Date: Fri, 21 Mar 2014 12:42:07 -0400 From: Jake Preston Subject: Psychic Detective 20 Psychic Detective 20 By Jake Preston This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html In this chapter, some of the characters use words that may not be familiar to the reader. These are: bulbo-juice (noun): pre-seminal fluid released during foreplay by the bulbourethal glands (also called 'Cowper's glands'). Bulbo-juice is usually known as 'pre-cum'. bulbourous (adjective): a modifier pertaining to bulbo-juice, or pre-cum. bulbourosity (noun): the capability of a penis to release pre-seminal fluid during sexual activity. The term connotes a capacity to release an unusually high quantity of pre-seminal fluid. vagnini-probe (noun): ): the forcible insertion of one or more fingers into a person's anal cavity, especially when performed under the legal pretext of a strip-search. A prolonged vagnini-probe is called 'vagnini-rape'. The eponym was inspired by a Milwaukee policeman, Michael Vagnini, who was charged in October 2012, pled 'no contest' in April 2013, and sentenced in June 2013 for molesting suspected African-American drug- dealers in this way. Innovative compound-words in '-lingus' also appear in this chapter. These are explained in my headnote to chapter 19. Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response! Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com * * * * * * Chapter 20 Jail-Break While these things were going on in Oregon and Duluth, Deputy Sheriff Nelson practiced his own style of law enforcement in Ashawa. On Friday evening he saw David Gabrioli and Dmitri Zarvopoulos driving through town on their way to Wayward Bay. They had come from Bemidji to spend the weekend with Tom Preston and Anna Ravitch. Gabrioli had exchanged his South Carolina license plates for plates reading '10,000 LAKES', but Nelson recognized the car. In a small town like Ashawa, everyone knows everyone else's car- one reason why car thefts never occur. Next morning, Nelson drove to Wayward Bay in an unmarked car and waited at the side of the road. He caught Dmitri and David by surprise while they walked down the road toward Jake Preston's cabin. He jumped out of his car, with service revolver drawn. Dmitri and David ran into the woods in opposite directions. Nelson chased after one of them- he didn't know which one. It was David. He led Nelson deeper into the forest so Dmitri could get away. Nelson fired a shot in his direction. The bullet hit a birch ten feet from David, who knelt in a patch of orange and yellow leaves while Nelson cuffed his wrists in a plastic restraint. To David it was satisfaction enough that Dmitri got away. The Sheriff's Office in Ashawa had a modern jail facility in the back of the building, and an older jail in the basement. Nelson brought David to the jail downstairs, got him naked, and cuffed his hands to a towel-rack in the showers. He turned the water on cold. Upstairs, Nelson dispatched the Desk Sergeant to Wayward Bay to look for Dmitri. He checked on his only prisoner upstairs- an Irish lumberjack nicknamed Redman, who got caught driving drunk on Friday evening. "If I write you a ticket, you'll get a court summons, Redman. It'll be your third time before Judge Walker. But don't worry, Redman. I haven't written the ticket yet. I can make your problem disappear if you'll help me interrogate a prisoner in the basement. He's a dago queer from back East. It shouldn't take much to break him down." Redman agreed, and followed Nelson down the steps to the basement. They found David cuffed to the towel-bar, shivering stoically in the cold shower. Nelson turned off the water. "I'm gonna ask you this once, Dago," he said. "Where's your Greek boyfriend hiding?" When he got no reply, he jabbed his index finger into David's rectum. David cried out in pain, but didn't answer. Nelson administered a vagnini-probe with three fingers, and prolonged his penetration until he drew blood. David bit his lip. He refused to give Nelson the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy. A trickle of blood running down David's leg increased Nelson's arousal, evident in a prominent crease in his crotch. The vagnini-probe graduated to full-fledged vagnini-rape. Its horrid rhythms registered in David's mind synaesthetically, as if he heard drum-beats roll in a ghastly cannibalistic encampment. The synaesthetic effect enabled David to endure the pain of Nelson's vagnini-intrusions without crying out. "All right, then, Dago," Nelson said. "Time for a supervised shower." He wrapped one end of a plastic