Michael

[swerve]

Forward

This is my first attempt to write a gay story...

Please be BRUTAL with your comments -- that only helps me to write better...

Unfortunately, since my schedule is CRAZY -- I'll only be able to update the story on an unpredictable schedule...

But that should be OK, since the story itself will prove unpredictable...

Thanks to Autolycus for your help in making this easier to read...

Also, thanks to my partner opinterph for encouraging me to put my WILD imagination into print...

Sit back, enjoy the adventures, and don't forget to provide feedback and conversation as the story unravels...

[swerve]

Chapter 1

Seth Miller languidly stretched out on the nicotine and cum stained bedcover at the City Lights Motel. He glanced over and watched as the clock changed from 4:59 AM to 5:00 AM. It was fun watching all three numbers change at the same time, but not as cool as when it happens on the odometer of a car. Pretty cool just the same. He had paid cash, $30, in advance for the room the previous day and didn’t need to leave until two o’clock that afternoon and; for the last twenty-seven minutes, he had been waiting for 5 AM.

Rolling into a sitting position, he then slowly stood up and walked over to the vanity area next to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was five foot ten inches tall, thin, with dirty blond medium long hair and green eyes. There were four things that were quite exceptional about him. He knew this, because almost all of the pervs he had dealt with over the last five years had commented on one or all of them. His green eyes reflected a very playful and inquisitive innocence. His lips were full, supple and soft, almost child-like in their appeal. His angular frame set off an almost perfect set of cock and balls, this wasn’t just according to the pervs, but his wife and secretly, his wife’s sister as well. When he first started his career, one of the pervs had actually measured his cock and proclaimed it to be a full seven inches long. Seth had never felt the need to independently verify this proclamation, but he accepted it as fact. His fourth exceptional quality was one that he had never actually seen. It was his ass, or more precisely, his hole. He found this odd. How could his hole be so attractive? It had been described to him in so many different ways, that he wasn’t quite sure what the exact reason was, or exactly what it looked like. But it must have created a welcoming appeal because with one pre-coordinated flash to the pervs, well those that had enough money to afford it, they were just out another $40. Give or take. All in all, he looked much younger than his twenty-four years. This was a good thing, because not many men at the age of twenty-four can earn a living and support their families by working the streets of Portland.

Seth wasn’t gay. Five years and six months ago, he had met Maria. She was insanely beautiful with a fiery Latina attitude that he had fallen head over heels for. One month after that incredible first night, she was pregnant. One month after that he married her and they moved into a small hotel not too far off of Stark Street that rented rooms by the week. Her younger sister Candra, or Candy, as he liked to call her moved in with them. A funny thing happened. Just one month later, when Maria was entering her second trimester, things took on a new perspective. Maria no longer wanted to have anything to do with him. Especially when it came to the naked fun stuff they had previously indulged in. He would sometimes notice whilst exiting the shower and gathering his clothes to get dressed, that she would look at his exceptional cock with a look of repulsion on her face. He sometimes wondered if she thought that just the sight of it could mysteriously transfer his little baby makers into her belly and make her have twins. It bothered him at first, but that’s when Candy came to the rescue. She was eighteen and a younger, at this point thinner, and even wilder version of Maria. Every day, when Maria left the hotel room for her daily exercise at ten o’clock precisely, Seth and Candy would immediately spend the next thirty minutes exploring every crack and crevice of one another’s bodies. Come to think of it, she was way kinkier than Maria had ever been!

Seth, being a professional, made sure that he finished exactly at thirty minutes past ten. And, although he was punctual, it was always explosive and most satisfying for both of them. Over time, she learned to accomplish the same control and punctuality. This was very critical, because, it gave them the opportunity to get cleaned up and composed before Maria returned. Her exercise time would vary depending on her mood and the weather. But it was never less than fifty-five minutes and sometimes as long as several hours. Oddly enough, after the birth of Sarah over four years ago, Candy, in apparent fear of his virility, began insisting on his use of a condom. This was unsatisfactory for two reasons. First, the latex inhibited that unbelievably insane feeling he always enjoyed when the sensitive skin of his cock entered her always soaking wet velvety opening. Second, it was difficult to hide something even as tiny as a box of condoms from Maria in the small space their hotel room provided. Currently, they were keeping them in the bottom portion of the 1 lb box of Whitman’s Chocolates. The theory was that Maria’s vanity prevented her from indulging in fattening foods. This was because she had never lost the last thirty five pounds gained during pregnancy and she was horrified at the thought of gaining any more. Although her exercise routine now was usually a full two hours each morning, Seth and Candy still kept their playtime within their strict thirty-minute guideline. This enabled them to finish cleaning up and settle down just in time for The Price is Right. Maria usually came home just before or after the Showcase Showdown.

On most days, the women would then retreat to the kitchenette and prepare a microwave lunch of rice, beans and occasionally, if they had enough money, either beef or chicken. Little Sarah, as he called her, always ate first. Maria always ate last, finishing what little was left over. And then usually just before two-o’clock in the afternoon, while “As the World Turns” was winding down and Seth’s girls were preparing to change channels to watch “General Hospital”, Seth would leave for the long walk to Stark Street. If he had $30, he would immediately go to City Lights and pay for his room for the night; if not, he would need to convince a trick to pay in advance and then wait while he registered. This was always kind of tricky, so, unless there was an emergency, he always had the $30 ready. His family thought that he washed dishes at the Fairmont Hotel for $5 per hour cash. He didn’t like lying to them, and quite honestly, was somewhat insulted that they presumably believed him.

He was insulted because he was way smarter than that. He would never work for a measly $5 an hour when money was so much easier to come by. Seth had lived a hard life. He had never even known who his father was; while his mother fed her alcoholism and provided for his meager upbringing as a prostitute. He had left home just shy of his thirteenth birthday. He found solace with other runaway teens, and had learned the hard way how to survive on the streets.

That is how he had first learned about the ill refuted strip club called Johnny’s. By the time that Maria was six months pregnant, Seth found he could no longer support them on the meager wages of a panhandler; instead, he made his way to Johnny’s. Johnny had one rule and it was very strictly enforced. Every night, prior to entering the stage, you paid Johnny $20. Then you could dance at least one set per hour up until close at Four the next morning. There were no other rules, not for the performers or the customers. The money wasn’t made on the stage. On a good night you might only get $40 to $60 in tips. Each dollar shredded away a little more of your inhibitions and dignity. Seth quickly found out that the real money was made in between sets in the back alley. He always found it quite odd that most of the pervs preferred to suck him rather than the other way around. Oh well, it was easy money and he was living large making $150 to $200 a night easily. He would occasionally leave Johnny’s early to accompany one of the pervs back to his hotel room where he was once paid a whopping $500. That was a good night and the following day he took the girls out on a field trip to Multnomah Falls. During the year he worked at Johnny’s, Seth became very good at both sucking and riding cock towards a hopefully fast conclusion. It was important that he could get them off in thirty minutes, because he only had forty-five minutes in between sets. Seth was good at time management, and because of Johnny’s very strict rule, he became somewhat proficient with money management. He always had his $20 stage fee.

The good life at Johnny’s came to an abrupt end about a year after it had started. Seth was in an intemperate mood. Johnny had just increased his stage fee from $20 a night to $30 a night without any notice. Because Seth only had $20 on him, Johnny had agreed to take the first $10 in tips that Seth made that night. Also, previously at Ten that morning, Candy hadn’t been in the mood for their play date. So Seth felt a little stressed and somewhat angry. His mind was on Candy’s negligence when an old perv in thick glasses came up to the stage during his first set and blatantly fondled his goods. He then had the audacity to slide a wet creepy finger up his ass without even leaving him a dollar, Seth lost control, and from the stage, he kicked the old geezer in the face. It was a harder kick than he had intended and he broke the pervs glasses. Unfortunately, Johnny hadn’t been in his office at that moment drinking scotch and snorting coke as was his usual nightly ritual. He was actually right at the side of the stage when it happened. Seth was unceremoniously yanked from the stage and thrown virtually naked from the club with his clothes in somewhat of a delayed pursuit.

Initially, Seth tried to just work the alley behind Johnny’s. As no one went there unescorted, and the other dancers, and occasionally Johnny himself would harass and threaten him. The alley provided to be a poor financial substitute for the club. So that is how he found his way down to Stark Street and the City Lights Motel.

Seth felt fiercely about supporting his family. He would not allow Maria to work, and, well, as long as Candy was taking care of his manly needs, she was free to be part of the family as well. That is why at now 5:01 AM on Monday, October 10, or was it the 9th, Seth looked in the mirror at himself with an overwhelming sense of dread.

He was sure that it was a Monday, because yesterday, he had left the motel room while the girls were still in church. Rent, in the amount of $135, was due every Monday morning and the asshole Wayne who ran the hotel wasn’t known for his patience. Actually, three months ago, Seth, Maria, Candy and Little Sarah watched in horror as Wayne threw all the belonging out of Old Lady Alice’s room. This was while Alice cried and tried in desperation to explain that her Social Security check would be there later that same day. That was at two in the afternoon. Usually the mail runs around noon, but for some reason hadn’t shown up until four o’clock that day. When the check did arrive, Wayne agreed to rent the room back to Old Lady Alice, but at the current market weekly rate of $185. Whenever Seth had a better than average night, he would slide a $20 bill under Alice’s door on his way home. So, now it was Monday. And he no longer had his own rent money.

He felt like a complete traitor. Three months ago, on a slow rainy evening, he had run into Chris who also used to work at Johnny’s. While they reminisced about the good ole’ days, somehow Chris had convinced him to try heroin. Seth occasionally would partake of recreational drugs, but would never buy them. Until meeting Chris, he had never before tired heroin and found that he was drawn in by the euphoria and depth to his life that it provided. He could perform his duties as caretaker to the pervs much easier when the golden flow of this wonderful drug was pulsating through his body. He felt better about himself and the world around him. Everything seemed so perfect and in harmonious balance as long as he stuck to his daily schedule. It didn’t seem to interfere with his family life either. Well, up until now.

Yesterday had been a good day. He paid the City Lights creep the $30 for room 27, his room of choice as that was his lucky number, and proceeded to make money. Fast. At five in the afternoon he already had $180. He was resolved not to buy any more of the tar than his normal daily allowance of $45. This provided him with three packets of two hits each. But Carlos, his new best friend and supplier had persuaded him to purchase a whole weeks supply for the low price of $180. The price had actually started out at $210, but quickly worked its way down to the $180 that Seth had, minus one chunk for Carlos. Seth wasn’t a great mathematician, but he knew that getting a whole weeks worth of smack for the price of four days was a good deal. It was too good a deal to pass up.

