feel of his firm back muscles and the tactile sensation of digging my fingers into his golden fur. “So, Winter told you that she wants to have your children,” I said. “That sounds like a serious offer, and since you had to think about it today, I take it you hadn’t given her a flat no. Would you want children?”

“I’ve always thought it would be great to have children, but I think she wants quite a few.”

“What did she say?”

“She wants to leave how many open-ended and stop when it feels right. She said if I wanted to know her qualifications, to speak with Grey. Apparently, her sister died, his father rejected him, and Grey has lived with her since he was 4 years old. That Grey’s an amazing young man is largely due to her influence and the environment in which she raised him.

“Also, she said that, since she no longer has a last name, the children would bear mine, that we could name them together, and that I could have as much or as little involvement in their lives as I wanted. I must admit, if I picked someone to have my children, I would pick her. She’s intelligent, kind, openminded, accepting, and gorgeous.”

“Not to mention financially sound,” I added.

“That too,” he said, “I could only imagine how beautiful our children would be.”

“I have no doubt that she thinks the same things of you,” I said. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I want you to have some input. As far as I’m concerned, we’re together, and that’s how it’s going to stay. So, how would you factor into this? Would you be Daddy Millstone? Would you want to be Daddy Millstone?”

“There’s no doubt about it, your agreement would change your life, and therefore, it would change mine. So, I understand why you’re asking, and while that’s thoughtful if you have every intention of our remaining together, I would be happy no matter how the rest turns out. So, make this about you; if you want to take Winter’s offer, then do it.”

“Would you ever like to have a child?”

“I never used to,” I said, “but I would like a couple of sons. I would give them the benefit of having one another (as an only child, that’s something I never had), a healthier communal environment (also something I never had), a better education (that’s another), and ensure they got all the things that really matter, but I think life handed me a different set of cards to play.”

“I will have your babies,” he said. “And if we have a problem conceiving, then we would just have to keep trying, day and night.” Just the thought of breeding my beautiful Golden Bear day and night excited me. So, when he hugged and kissed me, it hadn’t taken long for me to grow erect, leaking a lot of precum, which Max rubbed around the head of my cock. “I need you.”

I pressed my forehead to his. “And I will never deny you your needs.”

In the indirect light from a nearby streetlamp, I kissed Max, and he positioned himself face down upon the bed, my full weight upon him, blanketing his body. When I lifted myself to enter him, a series of pushing and pulling worked my precum slickened cock deep inside him, seeking our mutual pleasure. In groans and moans, he thanked me, and arching his spine, he urged me to plunder further, filling him, until once again I lay atop his back. I ran my hands beneath his shoulders and gripped them from the front, grinding my pelvis into his granite-like ass. I kissed his neck and whispered into his ear, “Is that better, Honey Bear?”

Cupping my head in his hand, he dug his fingers into my hair, pressing me to him and taking uneven, staccato breaths, he nodded saying, “Yes.” He turned his head, kissed me, and gave me the highest compliment that any man could ever hope to receive about his lovemaking. “I love having you inside me. You are an unimaginable experience; there is nothing and no one else like you.”

Hearing that, the consequence of living a lifetime of inadequacy brought upon by excess, began fading and faltering to my mind’s furthest recesses, replaced for the first time by a sense of normalcy. My father told me that I judged my self-described “biggest and most obvious flaw” far too harshly and prematurely. He said that one day it would enhance someone’s love for me, not act as the prime cause or a problem to overlook.

In a push-up position, I used my toes on Max’s heels to gain leverage and proceeded to long-stroke Max the way he enjoyed it most. His breath grew more erratic as he writhed and groaned and grunted beneath me as I drove him inexorably toward squeezing my cock with every shot of every load that he buried beneath him. I fucked him and fucked him and fucked him some more until, after his third cum, we had both tired ourselves too much to continue, so I gave him my second and final load of the evening and collapsed atop him. Our sweat-soaked bodies too exhausted to move, we fell asleep. During the night, we ended up in spoon fashion, and I remained deep inside him until we awoke the next morning at five with the sound of the alarm.


“It smells like you had fun last night,” said Trouble, commenting as the five of us entered our quarters for breakfast.

After our workout, we invited Wade, Trouble, and Tucker for breakfast and told them they shouldn’t bother dressing after our shower. We hadn’t had the chance to clean up from the previous evening and made only a cursory attempt before meeting the fellas for our morning workout, so the heady scent of sweat and sex lingered.

“We had a good time,” said Max. “I hope it’s not offensive.” Max and I began making breakfast while our guests seated themselves at the table.

“It smells like men,” said Wade, “and that’s never offensive to me.”

“Hey Trouble,” I said, “how was the extra-special white-glove service last night?”

“I liked Kurt, he had good table manners, and he knew how to have a conversation, but he had no stamina to accompany that gorgeous body and nice cock he had.”

“Was he a two-pump chump?” asked Tucker.

“Oh no, not that bad, we went for about twenty minutes, and he could have held off for longer if he hadn’t exhausted himself physically.”

“Have you ever had anyone who could keep up with you?” asked Max.

“A few,” he said, “one of them’s right there.” He pointed to Wade, who gave a little smile.

“Men should swim more,” he said. “So, when shall we meet this afternoon?”

“Millstone, Tucker, and I have plans for ten o’clock at the barbershop that Trouble recommended,” said Max, “and we have an appointment to pick up our suits from the tailor at noon, but we’re open after that.”

“The preparations for the party happened yesterday afternoon,” said Wade, “catering will arrive at 4:30 today. Guests are to begin arriving between 6 and 7 o’clock.”

“The invitation encourages people to come in cabs to minimize parking issues,” said Max, “and Winter asked me to be there at 5:30.”

“That settles it then,” said Wade. “We’ll swap vehicles one more time. Trouble and I will coordinate the electronics, and we’ll meet at the mansion at 5:30.” He turned to Albert. “Do you have your tux ready?”

“It’s always ready,” he said.

“How many of us will there be?” Tucker asked Wade.

“It’s just the four of us,” he said. “I couldn’t load the place up with officers; it wouldn’t look like an environment to take the chance on getting the ring from you. We wouldn’t want to scare this guy off. Max and Millstone received an invitation. You already had one because you worked on the mansion for Alliance. Winter hand-delivered mine yesterday, and Trouble will go as my plus one. She said we could expect about 200 guests or so.”

Max and I brought the food to the table, and I asked Tucker, “Are you worried?”

“No. I just want to get it over with and move on with my life.”

“Hey, Max,” said Trouble, “when you get to the barbershop, tell Johann that I want another long ride on his riesenschwanz.”

“Riesenschwanz…is that some kind of German motorcycle?” asked Max.

“It’s a sort of giant German crotch rocket, yeah.”

“Those things are dangerous, Al,” said Max.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Albert couldn’t help but smile, “but please tell him that anyway.”

During the youth of my previous life in New York, my father would take me to the barbershop on 39th Street for what he called a 1952 haircut. That shop no longer exists as the old man retired, but my father, who eschewed the growing trend of men visiting a hair salon, told me that men go to a barbershop. Sure, it’s a stereotypical response from a man set in his ways, but a man’s visit to a barbershop has a similarity to a woman going to the beauty salon. Contrary to popular belief, men like to get pampered as much as women do. They just have different ideas about what that means. It seems that for many men today being pampered is having a great haircut fast and with little expense. Without realizing it, they’ve lost something by such meager expectations.