restraint around David's cock and scrotum, like it was a cock-ring. Redman got naked and stood behind David. Nelson wrapped the other end of the plastic restraint around Redman's right wrist. He applied another cuff to David's and Redman's left ankles, leaving Redman with his right hand in David's genitalia. Redman's cock nested in David's cleft. "It's time to give Dago a plumbing-lesson," Nelson said. Tom Preston, Anna Ravitch, Sam Black Bear, and Ben Hasek came to the Sheriff's Office looking for David. Nelson was unresponsive. "You've gotten to be quite a tyrant, the George Wallace of Ashawa," Ben Hasek protested. He demanded to inspect the jail. Nelson showed him the empty cells on the first floor, and spouted: "Let me tell you something, if you conduct yourself like this in the Sheriff's Office, your rear end's gonna be thrown in jail, idiot. You're a jerk!" "You've got my groundskeeper hidden away somewhere! I want him released," Tom Preston exclaimed. "What's the charge against him, anyway?" "The Dago is being held for obstruction of justice. He witnessed a murder and won't tell me anything about it, and you're a numbnuts!" Nelson replied. "Why Deputy Nelson, you're a bully," Anna Ravitch said. "David and Dmitri told everything they knew, to Harvey Winik, and to Göran Svenson. You know that!" "I am what I am. I am not a bully," Nelson retorted. "Using direct and blunt language is something I've done all my life. It was the way my mother raised me. I am who I am. And I'm not going to change, idiot!" "That's no way to speak to a lady," Sam Black Bear said. "That Dago queer will be sorry he didn't go back to New York, or New Jersey, or wherever he came from," Nelson said. "Get used to the new world, everybody!" "Just for your information, David isn't Italian, and he's not from New York or New Jersey," Anna Ravitch said. "He's a queer, and he's not from here," Nelson retorted. Meanwhile, in the basement, David grit his teeth and prepared for the worst. Redman was an Irish Paul Bunyan and Bogeyman rolled into one. He couldn't move his right hand away from David's balls. Their cocks throbbed involuntarily-David's in Redman's right hand; Redman's in David's cleft-both locked in place by plastic restraints. Resistance was futile, David thought. He might as well go along with it. "What's your name, kid?" Redman asked. "David," he replied, "David Gabrioli." "What did you do to piss off Nelson?" Redman asked. "Have you heard about the murders on Five Spirits Island?" "Who hasn't?" "Me and my buddy Dmitri- we're the ones... we found the bodies," David said. "Last summer we worked for Tom Preston at Wayward Island Resort. Nelson thinks we know more about it. "Let me guess," Redman said. "He thinks he can solve the case with a bit of enhanced interrogation. If you lived at the Resort, you must know Sam Black Bear." "I do." "When Nelson comes back, I'll tell him that your buddy went looking for Black Bear. I'll say that they probably went to Five Mile Road. That's where our lumberjack crew is working this season. He'll believe me," Redman said. "Okay," David said. Redman made no move to penetrate him. David's fear gave way to the warmth of Redman's body as it pressed against him. "You're still trembling, David," Redman said. He ran his free hand over David's arm and the left side of his torso. "Don't worry, David, I'm not gonna rape you. We're both prisoners here," he said. "When Nelson comes back, he's gonna expect a show," David said. "If he sees your cock hard, he'll force you to fuck me. He's gone psycho." "Maybe I could get off by hot-dogging between your buns," Redman said. "Okay, let's try it," David replied. Redman slid his shaft along the length of David's cleft. David responded by tightening his ass-cheeks. They found an erotic rhythm. "I've got to admit this feels pretty god," Redman said. "I'm not a gay man. I'm straight, but this is nice, and you've got a sensational body, David." "You can get me into it by fondling my dick," David said. "Don't worry, Redman, touching dick won't make you gay. It's just sex." Cuffed in an erotic embrace, their bodies were sexualized involuntarily. Their minds caught up with their bodies. Redman hot-dogged David's cleft. He praised David for his erotic way of squeezing buns around cock. He traced the terrain of David's cleft with his cockhead- from the base of his spine to his butthole- and then rammed his cock upward, a daring experiment. During one of those up-thrusts, Redman's cockhead penetrated David's unlubricated portal. Fortunately for both of them, but especially for