Initially he had been worried. He thought of himself as street smart after all. So he went back to the room and prepared and administered his first hit. He realized immediately that it was heaven. An hour earlier than normal, at nine that night, before the first hit faded out, he hit it again. Then once again he administered the relief at one in the morning. He knew to space it out for four or five hours, but since he was suffering anxiety due to the need to face up to Wayne, he was working on the short end of that spectrum.

And now he found himself to be watching the clock in a softly falling high since 4:33 AM.

At 5:02 AM, Seth carefully drew in 75 cc’s of water into a new, or at least new yesterday, syringe, and then expunged the clear liquid onto the awaiting blackened bowl of a large soup spoon. He had taken the spoon from a diner just down the street one morning after eating a bowl of cereal. The spoon was unwieldy and uncomfortable to eat from due to its large size. His initial impression was that is was what it must feel like if you are the dinner guest at a giant’s house. His second impulse was that it was perfect. Way better than the sawed off bottoms of soda or beer cans. And he had been right. Back then it still had the silvery luster of unpolished diner flatware; today it was black in the middle with ever expanding circles of darker to lighter browns. He carefully placed the larger of the last two chunks of tar that he had set-aside for today into the water and flicked the Bic. It was OK if the lighter went out, because he had a spare in his pocket. He had learned from necessity that it was important to always have a spare lighter. The lighter didn’t go out, and he used the removed plunger from the needle to stir the liquid and hasten its dissolution. He then carefully, oh so ever carefully, tore a small piece of cotton from a cotton ball, rolling it between his fingers, making even a smaller one. Then he placed it in the spoon to absorb his newfound friend. Once that had been completed, he stuck the needle into the cotton and drew up the liquid. Just like his other best friend Chris had shown him 3 months prior. With the loaded needle, Seth went back to sit at the edge of the bed, and he injected himself with his very new and very bestest of friends.

The rush was fairly instantaneous. Just enough time to set the needle on the nightstand, lay down, and revel in the initial five to ten minutes of ecstasy.

Everything would be OK.

Granted, it was a Monday, and if he was lucky he could turn two tricks by five in the afternoon. But then, by ten that night he would have the $135 for rent plus the $60 he would need for Monday and Tuesday nights City Lights fee. And Wayne, well, maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. Although he showed no sexual inclination one way or the other, Seth was sure that he would submit to their plight and allow them the extra ten hours delay for their rent without recourse.

The world was a wonderful place. This room was a wonderful place. And he, Seth Miller, had four exceptional qualities.

[EasyRory]

Nice work. It reminds me of the short stories of Charles Bukowski, a kind of up-to-date William Burroughs.

Chapter 2 will be telling.

[rocabar]

Very compelling, swerve... Looking forward to to the next instalment!

[Autolycus]

Thanks for sharing this with us! Readers are in for a treat with this tale of the darker side of life. The graphic description of Seth's addiction is not intended to condone, merely to highlight the dangers of the reliance on so called 'recreational' drugs.

If you like the story, don't forget to click on the Rate Thread button at the top of the page!

[windsors]

Nice story swerve.

[freefall]

I imagine the story in noir. Works quite well with the plot

[swerve]

Chapter 2

Seth lay in a trance like state for eleven minutes. Way past the six or seven minutes his initial high would normally run. Carlos had done him right. Even though he tapped the bag there at the end, removing a chunk for himself. This shit was good.

As every single nerve ending from his cock to the rest of his body submitted to their common enemy of time, Seth slowly drifted through the initial orgasmic phase to enter a state of complete euphoria. A state in which he vowed he would protect his family from the evil wiles of Wayne. He was a knight, disguised in navy blue cargo shorts and an off shade green t-shirt bearing the logo “Eat This” over a downward pointed arrow.

He slowly and mysteriously righted himself onto the edge of the bed where he pushed his bare feet into a pair of tennis shoes to add to his disguise. It wasn’t because he didn’t own any socks, but rather, knights didn’t wear socks. At least he didn’t think so, even though he couldn’t be sure of that specific fact. Hey, facts didn’t matter. He was Seth, the White Knight preparing himself for battle against his evil landlord crusader.

He opened the door to room twenty-seven and entered the dark world. Fog was swirling into the city as if though it were a live shapeless harbinger of safety. Wrapping itself around the buildings and only showing its shape shifting defenses to occasional street lamps that still burned on Stark Street.

Despite its name, City Lights Motel had no lights to shrug off the night or prevailing fog. Seth was bedazzled. He immediately started walking toward the lighted corner one block north of his castle and domain, the corner where he normally conducted business. However, tonight, it wasn’t ordinary business he was seeking. He was looking to save his world. He arrived at the corner and stared up into the mist-encircled glow of the streetlight. Soaking in its absolute beauty and wonderfulness, he spread his arms and started to turn in slow circles. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

A loud blast sounded right behind him and rather rudely, though partially bringing him back to the real world. He turned around to see a blond haired suit behind the wheel of a Silver Mercedes SL 550 Roadster. Seth knew his cars. Over the past several years of servicing the pervs, he had actually gotten into the habit of mentally referring to his johns by the cars they drove.

Mr 550 was almost angelic. So much so that he wasn’t sure whether or not the silver car, that almost blended into while accentuating the fog at one and the same time, and its blonde driver, actually existed. Or, whether it was part of his ethereal knightly world. Another short but loud blast of the horn removed all doubt. Seth was unexpectedly and miraculously back in business. At only 5:34 on a Monday morning. Things were looking really good.

Seth walked over to the open driver’s window and raised his eyebrows a few times while forming his sexy lips into a slight grin. He knew how to work his looks and was subconsciously using two of his exceptional qualities, the only ones he could reveal in public.

550 asked how he was doing this morning. That threw him for a second. Most people referred to any dark time as night. But it was momentary, and he quickly said that he was hoping to supply someone company. 550 said he liked his lips. Hook line and sinker. That was how it worked. Hell, Seth didn’t even need all four qualities. It usually only took just one.

Then the bargaining began. It wasn’t even much of a process. Seth aimed high and in desperation for his family’s situation said “Mister, it’s going to be $50 for a blow job.”
The driver, who Seth had almost begun to think of as an angel, was no longer an angel. He looked up at Seth and with a quirky grin that probably worked wonders with most people, quarried “how about $40?”

Damn, Seth thought. He was hoping the perv wouldn’t know the going rate for a blowjob. But he did, and quite honestly, Seth didn’t expect to get any business until mid-afternoon when the suits started leaving early from their glass prisons, or the occasional drunk wino that had scored with a lottery ticket. Very rarely it could be an occasional college prick that would come down to Stark Street to experiment with their open minds and sexual frustrations. The only guys that Seth didn’t do were those who were obviously high on Coke or Meth. It was just too much work. They had a hard time getting hard and took forever to get off.

Mr. 550 was perfect. Nice car usually meant fat wallet and Seth still had 2 exceptional qualities that the perv hadn’t seen.

So, he jumped into the passenger seat and asked to see 550’s cock. He wasn’t stupid, not to mention the fact that his girls back at the motel always watched cops reruns in the early morning hours while he was trying to sleep. The cop shows taught him this was a for sure way to determine whether the guy was a cop or not. Interestingly enough, Seth had never actually run into a cop. He knew what he was doing was illegal but the cops didn’t seem to bother the working boys on Stark Street.

Seth wasn’t gay in the slightest. He chose his craft, honed it and became excellent at it without ever being turned on by a dude. Men were gross. But being a man himself he could still be objective. As he posed the question he turned and looked at Mr. 550. The guy was possibly the most stunning example of manhood he had ever met. He was dressed in an obviously very expensive tailored blue pinstripe suit sans coat, light blue dress shirt and yellow tie that was loosened to allow the top button of his shirt to be undone. In the dome light of the car, Seth could determine that the man had the chiseled face of a movie star, blond hair and what looked like steel colored eyes. Possibly light blue. Interesting. Mr. 550 slowly unzipped his pants and revealed a thick and quite large flaccid penis. The way he pulled it out and stroked it from the top, as one would pet a cat, was quite erotic… even to Seth. This heroin was messing with his mind.

Seth had great looking pervs pay for his services in the past but that was rare. They usually paid top rate and sometimes even left a tip. This might just be his knight in shining armor - if he played it right.

He pointed to the City Lights Motel and told 550 that he could park in the back lot for both privacy and easy access to the door of room twenty-seven.

Seth’s mind was racing. He was already recalculating dollars and time. This might just work out. He would obviously need to get more than $40 out of 550, but that could happen. Then he would need two more tricks before two that afternoon. That wasn’t such a great possibility. Hey, but so far things were working out much better than he had expected. They parked the car in the corner of the back lot and he jumped out and somewhat anxiously led 550 towards his place of business.

FUCK. His kit was all over the place in there. He turned to the handsomer than most perv and said “um, dude, just give me a second, I need to straighten the place out, I wasn’t expecting company.” Angel faced 550 grinned at him with an overpowering sense of confidence and masculinity, and replied “sure.” Seth ran in and in less than a minute had the paraphernalia back into the small shaving bag. He opened the door with trepidation, fearing that 550 may have fled in the less than sixty seconds he had needed. Thankfully, no - he found himself staring up into the either light blue or grey eyes perched above a somewhat sexy smirk.

I guess pervs come in all shapes and sizes Seth thought while he opened the door to allow 550 access into his lair of seduction. Seth closed the door and then nodded towards the bed while welcoming the perv to have a seat.

As 550 sat down, he was feasting his eyes on Seth’s two exceptional qualities. Seth noticed, with a professional glance, that there was movement in the pervs trousers. This was even better than good. Seth’s oral skills could suck that monster dry in minutes, and then he could return to the company of his new bestest of friends and the world where he was a knight. In a throaty and somewhat broken voice, the perv asked Seth to remove all of his clothes.

Well, Seth was no idiot.

He hadn’t been paid yet.

“Money Walks and Bullshit Talks,” he said. Not the cleverest thing to come up with, but, hell, he had been up for almost twenty-four hours. Fortunately, 550 didn’t walk. Although Seth didn’t see him reach into his pocket, magically two folded $20 bills were being handed over to him.