Women may spend more time at a beauty salon, depending on what they want done and how far they want the pampering to go, but there’s something about a visit to a good barbershop. Walking in without an appointment, you wait your turn reading the latest newspaper or some twenty-year-old Reader’s Digest. You step up to sit in that fancy barber chair, you tell him what you specifically want, and he does just that. In our modern world, with the invention of safety razors with a dozen blades, we could easily shave at home, but there’s something pampering about feeling that hot towel in preparation for the closest shave you’ll ever experience with a single-bladed straight razor in the hands of a professional. For a man to rely on his barber to keep him looking attractive represents a time-honored tradition as barbershops have existed, in one form or another, for thousands of years.

Along with numerous beauty parlors, hair salons, and quick cuts, the city had 18 barbershops, and naturally, as we lived in Franklin, the one suggested by Albert functioned differently from the one of my youth, but it had many similarities. We found The Strop Tonsorium a block from The Village on Peppercorn Drive in an area called Leatherton, home to most of the leather community. Its proximity to the tailor made a welcome convenience.

Two shoeshine stands stood beneath the covered entryway, flanking the plate glass window out front, manned by shirtless young bootblacks, with cropped hair, jeans, and a harness, shining the boots of a couple of handsome leather men reading the paper. Beside the door hung a non-traditional barber’s pole in black and white, housed in chrome with a mirror-like finish.

The interior looked as one might expect of a barbershop, except classy. They made the ebony stained flooring and back bar for each station of reclaimed mahogany, and all other aspects of the decor they kept in black, white, and polished chrome, everything from the black ceiling to the black and white walls stenciled in an octagonal pattern to the black leather and polished chrome traditional barber’s chairs.

No one else waited when we walked in, and two of the three shirtless and muscular barbers there were busy. They had plaques at their stations, each read Johann, Mitch, Tony, and Andre, who, with his absence, presumably had the day off. After their names were the letters M.B. for Master Barber. The instant we walked through the door, Johann, a handsome thirty-year-old with medium-toned brown hair and enormous hairless pecs, said in his German accent, “Dibs on the red, and I’m almost done here.”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Mitch, the barber with the empty chair. He had the sexiest Apollo’s belt I had ever seen. It dipped from the sides of his lower abdomen down into a pair of low waisted jeans that showed he wore nothing beneath. “What can we do for you?”

“We’ve never been here before,” said Max, “so we’re curious about the place, and Albert Sawyer asked me to tell Johann that he would like another long ride on your riesenschwanz.”

“Oh, he’s missing me, ja?” asked Johann, who smiled to himself. “I would like that. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Well,” said Mitch, “since this is your first time, I probably should tell you, when it comes to hair here, we cut it, trim it, shave it, or rip it out by the roots through various means, both fast and slow, whichever you or your master prefers (if you have one). From the crown of your head to the knuckles of your toes, if it has to do with hair, we accommodate every need. We also have a manicurist for anyone who needs it, especially those masters who enjoy a bit of fist play. Most of those things are through that door to the back. So, what might we do for you three gentlemen?”

As Max explained our situation, Johann finished with the man in his chair, dusted him off, and removed the all-enveloping cape. He paid his barber with his cellphone, thanked him, and left. After prepping his station for another customer, he got Tucker’s attention, tapped his chair, and Tucker took him up on it. Max sat in Mitch’s chair, and I took a nearby seat next to a table stacked with copies of vintage Christopher Street and Drummer Magazines hardbound in sets of ten, each page laminated and protected with care for the ages to come.

Max required less cutting than Tucker or me, but Tucker needed the most work as he tended not to keep himself clipped or shaved very often. I had tried, at least, but I had only received one non-professional haircut in the last nine weeks.

“You are the sort of client that I enjoy most,” said Johann with his Germanic accent. “For some time, you’ve done little to yourself. May I take some before and after shots? If you give me your number, I will text them.”

“I think you just want my phone number,” said Tucker.

“Of this, I am guilty.”

Tucker smiled and laughed to himself. “You can keep the photos, but my number is….” And he gave him his number.

That satisfied Johann, who took a few headshots. “So, you attend the Winter housewarming, and you dress nice this evening, yes?”

“Not a tuxedo. Something a bit less formal and cooler, or so he told me. It’s made by… What’s that tailor’s name again?”

“Wilson,” said Max. “Taylor the tailor.”

“Ah!” said Johann. “In that case, we go with stylish, cool, but more devil-may-care. I clean you up, make it easy for you to maintain, and you leave looking like a million dollars, ja? I mean, yes?”

“What do you think, Max?” Tucker asked.

“Sounds perfect,” said Max. “Go for it.”

“Alright,” he said, “let’s do this.” Once Johann wet his hair, he got started.

Tony had finished with his client, and after he got paid and reset his station, I sat in his chair. He asked me what I wanted, I told him somewhere between dapper and devil-may-care.

Sitting there, as the chair occasionally swiveled while Tony worked his magic, I could see Tucker at the next station. From our first meeting, I would never have guessed that I would find myself in any circumstance like the one I had with him. And my conversation with Max the previous evening made me realize what was happening.

Tucker was 28 years old, but he seemed younger, so I was twelve years older than him according to my original birthdate, but as a child, I could ejaculate semen at the age of ten, so physiologically speaking—and as weird as it sounded even to me, I was old enough to be his father. Obviously, I wasn’t his father, but I felt some kind of fatherly connection to him, and I wondered if his avuncular lawyer had sensed that too, but just couldn’t allow himself to get that close, settling to act as a slightly more distant uncle-like figure instead. In two aspects, I hadn’t thought it much of a problem since Tucker needed a mentor, and he needed people in his life that cared. I would willingly do that, but I would have to remind myself daily that he was not my son until he fit into my life where he belonged, especially since he had wanted to play with Max and me. Otherwise, that could complicate matters.

Mitch had finished with Max, and he looked only slightly neater than the day I met him in the hospital, at the beginning of my stay there. His blonde hair, swept forward and off to the side a bit, suited him perfectly, and recalling that day, I think I loved him from the moment I saw him. I knew I was romanticizing it, but I allowed myself to indulge in it anyway. In every way, he was so beautiful to me.

Tony finished with me a few minutes before Johann finished Tucker. Tony did a great job with mine, but the difference seemed minor compared to the incredible change in Tucker. Johann had given him a slickened side-part, with a bit of hair over his forehead in a sexy, carefree fashion. It had a gradual fade into a well-shaped clipped beard. When he turned Tucker to face the mirror so he could finally see himself, he just stared in disbelief. Johann took a few headshots, and Tucker gave him a broad smile.

“You are ready for a red carpet in Hollywood, I think, ja?” asked Johann.

Tucker nodded. “Ja.”

When Tucker stood from the chair, I could tell he felt confident in his appearance, standing just a little taller and straighter. He followed his first impulse and put his arm around Johann, hugging him a little.

Max paid for their haircuts, along with some styling gel Johann recommended for Tucker. But when I pulled my credit card out to pay for mine with Tony, the first thing he said was, “I noticed you’ve had some work done.” And rather than thinking of a quick comeback, my mind went blank, so, inside, I must have panicked.

No one else had ever said anything, but that someone would was inevitable. Few people would notice since I was working on the minor scars, and they looked good. However, when someone cuts my hair, they would get close enough to notice them. As innocent as the question might seem, it felt a tad unprofessional for Tony to even mention them, but he said it, the others heard, including Tucker, and I drew a blank as to what to say.

