Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 26
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2024 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong
language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Twenty-Six – One
Step Behind
Fear turned his stomach
into a block of ice, while the blood halted in its course through his veins.
Hudson looked around, his head swimming in darkness, his eyes unable to see a
thing.
"Hey man," someone called
him, right by his side, and it took him moments to understand that Jackie was
trying to get his attention. "The fuck you look so spooked?"
Hudson shook his head as
if he were trying to get rid of some water that had gotten into his ears. It
served to clear his mind a little. "I need to leave you here, in charge, for a
bit."
"What?" Jackie blinked
and licked his lips like someone that hadn't had a drop of water in a long
time. "Where are you going? Fuck this shit, don't leave me alone, Vegas. These
fuckers, they could put me up there." His usually playful eyes were shiny with
unshed tears now.
He needed to be the
strong one here. He needed to give Jackie all the reassurance the young man had
to have from him, and he needed to rush to Otis's help. Gavin's laconic message
had been enough. He couldn't sit idly by and pretend everything was fine.
Jackie continued to stare
at him as Hudson grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed. "I'll be right
back."
"You're not bailing on
me, are you?"
"I know you're scared,"
Hudson said, moving closer and staring into Jackie's eyes, hoping to lend the
other some of the strength he no longer felt. "But there are police everywhere
around this place. The whole thing is under close surveillance. Nothing will
happen to you."
"But I want you here. You
can protect us. Shit, I don't even have a gun. Do you have one to spare?"
"I'm not giving you a
gun, Jackie," Hudson said sternly. Then he patted the guy's cheek. "Listen to
me. You're strong. You can do this. And I thought you were a man capable of
holding his own. Was I wrong?"
The jab at Jackie's ego
worked. A nod followed, even if it lacked much in the way of self-assurance.
"No. I can do this shit. But these assholes, these fuckers," Jackie said
through his teeth, "they're all going to pay. Tell me they're not going to get
out of here, walk free, after what they've done."
"You have my word. Hold
the fort, partner," Hudson said and squeezed Jackie's shoulder one last time.
He called the captain on
his way out. "It's on."
The captain didn't have
to know everything, just the details pertaining to the case. And now, he was
running to the car, getting inside, one hand still on the phone, calling Gavin.
***
"You know you're not
supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to let you in here."
"Shut up," Hudson grunted
as he took in the scene from the door hanging open.
"And how am I going to
tell the captain this is related? Most of all, are you sure this is related?"
"Gavin, you're a major
pain in the ass, did you know that?"
"So I've been told. Don't
touch anything. And you can't go inside."
"I know. I've been to
school."
"Sometimes I doubt it.
Now, spill."
Hudson turned toward
Gavin and endured the judgmental look from his friend. "The guy's my
boyfriend."
"Fuck me sideways. And
why exactly was he kidnapped? That's the most logical assumption `cause there's no body and--"
Hudson put one hand up.
"He's not dead. Listen now, because I need to get back. There's this room where
these fuckers hold people." He got Gavin up to speed on the redbrick building
and the significance of the room that served to hold people hostage, making
sure that his colleague understood everything he needed to.
Gavin nodded as he typed
quickly on his phone. "I heard through the grapevine you've already told the
captain to gather the troops. This isn't something you told him about, right?"
Hudson set his jaw hard.
"You don't have to rub it in, asshole. Tell me if you'd rather be doing
something else."
"West, I'm an asshole,
but I'm a loyal asshole. Trust me on this. We'll get your boyfriend back. And
when all's done, I'm going to laugh at you, but not before your guy is safe.
Clear enough for you?"
Hudson nodded. "I have to
get back now. Keep me posted."
***
Otis didn't say a thing
as a black hood was pulled over his head.
"I apologize terribly for
this," the man with the metallic voice said, "but I can't risk you getting away
from me. We will be great friends."
"Friends do not kidnap
each other," Otis opened his mouth. Now that the ability to see had been taken
away from him, he couldn't count on studying his surroundings for clues. There
was always a chance that the whole thing was a terrible mistake, but even if
things stood as they were, he had become – as the TV shows he had watched
taught him – an inconvenient witness.