Easy Money. Just as he liked it!

Seth took the money, shoved it into the lower pocket of his cargo shorts, the same pocket he now normally carried his kit, and stripped. Nudity had never really bothered him, and since it was just with other men. I wasn’t really cheating on his wife either. Surely, it wasn’t possible to be cheating on her sweet little vivacious sister Candy if she was the one you were cheating on your wife with… was it?

He took off his clothes and having in mind the precious $40 contained in his shorts, as a standard precaustion removed them from the immediate bed area. He did this by kicking them under the vanity/sink next to the bathroom. With movements practiced over the years, Seth slowly and seductively walked back to the bed. Mr. 550 sat there in stunned amazement at his first sight of the third of Seth’s four exceptional qualities. Seth wasn’t hard, but still being a young man could become at least somewhat hard on most occasions simply by mentally conjuring up Candy and one of their many very nasty routines. Men grossed him out, but he was a professional and could and would do whatever was required of him. He kind of looked at it like this. Instead of washing dishes with his hands for peanuts, he was polishing cock either with his hands, mouth or ass. Same difference all said and done but with far greater rewards. He knew that his cock looked amazing dangling thickly between his two low hangers. Why in the hell would anyone with his qualities ever even consider washing dishes for $5 an hour cash when they could make eight times that in less than ten minutes?

550 had zipped up his pants since the “Are you a cop?” routine and sat stoically on the same edge of the bed on which Seth had sat just thirty-eight minutes earlier injecting his third round of happiness. Seth reached out and put his lengthy fingers up to 550’s forehead and then ran his hand through the impossibly perfect hair. “Are you going to let me suck you dry Mr. Movie Star?” he asked in an unacceptably coquettish manner. He would need to work on his intonation. That just sounded awful.

“Undress me.” 550 responded in a throaty whisper.

So Seth started at the top. Not because he had any standard operating procedure for this kind of thing, most pervs just gave him access to their pathetic little willy’s to let him work his magic. In this case, working down from the top was just easier.

He loosened and then completely untied the yellow herringbone tie, and then his shirt buttons one at a time to reveal at first a chest that was indefinably perfect. Seth knew a lot of men who worked out, and, quite honestly, this is what they all desired. Unfortunately, they nearly all either over worked their pecs, biceps, shoulders and upper back, or didn’t work out enough, failed to eat right, or just plain screwed up that he had never seen anyone that had achieved it. 550 had actually achieved perfect pecs, or had the luck to have been born with them. As the buttons continued to reveal the mysteries of 550, Seth was once again shocked to notice those perfect abs. He was floating high in his euphoric journey that had started at 5:03 AM, but he was also beginning to get a little nervous. Was he good enough for Mr. 550?

Get a grip on yourself, he reminded his emotions. This guy is just another perv wanting to get his rocks off. I’m a pro and can accomplish that for him in less than thirty minutes. He gently removed the shirt and then leaned in to give the perv access to one of his four exceptional qualities. Closing his eyes, slightly parting his lips and with a light flicker of his tongue and all the while thinking about the two $20 bills in his shorts pocket he prepared himself for what soon was to be the utter grossness of another man’s lips on his.

It didn’t happen.

Instead, 550 placed 2 well manicured fingers from his left hand and gently pushed back. He chuckled and said, “That’s not where I want your mouth.”

Relieved, Seth blinked his eyes and grinned back at the remarkable man who for sure must be a movie star, or senator, or something rich and powerful.

Without doubt, the man was beautiful.

That thought disturbed him, so he disregarded it and went back to work.

After slowly removing the belt with practiced grace, he grasped the rock hard ass of 550 and gently guided him to a standing position.

He then unlatched and unzipped his tailored suit pants letting them slide to the floor. Through the sheer light blue silk boxers, Seth could not fail to see that 550 was at almost half mast. He inwardly stifled a groan. 550 was huge and that meant that it would require more work on his part to achieve the same end that all these pervs wanted.

He lowered 550’s boxers and grinned up at the face that was grinning back down on him. Running both hands up his incredulously perfect legs, Seth was careful to get close, but not too close to his rising meat. Then, while changing from a squat to a stand, Seth ran his hands up to 550’s chest. He leaned in and nastily and teasingly nibbled on the perfect nipple. With a playful look up into the grin that had by now broadened into a smile, with both hands now against 550’s pecs, he shoved the perv gently onto the bed. Regardless of appearances, these were very well practiced and not spontaneous moves. He had done this hundreds of times with hundreds of pervs. Glancing at the clock, he could see that it was now 5:45 AM. Everything was on schedule. Now for the part that he really didn’t like.

Seth licked his lips in a seductive way, but mainly to lube them up, and kneeled down on the mattress in between 550’s legs and began his magic. Starting with small bites on the scrotum and little licks along the length of the shaft. Then larger licks making sure to apply as much saliva as possible, because this cock was huge and would need plenty of lubrication to slide down his throat. And then he took him. Just grasping the head with his soft lips at first while swirling his expert tongue in circles. Then an inch more of the cock. Up and down, up and down, swirling around. Then changing tongue position to the bottom of cock only and taking another couple of inches. Up and down, up and down, constantly changing the amount of pressure with his lips, releasing as much saliva as possible lubing up the remaining inches of cock; releasing so much saliva that it started to pool slightly in 550’s blond pubis. Now was the time. Seth relaxed and opened his throat and plunged all the way down. 550’s balls twitched as he let out a low animal groan. Seth held it in his throat as he tongued the bottom of the shaft and continued to change pressures with his lips and by forcing hot air in bursts from his lungs.

Then, all the way back to the tip and immediately all the way back to the base. ‘Hold it,’ he silently told himself, ‘use your tongue and lip pressures. Release hot air from you lungs while with your right hand massage his balls and lightly touch the anus.’ Perfect, he thought as he detected an initial slight taste of pre-cum - always a good sign! Seth’s practiced mind told him ‘Then all the way up and all the way down. Force hot air from your lungs, use tongue movement, lip pressures, right hand massaging balls while deploying the left hand to stimulate his anus and stroke his inner thigh. Over and over and faster and faster - just like washing dishes!’

550 was moaning and pushing into Seth’s downward slides more and more aggressively. This is when Seth knew it was time to reveal his fourth exceptional quality. On an upward slide, he stopped short at just the right spot to allow his tongue full access to the head of 550’s cock and slowly started to rotate his body to get into a 69 position. Most of the time, the pervs liked to suck on his cock, but more importantly, it gave him the opportunity to show off his hole.

So, just like always, he continued his oral routine, and threw his left leg over 550’s chest. They were not a compatible height. 550 would need to maneuver into an awkward position to gain oral access to Seth’s still somewhat flaccid cock. Nevertheless, the main objective was accomplished; 550 had a clear view of what drove most of these pervs insane with desire. And Seth knew how to move it just right.

550 didn’t even attempt to try and fondle or suck on his cock, so Seth smoothly and expertly completed the circle and went back to his routine. Dishwashing cycle one was complete and would continue in either one of two directions.

It took 550 longer than most of the pervs. But on Seth’s eighth complete deep throat, he moaned in pleasure and said “I know you love sucking my cock, but what I want you to do now is ride it”. Ok, this was an odd variation on what all of them want, but Seth went with it.

He lifted his head from 550’s cock and with saliva running down his chin he said, “Man, I would love to give you the ride of your life. But I can’t do it for free.” This negotiation was much easier than the first and Seth was blown away when 550 immediately agreed to the additional $60. He usually only got $40 more, and sometimes agreed to it for only $20 more if his jaw was tired and throat sore. Damn, he should have asked for more.

Seth stood up and put out his hand. “Sorry dude, I need it up front.” 550’s eyes went from light blue to steel gray to light blue in an instant. Then he said, “Sure dude.” He looked around and then crawled to the edge of the bed near to where Seth was standing; he reached down and pulled his pants from the floor onto the corner of the bed. He put his hand into the pocket and pulled out a wad of cash bigger than Seth had ever seen. He flipped through a lot of hundreds until reaching the center of the wad. There he pulled out three twenties and handed them to Seth with a slightly upturned twitch at the right side of his mouth and what seemed like sparkling and dancing eyes.

Seth didn’t take the money. His brain wasn’t working as well as it usually did. Probably due to the lack of sleep, or maybe the heroin he thought. He stammered “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say $60? I meant $100.”

Gosh. That was lame. But the best he could do under the circumstances.

550 didn’t flinch. He reached out with his left hand and took Seth’s right hand and then pushed the three twenties into it. “You said $60, I know you want my cock in your ass, so take the $60 or you’re not going to get it.”

Seth took the $60, walked the few steps into the vanity area, placed it in the same pocket as the original $40 was and returned with well practiced ease, wearing a grin and equally well practiced dancing eye movements to where 550 stood, still fully erect, beside the bed. 550 had replaced the wad of cash with a condom and instructed Seth “Put it on with your mouth.” And Seth did so with the same expertise that he did everything. He was very good at washing dishes.

When he arose from his tricky task, it actually wasn’t that difficult, he looked up again at 550’s face. Just like all the others, he was stupidly grinning and looking forward to Seth’s fourth exceptional quality. This was way too easy.

Seductively, Seth crawled up onto the bed like he had done a hundred times with a hundred different pervs. Casually, he raised his head to look into the mirrored headboard and watch 550 admire his ass. 550 had a web-like string of saliva drawn down by the sheer force of gravity, reaching half way from his mouth to his cock. Then, as if his cock was a saliva magnet, the viscous drool formed a slather around the engorged erection.

“I’ve got lube here in the nightstand drawer,” Seth said as he started to reach over to his right.

“Don’t worry about it,” 550 responded. “I’m as good as you think I am, and you won’t need it,” as his saliva slicked member twitched in anticipation of what was to follow. Seth managed to maintain his charm as he outwardly grinned while groaning inwardly. “My ass is hungry for some of that Grade A Beef,” he replied.

Gosh. That was even more awful than his previous lines. He really needed to work on a vocal repertoire.

He really could not care less if 550 used the lube or saliva. He had never had a problem before and his natural juices could service a dick, wet or dry. That’s how good he was at what he did.

Seth watched the mirrored images once again as 550 positioned himself onto his knees behind Seth’s fourth exceptional quality. The perv was truly perfect. Maybe he should tell him that. A lot of the pervs liked to be complimented. Although, at the rate his verbal game had been this morning, he’d probably just end up humiliating himself. So he kept quiet and started moving his ass in the imperceptible way he knew drove the pervs crazy.

