Jack Scribe

Warning:  The following story may contain graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such material, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is primarily about romance and relationships between men. Any reference to actual persons, living or dead, is only to enhance the fictional nature of the story and does not suggest a particular sexual orientation.    

A special acknowledgement to David from the Lakeview area of Chicago and Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story, to Carey for being a patient teacher, and to Drew for helping to expand my boundaries.

If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at jack.scribe@gmail.com. I love feedback. Support Nifty!

From Part 20,

When I reached the ground floor, I walked out to Michigan Avenue, scrolled to Rick Petrillo's number on my cell phone, and hit 'send.'

~~~ "Hey, Jerry. Pretty early for a call," answered my private investigator.

"Hi, Rick. If you're free, I'd like to buy you breakfast."

~~~ "I never turn down a free meal. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about the Corner Bakery on Rush Street?"

~~~ "See ya in 20. Bye."




Rick Petrillo and I ordered. I was fairly sensible with a Farmer's Scrambler, while he chose a Smoked Bacon and Cheddar Panini. We both opted for fresh fruit and black coffee. In that most of the business at Corner Bakery was 'grab and go,' we found a secluded counter for a private conversation.

After I cut into the scrambled eggs with red and green bell peppers, red onions, mushrooms and cheddar cheese, I asked, "Do you have all the pre-packaged material ready to send?"

"Jerry, you say the word, and it goes out."

"I'm saying the word. I want copies to go out this morning with guaranteed next day delivery. Can you cover any paper trail with Federal Express?"

"Sure. Just pay the tariff with cash, and the rest is history. I've got a great address on a vacant lot," Rick said with a smug smile. "I'm told it comes in very handy around election time." We both laughed.

"Okay. Use someone who can't be traced and a FedEx pickup location with no security cameras. I want the copies to go to Chester McKenney at McKenney Consulting in New York, the Illinois Attorney General, the Cook County Sheriff, the Chicago Police Commissioner, the Tribune and the Sun-Times, and the news editors at channels 2, 5, 7, 9, and 32." I gave him a typed address for McKenney.

"I'll have to make more copies. You don't mess around, buddy. This is heavy duty."

"Yes, Rick. Mega-heavy duty. Porter is not a very nice man."

"I agree. He's a real sleazebag. It is my pleasure to assist."

"The media copies have got to be guaranteed 10:00 a.m. delivery. For McKenney, let the old man get his copy later in the day. The 4:00 p.m. delivery in New York will work fine. Have you got some trusted contacts in the Sheriff's department and the Chicago police?"

"Yeah. Trusted both ways. I've given some good friends confidential leads on cases they've worked on in the past."

"Could you hand deliver copies to your friends? I want the authorities to have a heads up before the press gets into the material."

"The answers are yes, and will do. The guys will be very eager to pursue this. Good thinking on giving my friends some lead-time. And thanks, I'm going to get some good brownie points on this."

"I just want to make sure the whole thing is clean and straightforward."

"Gottcha, Jerry. This shit is going to shake loose by noontime tomorrow. When the local channels are finished with the early news, the newspapers will have no choice except to lead with bold headlines Friday morning. Depending on any breaking news, this is going to be a big fucking deal."

"Rick, after what we discovered, I'd have it no other way. What's the dollar damage for the services?"

"Let's say five grand and leave it at that? You've been a good client, and if my instincts are correct, will continue to be."

"You got that right. Let's plan on breakfast here tomorrow, and I'll have the cash. Deal?"

"As I told you, I don't pass up a free meal," Rick said, extending his hand. I shook it firmly and solemnly smiled.

"Good job, Sherlock."

I strolled up North State Parkway on my way home and admired the old Playboy Mansion while passing it. The mansion had been converted to million dollar condos a few years ago. 'I wonder if they found any old Bunnies in Hef's Grotto when renovating?' I queried with a grin. It was a beautiful morning; the sun angled brightly from the south. To the hardcore Chicagoan, this announced that fall was approaching and the leaves would soon start the annual autumnal change.

At the coach house, I spent the rest of the morning at home returning emails and reading. I decided to temporarily enjoy being officially 'retired' for a few days and deliberately distance myself from the merger. Bill phoned at noontime and I gave him the rundown of my unceremonious dismissal by Paul Porter. We made plans for meeting at 2800 tomorrow for dinner around 6:00 p.m. to feast from leftover vegetarian lasagna, mellowing in the refrigerator.