Max, my savior, stepped up. “Yeah, that’s a sensitive topic,” he said. “He doesn’t like to talk about his heroism during the war.”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Tony, giving me the receipt to sign.

Max put his arm around me. “Yeah, Millstone’s my hero.”

“Millstone,” said Mitch, pondering the name. “Of Millstone & Roche mentioned in the gossip column? I thought I recognized your name.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 16b

At that point, I stood on firmer ground. “Yes, that’s us.” And that’s when I noticed all eyes staring at my crotch.

“Is the gossip true?” asked Tony.

I figured, “what the hell…” So, I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and whipped it out.

It elicited a couple of the typical reactions, usually “holy shit,” some phrase that includes the word “horse,” and “May I jam that down my throat?” those sorts of things. Before we left, they said they hoped we would return to maintain our hair with their establishment, and I rather liked the place, so we most likely would. Tucker told them he would return to get his body waxed. He never had much body hair anyway, and he apparently preferred to just eliminate what little he had.

I had no idea where Max had gotten that heroistic hogwash about me in a war. In my previous life, they never sent me to war. When we left the barbershop, Max whispered one word to me, which explained everything, and I felt like a negligent fool. He said, “Essay.” I kept meaning to read that essay given to me by Thomas Sawyer, but I never got around to it. Apparently, within it, it gave me an excuse for the scars should anyone notice them, and like an idiot, I hadn’t read it.

“I should have paid for my own haircut,” said Tucker.

“No, you shouldn’t,” I said. “You’re helping the police catch a killer, and they’ll reimburse us for necessities, including your haircut and suit.”

We had an early lunch at Lumberjack’s, but unlike the previous day, we ate more modest portions as we had the event that evening, and when noon came around, we entered the tailor shop.

“Good day, gentlemen,” he said. Taylor the tailor wore navy blue pants with a pinstripe vest, and his jacket hung on the rack behind the counter. He had everything ready. “I do hope you understand the difficulty I had with crafting Mr. Malor’s suit in such a short time. I would like you to know that my creations are sort of like my children in a way. I put all that I have into everything that I make, so it’s important to me that they go to a good home. And…,”—he studied Tucker’s new appearance—“knowing what I have for you and looking at you now, I see that it’s in good hands. You will love what I have made you, you will look splendid, and I wish you every happiness with it.”

Each suit came fully complete and ready to wear, including underwear, socks, shoes, and every necessity.

“Winter said she would pay for our suits, but how much do we owe you for Mr. Malor’s here?” I asked.

“Nothing. Winter paid for all three,” he said.

“But she wasn’t supposed to pay for all three,” I said. “What was the total for the three of them?”

“The total came to $18,230 and some odd change.”

Max and I just stood there with our mouths agape.

“You’re kidding!” said Tucker. “For three suits?”

“They’re unique to you,” said Taylor, “especially yours, Mr. Malor. You told me you wouldn’t feel comfortable in a tuxedo because they look stuffy. I guarantee you will love what I’ve made for you; it’s probably the coolest, sexiest suit I’ve ever created. But in many respects, they’re all handcrafted works of art, made from the finest materials that money can buy, like silkened cashmere, alpaca, spandex, full-grain deer leather, Kevlar, and many other materials.”

“Kevlar?” I asked.

“Yes, I’ve had requests for it, so I keep it in stock. I understood from the detective that Mr. Malor required a suit that could accommodate a bulletproof vest beneath it. Well, no need for that, when I could just make him a bulletproof vest for the suit. Besides, the accommodation of the extraneous vest beneath would have a negative effect on my design.”

“You’re brilliant,” said Tucker.

“Thank you!” said Taylor.

“The suits we ordered from the display window won’t have that sort of price tag, will they?” Max asked.

“Oh, no. Those are everyday suits made of a comfortable Merino wool blend, but they’re nowhere near the same class as these. Those will cost no more than $1000 each, and I have those made for me by my highly skilled apprentices. The suits you take home today, I have designed and crafted myself, just for you, although I had some assistance with yours, Mr. Malor, due to the time constraints. And I apologize for not having a preliminary fitting, but we had so little time, but I believe, however, you will enjoy yours most of all.”

“If you would,” he told him, “I would like it if you called me Tucker. I think I’ve made up my mind to change my name. I just need to find a last name to go with it.”

“Very well, Tucker,” he said. “Your appearance makes me think you have Scottish ancestry. There are some wonderful Scottish names you could choose from, like Tucker MacCallan, Tucker Flanagan, or perhaps Tucker Bannerman.”

“Tucker Bannerman has a nice sound to it,” said Max.

“I’ll have to think about it,” said Tucker.

Taylor laid his hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “Well, whatever you decide,” he said, “let it be a name that speaks to you, that helps you present yourself to the world.”

“I will remember that.”

When we returned to the Minotaur, we had a couple of hours before we needed to get ready. So, once we set our bags onto the table, Max undressed, and he proceeded to undress me. “You need to cum a few times before this evening,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to have a problem tonight.”

“Should I get undressed too?” Tucker asked.

“Not if you’d rather play with your clothes on,” said Max.

I gazed over at Tucker, shucking his pants. “Playtime is a separate thing from work time, right? Because if you demonstrate that you can’t keep the two things separated, this time will be the last time. Do you understand?”

“I get it,” he said. “What we do, I take seriously. I won’t fuck this up.”

We had sufficient light from the windows to see, as the three of us daisy-chained on the bed. I sucked Max, Tucker sucked me, and Max planted his face on the bulbous end of Tucker’s uncut appendage, jacking him with both hands. Due to my size and the angle of my erection, it felt a little awkward as we couldn’t form anything resembling a circle. Tucker enjoyed sucking me, and it felt good, but I focused on giving my Golden Bear as much pleasure as my limited amount of practice could provide. I liked making him squirm, making him lose himself in the sensation of my tongue and lips, caressing the soft skin on the barrel of his cum gun. And despite all my previous expectations, tasting Max was like imbibing liquid joy.

Unless someone had dehumanized sex or had degraded into pathological self-absorption, it’s hard not to make an attachment of some kind with the man you’ve pleasured and cum you’ve ingested. I wouldn’t know if that’s psychological, biological, or both, but pleasuring Max caused a far greater attachment to him than when he pleasured me. And it came from more than just the erotic sensation of the spongy end of his cock jamming down my throat or the satisfaction of my reward for a job well cum; it came from a bond built on trust, and I felt that with Max. And while playing with our close friends was fun, it wasn’t necessary to sustain us.

When Max came, he began to grunt, thrusting his hips. I held it in my mouth and fed Tucker, who came, feeding Max, who in turn shared it with me.

“Sucking you, Tucker,” said Max, “is like mouthing the bottom of a Mason jar. I liked it, though.”

Tucker laughed. “Okay, that’s a new one.” He eyed my erection. “Looks like Millstone requires more effort.”

“It had me in a bad angle,” I said. “It wouldn’t take much if I sit up.”

They propped pillows behind me at the head of the bed, and they took turns blowing me. In half an hour or so, I had fed them both. Afterward, we relaxed on the bed. I lay on my back between them, my arms around them as they snuggled against me.

I patted Tucker on the ass. “Have you had a good time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and I look forward to more times like this.”

“Out of curiosity,” said Max, “have you any limits? Things you won’t do.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m picky about who goes into my ass, and even though I’m bi, I won’t have sex with a woman again. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“What do you mean,” asked Max.