"I don't disagree." The
stranger wrapped one hand around his. It was covered by a leather glove, Otis
could tell. "Well, that only means that we're just on our way to becoming the
best of friends."
"What is your name?"
"What a wonderful
creature you are," the man commented. "We're going on a little drive and I will
tell you what you need to know about me."
Otis kept silent from
that moment on. His hands were tied in front and his bare feet sensed cold
hallway floors and then what had to be the pavement outside that building. He
was made to climb into a car. Making a run for it under the circumstances
wouldn't end up well for him. That was something he knew and knew well, also
from the movies he had watched. People who ran were shot in the back; usually
they were side characters, and side characters didn't have to be spared.
In this story, he didn't
know what sort of character he was. But he felt, in the chill running down his
spine, that he had to be the kind that wasn't going to be spared.
He heard the car engine
purring to life. It had to be a good quality vehicle by the smell of the
upholstery and the smoothness of its movement.
The driver took his hand
again. "My beautiful boy." Dry lips touched the back of Otis's hand as it was
lifted into the air. "My name is Gideon Keres. And you are?"
"You kidnapped me. You
must know who I am."
This was a chance to see
if he had been kidnapped by accident. Gideon Keres must have wanted someone
else.
"So clever. You are a
wonder, do you realize?"
"No."
"And modest, too. All
right, Otis Bendecker, consider me enthralled with
you. And your beauty."
It wasn't an accident.
His heart began beating faster. Otis fought his hardest not to let his
kidnapper know he was afraid by controlling his breathing through the exercises
he had learned from his therapist.
"You have no reason to be
afraid of me."
What a ridiculous thing
to say. Otis had heard all of it before.
"Why
are you sitting there? Sit here, close to mommy. What? You are afraid? Because
I shook you a little earlier?"
It had never been a
little. She had never been directly violent, never slapped him or kicked him,
save for that last time. But it had always hurt just the same. And the fear had
always been the same.
"You are very silent. I
know you aren't stupid. So, talk."
"I have no money. There
is no one to pay any ransom money," Otis said, articulating every word with
difficulty. The memories had come unbound now, and he couldn't stop them. They
could send him on a downward spiral and he didn't know if he could stop it.
"I wouldn't trade you for
all the money in the world," the metallic voice continued. It was hard to
believe the words were pouring out of a human being and not a robot created to
talk. "You are beautiful."
"I am scarred." Otis
swallowed thickly. His thirst was accentuated the more he talked.
Gideon Keres let out a
sound like a sinister laugh. "I am a whole scar. And that makes you so
imperfectly perfect. I had no idea. I thought you were just the kind of beauty
I'd take great pleasure in destroying."
It wasn't fair. Fate
wasn't fair, Otis thought as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. He hadn't been
kidnapped for ransom money, but for something else. The only way to find out
what his kidnapper meant by it was to ask.
"Why did you kidnap me?"
"Because I need a friend.
You took a good look at me. Do you believe I have many friends? Or none at
all?"
"I don't know. I don't
know you." Breathing through the dense fabric of the hood made everything more
difficult, talking included.
"You will be my friend,
Otis. My special friend. You are already special because you have that lovely
scar, but I will slowly transform you into my better half. Have you read Frankenstein?"
"Frankenstein is the
doctor's name, not the monster's, like many people
believe by mistake," Otis recited what he remembered from his reading. "But I
haven't read the book."
Another mechanical laugh
followed. "I will read it to you. You appear the kind to have a deep
appreciation of unusual beautiful things. Unlike Frankenstein's monster, I will
ask no doctor to create a mate for me. I will do it myself. It's only just for
me to find love just like anyone else. Don't you think?"
"What do you mean?" Otis
asked, ignoring the direct question. He had no answer for it.
"I will turn your
flawless skin into a scar. I will take away your sight to give you mine, your
hearing so that you can only hear me, and at the end of it all, you will be
perfect. My perfect mate."
Perfect was a word full
of hate in how it sounded coming out of Gideon Keres. Otis didn't want to
become the man's perfect mate.