Around 3:00 p.m., after dressing in a dark suit, I set out Mr. Charley's dinner and departed. First stop was the bank. Then, I picked up Coulter at his apartment and we headed north to Winnetka to chauffer the folks. The entire family met at Congregation Solel for Rosh Hashanah services and then to grandma's house for traditional food. The dinner was highlighted by Challah, apples dipped in honey, and Tsimmes. Years ago, Uncle Sid and Dad had decided that joining a reformed synagogue was the best compromise for our family of eclectic attitudes toward religion.

After services and the family dinner, I returned around 11:00 p.m. filled with contentment from observing the start of the Jewish New Year with loved ones. My dad and uncle would accompany grandma tomorrow morning to visit grandpa's grave before work. After a glass of warm milk and going through my nighttime bathroom ritual, I watched the opening monologues of Leno and Letterman before drifting off.


Thursday was fast moving. I joined Rick for breakfast at eight, and he accepted a plain, fat envelope. He told me that his contacts in the Sheriff's and Chicago Police departments were very interested in what they had received. Neither was tolerant of adults pursuing sexual activities with minors.

"They're aware that the press will have the same materials later today?" I asked, noshing on a raisin bran muffin while Rick indulged with a cream cheese and preserves-laden onion bagel.

"Yep. I stretched the truth a little and told both I had intercepted the material from a third party and insisted that the authorities get their hands on it first. They were very appreciative to have the lead-time. They don't appreciate ambush journalism used to pump up TV ratings."

"Thanks for the excellent work, Rick. I'm purposefully going to be out of sight for the next couple of days. If, for any reason, you need to contact me, I'm monitoring my cell."

"Good idea. Let this shit focus only on Porter."

"You got it. I'm camping out with a friend."

"Not in a tent, I hope," he replied with a low chuckle and grin.

"The only tent will be in my friend's pants," I answered with a smile. Rick was aware of my sexual orientation from day one. He had no problem with gays or lesbians.

"Must be a good friend?"

"Yeah, the best. We're a couple now."

"Congrats, Jerry. After three marriages, maybe I should go over to your side next?" he said, patting my back.

"Rick, you're a hopeless hetero. You dating anyone now?" I studied my investigative friend. In his mid-forties, the guy was small, trim and wiry. While average in looks, he was always groomed in a way that allowed him to blend in with any group. His clothes, while well tailored, were always very neutral in color and style.

"As a matter of fact, a divorcee who has no kids and a very good law practice in the Loop."

"Although you don't need it, here's some free advice. Ease back on your goofy hours. That would drive anyone you're with crazy."

"You're right, Jerry. But easier said than done."

We finished the nosh and headed our separate ways. I headed on to the East Bank Club for a vigorous workout, massage and steam. Returning to Astor Street, I picked up a few more bundles of clothes, my laptop and Mr. Charley. I planned on staying at 2800 for a few days. The cabinetmakers would be coming this afternoon to start the built-in bookshelves and credenza for my new office in the condo. The carpeting and painting would be accomplished next week. By that Friday, the furniture would be delivered and I could start the final move-in.


Jerry's business activities and family religious obligations allowed me some much needed time to focus on the "Forward 2005" Business Plan. As the new Chief Operating Officer for American Foundry, I was charged with the responsibility to facilitate and implement the recommended changes that George McDonald had readily bought into.

The executive replacements of Controller and Purchasing Director were successful and gave us added strength in those areas. Later this week, interviews would begin for in-house legal counsel...my old position. On Monday, I would focus on Sales and Marketing. 'Next week is going to be a ball-breaker when I get into those areas,' I thought, leaving the office around five. 'And Jerry's announcement about the new business will keep him busy.'

Merging onto the Congress Expressway, I turned on the radio to get an early news fix. After the weather forecast and the electronic 'bumper' intro, the newsreader said, "WBBM News Radio time, 5:15 p.m. Tonight's breaking news is the apparent investigation into allegations of child molestation concerning a Chicago business executive. Here's Cathy Gomez with the details as we know them." 'Holy fuck,' I thought, turning up the radio as I traveled east to the lake.