“A couple in their late twenties ran my group home in Baltimore, Declan and Caroline O’Neill. When I turned twelve, Declan, who instigated the whole thing, started bringing me into their bedroom, and he made me fuck his wife nearly every night, sometimes two or three times. I was smaller than I am now, but I had a big dick back then; that’s one of the reasons she wanted me, but also because Declan and I both had auburn hair.

“At first, I just found it enjoyable as a new experience, but I soon realized that I had no choice in the matter as Declan wouldn’t let me say no, and at that age, it never took much to get an erection even when I didn’t want one. They acted like I should be grateful. That went on for about four years. He apparently couldn’t have children, and she wanted some of her own. That’s why my having red hair was important; they could pass my children off as his. She really liked having sex with me, so even during her pregnancies, they made me do it. I put a stop to it when I got her pregnant with our third baby; I finally got brave and desperate enough to go to the police, so they were arrested and put in jail for a long time. My uncle lawyer said he would make certain my daughter and two sons would be adopted together by a good family, and he told me that they were. My sons are Liam, who’s 16, and Sean, who’s 15, but my daughter Fiona is 13, I think.”

“Do you know who adopted them?” Max asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me for certain,” he said, “because he suggested it would be best if I didn’t know, but I suspect that he and his wife adopted them, and that’s another reason he tends to keep up with me. I’m going to call him on Sunday to tell him how things are going.”

When the time came for us to get ready, we carefully showered without wetting our hair and returned to our quarters to dress.

Each of our suits from Taylor the tailor, had an entire ensemble down to the underwear, or in Max’s case, a lack thereof. Apparently, due to the color and elements of its construction, his pants were designed to be worn without. Taylor intended for Max to wear no shirt, just the white alpaca bolero jacket with metallic gold thread for the damask pattern, leaving in view enormous amounts of his pale, golden-fur-covered body. It wouldn’t cover much of his pecs or any of his abdominals or lower back. His white pants, which fit like tights, were an alpaca and spandex blend. It seemed strange, but because Max wore it, he made it look incredibly sexy. As Winter’s escort, however, it needed to merely coordinate with her dress.

Taylor made my tux of a black silkened cashmere with a silk lining. I thought he would go all gothic, but it looked like a typical, modern vested tuxedo, which was nice, so I could wear it at other functions.

Taylor had assessed Tucker correctly when he created his masterpiece for him. He was not accustomed to wearing fancy clothing like a tuxedo, and he said he would feel uncomfortable and out of place in it, even if he would have looked extraordinarily handsome while wearing one. His uncomfortableness would detract from his experience of them, and Taylor would never want that. He strives for his customers to feel good about his creations. Tucker’s suit, for as strange as Max’s seemed, had the most unique appearance. It came with an optional black shirt to wear under it, but he decided to go without. It started with black leather boots with a hidden knife sheath in both, a fully lined pair of distressed black leather pants made to fit a little snug, and he made them with a gusset to give him ample room to accommodate his hefty appendage. His double-breasted vest, trimmed in distressed black leather, Taylor had made of forest green alpaca damask backed by Kevlar and lined in silk. His sleeveless coat of distressed black leather, intended to be worn open, finished off the look showing off his nice shoulders and big arms. He looked amazing, and he loved it, just as Taylor said he would.

“Okay,” said Max. “Looking at this now, I am not wearing this to the mansion. If I tried that, guaranteed, I’ll have something from the cab on these snowy white pants before I get there, and that’s not happening. Why couldn’t she just ask me to escort her naked? That would have been so much easier, not to mention cheaper.”

We had opened the boxes, bags, and suit covers to gather things together. Tucker watched me put on my sock garters and copied what I did. My father, who had a lot of style, showed me how to dress well, and he taught me everything I know about men’s clothing. I used to think that sock garters looked silly, and I refused to wear them when he got them, but he told me that I could wear them like a man and be comfortable, or I could leave them off and feel the need to pull on my socks all day like a 12-year-old during gym class from the 1970s. Needless to say, half a day of wearing them had me sold.

Max and I watched Tucker don the sock garters, and I sometimes sensed he was so much younger than his years. At 28, and already the father of three teenagers, it seemed he had not experienced as much of life as he often pretended or as much as I expected, perhaps. Still, we knew so little about him. Like Wade, I hadn’t wanted to use him as bait. It seemed like a good idea before we knew him at all, or when he really had no choice, but after the death of the Crows woman…

“You don’t have to do this,” I said to him. “If you’re having any second thoughts, maybe you should listen to them.”

“Millstone’s right,” said Max. “We could find some other way.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 16c

He stood from the bench built into the footboard of the bed where we were dressing. “I appreciate that my welfare concerns you enough to make that offer. But look, I wouldn’t want you to hold the impression that I’m just some sacrificial lamb waiting for this guy to slaughter me just so you could catch him. He and Delilah victimized me, but I am not a victim. It’s hard to stop someone when you don’t know their identity, and they’ve put you on the defensive elsewhere, like with the police. I have a side of me that you’ve not met, and few people will, because it’s not a side that I like, but he’s killed people, and he burned everything I owned. I won’t let him get away with that. Just let me do this, so I can focus on my new relationship with Wade and working for you guys. I think you’ll find that I could help you more than you realize.

“We want him alive, ya know,” said Max.

“I wouldn’t kill him unless he makes me,” he said, “I have a right to defend myself, but I’m not a killer. Tonight, I’m just a hunter.”

“You think it’s Neuhouser, don’t you?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “If he’s there, I’ll know when I see him again.”

When the time came for us to leave, we hired a taxi to take us there. Max surprised me when he decided to go naked to the mansion, saying he hadn’t wanted to keep up with an extra set of clothing. He carefully placed what he would wear into one of the handled paper bags in which we brought home my new shirts, and we waited in the parking lot for the cab to arrive.

Max pushed at my chest through the jacket to feel for my pistol, which I was wearing. He smiled a little. “Just checking. So, how do your suits fit?”

“Okay,” said Tucker in resignation, “the fit’s worth letting him measure my junk.”

“It’s the best I’ve had,” I said. “I’m looking forward to the other suits we ordered.”

“I look forward to those too,” said Max, “but I like being naked outside; it feels so freeing. You two should try this.”

“If I ever did that,” I said, “photos of my cock would be all over the internet within 48 hours.”

“Same here,” said Tucker. “But…I’ve been thinking, Millstone, since Bare as You Dare Day is coming up. I would join in if you would.”

“Are you challenging me?” I asked.

“Yeah, why not? Let’s see which of us has the guts to go through with it. So, I challenge you to stay naked for that 24 hours, join in the day’s events, and generally have a good time. They might even let you enter the three-legged-race all by yourself.”

Max laughed.

“Very funny,” I said and squinted at him in thought. “Hmm. Alright, I’ll take that challenge, and the first one to allow anybody to make us feel so uncomfortable that we quit by either avoiding the public or put on any clothes, loses.”

“Deal.” And we shook hands on it.

When the black London cab that we had ordered arrived, Glenn was our driver. “Hi guys,” he said.

I noticed the cheerful and bouncy attitude he presented before with the sisters seemed more subdued, and I think Max detected the difference too. “Hi Glenn,” I said as we climbed in. “You’re at work early, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Hackney Cabs pulled in several of us two hours early. They’re expecting a lot of people to need cabs tonight. Dispatch texted me that you needed a ride to the Thornbrier Mansion. Will you go naked to the party, Mr. Roche?” He pulled us out into traffic.

“No, I have my clothes with me,” he said. “I’ve not had a chance to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Tommy sounded like a good guy.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” he said. “I can’t go to the party, but I will attend the memorial for Tommy afterward.”

