The grocery was small but, once my eyes had adjusted to the dim interior lighting, was surprisingly clean as I looked around. There were strange odours I couldn't place, but I wrote them off as exotic spices that I was never likely to put on my lamb chops.
An Asian came out of the back and stopped when he saw me. A surprised look covered his face, and I suspected I was the first white man to enter his store since the last elections. Instinctively, I took note of his appearance in the moment he took to appraise me. He had thick, glossy hair with just a touch of grey, a dark complexion, black eyes, and was of medium height.
'Jesse!' he called then and, a moment later, a younger and somewhat taller version of the man pushed through the curtain that separated the small shop from its backrooms.
The father -- older brother? -- turned back to me. 'May I help you, sir?' he asked in that singsong that is so typical of people from the Indian subcontinent.
'I'm Inspector Goodson of the Metropolitan Police,' I told the two men, presenting my identification. 'You reported a burglary yesterday?'
The older man smiled broadly. 'Jesse! You were right after all,' he told the younger man and returned his attention to me. 'My brother said a detective would detect this theft. Our father said it was too minor...' He shrugged. 'I did not know.'
'You're the PC Jesse Patel who made the report?' I asked the younger Asian, turning to him for the moment. He nodded -- a mix of both pride and nervousness showing in his face.
He was taller than his brother, perhaps even five-ten. He was also more handsome, but I decided that was mostly his boyishness that showed through in his every movement. His flashing eyes were intelligent, his smile infectious. His slim body was fit, but not heavily muscled. His jeans showed off nicely plump buttocks and a bulge that any man would be proud of.
'It's my day off, sir -- so, I'm helping my brother with the store,' he explained.
I wondered at his nervousness but thought it best to make at least a perfunctory inspection of the scene of crime. 'Could you show me where this took place?' I asked.
'It is acceptable for Jesse to take his day off even when he has a theft on his patrol?' the older man asked shyly as they led me through the backrooms of the shop. I understood the nervous energy I had felt.
'Mr. Patel, your brother has his relief days and should use them.' I chuckled. 'I imagine his sergeant would be angry if he didn't take his day off on schedule. It would muck up the man's roster.'
The younger man relaxed then, his smile was dazzling. 'This thing is really weird, Inspector,' he said.
I waited for him to continue. 'This was the first crime in the neighbourhood this year. Indians are really quite law-abiding...'
I pursed my lips at that information.
'I made my brother promise not to touch anything back here...' He unlocked the large door that opened onto the back entrance. 'Last night when I got off, a friend from the force and I went over the whole area. We lifted every fingerprint we could find.'
I sighed as I accepted that an organised scene of crime investigation had not been made and was now impossible.
'It is such a small crime,' the older brother offered, 'we reckoned that the proper unit was busy.'
'You learnt how to lift prints at Hendon then?' I asked.
Jesse nodded, his pride evident.
'You'll need to take your brother's prints and those of anyone who may have been back here in the past month. The delivery men -- do they wear gloves when they unload?'
'Oh, yes, Inspector,' the older brother offered. 'And I too. Hands become so sweaty.' I knew what that meant; PC Jesse Patel's work meant nothing.
'Have there been racial incidents in the neighbourhood?' I was thinking of recently reading about a recent shoot-out in India between Hindus and Moslems -- something about some god or the other having been born under what had become a mosque. It was truly amazing to me how religion always somehow came to justify hate. 'Or religious ones, perhaps?'
'There aren't any whites near us,' the police officer offered, and I noticed his gaze had not got above my chest. He licked his lips quickly and I was sure he was studying my crutch as he continued: 'There was some of that but it was years ago...' He pulled his gaze from me and turned back to his brother. 'Remember Papa talking about it? There were two or three lads beaten up pretty badly.'
The older man frowned. 'That was ten years ago! Some hooligans who were sent off to youth detention -- white boys -- and never came back.'
'Nothing since then?' Both men nodded, and the younger brother's gaze had returned to my lower anatomy. I felt my dick expand in my pants as it became interested in the possibilities that were presenting themselves.
'How about religious problems? Moslem and Hindu are packed in here pretty tightly, aren't they?'
'We get along,' the older brother told me indignantly. 'There are no ignorant peasant immigrates among us -- we work hard to have good things. We all become English. The ignorant do not know enough to want better. They stay in India and and Pakistan and listen to the priests and mullahs -- and make too many babies.'