He felt the spit lubed end of 550’s cock barely penetrate his sphincter muscle and then stop. Back out and then barely in. Back out and then the full head in. While moaning with faked pleasure, he was considering rocking back and quickly taking all of 550. But this was interesting. If he stayed relatively still, it might be fun to see how well 550 really did know how to fuck. Well, after all of his bragging and shit. Plus, when he glanced at the clock which read 5:58 AM, he realized that he still had approximately ten to fifteen minutes left of the half hour he allotted each and every perv. There was no way anyone could ride his ass for more than ten minutes without spewing their perv goo.

Although big cocks were more difficult to work with, they didn’t scare Seth in the slightest. He remembered back when, shortly after he had started working Stark Street when an exceptionally pervy perv had produced an empty Corona bottle from his backpack. There was no way in Hell that Seth was going to allow a glass bottle be shoved up his ass. Well, that’s when a $50 bill magically appeared next to the bottle. The bottle didn’t break, neither did it hurt in the slightest. Seth was a master at controlling all of his muscular functions and over the years had everything from vegetables to light bulbs up there. Each with their own price tag and as always, to accommodate his clients. He was a professional in every sense of the word.

550 turned out to be more than interesting. It was actually feeling really good. Slowly and measured he had inserted just over half of his shaft and for the first time since Seth had met 550, he was beginning to feel movement in his own cock. It actually felt really quite good. The further the progress, the better the feeling. Seth was once again entering that euphoric world where everything was wonderful, and the most wonderful feelings were coming from a place he never knew they could.

Within seconds, minutes or years, Seth was rock hard. His dick was pulsating as he moved his ass in harmoniously with 550’s considerately contrived movements, both combining like a perfectly engineered pleasure machine. Never before had Seth relinquished his own masterful manipulation of every muscle, movement and gesture in an effort to satisfy another. He was in heaven and with every inward stroke he wanted more. Seth felt his balls begin to move and pull in as his cock continued to pulsate with even more fervent desire. He looked up from his dreamlike state into the headboard mirror and saw that 550 was also in a state of complete ecstasy. Sensing his movement, 550 grasped a handful of hair with his left hand holding Seth so that their mirrored eye contact was maintained. Ceaselessly pumping and grinding, pumping and grinding. Seth was completely overwhelmed with sensations he had never felt before. He was losing control as his balls came in even tighter. Seth completely let go of all traditional senses, and for the first time in his entire life, without the assistance of hands, mouth or vagina, contrary to anything he had witnessed or ever thought possible, he came violently. Rush after orgasmic rush sent his own hot spew to mix with the dried residue that his many previous clients had splattered over the bedspread. He was shaking with pleasure and could barely support himself with his arms. And then, what felt like a vice grip, propelled his head. Fast… very, very fast… way too fast! He saw the clock as it read 6:06 AM, well within the allotted thirty minutes. Then he saw the corner of the nightstand and heard, rather than felt, his teeth, jaw, nose and face break.

His mind wasn’t working. He tasted blood and felt sharp bone with his tongue. He looked up into the mirror with eyes that could barely stay open to a reflection that more resembled hamburger than a face. And what the fuck? That maniac perv was still pounding his ass harder than he could ever remember getting fucked. Struggling against the pain and nausea he raised his head higher to see the reflection of 550 grinning at him.

It was then that he saw the knife.

Several thoughts crossed his mind simultaneously.

Where did the knife come from?

It was coming down way to fast.

What the fuck is happening?

And then.

Nothing.

[rocabar]

Woah... THAT was intense, swerve!

[Autolycus]

The second chapter has added more of a thrust to this intriguing story - clearly there is quite a lot more to follow!

[swerve]

Thanks for the comments!!!

IF you don't leave any, it worries me that no one is actually READING this...

I hope to post Chapter 3 soon...

[swerve]

Oh -- and let me know if I should break the chapters up into SHORTER segments -- so its not SO MUCH to read ALL AT ONCE!!!

[swerve]

Chapter 3

Michael Hill’s whole body quivered as the last of his ejaculate was pulled from him by the lucky little fucker’s death spasms. Everyone wanted a piece of Michael Hill. This kid wasn’t only lucky; he had performed his role beautifully. It actually couldn’t have gone better. Michael released his grip on the now dead muscle forming the incredible ass and slowly pulled his full nine inches out, careful to hold the base of the condom to prevent it from accidentally sliding off. His eyes were fixated on the kid’s ass. Not so much the ass, which was very nice, but the still gaping hole. It was perfect. Just like his own, which he had inspected with pride in a mirror on many occasions. He decided that he had never seen such another perfect hole before. This was the closest he had ever come to the equivalent of fucking himself, and he was thrilled.

Thinking of himself reminded him that there was a full-length mirror on the back of the door leading into the bathroom next to the vanity. He strolled over and admired his perfection. As an artist, he was overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment. He had finally accomplished a multi dimensional masterpiece. And unlike his two failed previous attempts, which ultimately had led to the messy deaths of two whores, this one had gone flawlessly. While bathing in his reflected naked glory, he spread his arms and leaned back in acceptance of the imagined Universe’s adulation of the one and only Michael Hill, artist to all.

He slowly bent his still outstretched arms so that he could place his hands on his forehead and then very gently let them feel his perfection as he lowered them down over his closed eyes, nose and then mouth. He let out a small giggle as he remembered the kid’s pathetic attempt to kiss him. No telling where those lips had been. While moving his hands further down his neck, to feel and message his pecs and then his abs, he giggled again thinking about the awkward attempt by the boy-slut to put a half-hard, diseased riddled dick into his mouth. Once he started recalling the pathetic moves of the little whore, he burst out in full laughter. This is why the Universe gave the world to Michael Hill as a canvas. It was making the most of that canvas that brought true joy to Michael. This is what life was all about.

He carefully slid the used condom from his deflating mast and then grabbed two squares of toilet paper to fold over it. He then slid the debris into his pants pocket. He glanced back over towards the bed and was once again taken in by the beauty of that ass. Still up in the air and gaping open.

Making a quick decision to leave perfect art alone, he got dressed and before he made his way over to the vanity area to retrieve the cash that the little conniver had tried to take from him he pulled on a pair of latex gloves that he had previously stashed in his pocket.

After retrieving his cash from the kid’s shorts, he carefully removed exactly half of the remaining tar from the lucky little bastard’s kit, the latex gloves ensuring he left no prints, and decided he would take the wallet as a memento to remember this amazing morning. He would go through the contents at his leisure later as he mentally relived every little detail of this very hot encounter.

Michael very quickly wiped down the knife, which was still embedded into the kid’s back with a wet soapy cloth. He was amazed at how little blood was present. This really was perfection.

And then, after peeking through the closed curtain to make sure the coast was clear, he let himself out of the room, carefully removing the gloves once he was clear of the hotel room. He couldn’t contain his grin as he walked through the enveloping fog to his car, and neatly exited the hotel’s parking lot and headed to ‘Sculpture’ Portland’s gayest gym.

He had just moved to Portland two weeks ago and; although he knew he would be noticed because of his extraordinary good looks, he didn’t want to make too big of a splash. The move had been in the planning stages for almost a year, during which time he had engaged the services of Portland’s top realtor, Howard Ness. Howie, as he insisted on being called, had taken up way too much of his time showing him only the best properties available. Always a little more than the one million dollars that Michael had set up as ceiling on his price. It had infuriated Michael, and after three months and six round trip flights, he had finally chosen a beautiful three-bedroom condominium positioned on the eighth floor of an eight-story building built into the hill off of NW 23rd on Johnson Street overlooking the city. Howie had explained that this part of town was called the alphabet district, because moving South to North each street began with consecutive letters of the alphabet. During the final negotiations Michael had insisted on the seller meeting his one million dollar offer; however, he actually overheard Howie and the seller’s agent discussing their commissions and agreeing actually to go up on the price. Because the condo was exactly what Michael had in mind, and the fact that the only other condo on the eighth floor was owned by a law firm, he had paid the 1.2 million dollar price and unbeknownst to Howie, added his name to a short list of people in his day planner, under the page heading of “revenge projects”.

After closing on the condo, Michael had hired interior designer Justin Posh. Justin was extremely well known in the Pacific Northwest for being quite flamboyant as well as being the premier decorator for the rich and famous. He did not come cheap. Well not usually.

Michael had negotiated hard ending up with an initial design fee of $50,000 and then a cost-plus contract. His instructions were to create a masculine environment, rich in leather and wood, that could be opened up into the city and also make him look good personally. He had stipulated he did not want to be involved consistently in the process. When Josh had finished with what he claimed to be his masterpiece, his bill had risen to a stunning $325,000.

When Michael received the bill, he was in a state of shock as he had only budgeted $200,000. He immediately flew to Portland to find out how decorating a home could possibly cost that much.

Justin had met him personally at the airport and proved to be as effeminate in the flesh as Michael had suspected from his telephone negotiations and quite a bit more dramatic. Michael realized that he couldn’t help but like the guy. There was an electric energy that pulsated from every pore of Justin’s body. He found it easy to laugh as they headed westward into town. He also remembered that there was a problem with the bill that he needed to fix.

“We’ll need a professional photographer,” Michael said, after capturing his breath from the latest fit of giggles.

“Oh, that is just wonderful,” Justin responded, pronouncing wonderful with lingering emphasis on the first syllable. “My heart is going all a flutter just thinking about it. I know that this will definitely make ‘Interior Design Quarterly’ and maybe even the cover. Who knows, possibly even ‘Pacific Homes’ or ‘Coastal Creations’ and certainly ‘Portland’s Premiere Properties’.”

“I know that I have given permission for a photo shoot as part of our contract,” Michael responded, “but that isn’t what I meant. Also, as part of the contract, I stipulated that the interior must make me look good. So, I actually need someone to take photos of me posed naked in each and every room. We can then study those photos and determine whether or not the finished product meets that stipulation. This is very important to me.”

He had to give Justin credit. His response had been immediate, quick and smart. Justin had simply picked up the phone, dialed a number from memory and instructed a guy named Rudolph to meet them at the corner of 23rd and Johnson in fifteen minutes.

Rudolph did not have a red nose. He was a tall gangly guy sporting a goatee that didn’t seem to really work with his lanky frame and gaunt face. However, he was prompt and came heavily laden with a very large collection of cameras, lenses and lighting equipment.

