ILLUSIONS is a non-formula romance, gay erotic, police procedural set in the UK. There is only one American in it and he's only the love interest, not the lead character. If you were addicted to the Idol Books romances, this was written to their guidelines.

This story is gay fiction. It is copyrighted and cannot be reproduced in any medium without my express permission. If you are a minor in your country of origin, don't read.

I have two other series running on Nifty: GLOBAL ENTERTAINMENT appearing in the Incest folder and TAYLOR MOUNTAIN in the scifi folder. If these two stories don't give you enough hot vampire and mortal men to drool for, Starbooks has just released my LOVERS WHO STAY WITH YOU, and that has 28 tales that'll have you offering your neck to the next guy who offers to lick it. <G> You can help Nifty by using its link to A Different Light bookstore when buying this book.

I'd love to hear from you -- tell me what you think of this story, Taylor Mountain, or Global Entertainment. Just please put the title of the story in the subject box so that I won't delete your message along with all the spam I get. I'm at vichowel@aol.com.

Dave MacMillan

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brett and I arrived at Waterloo Station Friday morning at nine; our train to Selsey near Chichester departed at nine forty-six. My police lads, donned in togs that would do any Oxford lad proud, were the first to join us. Both studied Brett curiously. Ginger-haired Richard Bell was the last to arrive, and I caught Patel licking his lips as his attention turned to the new boy.

Richard looked the two young policemen over as lasciviously as the Asian was studying him but was much more obvious about it. If I had not already known what the next two days were about, I would have known this weekend was going to be a bloody orgy from those two.

I didn't know how I felt about that now. At least, how it would affect me and one particular member of our group. Two days ago, I would have looked forward to it -- a part of me would have. Now, however, I didn't want Brett Chandler involved with anyone but me -- not sexually -- though I had agreed that what might happen this weekend was to be separate from our growing relationship.

Intellectually, I understood the rationale. We were invited into the den of the Russian bear -- as young, randy uni lads. We had accepted that invitation in order to learn if there was a connection between the Russians and the heroin entering the London gay community. The Russian and English guests were presumably all gay. The weekend was expected to be an orgy and we were expected to participate.

My problem with that was entirely an emotional one. I had become quite infatuated with Brett Chandler in the day that he had shared my bed and sated my libido -- I was willing to admit that I probably was in love with him. I didn't want anyone else touching him. Even if he was the star attraction of the weekend fete as far as our hosts were concerned. Even if he was the best looking lad on the estate. I had visions of hordes of horny Russians quickly tearing Brett's clothes off and gleefully having their way with him.

I pulled Richard and my two policemen aside so that I could speak to them without the rest of the station overhearing. Brett followed.

'There's been an unpleasant development,' I told them. Patel and Yorston instantly lost interest in anything but what I would say. Richard Bell was still eye-ing Patel's basket.

'Richard!' Brett growled low and grabbed the Irishman by the arm. 'Listen up for once, boy!'

I watched them move several paces away. Brett spoke softly but Richard's face showed his shock at the news. He looked at me hopefully. I could only shake my head.

'There's been another death...'

'An overdose?' Yorston asked.

'I won't know for certain until I've seen the post mortem Monday, but I'm going to operate on the assumption that it was murder.'

'Murder?' Patel asked and glanced over at Richard and Brett. 'Someone involved in the clubs?'

'Peripherally. He was a medical student at King's College and made money as a rentboy.

Apparently, he was well-known at Illusions where they knew him.' I nodded towards our companions. 'He also knew these Russians who're our hosts this weekend and knew they were quite free with their party drugs.'

'If they're involved and they killed him, they may know about us,' Yorston said.

'Possibly. I don't know. I wish I did,' I mumbled. 'We may be walking into a trap and a very dangerous one at that.' I took a deep breath. 'It's up to you whether you go or not. I won't hold it against you if you turn down this chance to get yourselves killed.'

'And turn down a chance at transferring into CID?' Patel groaned.

'Give up a promotion -- and a raise?' Yorston asked. 'No way.'