David, Redman had a perpetually bulbourous cock. Bulbo-juice gathered in the folds of his foreskin and smoothed the path as his glans advanced on its inward journey. "Sorry, buddy, I didn't mean to do that," Redman whispered, but he didn't remove his cock, and David didn't ask him to. Instead, he tightened his sphincter around penetrating dick. Redman inched David, who grimaced at the pinch but tightened his sphincter again. Redman fucked David gently with the tip of his dick. Each fuck got deeper, up to three inches of shaft. They couldn't have managed it, were it not for the unusual bulbourosity of Redman's cock. "This wasn't the plan, buddy," Redman said in a moment of stillness. "I'll pull out if you want me to." "Don't do that," David said. He squeezed his sphincter again. "We should finish what we've started. Let's play hide the sausage. Put it in all the way, but take it slow." Redman followed David's instructions. When his shaft stretched David's inner sphincter, he was barely aware of David's groans, fascinated (as he was) with the rhythm of David's pulse on his shaft. "You've got a big dick," David said. "I wish I could have seen it." "Hmmm," Redman murmured. "Just how big is it, anyway?" David said. "You don't want to know," Redman replied. "You're in all the way, aren't you?" "Mmm hmmm." "Then why shouldn't I know?" "Nine inches, buddy," Redman said. "That's about two more inches than I thought I could take," David mused. Redman kissed his neck and his ear. David turned his face toward him and their lips met. Redman fucked, slowly at first. David's groans and moans guided the length and force of the blows he delivered. Every so often they paused for a kiss. "Do lions breed in captivity?" Redman wondered. He fucked slowly and waited for David's groans to turn to moans. Then he popped the question: "Do lions breed in captivity?" "I don't know about lions, but loins do," David quipped. Redman fondled David's cock while nature took its course up his ass. "I'm getting knocked up by Redman!" David exclaimed while he oozed in Redman's hand. A few minutes later, Redman's cock raged again. He probed David's portal with his cockhead, and as David offered no resistance, he fucked again. This time it was easier for both of them, since David's anal canal was lubricated by Redman's semen. He spooged David a second time. Only then did they realize that Deputy Nelson was watching them. Nelson allowed Redman and David to get dressed and moved them to a cell in the jail upstairs. Then he locked up the Sheriff's Office, and sped off toward Five Mile Road in a patrol car. Day passed into night. Neither the Deputy nor the Sergeant returned. Redman and David were alone in the building. * * * * * * David and Redman had three things in common: Deputy Nelson, Sam Black Bear, and their sexual encounter under duress. Confined to a jail cell with nothing to do and nothing to read, they spent the day discussing commonalities. They started with Sam Black Bear: Redman had known him for years as a fellow lumberjack. He told David about how Sam Black Bear and Ben Hasek got married during the first Summer Solstice Powwow, at the Ojibwe Monument on Rice River. "That was in 2005 or 2006, maybe later. Some people thought the wedding was a grotesque publicity stunt. The Ashawa Tribune published news about the Powwow, but wrote nothing about the wedding. If they had wanted to, Sam and Ben could have crossed the border and got married in Manitoba. But since Sam is Ojibwe, they got married under Ojibwe law, which was technically legal, since nothing in Ojibwe law outlawed gay marriage. Sam and Ben claimed that theirs was the first gay marriage in Minnesota, but neither St. Louis County nor the State recognized their claim." "Sam Black Bear and Ben Hasek- a lumberjack and a miner! Who would have guessed?" David remarked. "To people who knew Sam and Ben, and to anyone at the wedding, they undid the stereotype of gay men as unmanly," Redman replied. "They got married again in August of 2013, a week after gay marriage was legalized in Minnesota, just so no one could claim that their marriage wasn't legal. That wasn't reported in the Ashawa Tribune, either." "You're a gay-friendly guy, Redman. Was it Sam's and Ben's marriage that turned you around about gay marriage?" David asked. "Not really," Redman replied. "I've worked with Sam in lumber camps for years. He never made a secret of his interest in guys. He was always a pretty tough lumberjack, not the sort of guy anyone would pick a fight with. He was lonely, though. I don't think he ever had a partner