After parking their cars in the small lot, they entered the elevator at the rear of the building and took it up to the eighth floor. The elevator opened into a somewhat narrow hall, the western wall of which consisted of floor to ceiling windows that made it seem more spacious than it really was. The condo owned by the law firm was located by turning right while exiting the elevator and going to the end of the hall but by turning left you reached the entrance of Michael’s new home.

Michael felt a nervous excited energy as he trailed behind Justin and Rudolph into the condo. On entering the condo, the sound of Justin’s constant narrative, faded away to nothing. He was in a state of awe. He immediately noticed all of the mirrors. Some richly framed in either wood or gold while others covered entire walls. The entry way had been separated from the kitchen by a half wall. The kitchen was finished in marble with colors ranging from beautiful shades of brown, gold, copper and cream that set off the stainless steel appliances. The dining area off to the right had a nice butcher-block dining table that was smartly dressed with fine china, silver and crystal. The dining area led into an incredible living room with large brown leather sofas and chairs. All three conjoining rooms were framed with a plate of solid glass; which had previously been a wall, providing a magnificent easterly view of downtown Portland.

It took Michael over two full minutes to regroup and rethink his original strategy. Of course it was worth the $325,000 he thought. But he was going to stick to his original plan.

He remembered the ease with which he had put Justin and Rudolph prior to removing his clothes. And then chuckled at the awe that they had shown over his incredible naked body, while flustering about to get the photos. It had turned into a three-way sex fest as soon as Justin had agreed to reduce the cost plus portion of the bill, which resulted in a lower total price of only $275,000. The sex occurred right on the living room’s plush copper colored carpet prior to Michael even having seen the rest of his new home, and had been way better than Michael had anticipated while winging his way west earlier that day. He found that he really genuinely liked and admired Justin. More importantly to the savings, he hoped that he had just made his first friend in Portland.

Unbeknownst to him, Justin very quickly realized that he had just literally been fucked out of $50,000 and was furious with himself. The sex had been exceptional. A small, or rather large, slice of Heaven, but he was Justin Posh god damn it and could have sex with anyone. He vowed to never follow through with the photo spread he had planned and never again speak with Michael Hill.

The past two weeks had been a blur fitting his way into his new town. But he was finally beginning to feel at home as his hope of finding the right town was morphing into the realization that he had.

After crossing the Steel Bridge and making his way onto Morrison, he made the quick double right hand turn onto 6th and then into the parking lot for Sculpture. He was in an extremely gregarious and somewhat generous mood, which struck him as odd. He opened the trunk simply by instructing the car to “open the trunk,” strolled around, grabbed his gym bag, said “close trunk” and sauntered into the facility.

When Michael smiled, he virtually became angelic. As he entered the gym, he was unable to wipe the jubilant, cheery smile from his face. He flashed his membership card to Ted, only one of two employees so far as he knew, and made his way through the workout area toward the lockers. A funny thought struck him. Had he become unobservant over the last couple of weeks? There were no women’s lockers, although there was a women’s rest room. He decided that in his subconscious genius he had definitely picked the right gym. Grinning outwardly as he opened his locker and removed his clothes he heard one of the members approaching from the open shower area. He quickly shed his boxer shorts before turning around to gather his workout gear from his bag. He glanced up and saw Antonio approaching in his full, now confirmed uncircumcised, quite impressive glory.

“Hi Tony,” Michael said, knowing that being called Tony drove the gym’s only personal trainer crazy.

“Ummmm… it’s Antonio,” the six foot two, bronzed and muscled Italian stammered while constantly allowing his eyes to rove up and down Michael’s stunning body.

Michael’s shoulders squared and chest pumped out just a little and he awarded Tony with his most winning smile. Mono a mono. Perfect man to almost perfect man. Tony had overdone his arms and legs, minimizing his chest just a touch. Not good, but all too common with men whom were gym obsessed.

“So, Tony, I’m new to town and don’t really know my way around yet. I was wondering if you might be free for dinner and drinks. Maybe even help me get my bearings a little?” Michael requested with a magnanimous gesture.

“Tonight? Uh, yea, sure,” Tony stumbled. “I can’t do it late though, maybe around six?” as he regained his composure.

“Awesome!” Michael responded with genuine enthusiasm. “Meet me at my place then, I’m at 2301 Johnson Street, apartment 801.” He held back a giggle as he felt an urge to grab his cock when mentioning the name of the street he lived on now.

“I’ll be there and I’m looking forward to it,” Tony said as he strutted over to his locker.

Michael’s workout lasted longer and was far more strenuous than normal. He still stuck to his strict circuit training methodology, but doubled the sets and doubled the aerobic as his mind was flooded with endorphins envisioning his previous encounter with the whore and the upcoming encounter with the hot Italian trainer.

He was still envisioning Tony’s body while showering off after working out for two full hours. He needed to go home and sleep, then go to the market and find just the right produce for a perfect vegetarian dinner. Tonight was going to be fun; and, although he needed to give Tony some work out advice, there was potential there for something more long term. He felt his cock harden slightly as the warm water pounded down upon his soapy body. While his eyes remained closed, he reached down and rubbed himself slightly while smiling his angelic smile.

[swerve]

Chapter 4

Frank Montgomery was stunned. The object of his obsession over the last two weeks was actually coming on to him. He had been following Michael Hill during his off duty hours ever since Michael had moved in to the apartment next to his. Just this morning, he had followed him down to Stark Street and then watched as he picked up a rent boy and gone with him to the sleazy City Lights Motel.

Frank was a cop. He had worked traffic patrol for the last two years and loved every minute of it. He was damn good at it too. Sixty-seven percent of his tickets were either paid or upheld in court. Actually, that didn’t rank even near the middle of the board at the precinct, but he felt that it was because he rarely let people off with just a warning. Well, that is what he had told the Captain during his previous employment counseling session just three weeks ago. Unfortunately it had backfired. Just last week, they had promoted him to Junior Detective for the Robbery Homicide division.

He already missed the patrol car where he could roam the streets anonymously pulling people over at random and ruining their days. There was nothing better in life than a badge and a gun.

Some days he would choose white cars and some days blue pickup trucks. Some days he would try and only pull over gray haired ladies and some days only hot men. He never really concerned himself with actually using the radar gun, or whether or not the vehicles actually did breach the law. It was a game and it was fun!

Occasionally, he would run into an obnoxious fuck that actually knew the law but he was always smart enough to either find a real infraction, if he could, or just let them off after a stern repudiation. It didn’t even faze him, because the next car he pulled over would be driven by someone who was stupid as shit.

Ruining people’s days made him very happy.

Unfortunately, up until now, his day had been ruined. He was supposed to sign in at two that very afternoon with a Detective Kratz for training. Detective Kratz was one of those very ‘by the book’ guys who was well respected within both the department and community. That spelled boredom in capital letters for Frank. Hell, he didn’t even remember most of what ‘the book’ said about traffic patrol, let alone actual crimes.

His father had told him that he could not turn down the promotion and so he couldn’t.

His father, Cecil Montgomery was the founder and managing partner of Portland’s largest law firm Montgomery Booth and Wilkes. The firm had been Montgomery Wilkes for twenty years until Booth became a full partner, bringing along the Silicon Valley legal fees market with him. The decision to rename the firm in non-chronological order was simply a feeble attempt at political correctness.

The Portland Police Department did not pay well but Frank was used to not having to worry about money. His father allayed those worries by putting him up in one of the firm’s corporate apartments and providing him an allowance of $1,000 per week. The stipulation was that he shouldn’t embarrass the family or the firm.

Frank loved his father, but couldn’t stand having anyone looking over his shoulder. He was a fucking cop after all and what he said, well, should be.

Oh well, Detective Kratz at two o’clock.

Frank poured out the soap from the dispenser and tried to soap up his body the same way that Michael had done directly in front of him. Frank was a decent looking guy, all of six feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes, although he had a slightly scrawny frame. He had been working out consistently now for the last two weeks and his body was finally beginning to form a little definition. His cock was a full six inches, well maybe. Anyway, he felt good about the fact that he had the courage to invest the $200 a month membership fee for Sculpture in an effort to get Michael’s attention.

It had certainly paid off in spades. Michael had just rubbed his cock and grinned directly at him, before closing his eyes while quite certainly fantasizing over Frank’s body.

Frank looked down in horror on finding that his own cock was now fully erect. He quickly left the shower, grabbed his towel in an effort to cover himself and fast walked to his locker to get dressed.

While exiting the gym, he felt pissed by what little he had to drive. He had done what the PPD had asked, and like a child handing back candy, returned the patrol car to the motor pool the previous Friday. So, today he was in his own BMW. Not near as much fun because it didn’t have lights or sirens. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t have a uniform anymore. What the hell was he supposed to do with just a badge and gun if he was forced to wear civilian clothes?

Oh well, he let those thoughts fade away to replace them with images of Michael. Frank had set up a small surveillance shop three weeks ago on top of the roof of a twelve story apartment building just down the hill from his building from where he could watch his newest obsession, Michael. The height of the building combined with the slope of the hill provided for almost perfect viewing. The idea struck him the moment he saw the unusually handsome man for the first time, instantly knowing that he had to have him. At the time, Michael had been accompanied by an extraordinarily effeminate guy with pink hair and a scrawny guy carrying a huge travel bag. Frank had scurried down the block feeling blessed that he had been wearing his uniform even though he was off duty. He flashed his badge and talked to the building manager about police business and then, once upon the roof and in complete fascination, watched the whole erotic sex scene live via his compact binoculars he kept in his special holster, that was not police issue. He had bought it privately; it also held his gun, a spare gun, gun cartridges, pepper spray, and stun gun. In the last couple of weeks he had taken thousands of photos of Michael walking around nude in his apartment while moving vases and pictures and mirrors. Although, oddly enough, the apartment ended up just the way it had begun.

Oh God! He was getting hard again just thinking about Michael rubbing his cock in front of him in the gym’s shower. Although it was already nearing nine o’clock and he had no sleep since the previous afternoon, he was feeling horny as hell and began to think about ways to deal with the problem.