The bulge in the younger man's jeans remained an interesting tableau as his older brother and I spoke. He was obviously tumescent and his eyes remained fixed on my own package.
He was -- well -- cute. I had never thought of myself being especially sexually turned on by dark-skinned men, but this lad was fast putting the lie to that. He had a full mouth of shiny white teeth which he showed off to his advantage in a continuous grin. His eyes sparkled like those of an imp on the edge of getting into trouble and knowing it. He had the charisma of a lad who was a daredevil in disguise. And he was decidely a man.
I found myself wanting him as much as he obviously wanted me. More, because I reckoned it would flush Brett Chandler right out of me. I faced both men. 'Is there a possibility that this theft was related to PC Patel being a policeman?' I asked.
'Pardon, Inspector?' the older brother asked, fixing me with his gaze. 'My brother?'
'He's the first of your people from this neighbourhood to come with the Met, isn't he?'
'He is -- and it is a matter of pride for our family. But, also, for everyone in our community. Jesse would do nothing to embarrass us.'
'I didn't mean for my question to imply that, Mr. Patel. I'm sorry. What I was thinking is that some boys will try to bring another who has done well down a notch. They can mean it as a social pressure or they can mean it as a joke that they play on one of their own.'
'Your people would do this to one of their own?' the older man asked quietly after several long moments of silence. 'To make him the subject of ridicule? To embarrass him before his family and superiors?'
I had to admit it didn't sound like as much fun as I remembered it, not the way he asked his question. I remembered back to my school days and tried to understand why short-sheeting one of my mates had brought such gales of laughter. It sounded much more like bullying now than the clean fun we'd thought of it as then.
I turned to the younger brother. 'Would you like to investigate this case?' I asked.
His eyes brightened, and I watched his chest puff out as he took in what I was asking. 'You mean to be a detective, Inspector? Like you?'
'I'm short a man or two, Patel. I could use a good man, one with some enthusiasm to him, to investigate this case. You could then apply to transfer to CID. If you've done well with this, I would recommend you.'
'This is possible, Inspector?' the brother asked in awe.
'Jesse will transfer to your leadership then, he will make us proud of him.'
'You understand that, for the moment, it would only be a temporary reassignment.' I told them both, wondering what I may have walked myself into -- and, for that matter, this young policeman as well. 'Your performance will have to be rated before your request to transfer could be approved.'
'He will live up to your expectations, Inspector,' the older man told me with a finality that left no room for manoeuvre to his brother. 'He will find this thief and become a detective of Scotland Yard.'
'May I walk you to your car, Inspector?' the young officer asked quietly and looked to his brother for permission. The man nodded.
'Please,' I said.
'You did not have to do this, Inspector,' the young Asian told me as we reached the kerb. 'I know you want me, but I want you too. You do not have to buy my agreement.'
'I didn't think I was,' I answered gruffly, looking at my car across the street. 'I do need at least two men who are alert and willing to do as they're told. At this point, though, I want the Asian community to see that the police are here for them.'
'You need two, Inspector?'
'What? Oh -- yes, two men. Why?'
'My boyfriend is on the force too. We met at the police training college. He's a very intelligent man...'
'An Asian lad?'
'No. Doug is white -- like you, Inspector.'
'You'd have to keep it down then,' I told him. 'Most detectives are quite heterosexual, Patel.'
'Yorston and I -- we're very discreet. As detectives we both could justify to our families moving into a flat of our own.'
'Solve this little theft and I'll see what I can do.'
'You were right, you know? My brother, he already suspects the culprit. It's a boy I knew back in school. One who isn't happy that I am no longer available to service his dick when he thinks he needs it. He sought to embarrass me, I think. My brother was going to the boy's father to get his supplies back.'
The young policeman laughed. 'The boy has no chance. One word from my brother and half of the neighbourhood will be onto him, watching his every move. He will come to me and confess before a week.'
'He won't be hurt then?'
He shook his head slowly. 'No. Inspector, we are a civilised people. No-one will lay a hand on him. Hurting people is not our way.' He turned and began to study me. 'I was serious about wanting you, Inspector. Do you have the time?'
'What about your boyfriend?'
He laughed softly. 'We are pretty flexible, Doug and I. We get what we can but always come back to each other. It is how two lovers must live when they still live with their respective families.'
I looked around the street quickly. 'Where were you thinking that we'd...?'