'Are the civilians still going with us?' Patel asked and glanced again at Richard and Brett.'

'Brett is. He wants to.' I shrugged. 'And he's the one who was invited.'

'And none of us with a weapon,' Yorston groaned.

Tears were welling in Richard's eyes when he and Brett rejoined us. 'I'm going with you,' he said to me, his voice low but hard. 'If Ilyich and those bastards killed Aled, I want to be the one to hang him...'

'We don't have capital punishment any more,' Patel reminded him.

Richard studied the Asian for a moment. 'Maybe not,' he said finally. 'But Aled was a good mate. I owe him the chance to catch his murderer.'

'We don't know that it was murder,' I told him. 'They're only doing the post mortem today.'

'Did you see him, Philip?' Richard asked quietly, watching me intently.

I nodded.

'Were there any gunshot wounds or broken bones?'

'There were no marks on him except for one pinprick...'

'Like one a syringe would make?'

I nodded again.

'I'll wager he died of an overdose,' Richard said then, his voice tight. His gaze met mine. 'And Aled was not a drug user, Philip. Shit! He was a bloody medical student -- he knew what that stuff could do to him.'

'That spells murder where I come from,' Brett offered.

'So, we'll be careful,' I told them. 'And we need to stay together as much as possible.'

Brett looked at Richard for a moment and shook his head slowly. 'Famous last words.'

Brett Chandler chose an end railway carriage for us. We entered it and quickly found seats that faced each other in the rear. I glanced around and saw that, except for two old ladies, our group were the only people in the carriage. The old dears were at the other end. I smiled and wondered if Brett and I might have a chance to touch, perhaps even snog a bit, during the nearly two-hour trip out to Selsey. Despite the open nature of the railway carriage, I hoped so. I couldn't seem to get enough of him.

Richard took a look at the lay-out and blinked. I could see that he was still sad and mad about Aled. I watched as he realised there was nothing he could do for the Welshman, though -- not on the train. I knew the moment he remembered he had been really intrigued by the Asian.

He had obviously put the dead medical student out of his mind when he grinned broadly. His hand went to Patel's jean-covered bum and squeezed. The Asian looked over his shoulder at him and ground his arse against the Irishman's hand.

'It's the two of us,' Patel whispered, jerking his head towards Yorston, 'or neither of us -- which will it be, lad?'

'Where?' Richard asked quickly.

Patel shrugged. 'The loo?'

Richard nodded and rubbed his hands in anticipation. I watched as the Asian nudged his blond boyfriend and took his hand before pointing at the toilets. Doug Yorston's lips twitched, he studied Richard for a moment, and he nodded. The three of them handed over their tickets to me.

Brett plopped into the seat facing front as the train began to pull out of Waterloo Station. He sat beside the window and smiled over at me, patting the cushion beside him. I joined him. Our companions were already slipping into the toilet at the end of the carriage.

'From the moment I saw those two boys, I was wondering how long it would take that slut to go for them,' Brett said as he leant his head against my chest.

'Richard's a slut?'

'I thought you already knew that about him. That boy simply stops thinking if there's a new cock around and he thinks it's available. He's always on a cock hunt.' He chuckled. 'I hope that Indian is big where it counts because that boy from Belfast does like his meat big.'

I felt Brett's finger squirm playfully into my pocket, followed by several others. 'Watch the little old ladies for a few, Philip. I'm going to play pocket pool.'

'Pocket pool?'

His fingers manoeuvred the pocket lining of my trousers over my hip and onto my belly to where the cloth covered my prick. They spread across the top of my ball sack through the lining. I began to grow erect.

My face turned the colour of beetroot, I stared at the old dears at the other end of the carriage and prayed that they wouldn't look our way. One of Brett's fingers traced my prick out to its tip and I shuddered. 'We shouldn't,' I mumbled.

'Sshh!'

I fell silent and tried not to become involved in what he was doing to me. I failed abysmally. My cock throbbed as his fingers continued to play along its length. His other hand moved to my zip and its fingers began to lower it. At the other end of the carriage, the two women chatted happily, oblivious to us.