Frank instinctively headed towards Stark Street and the City Lights motel. He went to check his wallet to make sure he’d have enough to hire the same fucking little whore that Michael had hired and was horrified by the discovery that his wallet was gone. He quickly searched the car, checking between the seats, the floor, the center and door consoles and the glove box - it wasn’t anywhere to be found! Not to worry though, Frank calmed himself, you can always just scare the hell out of the little shit with your badge. Fuck, he didn’t even have his badge or holster or even his small ankle gun. All he had was a non-issue stun gun and an expired pepper spray in the glove box. As Michael had left his apartment so early in the morning, Frank had left in such a hurry to follow him that he had left pretty much everything at home. Following a complete inventory he quickly realized that all he had was $18 in crumpled up bills in his center console and $1.78 in change rattling around the bottom of the ashtray.

He thought about breaking into Michael’s apartment and lying down spread eagle on the living room floor. A welcome home present for his beloved, but Michael kind of scared him and thrilled him at the same time. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

He was hard as a fucking rock though. His mind raced and settled upon a solution. He pointed his car towards Burnside and 17th street. Albeit run down, and quite skanky, there was an adult bookstore there that had booths and glory holes in the back. He had raided the place three times over the last year, not because he had an actual warrant, but just because it was fun to scare the fuckers and see if there was anyone of interest there.

He grabbed the $18 and left the car unlocked as he quickly made his way inside. No way in hell he wanted to be caught here in his private vehicle. But God, he needed to get off… and fast!

He quickly paid $5 to go into the back area while not making eye contact with the guy on the cash desk and then slunk his way into the glory hole room.

There were two guys looking directly at the wall with their somewhat flaccid dicks hanging through conveniently placed holes. Neither one of the guys could be considered bad looking, but neither would be considered good looking either. What stressed Frank out the most was that neither one of them was being serviced. Shit! What were all those cock suckers doing at nine o’clock in the morning? Why weren’t they here? And most importantly, where is Michael?

Frank took a deep breath and then walked up to the hole that was furthest from the other two guys. They weren’t that bad looking. Why aren’t they on the other side Frank thought? To show his prowess, he didn’t just pull his cock out through his fly, he dropped his pants completely exposing his bare ass and with embarrassed pride he leaned into the wall as he quickly realized his dick had shriveled to the point that it would not dangle through the hole in proper fashion.

Nothing.

He closed his eyes and waited. Come on Michael he thought, I came here for you. I saw how you came onto me at the gym and I know you want me.

He waited.

Nothing.

He heard a snort from the guy furthest from him and then a chuckle from the guy closest to him. He kept his eyes closed… tight. Then even tighter. He felt his face grow warm and then hot with embarrassment.

Fiery hot.

And then… Something!

The lips softly and tentatively grabbed hold of his shrunken, ingrown cock. Softly, sweetly, pulling it from the hidden internal tentacles that had just moments ago been retracting it almost to extinction.

Frank’s face cooled as the blood course reversed in his body and went to feed the recipient of his manliness.

“Oh God, Michael, that feels so good!” Frank moaned. Partly out of pleasure, but mostly to let the other two losers know that he had more than them to offer.

As usual, he became instantly hard. “A Montgomery trait,” he recalled his father telling him during uncomfortable discussions. Then his father would end those uncomfortable unprovoked thoughts with, “As virile as the day is long.”

The whiskers hit the small glory-hole-exposed circle of his abdomen with each inhalation of his cock.

Wait a second? Michael had no facial hair!

Well, maybe he grew it since he left the gym fifteen minutes ago. Go with the flow Frank thought as he felt his testicles begin to contract. This really is Michael sucking my Montgomery cock. He turned and winked at the two losers as he spent himself into what he hallucinated as Michael’s mouth.

He withdrew, shivered a little, and while trying to ignore hearing the unseen cock sucker’s thanks for the 30 seconds of pure ecstasy, pulled up his pants and quickly left.

He needed to get home and try to get at least three hours sleep before his first day on duty as Detective Frank Montgomery.

[windsors]

Swerve,
I just finished your second, third, and fourth chapters, I had no idea of what was going to happen in each chapter, but to my surprise, I have to say... I really enjoyed your writing. Keep the chapters coming. GREAT JOB!!

[Kyanimal]

Before I get into what may be a "lengthy" reply, I first must THANK! opinterph for encouraging you to write this, and Autolycus, for pointing it out to me!

WOW!, Swerve! You've got an incredible story going here!!

I truly do enjoy the way you develop your characters, revealing bits and pieces of their back stories, while continuing on in the "present", moving the overall story forward. Reading it is almost as seductive as the various seductions that are taking place! Getting to know your characters is something like a strip tease. SO, I wouldn't be so concerned with the length of the chapters if that's what it takes to get everything, and everyone, where you want them.

Yes, this last chapter was shorter. And, at first, I was a bit confused how Frank could afford to be Michael's neighbor! But, you eventually made the connection to the law firm, through Frank's father, and it all became clearer. A prime example of what I said above. However, I feel like I'm still coming up a bit "short" on Frank, and am looking forward to hearing more about him in the following chapters. (Even though I do not care for that slime ball one bit!)

I was quite empathetic with, and concerned about poor Seth. Yes, the poor guy was true "trash", but I was sorry he met such a violent (even if somewhat euphoric) end at the hands of a superior "shark".

(As an aside, living in Milwaukee, I had run into Jeff Dahmer on a few occasions. And, your description of Michael, though even better looking, and obviously richer, comes close to Jeff. I'll not go further into that here, though ...)

Your WILD imagination is certainly delving down into the Dark Side of humanity. It actually scares me, a little bit, at how well you are able to describe it! From the sleazy motel room, to the lofty apartment, you're certainly covering all the social strata that is permeated with various predators falling victim to yet stronger predators.

And, I'm liking the way you cover the money angles. Some doing what they do out of need, while others are acting out of greed.

The money is just one of the seductions that you've covered, along with sex, drugs, vanity, reputation, "power", and other things that "drive" we mere humans. And, you've only written 4 chapters!!

As I've said, your many insights are a bit scary, and, yet, you have me enthralled with this world you are exposing through your crafty wordsmanship! As "they" say, "My hat is off to You, Sir!"

One more thing ... I might suggest you change Michael's last name. I'm not sure if it was intended, or perhaps subconscious, but he does remind me (especially with the "angelic" face, if not the stature and build) of Michael C. Hall, who plays the lead in "Dexter", and was the gay son in "Six Feet Under".

I was a HUGE fan of "Six Feet", but have not seen "Dexter", though I understand that character is an M.E. (coroner) who skillfully eliminates those who he believes should face a certain justice.

Though your Michael's motives are not so much "justice", he's still an angelic looking devil! SO, to perhaps avoid future conflict, how about something like Michael Archer? Just a thought ...

I am thoroughly looking forward to reading MORE, Please!! And, THANK YOU! for this story, so far!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

[Kyanimal]

Correction: I just got to watch the first 4 episodes of "Dexter". He's not an M.E., but rather a forensic scientist specializing in blood spatter. But, yes, he does have an angelic face. Now I think I'm "hooked"!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

[swerve]

Swerve,
I just finished your second, third, and fourth chapters, I had no idea of what was going to happen in each chapter, but to my surprise, I have to say... I really enjoyed your writing. Keep the chapters coming. GREAT JOB!!

THANKS Windsors!!!

BOTH for reading -- AND leaving a comment!!!

I hope you continue enjoying where the story leads....

[swerve]

TO KYAnimal!!!

WOW!!! THANK YOU for reading and providing such POSITIVE and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism...

You and I have BOTH been members of JUB for a LONG TIME -- and I've always thought HIGHLY of you!!!

I've INITIATED the NAME CHANGE (back to the ORIGINAL name I had Given Michael (Michael Hill) -- actually for a small and minor reason further to come)...

I must admit to being GUILTY for not being up to date on Television or Celebrity -- I have never seen either show -- OR consciously knew about Michael Hall (the actor)...

BUT -- maybe SUBCONSCIOUSLY I had heard the name -- because I changed the name at "last minute" as it seemed to sound better in my brain...

I HAVE read all of Jeff Lindsay's Dexter Series in print however, and they are TERRIFIC!!!

Chapter 4 may not have been my best chapter...

But I'll try and make up for it in the future...

I am certainly not TRYING to make the reader like OR dislike any of the characters... As they flesh themselves out, I hope that the reader can at least identify with them...

THANKS AGAIN for taking the time to read and respond to my story...

[rocabar]

Wow- VERY dark... yet SO gripping!
awaiting the next instalment, swerve.

[Autolycus]

AS a Dexter fan myself, I can now understand why I find this particular story so intriguing! Nothing like a goodie/badie to stir the imagination!

[Lefty]

Swerve

An excellent performance.......intense, impactive and compelling.....

well, read the p/m.

[swerve]

Wow- VERY dark... yet SO gripping!
awaiting the next instalment, swerve.

Thanks rocabar!!!

I'm on a mad dash across the country -- literally from Coast to Coast -- in an effort to get home EARLY for the holidays...

Don't want to post any more until my brain gets rested up!!!

[swerve]

Swerve

An excellent performance.......intense, impactive and compelling.....

well, read the p/m.

Thanks Lefty for the post and the SUPER NICE PM!!!

Hope you're surviving the storm out that a way -- and I'm glad that I outran it!!!

[Lefty]

Swerve,

You know I don't do super nice. You know at best I do mild acerbic.

Don't trash my hard earned reputation in a public place. Closets are

like attics and basements...not for the public..............lol

Seriously, that was an eval not a back pat. Trust you are home and you

boys have a great holiday....Lefty O'Poet

[DonQuixote]

Swerve,
You have a lot of talent in your dexterous digits, and the possibly warped mind attached to same!

Your story is compelling. extremely dark, but compelling.

Your chapter length is not bad - as Chaz said, they are as long as they need to be in order to get the scene across.

I feel for poor Seth, who thought his street smarts would let him take care of his family with his body for relatively easy money - living a hard life.

One he paid a high price for.

And our latter day Mike the Ripper, or whatever the fuck he turns out to be.

You have many different angles playing out for us. I look forward to seeing how you "massage" the story for us.

[EasyRory]

I like the story as it progresses but need to tell you the first two chapters were near perfect.

The first chapter could stand alone as a complete short story. Then I kind of held my breath for chapter two, thinking it might disappoint; but it didn't at all. It was a beautiful balance for chapter one.

You could have stopped right there and I'd have been more than satisfied.

[Lefty]

XXX or Swerve,

You stated this and regardless of what that butterbrain EasyRory says, the story does not Stand alone...Your brain child is approaching maturity and their is a table
full of voracious relatives at the table waiting to be fed.
Get on that keyboard and ride boy...Ride. (now, was that subtle or what?)m

[DonQuixote]

That's you, Lefty - Subtle.
Very Subtle.