His eyes twinkled. 'Follow me.' I noticed his bulge had become larger before he turned and started down the street.
I followed, enjoying the view. His arse was made for fucking. He had plump cheeks beneath his jeans that would meld against a lad's groin. My prick began to erect at the thought of ploughing him.
Even as my cock grew tumescent to mental images of what I and young Jesse could shortly be doing, I told myself that I had not intended to ask for him to be assigned to me or to direct his transfer to CID simply to shag him. He had a boyfriend, for Christ's sake! And I did need alert men who could investigate the cases that crossed my desk.
At the junction, the Asian turned right and immediately turned into an alleyway. 'Come on,' he told me, making sure his voice didn't carry back to the street.
It was deja vu for me as I looked down the alleyway. First the Welshman took me under the table at Illusion, then the damned American led me into the bowels of the library at Kings College to take me in a toilet cubicle, now this Asian wanted us to shag in an alleyway. I was fast falling to the temptations of public sex. I told myself that I needed to get a grip on myself. As I followed him deeper along the cobbled path between the buildings, I tried to convince myself to turn around, go directly to my car, and leave. Instead, I continued to follow him.
A third of the way into the alley, he turned suddenly and disappeared behind a rubbish bin. I sped up my steps and quickly reached the spot where he'd disappeared.
'This should do nicely,' he said, his hand closing around my arm and pulling me into the empty back entrance with him. 'The shop's out of business.' He grinned. 'There's no-one to disturb us as long we keep things quiet.'
'I can be quiet, Patel,' I told him and placed my open hand on his arsecheeks. 'But can you?'
He looked over his shoulder at my hand, studying it for a full minute. He grinned then and wiggled his denim-covered bum against my hand. 'You want that, do you, Inspector Goodson?'
I nodded and kept my hand where it was.
'Got a condom with you then?'
'I'm always prepared.'
He chuckled. 'And what a good little scout you are, sir.'
'If you don't want to...?'
'Do I get a kiss before we get into doing the nasty, Inspector?' He pulled me to the wall, his gaze never leaving my face. 'I'd really like to taste you -- feel you even.'
My hand moved up to the small of his back and pulled him to me. Our lips met; his parted and his tongue was pushing against my teeth, boldly demanding entrance before I could open them. His body ground against mine -- chest to chest and crutch to crutch. His hands went around my waist and began to explore my back through my shirt.
I pulled his T-shirt from his jeans and he lifted his arms to allow me to pull it off of him.
'I hope you're big,' he groaned as our lips separated.
I had a slightly chalky taste left in my mouth combined with something almost like anise but not quiet. His fingers grasped the fabric of my shirt and pulled it from my trousers. They slipped beneath the shirt and climbed across my belly onto my chest, each hand finding its own nipple. His lips again found mine and I was instantly again duelling his tongue with mine.
He again ground his smooth, naked chest against the soft cotton of my shirt. My hands went to his arsecheeks and he shoved them against my palms, pressing himself into my possession of him. My fingers moved over his hips, found his waist button, and undid it. They moved down the buttons of his flies onto the thick mound in his jeans, opening them one at a time, against his gyrating dance to music only he could hear.
I pushed the denim and his pants over his buttocks, feeling the muscles there flexing against my open hands. My fingers made the journey back over his hips but now were caught under the elastic band of his y-fronts. The triangle of his pubes was wide, in contrast to the smoothness of his chest, belly, and back. The hair of his groin was thick and coarse. I pulled his underpants out towards me to release him as my fingers encircled his raging hard-on.
His lips broke from mine, grazed my chin, and jumped to my belly as his hands spread the hem of my shirt to expose the skin there. His fingers feverishly opened my belt and undid the waist button of my trousers. His tongue travelled up to my bellybutton and began to rim it as his fingers pulled down my zip and spread open the flaps of my trousers.
'We need a condom,' he told me hoarsely as his fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my boxers.
I reached into my pocket and brought out the foiled packet I always carried there. He grabbed it from my hand and quickly pulled my trousers and pants down to my knees.
Sitting on his haunches against the wall, Patel's hand again encircled my erect prick, pulling it towards him. My hands went to the wall above him so that I could comfortably lean into him. His tongue licked my jap's eye, cleaning it of pre-come, before he swallowed the entire length and his nose was buried in my pubes. I heard the foiled packet being torn open as he swallowed several times, his throat muscles squeezing my glans with each constriction.