He couldn't escape. Not
now. Even if he managed to open the door on his side, jumping out of a moving
vehicle would most likely lead to serious injuries and even death. And the
driver would only have to stop the car and collect him from where he had jumped
only to drag him away just as was happening right now.
Another option to check
off his list. But he could wait.
The
house was silent, so silent, and his working on the lock was deafening in that
silence. He feared she was somewhere inside, waiting to jump at him and hunt
him down, dragging him back into the punishment room, but the bottles – he had
inspected them the day before – were all empty, so she had to be out on her
errand to bring home more of the same.
He
needed to be patient. If it didn't work on the first try, he would try a second
time, and a third time, and a fourth time. He would be free if only he could be
patient enough.
***
"Where have you been?"
Watkins barked at him the moment he got back. "We have to ensure everything's
perfect for the opening, and you're running around, getting your dick wet."
Jackie gestured from
behind Watkins, pointing at the camera Hudson was holding.
"I needed to bring in more
gear from a friend," he said in a pacifying tone. Right now, he wanted to wrap
his hands around Watkins's throat and strangle the fucker until he died. "You
sort of took me by surprise with your announcement."
"All right, all right,"
Watkins waved impatiently. "Jackie, take Vegas to shoot some pics of Jasper."
"But he's like almost not
moving at all," Jackie protested. "I don't think he's going to open his eyes
even."
"That's all for the
better for what we have in mind," Watkins spat at his underling. "Go. I have a
thousand things to do."
"Where is the big boss?"
Hudson asked casually.
Watkins gave him a hard
stare. "Do you want to keep tabs on the man who signs your paycheck? Artist or
not, Vegas, you think yourself more important than you are. Do as you're told.
And don't bother me again until you're finished."
Jackie grabbed Hudson by
the elbow and dragged him along. "Come on, man, let's do our job."
They were walking down
the hall when Jackie hissed at him, "Man, not gonna
lie, you look kind of wild. The fuck's going on? And you keep telling me not to
blow it."
Hudson couldn't share
that part with Jackie. The guy would freak out, for sure. "Just stress," he
said shortly.
"Well, de-stress
yourself, `cause I think
shit's about to get real."
He needed his head on his
shoulders. For Otis, and not only for him. Jasper, Jackie, and who knew? Maybe
even Angel. He stopped for a moment, dead in his tracks. As much as a part of
him worried about Otis still being alive – irrational, demanding, crazy mad –
he now knew beyond the shadow of a doubt who the third cross on the big stage
was for.
His phone buzzed. The
burner again. The noose was getting tighter, and he was playing fast and loose.
But the ability to have options had flown out the window and there was no
turning back now.
He checked the phone
quickly. There was a picture from Gavin. The caption read.
We're
still one step behind. But your guy is smart.
Hudson zoomed in to
understand what he was looking at. A blank wall on which something was
scribbled in faint letters.
I
was here
Otis
Bendecker
September
29 2023
time
unknown not morning
***
The air changed. He was
taken out of the car and brought inside another building, Otis realized as he
steeled himself and honed all his senses to catch as much as he could of his
surroundings and what was going on. His bare feet felt gravel and dust before
entering. This place was not inside the city, or at least not in an area with
pavement. It could be a house out in the fields, like his mother's had been but
somehow he didn't believe that. There was a faint smell of rust in his nostrils.
Houses, even unkempt houses, didn't smell like that. He couldn't place the
source of that scent, either.
The hood was removed from
his head and he blinked to adjust his vision to the bright light.
"What a surprise,"
someone commented.
It took him a few more
seconds to identify the source of the new voice. Otis searched the other
person's face. He knew that man. He had seen him before. In Hudson's apartment.
He didn't say anything
and turned his head, looking around. It looked like a boiler room, with equipment
lying around, uncared for. That was why it smelled like it did.
"He's a weird one," the
man said again.
"He's lovely," Gideon
Keres said.
"Of course. Very pretty."
"Watkins, you have zero
eye for true beauty. You don't realize what you're seeing although it's right
in front of your eyes."
Keres moved closer to
Otis and brushed his hair away from his scar. Then he began to finger it with
his gloved hand. "Just imagine the possibilities."