Cast Iron Dutch Oven over the head, subtle.

Don't be dissing EasyRory, too much. He meant well in the accolades. As an author, maybe he forgot how much we
readers consume.

[Lefty]

donnie, get
head out of the sand
no diss on unEasyRoryStoryMan.
the man was a vehicle to convey a thought.
Subtle me telling the Swerve to quit fucking
around and write. E/R just happened to be
in the neighborhood and acted as a catalyst to
get the point across. E/R will know that, Mr. High
and Bye Ways will know that...and now, hopefully
you know that. I realize that often my deft wit and
droll humour exceed your grasp, but can't you wait until
someone bleeds to break out the antiseptic and bandages?



Morning Dairy Queen......

[EasyRory]

Don't be dissing EasyRory, too much.

Lefty can call me anything he wants.

I still think the first two chapters can stand alone as a tight, complete short story, something that's very hard to write.

[Lefty]

E/R

I wouldn't diss you....use you as a springboard but never diss you...First,

I like you and your stuff.....Second, I can't, I'm vulnerable too

And we don't want swerve to get lazy letting this one be done.


lol

happy holidays

[DonQuixote]

can't you wait until
someone bleeds to break out the antiseptic and bandages?

In a word, No.
THAT would go counter to my noble purpose in life - to right wrongs.
(Especially when it means WE get to mix it up - THAT's just so much fun!)

Easy Rory,
I will, of course, defer to your desires.

[Lefty]

Don't you mean your ignoble life goal

The one where you exemplify, typify and

otherwise endorse and support the concept

you have live by and sworn fealty to for some

FIFTY years or so now?

"
"My Noble Purpose is to Wrong Rightly"

And in so doing sponsor Howdy Doody Lifestyles/


EH.....EH.....EH.....EH

[DonQuixote]

"My Noble Purpose is to Wrong Rightly"
And in so doing sponsor Howdy Doody Lifestyles/

That would be YOUR porpoise[sic] in life, LeftyCuss.

[windsors]

I think the next chapter is coming soooon, but I don't think I can last.

[Lefty]

Quick........give the man one of dynks cookies...no give him two....

hell, give him the whole plate. and see if there's any Cuervo left

in one of the dumpster condo's.

[EJMichaels]

Just found this thread (thanks to seeing Lefty's recent post) ... no time to read, just a quick skim - will definitely be back.

[Lefty]

So there

See Donnie doo doo, unlike you...

I serve a valid purpose.

[DonQuixote]

So there
See Donnie doo doo, unlike you...
I serve a valid purpose.

(We have to make allowances for the storm driven weary. He forgets how many folk have followed a link I've provided, or OTHER services provided for the technologically challenged.)

[swerve]

The story WILL continue...

POSSIBLY even tonight with Chapter 5...

I apologize for any delays -- and for the possible demise of Windsors (hope that dynk's cookies saved him)...

I've finished my travels through Christmas, and hope to update more regularly over the holidays...

[swerve]

The first chapter could stand alone as a complete short story. Then I kind of held my breath for chapter two, thinking it might disappoint; but it didn't at all. It was a beautiful balance for chapter one.

You could have stopped right there and I'd have been more than satisfied.

THANKS!!!

Maybe I should have...

Now the pressure is on -- and I'm not sure that I can handle the heat...

[Lefty]

Oh no.

You got to cruise and skate and skate and cruise for 2 chapters as a virgin. At

that point the hymen was torn/ the hyphen was born and Swerve-Writer was

christened....We gave you space for the training pants days and the training

jock strap days. Puberty has arrived... Now, Get it hard-be the bard-use your

pen-it's that time again. Come in dollops or expect the whollops--no more delay,

here big boys play. Get down and write or no Opi tonight.

Subtle..............I'd say no, Funny...........I sure hope so.

Welcome home, Happy Holidays...now get to work.

Professor Lefty O'Meanicuss
Lexicographer of the JUB

[DonQuixote]

Who said he's Lefty O'Toole, Nobody's Fool?

[Lefty]

Sure and that would be me twin cousin in the olde country

[swerve]

Chapter 5

Detective Jonathon Kratz did not like people. He neither liked them in the general sense nor all the way down to the singular level of the individual. He had three years left on the force before he qualified for the full retirement package and was longing for the day when he could move out to the great expansive nothingness of Wyoming to live his remaining years in relative peace.

He rubbed his temples, as he continued to wait for the new detective in training to arrive for his first day. Two weeks ago, the Police Chief had called him to his office to discuss the promotion of Frank Montgomery. The Chief explained what Jonathon already knew. Frank's father, Cecil, carried a lot of political clout in the city and though the department had wanted to terminate Frank altogether, word had come down through the mayor’s office that they needed to promote him instead. Jonathon didn’t allow the gossip of ineptitude and recklessness surrounding Frank to enter into his judgment. He would train him well and Frank would either succeed or fail on his own.

He removed his hands from his temples and went back to drawing geometrical shapes onto the pad that lay on the center of his desk. Afternoon sunlight poured in through the westward facing window and reflected off his wedding ring. At the age of 59, Jonathon was a widower. He had been widowed for most of his life. His mind traveled back to the age of 22 when he married his bride, Beth, in a quiet ceremony at their synagogue in Eugene. Back then he was working for the Lane County Sheriff’s Department as a deputy. They had spent their wedding night in Portland, and then the following morning boarded a plane for an all-inclusive stay at a couples resort in Negril, Jamaica. Since both Beth and himself had remained celibate up until their vows, the sex had been awkward and clumsy. But the sun, sand, and surf combined with unlimited amounts of food and alcohol more than made up for those shortcomings. Their fourth full day of marriage had begun with the amateur amore in the bedroom; a full breakfast that lasted into lunch and then the drinking began. They had ended the afternoon at the cliffs by Rick’s Café watching riskier and less weight laden visitors leap from the cliffs and plunge into the waters below. After a picture perfect sunset, they climbed aboard the courtesy bus and made their way back to the room. Jonathon fuzzily remembered once again making love to his wife before rolling over and passing out somewhere around nine that night. Much more vividly he remembers waking up at four the next morning in urgent need of the restroom. When he returned to the bed he snuggled up next his new wife, only to find her somewhat cold. He very quickly determined that she was no longer breathing.

There was no suicide note or any indications that Beth had been suicidal. The death was ruled an accidental overdose of sleeping pills. Over the years Jonathon had done further research to discover that based upon Beth’s body mass, she would have needed to take approximately twelve pills to have that concentration of drugs in her body at the time of death. He had spent countless hours researching every possibility, regardless of its plausibility, and always came up without answers. It was very difficult for him to believe that she had committed suicide and even more difficult to believe that anyone could take twelve pills by accident. To this day he remained baffled by her death and felt completely inadequate to be a husband. Back at his apartment he still maintained a round table in the corner of his living room as a shrine with photographs of their short time together and the original pill bottle with the original remaining seventeen pills. Macabre by anyone else’s standards, he was certain; but he really didn’t care what others thought, nor did he entertain.

Frank Montgomery finally arrived thirty-eight minutes after the hour. He was very debonairly dressed in a dark navy blue suit, light blue shirt and maroon and yellow tie. After a brief greeting and as soon as he was settled into the chair Jonathon began.

“Where are the doughnuts?” he asked while spreading his arms and in an expectant manner.

“Um, what do you mean?” Frank responded with uncertainty and confusion.

“It’s always the junior detective’s job to bring the doughnuts,” Jonathon explained. Then continued, “Don’t worry, you’ll get reimbursed from petty cash as long as you get a receipt.”

“Well, sir, I don’t eat doughnuts,” Frank stammered.

“What do you eat with your coffee?” Jonathon inquired.

“Sir, I rarely drink coffee either,” Frank answered with growing confidence.

Jonathon, in an exaggerated gesture, hefted his large frame from his chair and turned to where he could look out above the cubicles and address his fellow detectives and support staff. In a very derisive tone and loud deep voice declared, “Well, I never. Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been informed that our newest recruit neither drinks coffee nor eats doughnuts!” As the office began to murmur and chuckle, Jonathon, very quickly for his size, turned back around and thudded into his chair. He raised his right arm and with considerable force smashed his right fist down onto the pad at the center of his desk. “I don’t give a good god damned if you don’t care for doughnuts,” he bellowed. “It’s still your job as junior detective to bring them for the rest of us that do! If you had asked anyone even one question about your new job, you would have known this de-tec-tive.” Spitting out the last word as if it contained a foul flavor. “You have fifteen minutes to get back here with the doughnuts and since you were already late, I’m docking you for your first full hour,” he finished, as Frank quickly left the cubicle and scurried out of the room.

It was always important to break the balls of a new recruit Jonathon had mused as he began to chuckle. Frank had just made this a little easier than normal. His phone began to ring and as he answered the call informing him of a murder at the City Lights Motel, he immediately regretted his actions.

It wasn’t ideal to involve a junior detective in a murder investigation on his very first day, but it would’ve happened sooner or later. He would limit Frank’s involvement to ‘observer’ and then discuss the case in detail with him once it was solved.

He jotted down what little information was provided and impatiently awaited Frank’s return.

Frank had no idea where people went to buy doughnuts other than Voodoo Doughnuts, which was located around the corner on SW 2nd Street. The only reason he knew of Voodoo Doughnuts was because every year they held a competition called Cockfest where men would compete to see who could hold the most doughnuts on their erect cocks. He had always been envious of the employees that were allowed to judge the contest. The problem with Voodoo Doughnuts was that they always had a line reaching around the corner and at least halfway down the block. There was no way he could go there, wait in line, and be back in fifteen minutes. So, he unknowingly passed Dunkin’ Doughnuts and Krispy Kreme as he sped up Burnside to the Fred Meyer’s grocery store. He literally ran into the bakery section and asked the elderly lady behind the glass counter for a dozen doughnuts. The lady informed him that they did not sell fresh baked doughnuts in the afternoon, but he could find doughnuts on aisle fifteen with the cookies and crackers. The doughnuts on aisle fifteen were small and packaged in bags. Being unsure how many were needed, Frank grabbed four bags and impatiently stood in line for checkout. By the time he returned to the Police Bureau, the task had taken him a total of thirty-five minutes.