At the mansion, the catering truck had arrived, and many people were working out the last-minute preparations. They had filled the dining room and the ballroom with tables for the roughly 200 guests that would arrive that evening. Grey, Albert, and Wade stood inside near the front door when we arrived. They were all wearing tuxedos and looked quite handsome. The instant Wade and Tucker saw one another, they both smiled. I could tell they wanted to greet one another with a kiss, but they had to show some prudence in public until after the killer was caught.

“Good to see you,” said Grey. “Max, Auntie Winter is upstairs. She wishes to speak with you and needs your assistance. She’s on the first upper floor, right hallway, first bedroom to the left.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Max. He hugged Tucker, wished him luck, and then he kissed me. “You be careful too.”

“You too,” I said, and he knew why I said it.

Once Max left and Grey went to speak to the caterer, Wade and Albert took us to a secluded corner of the mansion to give us the plan. “I need you to wear this,” said Wade. He attached a small black disk containing a transmitter and a microphone to the back of the lapel on Tucker’s jacket. “We’ve tested this; it works from one floor to another, but not two floors. If you’re too far away, we can’t hear you.”

“Got it,” said Tucker.

Wade gave me an earpiece. “This receiver is pretty small, so try not to lose it inside your ear. I want you to always keep Tucker in your sights, and since the three of us doing that would look suspicious, Albert and I will keep an eye on the crowd. Here’s a micro-transmitter to keep in a pocket. You touch this to speak into it, and we’ll hear you. If any of us sees anything, we let the others know. Tucker, I would give you a receiver, but something in your ear looks more conspicuous than the transmitter, and you need to look natural. Let us know if you need to go upstairs to the bathroom or anything, okay?”

“Right,” he said.

“And lastly,” said Wade, who pulled out the ring, “you wear this. Give me your hand.”

“But it’s priceless,” said Tucker. “What if I knock it against something and lose the stone?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “the inspector rightly forbade me to use the original; this is just a 60-dollar knockoff from a local jeweler.”

Tucker jutted his hand out, so Wade could put it on him, and when he did, he took his time, sliding it on slowly as he smiled at him.

“What are you doing?” asked Tucker.

“Just practicing,” he said.

Tucker smirked, looked to see if anyone else had come into the room, and seeing that we were alone, he kissed Wade. “And don’t worry about me,” he said.

“I remember our little discussion from last night,” he said and pointed at him. “Don’t kill him, okay?”

“What is this?” he asked. “Everyone thinks I’m going to kill the guy. I have my priorities straight, but that’s not to say that I won’t hurt him, given a chance.”

“No one would begrudge you a bit of smackdown,” said Albert, “but know when to stop. That’s all we ask.”

Since the exterior walls had deep-set windows and the landscape’s mature trees blocked a lot of the sun, the interior of the mansion required a lot of artificial lighting. Fortunately, it created sufficient ambient light to make keeping watch relatively easy.

Before guests arrived, Tucker and I took a small tour of the place to see where catering had taken up their temporary residence. When we looked in on the living area, where the chimney hook would find a new home inside its giant fireplace, I noticed the restorers had finished the painting that hung over the mantlepiece.

“Oh my god!” said Tucker pointing at the painting. “That’s where I saw it. I thought it looked familiar. I remember now, I helped take down this painting.”

The painting depicted Lady Thornbrier, somewhere in her early 30s, perhaps sitting in the room in which we stood, posed on a chintz-covered armchair, wearing a jeweled gown, a gaudy necklace, and a diamond tiara. However, in plain sight, on the finger of her right hand that rested on the chair arm, she wore the engagement ring with the red diamond. I had to admit, she made a stout looking figure who could have killed Leopold’s lover with a fireplace poker.

Guests, dressed in their fancy finery, arrived in groups, and Albert said that a line of cabs outside waited to drop everyone off at the door, making an orderly loop back out the front gate. Rapidly, the oversized foyer teemed with goths dressed in various gothic-themed formal wear, an array of members of the LGBT community, including a leatherman wearing a rather attractive leather tuxedo, and no one acted as though the two nudists had woefully underdressed for the occasion, so I saw no problem with Tucker’s less than formal attire. Among the guests, a television crew of two people arrived, as well as Mr. Santiago, The Naked Reporter. Fortunately, he busied himself with his job on the social scene, and he left us alone, but if tonight went well, I would owe him an exclusive interview, a small price to pay, really.

Tucker tried to stay out of the thick of the crowd, which began spilling over into other rooms, and he remained within my sight. A few people approached him from Alliance, asking him about his arrest. Of course, they never arrested him, and he set them right about that.

“Hey, Millstone,” said a voice behind me.

I turned to find Bo Pecker standing there in a tuxedo, and seeing him put a smile on my face, but I tried not to get distracted from watching Tucker, so I repositioned myself to keep him within view.

“Hey, Bo! Good to see you,” I said. “Aren’t you handsome this evening?”

“Thanks,” he said, and my compliment caused him to smile a little. “So, how’s the investigation?”

“Officially,” I said, “I’m not supposed to say anything, but unofficially, I think it’s played out. I think your former office manager had something against James Malor, and she killed Tommy and Douglas both, trying to pin the murders on him. Then, in some last-ditch effort to get back at him, she burned his home, and either got caught in the fire, or she doused herself and set the whole thing alight.”

“What a horrible thing to do,” he said. “And I bought her lunch every day!”

“That’s because you’re such a nice guy.”

 

[RHHorst]

Chapter 16d

I hadn’t seen Neuhouser arrive, but I saw Tucker eyeing him when he stood nearby, and I couldn’t tell whether Tucker still considered him a threat or not. Suddenly, Bo saw someone he needed to speak with and excused himself; but since I needed to focus on Tucker anyway, I hadn’t complained. Unfortunately, a stream of people wanted to meet me because of the gossip column, and it grew more difficult to separate everything that I was hearing. I had my right ear picking up Tucker’s conversation with someone about his few nights in the slammer (as far as they knew), I had my left ear engaged in the conversation with whoever next wanted to see my cock (I told them all to join in The Bare as You Dare Day events), and then I had to filter out the incessant drone of the background noise. The whole thing was giving me a headache.

Guests stopped arriving at about 6:45, and at 7:00 p.m. on the dot, Winter emerged at the top of the stairs with Max at her side. Her dress positively glittered with a pattern of gold teardrops upon its white background. She wore a gold tiara and a simple gold chain from which hung a single diamond teardrop. She looked like a queen, and between Max’s muscular physique, clothing, and golden fur, my Honey Bear made great arm candy.

I stared at him for a moment and thought, “Damn, he is so handsome.” I couldn’t believe I had the privilege of having him in my arms every night, his love in my life, and his permission to pound his bubble on the regular, as Tucker would say. I saw his eyes find me in the crowd, and I smiled at him. However, I couldn’t allow him to distract me too much.

When enough people caught sight of them, everyone went quiet, and the crowd shifted away from the staircase, so they could see. And when that happened, I lost Tucker in the crowd. I pulled out my micro-transmitter, gripped it in my fist, and whispered into it while covering my mouth like I would cough.

“I lost Tucker when the crowd moved,” I said.

“I can’t see him either,” said Wade.

“Neither can I,” said Albert.

“Shit,” I heard Wade say.