Watkins looked at Otis,
meeting his gaze only for a moment. He looked as cold and dead inside as Otis
remembered from that first time.
"He's going on stage with
the other two. Yes, I'd say he'll do just fine. Maybe we should even start with
him."
"No. He is my triumph."
Keres seemed so taken with his scar, pressing around it and feeling it like he
couldn't stop doing that. Otis was fighting himself not to flinch away from
that disturbing touch. "He's my end goal."
"I appreciate everything
you're doing for the business, boss," Watkins said and his grin turned sardonic
and ugly, as Otis calmly inspected him. "But most of the time, I have no idea
what you're going on about. So, is he going to go last? After Jasper and
Angel?"
Jasper. Angel. Otis
tucked the names away. He might need them later.
"No. He is going to be
the centerpiece for a long time. I will transform him slowly, with my own hand.
And I will keep him alive until he's perfect for me."
Watkins sighed. "And will
the others think that's what they deserve for their money? They want proper
bloodshed, not art."
"I believe they are all
coming here because they trust my vision," Keres replied. His breath was foul
on Otis's face. "And don't call it bloodshed, it's in bad taste."
"Is it just me or is the
weirdo acting like he's not scared shitless? What did you give him?"
Otis stared as Keres
moved brusquely and smacked Watkins across the face so fast that the man
staggered and choked, as if he had just been forced to eat his words.
"As I said," Keres
continued and turned his attention back to Otis. "You're nothing but a grunt,
Watkins. And don't worry, they'll pay to see me create my masterpiece. As for
your question, my beloved here is not frightened because he understands.
Because he's the soulmate I have been searching for my entire life without even
realizing it. But now I know." He caressed Otis's cheek and turned his face
slowly. "I know that I'm in love."
Watkins squealed from his
place. "In love? For real? You don't have a dick, how are even supposed to fuck
him?"
Otis expected Keres to
launch into another vicious attack like earlier, but his thick strange lips
stretched into a smile. "You are a vulgar animal, with no taste for what is
truly beautiful in life. My body has none of your earthly needs. I do not need
to copulate with my beloved to assure him of my undying thirst for him."
"Undying?" Watkins
squealed again. To Otis, he sounded like someone scared, so his words were
strange, seemingly pushing him in the direction of getting hit again. "Are you
going to keep him forever?"
"Of course. Once I finish
turning him into the perfect object of my desire, I will embalm him and keep
him inside my house. My very own Taj Mahal, but I will live in it, along with
my beloved. Immortalized forever. Together."
"You're one sick man,"
Watkins spat with disgust.
"Watch it, lap dog,"
Keres said without turning. "I'm barely tolerating your sight as it is. Your
bravado, this very moment, whom does it serve? My beloved doesn't care about
you. He only has eyes for me. And you know my opinion of you. Get out."
Otis heard Watkins
walking out of the room. He continued to keep his eyes on Keres, without
blinking.
"Don't mind these mere
mortals. They don't understand a thing, the worms," Keres said as he continued
to touch Otis's face. "But you do understand me. Look at you. You aren't even
trembling. Because you know that I'm not threatening you. I love you. So how
could I hurt you?"
"I
would never do a thing to him."
His
mother's voice, tearful and pleading.
"This
house is a complete mess, Olivia. Is this where you're raising your son? And
where is he? I haven't seen him in three years."
His
grandma's voice. Tired, yet firm. Otis remembered her vaguely. He was watching
from behind the corner.
And
later, more reproaches. "The boy barely speaks! Will you let him come with me?
I will take him off your hands if he's too much work for you."
"He's
my son!"
The
sound of broken plates.
"You
forced me to give up on you, but you're not going to force me to give up on
him, too." His grandma again, as firm as ever. "I will take him from you,
whether you like it or not."
"No!"
His mother screeched, like a wounded animal. "You can't take him away! He's all
I have! I love him!"
There were different
types of love, Otis had learned. And one of them was sick and dark and
unyielding, and the nice lady at the clinic had told him that wasn't love, but
for so long, that was the only kind he had felt.