Jonathon was quite agitated when Frank finally did return. He quickly assessed the four bags of Hostess Doughnuts and immediately threw them in the trash declaring them to be inedible. He then grabbed Frank by the arm and hustled him back down to the parking lot and headed out towards the City Lights Motel.

“We’re going to assess the scene,” Jonathon began. “Every crime scene contains clues and evidence, so it is important that we avoid disturbing the scene as much as possible prior to the technicians coming in and doing their job. It is also important that we view the scene without bias, as to not jump to any preconceived notions. Let the evidence lead us,” he finished.

He glanced over at Frank and could tell that he was still fuming. “Listen,” Jonathon continued. “Don’t sweat the doughnuts. I was just trying to break your balls and lighten the mood. Right now we need to be completely focused on solving this crime. We’ll be spending a lot of time together over the next several days.”

“I’m not your lackey,” Frank responded in a shaky voice. “Nor do I allow people to treat me as one.”

Good, Jonathon thought. The kid actually has some balls. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. He had already determined that Frank was insecure and even though Jonathon didn’t like people, he was very good at reading them. The fact that Frank had overcome his insecurity to spit that statement out was encouraging. Who knew what it must’ve been like to grow up in the Montgomery family, Jonathon mused. Cecil Montgomery had a reputation as a brutal power player in Portland and although Jonathon wasn’t directly involved, there remained unanswered questions within the department surrounding the death of Cecil’s first wife who was also Frank’s mother.

The parking lot of the City Lights Motel was busier than it had ever been over the last several decades. Police vehicles were everywhere and room twenty-seven, including the immediate surrounding area, was sealed off with police crime scene tape. Jonathon exited the vehicle, nodded to one of the officers and headed off to speak with the patrol supervisor who had first responded to the call.

After a brief conversation, he turned to Frank and handed him a pair of latex gloves and paper booties. “Put these on,” he instructed. “The victim is on the bed with a knife in his back. There are no noticeable signs of forced entry. The knife, the body, and the room are going to give us the evidence we need to find the butcher. If you feel like you are going to be sick, please step outside.”

Frank was in a state of shock. He was standing at the entrance to the very room Michael had used with the whore earlier that morning. He awkwardly put the booties on over his shoes and with even more difficulty maneuvered the gloves finger by finger onto his hands.

He followed Jonathon into the room and his eyes immediately locked onto the most amazing ass he had ever seen. He felt a slight movement in his trousers as he jealously thought of Michael having fun with that ass earlier in the day. He felt as if he were in an alternate reality as he watched Jonathon circle the body inspecting it from many angles and then realized that he could also approach the body and check out the cock that was certainly hanging in front of those nicely shaped balls.

“I would say the time of death was approximately seven to nine hours ago, based on hypostasis and rigor mortis,” Jonathon declared. He further explained that hypostasis is the amount of blood pooling in the lower parts of the body and that rigor mortis starts approximately two hours after death in the smaller muscles and gradually progresses. “Of course, the ME will be able to give us a more precise time,” Jonathan concluded.

“It couldn’t have been more than seven hours,” Frank blurted in an attempt to be helpful.

“Why do you say that?” Jonathon queried with an amused and truly baffled expression.

“Well,” Frank began. He knew that Michael was here fucking the lucky shit at that time, but he also recognized that he was tired from only having a few hours of restless sleep earlier that day. “Certainly no one could be dead that long before it was called in,” he finished with uncertainty in his voice. At the same time, he was beginning to develop a plan in his mind. This just might be the ticket for him to finally meet Michael. Michael was probably one of the last people to have seen the whore alive. As a material witness, Frank could possibly seduce him under the pretence of an ‘interview.’

“I’ve been doing this a long time Frank,” Jonathon continued. “But we’ll know for sure by tomorrow morning after the ME examines the body.”

Frank worked up his nerve and approached the body. He wondered if he was allowed to touch the body as Jonathon had carefully done. He tentatively reached his hand up to the left buttock and leaned over to try and catch a glimpse of the whore’s cock. Jonathon grabbed his wrist prior to making contact and he was sternly reminded that his job was that of an observer only.

Frank stood up and could feel his face redden. “Sorry,” he stammered as he tried to regain his composure. “I was just trying to see what you meant by blood pools and rigor mortis.”

“Not a problem,” Jonathon replied. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate that in detail tomorrow at the ME’s office after they’ve completed their exam. For now, lets look at the knife.”

Frank meekly followed Jonathon over to the other side of the body and stared at the knife still stuck in the whore’s back. He was shocked at the lack of blood. It was then that his eyes fell to the face, or lack thereof. There was blood, bone, a partial eye and broken teeth. The nausea came faster than he would have thought possible and he didn’t quite make it out of the motel room before he started spewing the remains of his breakfast. He finished vomiting while kneeling over a small bush in front of the sidewalk that wound its way around the motel.

Jonathon was elated that Frank had lost it. He had noticed the fascination; including what he thought might be the start of an erection as Frank had ogled over the victim. Jonathon was beginning to be somewhat concerned. Well, at least he’s human, Jonathon thought.

Frank was beyond embarrassed. He had spent hours and hours perusing photos of dead bodies on the Internet knowing that at some point he would need to actually see one. And yet, he still couldn’t hold it together. Even worse, he didn’t want to go back into that room. The mental image of what he had just seen came back and he began to heave again; although, this time, there wasn’t much left in his acidic stomach to come out.

Jonathon eventually came out of the room and instructed Frank to wait in the car while he spoke with the crime scene investigators.

“I’ve initiated a 360 photo of the room,” Jonathon began to babble when he returned to the car 45 minutes later. “Fingerprinting, vacuuming for other evidence, patrols canvassing the neighborhood, videotapes from nearby businesses, blah, blah blah.” Frank heard.

“Well, we know three things for certain.” Frank declared. “First thing is the ‘victim’ is a whore. Second, the killer is a man. And thirdly, he is a ‘fag’,” using his fingers to form quotation marks for the words victim and fag. Frank cringed slightly at using the word fag, but he desperately wanted to fit in amongst his peers at the PPD and thought that this was the best approach.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Jonathon responded. “Although, we cannot use the word certain until we’re actually positively certain. There was a small amount of heroin found in the room with the usual paraphernalia, which could indicate a drug motivation and there is no sign of the victim’s wallet that could indicate robbery. Also,” he continued while turning to give Frank a piercing and penetrating gaze directly into his soul, “the Portland Police Department doesn’t condone using the word ‘fag’ when speaking of members in our gay community. Personally, I find the word offensive and I don’t ever want to hear you use it in my presence again.”

Frank flinched, and Jonathon thought ‘check’. His perceptive qualities were still up to par. Other people’s sexuality had never bothered Jonathon and quite honestly, he could care less about the use of the word and had probably used it himself on occasion. They had to be called something, he reasoned.

“The sketch artist will have us a rendering of the victim within the hour,” he explained to Frank. “Right now you and I will interview the manager and staff of the motel. Then I’ll need you to have the PR department put together a release for the media and let me review it for final approval. Then we’ll meet with vice to try and find out who the victim was, who his johns are, and who he associates with. It’s going to be a long night and tomorrow will even be longer, but we’ll nail the bastard who did this. I guarantee it.”

The manager of the motel was a total creep. He claimed to have no idea who had been in room twenty-seven and that it had been vacant for several weeks. The housekeeper who discovered the body did not speak English and wouldn’t be available until the following day as she had become overwrought with anxiety and was now resting with the assistance of medication.

Normally Jonathon would have persuaded the manager to be completely honest regardless of his cash deals; but, because the maid had freaked out to the point that she required medical attention, Jonathon decided to come back and interview them tomorrow.

Writing the press release had proved very challenging for Frank. After spending an hour and a half, he finally came up with his final version. It was difficult because he remembered that he couldn’t use anything that might be speculative.

“A young white male was found stabbed to death in the City Lights Motel this morning by the PPD. If you have any information pertaining to the identity of this man or circumstances surrounding his death, please contact Detective Frank Montgomery or Detective Jonathon Kratz in the Robbery Homicide division.”

When he presented the press release to Kratz, Jonathon had burst out in full laughter. “No!” he had exclaimed. “I didn’t mean for you to write the release.” He reached over his desk to a stack of trays and retrieved a form, which he tossed across the desk. “Simply fill out this form and turn it into PR. They’ll write the release and submit it back to us for approval. If we had had time for training prior to being called out, you would have known the procedure. Although,” Kratz admitted, “it’s not bad.”

The meeting with vice had been very interesting for Frank. Apparently, the vice squad’s budget had been slashed years ago when the mayor dictated to the police force the public’s desire to live in a less policed environment when it came to drugs and sex. Currently, the vice squad only dealt with underage prostitution and ‘hardcore’ drug suppliers. They did not know the identity of the victim and could only supply the known areas of gay street prostitution and thirteen specific addresses for male escorts that advertised over the Internet and in print publications. They had taken note of the heroin packaging; however, and said that they would get back to them with any information as soon as they could track down the source.

By ten that night Frank was exhausted. He had been handed a stack of forms filled out by the patrol officers who had done the canvassing throughout the immediate area and was beginning to doze off while trying to read the varied and cramped handwriting.

He awoke to a tap on his shoulder, quickly realizing that he had fallen asleep and that drool had formed onto the paperwork under his face. He slowly lifted his head and saw the cup of steaming coffee next to the chocolate laden Bavarian crème doughnut.

He took a sip of the coffee and a large bite from the doughnut. At that point he felt as if they were the best things he had ever tasted in his entire life.

[DonQuixote]

Swerve,
An interesting meeting between our nervous newby to the Detective Squad and the seasoned, lonely trainer.

Too bad our newby didn't have more integrity and give up the information he had - timing is everythiing, and the more time that goes by, the harder to catch the killer. Oh that he was a bit sharper and more dedicated.

You are continuing to craft a good, strong story.

[rocabar]

You made it! Thanks for the great instalment, swerve- I can hardly wait till the next one!

[windsors]

I hope that my joking, about waiting around didn't prompt you to putting the next chapter up.

Thanks swerve, I've been refreshed...

All I can say in great story. Keep'em coming.

[Lefty]

Windsors, after seeing the cookies and Cuervo saved you from post 37, we are
relieved to see you posting.

I think it safe to ease your stress about pressuring the swerver tp "publish or perish'.

Posts 28,30 and 43 would probably be far guiltier. Especially #43 that makes
mention of the penalty for failure to produce...You think?...lol


Happy Holidays.