Once on the landing, Winter spoke and thanked everyone for coming, making the usual hostess oration. She then spoke of the story of the chimney hook and its importance and tradition. Apparently, the lead worker who helped rebuild and restore the fireplaces and chimneys had the honor of hanging the hook inside the living room’s fireplace, finalizing the completion of the mansion’s structure, after which the caterers would serve dinner.

As for Tucker, our hands were tied. We couldn’t work our way through the crowd to find him, that would look suspicious, and his microphone remained silent except for the faint sound of Winter’s oration. When she finished, she and Max descended to the first floor, and everyone turned to enter the living area. It would be a little tight in there, but with no furniture to get in the way, they would fit. As the crowd huddled together to make their way, I began to hear a popping sound through my earpiece, a series of three fast pops, three slow pops, and three fast pops repeated over and over. We were hearing SOS in Morse code. I tried to squeeze into the crowd to make a search, but I couldn’t find him.

The code tapped into our earpieces made hearing one another difficult, but then the code stopped, at which point we heard two voices. One was somewhat indistinct, but I heard Tucker’s clearly.

I met up with Albert and Wade, who said no one could go upstairs, so they must be on the ground floor somewhere, and decided that he and Albert should split up to search.

“What do you want from me?” we heard Tucker ask, then came a reply that I could hardly make out.

“You brought me up here for that?” asked Tucker.

They’d gone up the secret passage. Wade came around the corner from the opposite end of the room and bounded up the staircase, telling Albert, “Stay here and keep everyone calm.” I ran to the wood paneling of the staircase’s skirting and searched for the lever. I could have run up the staircase too, but I figured it would be better if we entered the room at different locations.

“You don’t need that gun,” said Tucker’s voice, “you can have the ring.”

I found the lever, and in my ear, I heard a shot fired and a bit of scuffling. I tripped up the uneven stone staircase in the darkness. I pulled my weapon from the holster, and in my ear, I heard a loud thud, some yelling, and the screams of a man. By the time I reached the room, Wade found the room too from its main door. With a hand on his abdomen, Tucker stood over a man I never expected to see, screaming in pain, lying face down onto the floor. It was Bo Pecker. I pulled the earpiece from my ear.

“What the fuck!” said Wade, who rushed to Tucker. “Are you shot?”

The front of his vest had some damage to the cloth, but the Kevlar had not allowed the bullet to penetrate him. “I think I’m okay, but that bullet hurt.” He saw me staring at Bo, who kept screaming in pain. “Don’t worry about him; he’s not going anywhere. Oh, shut-up, Pecker! You shot me, you fucking dickhead, and you don’t hear me wailing about it.”

“What have you done to him?” asked Wade.

“I incapacitated him by hyperextending his knees and dislocating his shoulders,” he said. “He’s pretty strong. I worried I couldn’t do it.”

The arrest had to happen in an orderly manner and by the book. The detective took out his card. “Bo Pecker, you have the right to remain silent…,” said the detective, who continued to read him the Miranda warning.

I squatted and tipped my head, so I could look him in the face. “Why, Bo? Max and I really liked you. I don’t understand; I thought you were a good man.”

His eyes wet and red, he said, “I’m sorry. I tried when I moved to Franklin, but I found being good all the time exhausting.”

Wade called the police department and requested two ambulances. When he ended the call, he hugged Tucker.

“What do we need the second ambulance for?” I asked.

“I want them to check Tucker over for internal injuries.” He looked Tucker in the face. “What, no argument?”

“I’ve never been shot before,” he said, “I would like to make sure that I see at least a few more tomorrows with you.” He kissed Wade.

Many guests heard the gunshot, but they couldn’t know for sure what it was or where it came from. By the time the police and ambulance arrived, Albert had corralled the guests into the dining room and ballroom for dinner, including the guests who needed to pee. The ambulance crew gave Pecker an injection for the pain, and they made his quick removal on the gurney with as little noise and as much discretion as possible. For the most part, the evening had minimal disruption to the festivities, and that would please Winter enormously.

A police officer brought the detective an evidence bag, and he placed Pecker’s Beretta Pico into it from where Tucker had kicked it. The hospital would keep him for a while, and Wade coordinated officers to guard him during his stay.

In due course of time, Pecker confessed everything. Apparently, he and Crows had planned robberies together. She helped to hide the documents about transfers of any storage to various warehouses of the items they found inside homes requiring removals, like the motherload from the Thornbrier Estate. They circulated the storage from one warehouse to another until, in the confusion, they could manage to have their items-of-choice moved into warehouse 232 near the docks. They used the peons in removals to relocate the items in question, who unwittingly assisted with the thefts. Alliance’s rapid turnover of the peons working in removals helped to hide what happened to the items they unknowingly stole; they all thought someone else took care of it. Naturally, none of them would be charged.

During this, the ring was found by Tommy at warehouse 232, when it fell from a piece of furniture when he shifted it. He took a photo of it on his phone and then showed the ring to Chadwell, who easily convinced him to let him hand it over to their supervisor because he had worked for Alliance longer than Tommy. However, Chadwell dragging his feet about handing it in strained their friendship.

Tommy had become chummy with the office staff. That’s why Neuhouser, one of several managers, began calling him Tommy-Boy, and why Tommy told Delilah Crows about the ring, and where he found it, just before he called Neuhouser to leave the message. Crows also knew about his date with James Malor. As things had begun to unravel in Pecker’s absence, she panicked and irrationally decided to kill Tommy before he could talk to Neuhouser the next day, fearing any attention drawn to warehouse 232.

She waited for Malor to leave Tommy’s house. She arrived, she plied Tommy with a few more drinks and got him drunk enough to give her no problems when she killed him. She initiated her plan to blame James by starting an evidence trail using a finger trap that she created that day, duplicating one made by James in Seattle. She figured that Chadwell would have to go too, and she would leave the trap that should have James’s prints at the scene of Chadwell’s death, implicating him for both murders.

She told Pecker of her actions to protect their secret. He never wanted to kill anyone, but it forced him to return early from Greece to clean up her mess. They confronted Chadwell, and he revealed what he knew about the warehouse, and he tried to blackmail them. Chadwell returns home at 2:30 that night, seen by the neighbor with the elderly labradoodle. Pecker wanted the ring to go with all the rest of the jewelry found in the home, so he had gone to Chadwell’s to get the ring and kill him to stop the blackmail, but Chadwell refused to give him the ring as he had already swallowed it. Pecker murders Chadwell, using two finger traps made by Crows, leaving the remainder at the scene to further implicate James. He attached the top portion of a note from Chadwell’s work file (It originally contained an apology and reasons he arrived a few hours late for work a few months prior). He ransacks the house, searching for the ring but finds nothing and straightens it back up in a hurry.

Crows wanted the police to think James did it, but as far as Pecker was concerned, it would suit him fine no matter how the police looked at it, so long as Chadwell couldn’t blackmail them and no one else knew about the warehouse. If he had decided to give up on the ring at that point, they might have gotten away with it, but he got greedy. Pecker had no clue the police had the ring. When he saw it on James’s hand in the paper, Crows confirmed that the ring looked identical to the photo that Tommy showed her. It was Crows’s idea to ransack James’s home and then burn it. Pecker decided at the last minute to rid himself of Crows in the fire.

Pecker held the gun on James but hadn’t intended to use it, thinking he could just push him down the darkened stone staircase in the secret passage. However, James attacked him, so he fired the gun. He underestimated James’s fighting skills and quickly regretted the whole situation, with the pain of two injured knees and both of his shoulders dislocated.