He looked into Keres's
immobile, scary eyes. "You can't hurt me," he said, calm and ready. A mantra he
had learned a lifetime ago so that he could start anew.
"As I thought," Keres
said with what had to count as delight if the slight inflections of his
metallic voice could be interpreted one way or another. "My true peer. My true
love."
***
Hudson felt Jasper's
neck. He was still alive, but it was unsettling that they were going so far
with drugging the young man. There was life left in him, but he needed help.
"Who's in charge of
giving him the drugs?" he asked in a quiet voice as he arranged Jasper in
various ways, pursing his lips in frustration – for anyone watching – and worry
– for himself – when the youngster's limbs refused to stay in place.
"That's Angel," Jackie
said and stole nervous glances around.
"He's going on the stage,
too. Does he know it?" Hudson asked.
"Do you think he'd miss
his chance to become a star?" Jackie said with a snort. Then, he blanched.
"Don't tell me... that is what they're going to do? On the first night? To Angel,
too?"
"I can't tell everything
they're thinking. Angel might be spared, but I'm not counting on it. Do you see
him around? Is he here now?"
"He must be. He's
supposed to be here to administer another dose to Jasper. He laughs and tells
me they're vitamins. How stupid does he think I am?"
"Let him believe whatever
he wants. We don't need him to get the jitters and ruin the perfect setup,"
Hudson said through his teeth.
"But they might want to...
you know, him too," Jackie said, his eyes darting sideways, increasingly
disturbed.
"We won't let it happen,"
Hudson assured him.
The door opened, making
them turn. Angel walked in, his gait cocksure as usual, his face lit up by an
arrogant smile. "I'm here to give the young man his medicine," he said as he
searched his little purse.
He brought out a kit
complete with a syringe and grabbed Jasper's limp arm. Hudson seized Angel by
the wrist that very moment.
"I believe he's had
enough," he said in an icy tone.
Angel narrowed his eyes.
"That's not for you to say, brawn for brains. I have direct orders from the
boss. Jasper needs proper care."
"And I say that I can
easily break your arm and let the boss know that I thought you'd look much more
enthralling with a cast," Hudson said calmly.
"Hmm." Angel tried to
yank his wrist free but to no avail. His eyes set on Hudson, searching his
face. "You're not the boss."
"Press your luck, then.
This club is known for loving pain and it's not even open yet," Hudson said
evenly, keeping eye contact with Angel. "I don't mind applying some so that you
catch my drift."
"Fine," Angel said with
an exasperated sigh. "But it's on you. I'm going to tell the boss you didn't
let me do my job."
"Really? Is he going to
like it when he hears that you're so easy to intimidate?"
Angel frowned as he
seemed to ponder over the pros and cons of his next strategy. "Ugh, you're such
a bully, Vegas. I suppose the kiddo is primed and ready anyway."
Hudson released Angel's
arm. He watched as the syringe was put back into its kit, and then everything
went into the purse. Angel adjusted the strap over his shoulder while pressing
his lips together in an unhappy smile. "Well, I suppose you owe me one."
"I beg to differ."
Angel stared at him as if
he was trying to save some face by intimidating Hudson back. "You know, you're
a bit too much of a goody-two-shoes for this line of business. And I don't care
how awesome the pictures you take are, `cause it's
not like we're running an Instagram-like nest of bitches here."
"I don't think you can
really appreciate my work," Hudson said, doing his best take on a venomous
snake. "You're clearly not a city boy. So, country mouse, how about you walk
and let the real artists do their jobs?"
Angel's eyes grew wide
and then thinned again. "You didn't."
Hudson shrugged. "I guess
I did."
Angel smirked. "You just
made yourself an enemy, Vegas, and I'm warning you. I take no prisoners."
"Look at me, quaking in
my shoes," Hudson added fuel to the fire. This type of banter – or serious
talk, in Angel's case – was bound to make him look `normal' to the cameras
trained on them, in case they were there.
Angel turned on his heel
with a huff. "See you later, boys. I need something sweet to wash away the bad
taste you two leave in my mouth."
"I wouldn't let you close
to my dick if you paid me," Jackie said under his breath.
Angel threw him a
withering stare. "Ah, I see. So you and Vegas are sucking each other's dicks.