The head of my cock was turned towards my belly. His fingers pulled the skin up onto the glans. I felt pre-come ooze out of me and, a moment later, seep down through my pubes to bathe my crutch. My hips instinctively began to hump his fingers gripping me through the lining of my pocket.

'Brett!' I gasped hoarsely, feeling my bollocks begin to tighten.

'Close, honey?' he mumbled.

'I can't toss off in my trousers like a horny teenager,' I growled between my teeth. 'It'd show, Brett.'

'It'd brand you as mine,' he chuckled, 'at least until it dried.'

'Brett!'

His free hand slipped inside my trousers through the opened zip. 'All right, so I'll just take care of you in another way.' His fingers slipped through the opening of my boxers and found my shaft. They quickly pulled my cock out into the open. I shuddered and prayed that the ladies remained where they were. That the conductor broke his leg in one of the carriages before us. That Richard was keeping my new trainees well-occupied.

I felt the warm wetness of his mouth cover my helmet, his tongue bathing away the pre-come and his lips pushing my skin onto the shaft before them.

'Brett,' I mewled and watched the back of his head as his lips descended down my shaft until they were buried in the maze of cloth and pubic hair that was my crutch.

My hand massaged his hip through his jeans and moved up to his shirt-covered back. I pulled his shirt from the waist of his jeans and my hand slipped under it to feel his smooth, warm skin.

He swallowed, his throat muscles massaging the head of my dick. His lips retreated and my prick was caught up in a vacuum as total as space, my blood drawn there from every corner of my body. Again and again, he swallowed me and sucked me. My bollocks rose to ride my shaft. My hand moved under his shirt to his nearest nipple and I began to rub it gently between my forefinger and thumb.

I stampeded towards the abyss of orgasm under the American's driving. I was nearly there already. I was past awareness, past even my in-bred caution, and was riding the tail of pleasure. 'I'm close,' I managed to get out in a choked voice.

He sped up his pace, his lips racing down my prick shaft, my helmet reaching deeper into this throat.

I shuddered and felt every muscle in my body tighten. I gasped. And erupted.

His throat muscles milked me, swallowing my come.

When he had every drop he could suction out of me, he kissed my knob-end and carefully manoeuvred my cock back into my boxers and pulled my zip up. He turned and looked up at me then. He smacked his lips. And smiled. 'I didn't get enough protein at breakfast, Philip. That hit the spot.'

'We were both at risk,' I grumbled, relaxing and enjoying my sated state in spite of myself. 'We've simply got to be more careful.'

'You enjoyed it though, didn't you?'

I snorted. 'Of course I did. But some things just can't be done, Brett -- not in public.'

'Did anyone see us?'

'No,' I admitted. But we were still running an awful risk.' I glanced up as a motley of sound entered the carriage. As I watched, the conductor finished pulling the door open and stepped inside. The wheels clacking against the rails was loud in our ears until the door closed behind him. I cringed at the thought of the man being five minutes earlier.

Brett and I were silent as the man made his way down the aisle towards us. 'There are three men in the toilet,' I told him when he had come abreast us. He stopped and looked at me, immediately mustering his authority. I reached for my identification. 'This is an undercover police operation,' I told him as I presented my id.

He relaxed immediately, tipping his cap to me. 'Will you need any help, Inspector?'

'No, we've got it well in hand. Thank you, though.' I handed him each of our tickets, including those for our three companions. 'Just remember that you saw and heard nothing. Mind you, as far as you're concerned, there is no police operation. You're especially not to talk about it with any passengers -- at least, not at the weekend.'

I was being realistic. The man would be relating his adventures in the next carriage up before we had gone another twenty miles if I didn't have his promise. With his promise, his story would be confined to just other rail employees for a day or two -- and, if I was lucky, until after the weekend when everyone I was interested in had left Selsey.

Brett watched the man give his solemn word of total silence. He watched the man scurry along the aisle and stop with the women just long enough to collect their tickets. Not once did the man ever look back at us.