Bo Pecker remained in the custody of the on-duty police at the hospital. Before Wade had accompanied Tucker in the ambulance, he gave Albert the rest of the night off. He needed to prepare for the arrival of Master Brice at midnight. So, of our group, only Max and I remained at the estate. At the end of their meal, I pulled Max and Winter aside, informing them of what had occurred. She was pleased by the outcome and our discretion, so a few days later, she paid us a rather large sum, significantly more than the $2000 that I quoted. I decided to keep the money and help Tucker with most of it since a major portion of the outcome came from his bravery, and I would use some of it as a down payment on the vehicle we thought to buy for the business.

The television crew left immediately after the hanging of the chimney hook, and they were oblivious to any of the goings on. Mr. Santiago, however, not only stayed but figured something was happening when Albert wouldn’t allow him to go to the bathroom. He waited in the dining room and thoughtfully had the caterers keep a plate warm for me, so I could eat, and he could interview me. As I was starving, I gratefully agreed to it.

Once the gathering had ended, the guests departed, except those who would stay for Tommy’s memorial. Winter said we had given them closure, so we had done enough, and that Tommy would understand when we decided to go.

“So, have you given Winter any definitive answer?” I asked him as he texted for a cab to pick us up.

“No,” he said, “I need to think it through. I’m leaning toward ‘yes,’ but I don’t know yet.”

As we reached the door, we met Glenn, who wore his usual cabbie attire, and Sister Foustina dressed in black, whom he brought with him.

“Mr. Millstone, Mr. Roche,” she said in a breathy, somber voice, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yes, indeed,” I said. “So that you know, we have good news. We caught the killer.”

“You caught him?” she asked. “That’s wonderful news. The sisters will be pleased.”

“I’m glad you got him,” said Glenn.

I put my hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “I’m hoping that knowing the killer is off the streets will help you find your smile a little sooner.”

We told them Goodnight, and when the door shut behind us, Max began removing his clothing. “Ugh…I’m so glad to get out of this.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I had too many people tell me that I looked like a genie in it.”

As the cab pulled into the pea gravel drive, I wrapped my arms around my naked man, and I kissed him, “No, you’re not the genie; you’re my every wish granted.”

“Oh, that sounds far too sappy for you,” he said.

The cab stopped before us, and I opened the door to let him go first.

He pulled me to him by my jacket, and he kissed me. “Let’s just go home, so you can pound me half the night,” he said.

“As you wish.” I climbed in and closed the door. “Cabbie, to the Minotaur and make it snappy. My Golden Bear needs his Stallion.”

The End.

 

[Anonn0027]

Chapter 16d

I hadn’t seen Neuhouser arrive, but I saw Tucker eyeing him when he stood nearby, and I couldn’t tell whether Tucker still considered him a threat or not. Suddenly, Bo saw someone he needed to speak with and excused himself; but since I needed to focus on Tucker anyway, I hadn’t complained. Unfortunately, a stream of people wanted to meet me because of the gossip column, and it grew more difficult to separate everything that I was hearing. I had my right ear picking up Tucker’s conversation with someone about his few nights in the slammer (as far as they knew), I had my left ear engaged in the conversation with whoever next wanted to see my cock (I told them all to join in The Bare as You Dare Day events), and then I had to filter out the incessant drone of the background noise. The whole thing was giving me a headache.

Guests stopped arriving at about 6:45, and at 7:00 p.m. on the dot, Winter emerged at the top of the stairs with Max at her side. Her dress positively glittered with a pattern of gold teardrops upon its white background. She wore a gold tiara and a simple gold chain from which hung a single diamond teardrop. She looked like a queen, and between Max’s muscular physique, clothing, and golden fur, my Honey Bear made great arm candy.

I stared at him for a moment and thought, “Damn, he is so handsome.” I couldn’t believe I had the privilege of having him in my arms every night, his love in my life, and his permission to pound his bubble on the regular, as Tucker would say. I saw his eyes find me in the crowd, and I smiled at him. However, I couldn’t allow him to distract me too much.

When enough people caught sight of them, everyone went quiet, and the crowd shifted away from the staircase, so they could see. And when that happened, I lost Tucker in the crowd. I pulled out my micro-transmitter, gripped it in my fist, and whispered into it while covering my mouth like I would cough.

“I lost Tucker when the crowd moved,” I said.

“I can’t see him either,” said Wade.

“Neither can I,” said Albert.

“Shit,” I heard Wade say.

Once on the landing, Winter spoke and thanked everyone for coming, making the usual hostess oration. She then spoke of the story of the chimney hook and its importance and tradition. Apparently, the lead worker who helped rebuild and restore the fireplaces and chimneys had the honor of hanging the hook inside the living room’s fireplace, finalizing the completion of the mansion’s structure, after which the caterers would serve dinner.

As for Tucker, our hands were tied. We couldn’t work our way through the crowd to find him, that would look suspicious, and his microphone remained silent except for the faint sound of Winter’s oration. When she finished, she and Max descended to the first floor, and everyone turned to enter the living area. It would be a little tight in there, but with no furniture to get in the way, they would fit. As the crowd huddled together to make their way, I began to hear a popping sound through my earpiece, a series of three fast pops, three slow pops, and three fast pops repeated over and over. We were hearing SOS in Morse code. I tried to squeeze into the crowd to make a search, but I couldn’t find him.

The code tapped into our earpieces made hearing one another difficult, but then the code stopped, at which point we heard two voices. One was somewhat indistinct, but I heard Tucker’s clearly.

I met up with Albert and Wade, who said no one could go upstairs, so they must be on the ground floor somewhere, and decided that he and Albert should split up to search.

“What do you want from me?” we heard Tucker ask, then came a reply that I could hardly make out.

“You brought me up here for that?” asked Tucker.

They’d gone up the secret passage. Wade came around the corner from the opposite end of the room and bounded up the staircase, telling Albert, “Stay here and keep everyone calm.” I ran to the wood paneling of the staircase’s skirting and searched for the lever. I could have run up the staircase too, but I figured it would be better if we entered the room at different locations.

“You don’t need that gun,” said Tucker’s voice, “you can have the ring.”

I found the lever, and in my ear, I heard a shot fired and a bit of scuffling. I tripped up the uneven stone staircase in the darkness. I pulled my weapon from the holster, and in my ear, I heard a loud thud, some yelling, and the screams of a man. By the time I reached the room, Wade found the room too from its main door. With a hand on his abdomen, Tucker stood over a man I never expected to see, screaming in pain, lying face down onto the floor. It was Bo Pecker. I pulled the earpiece from my ear.

“What the fuck!” said Wade, who rushed to Tucker. “Are you shot?”

The front of his vest had some damage to the cloth, but the Kevlar had not allowed the bullet to penetrate him. “I think I’m okay, but that bullet hurt.” He saw me staring at Bo, who kept screaming in pain. “Don’t worry about him; he’s not going anywhere. Oh, shut-up, Pecker! You shot me, you fucking dickhead, and you don’t hear me wailing about it.”

“What have you done to him?” asked Wade.

“I incapacitated him by hyperextending his knees and dislocating his shoulders,” he said. “He’s pretty strong. I worried I couldn’t do it.”

The arrest had to happen in an orderly manner and by the book. The detective took out his card. “Bo Pecker, you have the right to remain silent…,” said the detective, who continued to read him the Miranda warning.

I squatted and tipped my head, so I could look him in the face. “Why, Bo? Max and I really liked you. I don’t understand; I thought you were a good man.”

His eyes wet and red, he said, “I’m sorry. I tried when I moved to Franklin, but I found being good all the time exhausting.”