No wonder there. You're both ugly as hell."
Hudson gave Jackie a
short smile once Angel was out of earshot. That was good. They needed to play
their roles until the very end.
***
"And who do we have
here?"
Another voice, one Otis
didn't recognize. He was now in a different room, one with a bed and red
curtains. It would have looked comfortable if not for the aggressive tones of
red that reigned supreme everywhere he looked. Keres had taken him there and
told him to rest. He didn't plan on doing that. He had too much work to do.
He looked at the
intruder, a young man with symmetrical, pleasant features. His mouth was
twisted in a snarl, and that made him ugly. He moved around with grace,
swinging his arms, as if he were on a stage. His eyes were set on Otis,
inspecting him as if he were a specimen that provoked disgust.
Otis draped his hair
carefully over his left eye. It was, without a doubt, because of it that the
newcomer looked so stricken at his sight.
"I didn't get a good look
at you," the stranger continued, switching from talking to an invisible someone
in the room to talking to Otis. "I was too busy getting you out and into the
loving arms of your future master."
Otis felt his hackles
rising. This young man, he must have been the one to sting him in the neck with
that thing.
"You stepped on my
seahorse," he said sternly.
"Oh, you don't say," the
young man cooed as if he were talking to a baby. "I stepped on your plushie?"
"It was a glass
figurine," Otis explained, as a muscle began ticking in his cheek.
The young man shrugged
and pushed Otis's hair away. Everyone seemed to like doing that to him lately.
"Psh,
you're so damaged. I don't get the big attraction. And you're so damn skinny."
Otis pulled away from the
touch as a hand reached for his chest.
"Shy, aren't we?" the
stranger cooed again. "Well, that can be fixed. Hi, I'm Angel." He held out one
hand.
Otis watched him with
suspicion. Why was everyone here behaving so unlike most people? Angel – what a
strange name – was treating him as if they were about to become friends. Otis
didn't see how that could happen, given the fact that Angel had been the one to
pick the lock on his door, sting him in the neck, destroy his collection, and
kidnap him.
"You broke it," he
accused again.
"Can we get over it
already?" Angel gesticulated wildly. "We're going to be colleagues, you know?
Well, maybe not for long since you look like a disposable little thing, but
still. What is so special about a glass figurine? Don't tell me it was a
collectible and it was worth thousands of dollars."
"It was a gift, but it
retails for $18.99 and you can't find it at a discount," Otis continued,
feeling his anger soaring at how reckless some people could be regarding other
people's precious belongings.
"$18.99," Angel said
slowly as if he couldn't understand what the numbers meant. "Well, I'll get you
one. Will that make me your friend? Come on, let's shake hands."
Otis batted Angel's hand
away. "No, we can't be friends. I am not friends with careless people."
***
"We searched the club,
after we got an anonymous tip on drugs being traded on the premises at that
exact time," Gavin informed him. "No dice."
"Then he must be here,"
Hudson said shortly. He was outside, hiding behind an abandoned rack of pipes
that hadn't yet been removed from the premises.
Gavin tsked. "That means
we have to wait. We can't storm the place until they have everyone there. We
need those fuckers who pay for disgusting stuff like this. We can't let them
get away. Not a single one of them."
Hudson pressed the phone
against his temple. Gavin was right, of course. They couldn't jeopardize the
whole operation when they were so close. And they had reason to believe that
Otis's life wasn't in immediate danger.
"If he's here, I'm going
to find him."
"Be careful, man," Gavin
advised before cutting the connection.
Hudson took in the industrial
building looming before him. Was it just wishful thinking on his part? Otis
could be in many other places. Who knew what they wanted to do with him? Could
it be that they had found out about him and now held the young man prisoner to
ferret him out?
Doubt was not his speed.
The worried boyfriend needed to take a step back and let the detective do his
work. And the detective was going to turn the place upside down if needed to
find the better half of his soul.
TBC
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Mr. Fairworth, it is a cozy small town love
story about two men who had a crush on each other in high school and meet again
fourteen years later.
You can also find the book on Smashwords:
The Unattainable
Mr. Fairworth