'Philip, you're the very first man I've met who thinks on his feet. You roll with the punches and land rightside up.' He studied me for a moment as I attempted to make my way through incomprehensible American idiom. 'That's why I wanted to see you the second time.' He smiled wryly. 'It's also why I've fallen in love with you.'

'I don't think I understand...' I started. His finger lightly against my lips stopped me.

'I haven't seen a man I've gone out with more than once since I've been in England, Philip,' he said, telling me what I already knew. 'Once I knew I was gay and that it wasn't just some phase, I wanted to experience it all. I wanted to understand it. The one thing I did know about being gay was that it wasn't just about sex. There had to be a whole person there -- something that added up to more than dick and ass.'

He studied me curiously for a moment, his gaze never leaving my eyes. 'There is sex, of course,' he finally continued. 'And that's important. But I'm still trying to understand if a gay man is mentally or, maybe, just emotionally different from his straight cousin.'

He smiled, but his face quickly showed only bemusement. 'That's why I do drag, Philip. My Marlene Dietrich is a part of me. I'm not just another fat boy in sequins lip-synching to big-name singers because I have no other life. I'm good-looking but androgynous -- like Boy George and the Culture Club -- I'm definitely me.'

He leant his head against my chest, his arms going around my waist. 'I did that one gig with Illyich as a hustler just to understand what being a whore was like.'

'How does this relate to us?' I asked hesitantly, not wanting to break the spell that held him.

He chuckled. 'I'm trying to explain, Philip. Gays can fill any niche that society comes up with as a job -- we're just like our breeder cousins that way. But I've come to decide gay people are really smarter than the hets, like we're the next move up in evolution.' He snorted. 'Only, most of us stay stuck in the breeder mentality -- cock and ass, fuck and suck -- sex. I've met some guys who were really phenomenonal lovers. They had me coming back for more, even after they'd worn me out. But, the moment they got dressed for work, they stopped being anything. It was like when they put on their societal mask, they turned off their minds.

'I've spent the past year -- I guess my whole life -- looking for somebody who can get past just the sex. Somebody who doesn't hesitate to use his mind -- any time and every time.' He turned his head to look back up at me. 'Somebody who actually likes to use his mind.' He grinned. 'In addition to using his body, I mean.'

His lips found my nipple through my shirt and nuzzled it. 'Philip Goodson, you do both very well. You use your mind and enjoy it. You use your body and enjoy it, too. You're the most complete man I've ever met.'

* * *

Richard Bell had an erection spread across his crutch and riding his hipbone before he'd pushed open the door to the toilet. He wondered which of them he was going to suck and which one would shag him as he moved to the far end of the small room and watched as the blond copper locked the door behind them.

He was going to get it on with coppers! He couldn't believe it. He looked from the Asian to Yorston. 'I want to taste both of you first, okay?'

'Seems reasonable to me,' Yorston answered and began to open his jeans.

Patel smiled. 'Take mine out for us, Richard,' he said and leant back against the toilet cubicle.

The ginger-haired Irishman grinned and knelt before the Asian. Popping open the waist button of his jeans, his hand moved across the man's crutch feeling his cock lengthening under his touch. This PC Patel was the real reason why Richard was in the bog and about to get into the dirty with these men. Yorston was cute and was enough to get Richard's blood to run hot, but Patel was so -- well -- exotic.

The Asian was almost dark enough that he could be black. Yet, all of his features, including his thick, curly black hair, were features that belonged on a white man. There wasn't the slightest hint of African ancestry. It was so incongruous.

Richard wanted to touch him all over, to explore every centimetre of his body, with each of his five senses if he could. He wanted to see if there were any differences between Jesse Patel and the men he'd had until now. Starting with his dick.

Squatting, his fingers worked the zip of the Asian's jeans down and he peeled back the two flaps of denim that covered the very essence of the man's masculinity. Richard gripped the waist of the jeans on both sides of the man's hips and pulled them down over his buttocks to his knees.

'Lick it through my pants,' Patel told him, his voice husky. 'Get me wet.'

Richard gazed for a moment at the thick tube under the cotton of the Asian's underwear stretching across his crutch and jutting out now past his hip. He smiled up at the man and licked his lips, expressing his anticipation.