"Today, through un-named sources, police officials are studying a report and evidence that may lead to the arrest of a socially-prominent executive who runs the Chicago office of an old, respected New York management consulting company. The Cook Country Sheriff and Chicago Police Commissioner plan on holding a joint conference at 7:00 p.m. Efforts to contact the executive were unsuccessful, and his company would have no comment. This is Cathy Gomez reporting from the Chicago Police Headquarters."

'Wow,' I considered. 'They must be talking about Paul Porter and McKenney. Jerry's lucky not to be of caught up with this shit. On the other hand, could Jerry know more about this than he wanted to tell? Dinner conversation would be very interesting.' Normally I would call Jerry on his cell. But I would be seeing him shortly at my place. 'No,' I corrected myself, 'our place.'

As I drove under the old main post office structure, traffic was starting to slow down. This was normal during rush hour traffic for the merge from the city streets to outer Lake Shore Drive. I would be home just about on time to watch the 6:00 p.m. local TV news with Jerry. The rest of the commute was a typical 'stop and start' late afternoon crawl on the drive.

I could smell the lasagna heating as I opened to door to the condo. Mr. Charley rushed to greet me.

"Hi, Bill. In here," Jerry announced from the kitchen.

"Hey, Jerry. Dinner smells good," I loudly announced, walking into the kitchen area. I walked up behind him and kissed him on the neck. He leaned back as I wrapped my arms around his polo shirt and cargo pants-clad waist. Jerry looked sexy with well-muscled legs and dark hair.

"Buddy, not as good as you do," he said, turning around to plant a hard kiss on my lips. "I figure that we'll be ready to eat around six-thirty." It was 5:55 p.m. as he spoke. I tossed my coat jacket on a chair, took off the tie and toed off my shoes.

"Um, Jerry. Have you been paying attention to the news this afternoon?" I said, rolling up my shirtsleeves.

"You mean that molestation crap? Yeah, I heard the headlines on the car radio coming over here. I watched Channel 7 a while ago, but they didn't announce the name."

"Let's turn on NBC5 for their six o'clock report?" I liked their general local news coverage. Jerry nodded affirmatively as I flicked on the large, plasma TV in the family room.

"How about a glass of red?" Jerry asked.

"Great. But, hurry. It's almost 6:00 p.m." He joined me with two glasses of merlot as the news graphics and music came up. We both watched quietly as the anchor led off with the story. When Paul Porter was identified as the executive, I sat, straight up. His photograph displayed had the distinct logo of McKenney in the background.

"That cocksucker," Jerry said, leaning forward to absorb the details. The news team trotted out all the sordid details with remotes from Porter's Winnetka home. Another picture showed the Highwood house occupied by the woman and her young daughter, who was the minor. Jerry watched intently as my mouth dropped open while the story played out.

"Wow. That guy's goose is cooked," I said, when the anchor moved on to the next story.

"Not only his goose. The only thing that Porter will be good for is being some bruiser's bitch at Joliet state penitentiary."

I turned down the sound and asked, "Jerry, you want to fill me in on this? Knowing the history between Porter and you, I'm curious if you're part of the un-named sources?" We looked at each other, reading expressions.

"Bill, I didn't want to get you involved. But you asked, and I'm not going to pull any punches. I trust you." He took a sip of wine and continued, "After the way Porter verbally debased and threatened me when the merger was announced, I wanted his father-in-law, Mr. McKenney, to know exactly what kind of a weasel his physically-challenged daughter had married. I hired a trusted investigator to probe the infidelities I knew were going on and planned to send McKenney the report. When the investigator came back with evidence of Porter dicking the 14-year-old kid, and worse, my instincts signaled me to take the action that you are seeing tonight. The last straw was Porter personally belittling me at the Martin office yesterday, when I was there only to be helpful and officially turn over the operation."

"You play for keeps, don't you," I replied evenly.

"Babe, I'm very competitive. But, I believe in playing fairly and honorably when possible. It's like finding out about Atkins and the others at your company. No gray areas. With Porter, I admit that it was a personal crusade, but not just because he screwed me over. I was also concerned about the Martin staff that would be joining his organization. They deserve a better leader. When I found out the rest, I concurred with the investigator that the authorities needed to be aware of his activities. And, because he could probably sweep this under the carpet because of his high connections, I turned on the heat with the press. You okay with this?" He looked at me with concern.