The Asian pulled off me and smiled up at me. 'You're ready, Inspector,' he said as he spread the condom across the wide helmet of my cock. 'I am too. And this thing looks as if it'll give me a hell of a ride -- just as I suspected it would.' He pushed the latex down along my shaft until it had reached the first hairs, watching my face as he did so. Turning his gaze back to my member, he licked his lips, opened his mouth, and swallowed it to get the latex covering wet.
The Asian stood up then, his face swimming towards mine. He kissed me then, lips fully on lips -- but his tongue remained chastely in his mouth. He pulled away, smiled once again, and turned to face the wall. 'I want this so much,' he breathed as he jutted his arse towards me and put his hands on the wall before him. 'I need it,' he mumbled as he spread his legs to make entry easier.
I took a step back and gripped my cock to move its head through the valley of his crack. He wiggled his bumcheeks and looked over his shoulder at me. 'Stick it in, Inspector. I haven't had a good shagging in a week.'
My helmet found his puckered entrance. 'You're sure?' I asked. 'You aren't lubed.'
He shoved his hips back then, the head of my cock popping through his sphincter. He groaned and, this time, moved slower as his buttocks again started towards my groin.
'Am I hurting you?' I asked as I watched my prick being swallowed.
'No,' he gasped. 'That first inch or two didn't feel all that good at first, though. 'It's been a week, and I guess I was out of practise.' He looked back at me and grinned. 'It feels great now. Just like I knew it would. Put the rest of it in me and let's have a bit of fun.'
I eased the rest of myself into his warm, creamy, tight bowel. I stayed there for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of his tightness surrounding me. My fingers kneaded his hairy arsecheeks gently and he began to grind his bum against my groin.
I began to shag him -- long, slow strokes that brought the flange of my glans back to his arsering before easing back into him until my pubes were pressing against the tender insides of his bumcheeks and my bollocks were playing billiards with his. He moaned contentedly and bucked back to greet each new stroke.
A mental image of Brett Chandler formed in my thoughts as I moved in and out of the Asian's arse. Him with snow-white arsecheeks bent over as Jesse was, taking me.
Bugger him! I didn't need some transie into playing mind games. I had a very attractive lad under me who was quite content with the same thing I wanted. We both wanted it. And we both were doing because the opportunity had presented itself.
My fingers moved over the Asian's hipbone onto his hard, flat belly to find his dick.
He was leaking pre-come and his foreskin was covered with it, lubricating him. My hand became a fist around his pole, and I began to wank him with the same rhythm I was using to shag him.
'I'm close, Inspector,' he mumbled. 'I haven't wanked in a couple of days and it feels so good.'
I continued to stroke him as I moved in and out of him. His breathing became even more laboured as his buttocks bucked and sprang back to meet me with abandon.
He groaned finally and his body stiffened beneath mine. His arsemuscles flexed and pulled at my cock moving through them. 'Don't come!' he managed to gasp, staring glassy-eyed at me over his shoulder. 'Please don't come. Pull out if you have to, but I want another one ... Oh, shit!' His head jerked around then, and I felt his dick expand as my fist carried his foreskin up over his glans. Jizz spurted through his loose skin onto my fingers.
I thought for a moment that Patel was going to collapse in the aftermath of his orgasm. His body seemed to melt as his muscles relaxed. I felt him wobble before he could regain his footing.
His arsemuscles clinched around my pole imbedded between them and he looked back at me over his shoulder. 'That was fine, Inspector. Now, let's both do one.' He chuckled and ground his cheeks against my pubes. 'I want you to have a soft spot in your heart for Indians if I'm going to be working under you.'
I began to move inside him again and was surprised that he seemed as tight as he had earlier. His orgasm had done nothing to lessen the elasticity of his anal canal. He remained erect in my hand and I began to wank him in time with my renewed movement inside him. He moaned and wiggled his plump cheeks against me. 'Yeah!' he cried as I pushed all the way into him.
Near silence encompassed us as he held himself against the wall and I moved against his arse. My hands explored his belly and moved up to his nipples; his massaged my arsecheeks and guided me into him. My fingers teased his nipples, tweaking them gently, and his chest pressed against them. There was only the sounds of his soft mewls of pleasure at what I was doing for him. Our shag became timeless, with neither of us willing to rush to end it. The dirty abandoned loading area held no meaning for us. The only meaning was the pleasure each of us could give the other.