Wade called the police department and requested two ambulances. When he ended the call, he hugged Tucker.

“What do we need the second ambulance for?” I asked.

“I want them to check Tucker over for internal injuries.” He looked Tucker in the face. “What, no argument?”

“I’ve never been shot before,” he said, “I would like to make sure that I see at least a few more tomorrows with you.” He kissed Wade.

Many guests heard the gunshot, but they couldn’t know for sure what it was or where it came from. By the time the police and ambulance arrived, Albert had corralled the guests into the dining room and ballroom for dinner, including the guests who needed to pee. The ambulance crew gave Pecker an injection for the pain, and they made his quick removal on the gurney with as little noise and as much discretion as possible. For the most part, the evening had minimal disruption to the festivities, and that would please Winter enormously.

A police officer brought the detective an evidence bag, and he placed Pecker’s Beretta Pico into it from where Tucker had kicked it. The hospital would keep him for a while, and Wade coordinated officers to guard him during his stay.

In due course of time, Pecker confessed everything. Apparently, he and Crows had planned robberies together. She helped to hide the documents about transfers of any storage to various warehouses of the items they found inside homes requiring removals, like the motherload from the Thornbrier Estate. They circulated the storage from one warehouse to another until, in the confusion, they could manage to have their items-of-choice moved into warehouse 232 near the docks. They used the peons in removals to relocate the items in question, who unwittingly assisted with the thefts. Alliance’s rapid turnover of the peons working in removals helped to hide what happened to the items they unknowingly stole; they all thought someone else took care of it. Naturally, none of them would be charged.

During this, the ring was found by Tommy at warehouse 232, when it fell from a piece of furniture when he shifted it. He took a photo of it on his phone and then showed the ring to Chadwell, who easily convinced him to let him hand it over to their supervisor because he had worked for Alliance longer than Tommy. However, Chadwell dragging his feet about handing it in strained their friendship.

Tommy had become chummy with the office staff. That’s why Neuhouser, one of several managers, began calling him Tommy-Boy, and why Tommy told Delilah Crows about the ring, and where he found it, just before he called Neuhouser to leave the message. Crows also knew about his date with James Malor. As things had begun to unravel in Pecker’s absence, she panicked and irrationally decided to kill Tommy before he could talk to Neuhouser the next day, fearing any attention drawn to warehouse 232.

She waited for Malor to leave Tommy’s house. She arrived, she plied Tommy with a few more drinks and got him drunk enough to give her no problems when she killed him. She initiated her plan to blame James by starting an evidence trail using a finger trap that she created that day, duplicating one made by James in Seattle. She figured that Chadwell would have to go too, and she would leave the trap that should have James’s prints at the scene of Chadwell’s death, implicating him for both murders.

She told Pecker of her actions to protect their secret. He never wanted to kill anyone, but it forced him to return early from Greece to clean up her mess. They confronted Chadwell, and he revealed what he knew about the warehouse, and he tried to blackmail them. Chadwell returns home at 2:30 that night, seen by the neighbor with the elderly labradoodle. Pecker wanted the ring to go with all the rest of the jewelry found in the home, so he had gone to Chadwell’s to get the ring and kill him to stop the blackmail, but Chadwell refused to give him the ring as he had already swallowed it. Pecker murders Chadwell, using two finger traps made by Crows, leaving the remainder at the scene to further implicate James. He attached the top portion of a note from Chadwell’s work file (It originally contained an apology and reasons he arrived a few hours late for work a few months prior). He ransacks the house, searching for the ring but finds nothing and straightens it back up in a hurry.

Crows wanted the police to think James did it, but as far as Pecker was concerned, it would suit him fine no matter how the police looked at it, so long as Chadwell couldn’t blackmail them and no one else knew about the warehouse. If he had decided to give up on the ring at that point, they might have gotten away with it, but he got greedy. Pecker had no clue the police had the ring. When he saw it on James’s hand in the paper, Crows confirmed that the ring looked identical to the photo that Tommy showed her. It was Crows’s idea to ransack James’s home and then burn it. Pecker decided at the last minute to rid himself of Crows in the fire.

Pecker held the gun on James but hadn’t intended to use it, thinking he could just push him down the darkened stone staircase in the secret passage. However, James attacked him, so he fired the gun. He underestimated James’s fighting skills and quickly regretted the whole situation, with the pain of two injured knees and both of his shoulders dislocated.

Bo Pecker remained in the custody of the on-duty police at the hospital. Before Wade had accompanied Tucker in the ambulance, he gave Albert the rest of the night off. He needed to prepare for the arrival of Master Brice at midnight. So, of our group, only Max and I remained at the estate. At the end of their meal, I pulled Max and Winter aside, informing them of what had occurred. She was pleased by the outcome and our discretion, so a few days later, she paid us a rather large sum, significantly more than the $2000 that I quoted. I decided to keep the money and help Tucker with most of it since a major portion of the outcome came from his bravery, and I would use some of it as a down payment on the vehicle we thought to buy for the business.

The television crew left immediately after the hanging of the chimney hook, and they were oblivious to any of the goings on. Mr. Santiago, however, not only stayed but figured something was happening when Albert wouldn’t allow him to go to the bathroom. He waited in the dining room and thoughtfully had the caterers keep a plate warm for me, so I could eat, and he could interview me. As I was starving, I gratefully agreed to it.

Once the gathering had ended, the guests departed, except those who would stay for Tommy’s memorial. Winter said we had given them closure, so we had done enough, and that Tommy would understand when we decided to go.

“So, have you given Winter any definitive answer?” I asked him as he texted for a cab to pick us up.

“No,” he said, “I need to think it through. I’m leaning toward ‘yes,’ but I don’t know yet.”

As we reached the door, we met Glenn, who wore his usual cabbie attire, and Sister Foustina dressed in black, whom he brought with him.

“Mr. Millstone, Mr. Roche,” she said in a breathy, somber voice, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yes, indeed,” I said. “So that you know, we have good news. We caught the killer.”

“You caught him?” she asked. “That’s wonderful news. The sisters will be pleased.”

“I’m glad you got him,” said Glenn.

I put my hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “I’m hoping that knowing the killer is off the streets will help you find your smile a little sooner.”

We told them Goodnight, and when the door shut behind us, Max began removing his clothing. “Ugh…I’m so glad to get out of this.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I had too many people tell me that I looked like a genie in it.”

As the cab pulled into the pea gravel drive, I wrapped my arms around my naked man, and I kissed him, “No, you’re not the genie; you’re my every wish granted.”

“Oh, that sounds far too sappy for you,” he said.

The cab stopped before us, and I opened the door to let him go first.

He pulled me to him by my jacket, and he kissed me. “Let’s just go home, so you can pound me half the night,” he said.

“As you wish.” I climbed in and closed the door. “Cabbie, to the Minotaur and make it snappy. My Golden Bear needs his Stallion.”

The End.

Wow excellent story one of the best if not the best I definitely love how the story progress but i would like it to continue like another season of the story like agent sawyer visiting, possible child of Ms. Winter and Max etc.

 

[RHHorst]

Wow excellent story one of the best if not the best I definitely love how the story progress but i would like it to continue like another season of the story like agent sawyer visiting, possible child of Ms. Winter and Max etc.

Wow. You’ve read the whole thing already? Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

 

[Anonn0027]

Wow. You’ve read the whole thing already? Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Yeah i read it completely since i have nothing to do today.

 

[zeke357az]

Thank you such a great story!