"Jerry, I guess I don't have the killer instincts you do. But I also don't deny that this asshole had it coming. Yeah, babe, I'm okay with it. This guy was trying to destroy you. How you going to play this?" He looked at me with a relieved expression.

"Basically, nada. I'm outta sight until my news conference next week. You okay with me camping out here?"

"Buddy, this is ours now. I know your home office will be installed at the end of the week or next. And you have enough clothes here to stay put." I moved closer to him and brought our bodies close, as I offered a kiss. "As far as I'm concerned, the Porter thing is history. I appreciate your honesty. And you're right; you can trust me completely. I care about you and love you very deeply." He moved to my lips and we tenderly joined a la Françoise.

We moved over to the dining table, and Jerry insisted on serving. The vegetarian lasagna was in a glass baking dish that doubled as a centerpiece on the table, cooling a little, while we ate a salad of arugula, raddiccio and endive tossed with very light balsamic vinaigrette. It was just the right pairing with the main course. The merlot continued to complement the evening. After dessert of fresh peaches and yogurt, Jerry suggested coffee. I suggested dick. His. Jerry smiled and winked.

"I know that this can't happen every night. But I gotta tell you, coming home to you like this could be a very enjoyable routine." We walked to the bedroom hand in hand. 'The dishes could wait until morning,' I decided.

"The last thing we need is 'routine.' We're going to keep our lives interesting forever with little surprises. Tonight I want to make love to you, Bill. I want to be inside you. I want to hear how much you like me in there pleasuring you."

We arrived by the bed, and Jerry started unbuttoning my dress shirt. After removing it and dropping it to the floor, he ran his fingers through my chest hair. While he massaged my nipples with his thumbs, the rest of his hands were anchored in my armpits. He leaned in for an aggressive kiss, and I met his tongue. We maneuvered for exploration in a twirling motion. I forced his tongue back with mine as his invasion on my nips and pecs became more dominant.

"Oh, fuck, Jerry," I groaned, pulling away from his lips. I moved around and gave his ear a tongue bath before nipping at the earlobe. I reached down and lifted his pullover shirt out of the waistband of his pants. Moving the shirt up, I glanced at his well-formed torso and six-pack, lightly covered with trail of black hair. He raised the arms to allow the pullover to be discarded.

"Prepare to be seduced," he whispered in my ear, while unfastening my belt and pants. After lightly kissing my eyes, nose and cheeks, he by-passed my mouth and moved directly to the healed scar on my arm. Licking it, he moved over to the nearby armpit and inhaled deeply. As he lowered himself, lapping my nipples and abdomen along the way, he slowly brought down my pants and boxers. When he tongued my navel, I stepped out of the lowered clothes.

"Take it, babe," I uttered, as Jerry was now on his knees with his face pushed into my crotch. Again, I heard him inhaling deeply. With his hand rolling my orbs in the scrotum, he wiped a few drops of moisture off my piss slit with his tongue, before bringing my cock head just inside his mouth. Jerry's fingers moved slowly over the perineum before landing at my hole. As he orally moved in on my hard penis, a finger started a 360-degree rotation around my rosebud. By the time his nose was once again pressing against my pubes, this time with my hard cock inside his mouth, Jerry started massaging my anus in a subtle, stretching movement around the wrinkled surface. This went on for several minutes. He slowly removed his mouth and finger from my body and stood back up.

"Showtime, Bill," Jerry said with husky conviction, as he unclasped his shorts and stepped out of them. He was commando and fully aroused. He moved over to the bed and lay down on his back. I didn't have to be encouraged to join this beautiful man; this time I would be the aggressor for a while.  From the foot of the bed I started playfully sucking his toes before moving up his spread legs. Stopping at his inner-thighs, I kissed and licked this area that I knew from experience to be sensitive. But not as sensitive as his balls. I took one at a time in my mouth and rolled them around, while I started a slow jacking action on his cock.

He steadily lifted my body and encouraged it forward so that we were looking at each other. "Jerry, I want you to fuck me...right now," I commanded, while reaching over for the lube. Handing the AstroGlide to him, I rolled over on my back and concluded with, "Knock my lights out, lover."

"Babe, you're going to see lots of lights before we're finished," Jerry answered with conviction.

'Yes,' I thought to myself. 'This would be nice to come home to...often.'