I rode the waves of pleasure that moved up out of my prick to cover every inch of my body. I felt his sweat put at the hairs of my bollocks and pubes as I pulled myself from his hole. I felt his fingers grip and knead my arseglobes as my cock reached his greatest depth. And I felt the flexing pressure the muscles of his bowel exerted on my glans as it tunnelled into him.
My bollocks rose to ride my shaft as I pummelled Jesse Patel. I brought one hand down to his dick and found it erect, its skin pulled back, and its slit leaking pre-come. High pressure jolts of pleasure began to surge through me. I gripped his cock and began to wank him harder as I approached my orgasm.
I didn't want to come. I didn't want to leave the mindless pleasure we were giving each other. But I was too late. My bollocks rode my shaft now. My breathing was hard gasps as suddenly muscles throughout my body tensed. My cock pounded into the Asian's arse with only one intention -- the primordial one of filling him with my spunk.
His bowel seemed to tighten around my pole as I shoved into him hard and remained buried in him, my pubes pressed against the inner walls of his arse. My fist flew along the length of his shaft. And my balls erupted.
My thumb reached his pubes, my pinkie pressing into his tight bollocks. He arched his back and became rigid. I felt his second rope of jizz erupt when my hand had again returned to the knob-end of his cock.
I collapsed against his back then, my prick still deep inside him. My arms went around his chest and his rose to the wall to steady us.
Finally, when I could breath normally again, I pulled back from Jesse Patel, regaining my feet. I watched as my prick left his hole and thought what a perfect love machine this dark-skinned lad was. My hands went to his chest and pulled him back into a standing position. 'That was nice, Patel,' I whispered at his ear.
'That was bloody good is what it was!' he growled and turned to grin at me.
'Would you like to make a night of it?' I asked as I pulled my boxers up and ensured my shirt was well-tucked before I brought my trousers to my waist.
I looked over at him as I buttoned the waist of my trousers. An impish smile, grinning black eyes, a chock of coarse black hair hanging down to his brows, and full, pouty lips. My gaze fell lower. A smooth, boyish chest with nipples that were still aroused. A waspish waist and a bed of coarse black curls from which a nice, tumescent, mahogany-coloured cock rose, tumescent still even after two orgasms. I could imagine a full night and a comfortable bed would be like with this Jesse Patel.
'Tonight?' I hooked my belt and pulled up my zip.
He laughed then, a full-throated baritone of a laugh. 'Inspector Goodson, promise me that you'll think of me as a policeman first and a piece of arse second.'
I felt my face warm as I blushed. 'Duty and pleasure are not always the same thing,' I huffed.
He reached to his knees and began to pull his briefs up his thighs. I regretted his doing so even before he had covered himself. Jesse Patel belonged naked. He would have made a statue even Michelangelo's David might feel jealousy towards. Proud youth perfected.
'I really do have a boyfriend, Inspector.'
I shrugged and wished there was a perfect world for me where such things as significant others did not exist. A perfect world where I could sample perfection wherever I found it and for as long as I wanted it. 'I'd forgotten. He's a lucky man.'
'Neither one of is particularly lucky.' He frowned, his lips pouting. I noticed his eyes misting. 'We both live at home. We rarely see each other except at the nick -- it's been over a week since I last was with him.'
'Can't you still get together?'
'At my house, Inspector? With my father and mother? With my brother and his wife and their two children?'
'At his place then?'
He snorted. 'His parents put up with me because I'm a copper, like him. 'The neighbourhood boys love to see us out of uniform.' His nose wrinkled in disgust. 'Paki. They love to use that word, you know -- even the Africans.'
I took a deep breath and made an instant decision. 'Why don't you two come over tonight. I have a spare room.' I knew what I was saying. I would accept being alone whilst two other men shagged the night away.
He stared at me, his hands stopping half-way up his flies. 'You'd have us over?'
'We'll take you up on it,' he said then took the step between us and reached up to pull my face down to his. 'Doug will share. I promise.'
'Be over about eight then,' I told him, pulled out a card, and wrote my home address on it. I gave it to him and forced a smile to my lips.
'Thank you, Inspector," he said softly. "Thank you.'
'I'll have dinner waiting,' I told him as I stepped out into the alleyway.
'We'll be there,' he said as I started towards the street.