He started at the root, his nose burying itself in the man's pubes as his tongue explored the bunched bollocks through the cotton. Richard's lips found the Asian's shaft and began to trace its length towards his hip, feeling each vein and ridge.

'I want some of this action too, lads,' Yorston told them, reminding Richard that it wasn't just him and the Asian in the toilet.

Above him, Patel snorted good-naturedly. 'Pull them down, Richard. You'll have two naked men to play with then.'

Richard's fingers moved to the elastic waistband of the Asian's briefs as he glanced sideways to find the blond policeman standing at his side and naked from his waist to his knees. Yorston sported a nice cock, its skin already pulled off the knob-end and bunched behind its flange.

Glancing from one to the other, he thought it appeared a bit smaller than the Asian's but was large enough to be more than adequate. He smiled up at the blond man.

'Come here,' he told Yorston as he slowly began to slide Patel's pants over his buttocks, 'let's have a lick of that.' He leant towards the blond and tongued the head of his cock as he pulled the Asian's pants down to his knees.

'Suck my boyfriend's dick, mate,' the Asian told him, 'while I get you naked.' Yorston's hands went to the back of Richard's head and pulled him further onto him.

Patel's fingers quickly worked the waist button and then the zip of Richard's jeans, releasing the redhead's dick from their tight confines. Richard's cock sprang through the slit in his boxers and jutted out at full mast.

'You are ready, aren't you, mate?' the Asian asked as his hand went around the fleshy pole to measure its width. He couldn't touch his thumb to his forefinger. He smiled and hoped the weekend ahead would provide other times with this ginger-haired boy; he could imagine what the dick in his hand could do to him. And Yorston would want it too. He liked three-ways, especially when they included his lover.

The blond groaned and began to hump the Irishman's face. The Asian pulled Richard's y-fronts down over his buttocks. The ginger-haired Irishman sat on his haunches, as exposed as his two companions.

Patel put a finger in his mouth, wetting it with his saliva. Squatting beside Richard, he carefully placed the finger against the boy's back entrance. He smiled up at Yorston as the redhead's sphincter opened up to take it easily.

Richard pulled off the blond's dick and looked down his back as Patel began to tease the nerves just inside his hole. He then looked at the Asian. 'I want you. I want both of you,' he said, looking from one cock to the other.

'You'll have both of us,' Yorston told him. 'But one of us at each end at the same time will feel a lot better, don't you think?'

'But I won't get to suck you both off then,' Richard groaned, looking from one to the other cock.

'I want to taste you -- both of you.'

'Of course you will,' Jesse told him. 'We'll just trade off when we're done. You get both of us at each end.'

Richard looked up then, studying the Asian's face. 'You can get it up again that fast?'

Patel snorted. 'My boyfriend and I are both good for two orgasms a throw, mate.'

Yorston laughed. 'We're regular rabbits, and there's nothing wrong with the equipment of either one of us.' He looked over at his lover. 'Why don't you let Richard here have a real eye-ful of that truncheon of yours. It was yours that got him interested in the first place.'

'So you can shag him?'

Yorston shrugged. 'You are a bit big, Jesse. I'll help him open up for you.'

Richard grinned. He liked their idea. 'Do we have time?' he asked.

'It's an hour and a half out to Selsey,' Patel told him. 'We've got plenty of time.'

Richard pushed himself to his feet. 'Okay, PC Patel, let's do this properly then.' He grinned. 'Over against the wall, but facing me.'

The Asian waddled to the wall between the toilet cubicle and the window, his jeans slipping down his calves to his ankles, shackling him. Richard followed as awkwardly and, taking the dark-coloured prick in hand, bent from the waist to lick its helmet. Behind him, he heard a foil packet being torn.

He grinned as his lips pushed the thick foreskin up onto the Asian's shaft and gave himself up to enjoying his first taste of the man. His hands cupped the policeman's buttocks as he dived down the thick shaft and opened his throat to accept it.

Behind him, Yorston covered himself; then his thumbs spread Richard's buttocks, exposing his crack. The blond's latex-covered dick sank to the fleshy valley floor and began to creep along it towards the ginger-haired boy's back entrance. Richard wiggled his arse in greeting.

When Yorston's cock was pressing against his arsehole, Richard tightened his grip on Patel's buttocks to hold himself in place. He descended the Asian's thick pole and hummed. Patel moaned at the sudden increase of pleasure.

The blond didn't ram his dick right in; instead, he began to ease himself into Richard, giving the Irishman time to adjust to his presence.

Richard hummed happily as he was filled up. His knob-end expanded, pushing his skin back onto his shaft. His dick bounced across his belly, leaving a trail of pre-come in its wake.

Patel watched as his dick disappeared under the redhead's nose and was vibrated by the tight throat. 'I'm bloody close!' he groaned and pulled his cock from Richard's mouth. The ginger-haired man looked up at him. 'You were heating me up too fast, mate. You want it to last a bit, don't you?'

Richard nodded as Yorston continued to move inside him and he held onto the Asian's bottom.

'Suck my bollocks then. Even come up the chest and find a nipple to lick -- I won't mind.'

Yorston leant forward and met Patel leaning towards him, halfway over Richard's back. He pressed his lips to his lover's, and the Asian's tongue snaked between their lips. The Irishman began to wank himself, timing his strokes along his shaft with those moving in and out of his arse.

His tongue found the sheen of sweat coating the tight ball sack as he began to lick at them.

Patel's thick prick throbbed against his ear. He took the first of the man's bollocks into his mouth and bathed it with his tongue. He began to alternate between the two as his own began to tighten under the fucking that Yorston was giving him. He clenched and flexed his anal muscles against the blond's withdrawals and bucked back to welcome his returns.

The train barrelled through the green summer countryside towards Bristol and the little village of Selsey between Bristol and Chicester, but nearest onto Chichester. Richard rode the waves of pleasure crashing through him.

His lips left the man's tightening ball sack and sought his prick again. He felt himself getting closer as he found Patel's cock and traced it out along its length with his lips. Behind him, Yorston's rhythm began to quicken. Reaching the mushroomed knob-end, he quickly opened his mouth and swallowed the Asian and gripped his bottom with both hands to hold himself steady against the sway of the train and the pounding that Yorston was giving him.

His dick bounced, slittering across his belly and spreading pre-come. His bollocks were tight against his shaft. Richard strove to bring the Asian off with him. He deep-throated him, forcing himself to breathe through his nose as he took him deeper into his throat. Behind him, Yorston's breathing became ragged and wheezing, his hands gripping Richard's hips.

'Christ!' Patel yelped and humped forward to shove his dick all the way into Richard's throat.

The Irishman could feel its helmet engorge with even more blood. Richard erupted then, spraying the floor of the carriage loo with his jizz.

His arsemuscles flexing along the sides of Yorston's cock, milking him, pushed the blond over into his own orgasm. Richard felt each load coursing though the English policeman's cock.

* * *

Brett arched a brow theatrically, and I looked up to see our three companions returning to their seats. Richard was already beginning to colour.

'You are such a slut, Richard,' said Brett.

The Irish lad continued to colour; he was close to magenta already.

'If he's a slut,' said Patel with a smile, 'let's have a lot more of them. You've got a lovely mate in this lad, Yank. Don't piss him off too much.'

'Was it good?' Brett asked, still holding Richard with his gaze.

Richard nodded with a wry grin creeping across his face.

'Did you get enough?'

Richard again nodded.

'Good! Then we can be into Russians and being their guests the rest of the trip.'

Richard groaned softly as he remembered Aled again. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to kill him. The Welshman had a heart of gold as well as a big dick -- and knew how to use it. He was versatile, too. If anything, Aled had liked having a hard dick in his arse even more than he liked pistoning his in and out of a tight hole.

He resolved to keep a tighter control over his own libido at the weekend. After all, the five of them were looking for Aled's murderer. It wouldn't do to get too involved with every dick in this house they'd be staying at.