before Ben. When they met, it was as if he had a best friend for the first time. He was always a laid-back guy, but when he and Ben became lovers, he was cheerful. The way Ben influenced Sam was enough evidence for me." Their conversation turned to Deputy Sheriff Dudley Nelson. Redman recalled the time when Nelson arrested Jake Preston for molestation of a minor, only to find out later that his supposed victim, Red Feather, was nineteen. He arrested Red Feather, too, for resisting arrest and obstruction of justice. The charges were bogus. Ron Matthews came up from Duluth to investigate-Matthews, the County Sheriff. He was a detective back then. It turned out to be an internal affairs case, and Nelson got canned, though he wasn't charged. Then, too, Nelson was a friend of Willy Elbo, the town's Chevrolet dealer. Now that was one bad actor. He was a heroin addict, and probably a drug dealer. He owned the home on Wayward Bay that Tom Preston rents out to vacationers. Nelson was one of his cronies. He might have been caught, but the case ended when Elbo was shot by his foster son. Elbo used to sit at the end of his dock with a rifle and take pot shots across the bay at Tom Preston's resort. That was the rifle that killed him." "Willy Elbo, I've heard that name," David said. "Did you hear the one about the mattress springs?" "Mattress springs?" "Elbo didn't like people fishing in the waters off his land. One season, he bought some old-fashioned mattress springs and tossed them in the lake, so fishermen would lose their lines. Jake Preston had the springs pulled out after he bought the property." "I've heard that Lake Ashawa is famous for its springs, but this gives new meaning to the term 'lake springs'," David laughed. "But I don't understand Nelson's beef with me and Dmitri. We saw him one time, for fifteen minutes, and he did all the talking. He thought we knew something about the murders because it looked like some sort of gay cult. Harvey Winik took us away. Next thing we knew, Sam Black Bear and Anna Ravitch hustled us off to Dark Eagle's home in Crane Lake." "It's simple," Redman said. "You're openly gay, you're a couple, you're bi-coastal, you're college boys, you're Spanish or Greek or whatever, that's five strikes against you. If you were closeted gays, he'd hate you for being closeted. If you were straight, he'd hate you for being young. It doesn't matter. The real target of his hatred is Harvey Winik, and maybe Göran Svenson. He's getting at them by punishing you." "I think Göran's a psychic," David said. "I don't believe in psychics, but he's an exception." "Why do you say that?" Redman asked. "Because of what happened at Eight Eagles. He had almost no evidence to go on, and he reconstructed the crime. Everyone thought there were three bodies but Göran said there were five. He even said where the other two bodies would be found, and they were. Other things, too: he knew there were two killers and that each one was doing his thing, so it was really two crimes superimposed on each other. He said there would be a similar crime scene somewhere else. He guessed it would be in South Dakota, and it was. Then he said there would be one further west. That came true as well." "If Göran's a psychic, I wish he'd get back here and rescue us," Redman said. "It's not just me. Harvey Winik thinks he's psychic, too. He doesn't believe in psychics either." "What does Göran say?" Redman asked. "He says there's no such thing as psychics. But he does believe in shamans. We went to a shaman ceremony in Crane Lake." David and Redman had no food, and a narrow bed between them, but at least they had water, and heat. The thermostat for the building was set a bit too high. David took off his shirt and blue-jeans, and lay on the bed in bright red jockey-shorts. Redman had to admit to himself that his shorts complimented his figure in the afternoon light that shone through the barred window of their cell. He kneaded David's shoulders with the palms of his hands in a rhythmic massage. "Even a straight guy can see that you're a very handsome man, David." "You'd better appreciate me, since you've already fucked me twice," David quipped. "Sorry about that. I hope I didn't hurt you earlier." "I'm okay. I'm not bleeding anymore, am I?" "Not that I can tell," Redman said. "Was that something I did?" "No, that was Nelson, when he jammed his finger up my ass in a goddam vagnini-probe. He probably thought it was sexy." "I've never screwed ass before, female or male, not to mention ever fooling around with a man before. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. My wife ex-wife was straight-laced about sex." "You're no longer married then, Redman?" "No. To tell the truth, I haven't had sex for three years-until this morning." Redman's massage moved from David's shoulders to his back. 'Jesus, and you straight guys think us gay guys are screwed up!' David thought to himself, but he didn't say it. Instead he said: "Some time ago, I watched a psychologist on youtube give advice to women about male sexuality. He said that men have three major erogenous zones. The first was the penis. He emphasized the frenulum, as he should, but said nothing about the foreskin, and his illustrative sketch depicted a circumcised cock. According to this psychologist, the other two e-zones are a man's eyes and his ears- meaning that the woman should pose erotically and make sexy noises while playing with his dick. Straight guys are programmed to agree. It's the Playboy profile of male sexuality. Any gay man with experience would say that 'straight' ignorance of male sexuality is appalling. Male anatomy is loaded with e-zones. They're always part of gay sex. They're rarely part of straight sex. I feel sorry for straight guys if their sexual comforts are limited to the penis. They're St. Simeon Stylites, naked and starved for life on top a forty-foot pillar. That's the phallic theory of male sexuality- all a guy's got is a pillar forty feet high. Well, maybe not forty feet." Redman was Catholic. He knew the allusion to the fifth-century saint- Simeon Stylites- an exemplar of religious superstition according to Edward Gibbon and Mark Twain. "You're right about one thing, David. For straight men it's all about cock, vagina, and boobs. That's been my experience." "Is that why you're no longer married?" "Hmm... It's more complicated than that, but.... When romance is exciting, a man and a woman can resolve their domestic differences, or look past them, but...." "Do you want me to show you?" "What?" "E-zones, man, from the lobes of your ears to the tips of your toes," David said. "That sounds seriously gay," Redman said. "For a guy that just spooged my ass twice, you shouldn't be squeamish about gay stuff!" David laughed. "What I gotta do?" Redman smiled. "Get naked and lay face down on the bed," David said. He lay over Redman with his dick nested in the man's cleft while he tongued his neck and his ears and massaged his brow. He flipped Redman over and kissed his eyelids while he cupped his balls in one hand. He pinched Redman's nips, and nibbled on foreskin. "Concentrate on how it feels in your groin," David said. David found Redman's nips to be erotically sensitive, more so than most men, especially when his attention shifted between nips and pits. "My wife would never play with my nips," Redman said. "She took exception if I pinched them myself. She thought it was a fem thing to do. Like most women, she thought armpits are disgusting." "Anything that goes on between a man and a woman is hetero," David replied- "anything, including nip-play." "What do you call it when Adam does it to Steve?" Redman asked. "Then it's gay sex. It's the same feeling, the same act, the same sensitivity. Axillingus is identical, too, except that a man is more willing to do it," David said. He proved it by running his tongue into Redman's pits. "Are you saying that gay sex is better than straight sex?" Redman asked. "I'm saying that gay foreplay is better, because a gay man is more sensitive to another man's body," David replied. "Take blow jobs, for example. Even straight guys admit that a man can do better, but most men won't accept it from another man." He tongued Redman in a French kiss and called it 'oralingus'. He moved to Redman's navel and applied his tongue in a bit of navelingus; then to his scrotum for some scrotalingus. He moved to Redman's foreskin. Redman gasped. "There ought to be a word for tongue-action in a guy's hoody," he said. "'Foreskinnilingus' won't do." "Hoodilingus," Redman laughed. "It should be something Latin to go with 'lingus', like 'integumentum', 'integument'. How does 'integumentalingus' sound?" David asked. Redman shook his head no. "How about 'pelliculum', 'pellicle'-'pellilingus'?" "Is gay sex always this talkative?" Redman laughed. "Not with cock in my mouth," David said. He gave Redman some head, but continued to work on Redman's nips, pits, and pubes. Redman got hot. He was putty in David's hands. "Redman, we're coming to the point of no return," David said. "If we cross the border into serious foreplay, there's no turning back. If you want to stop now, I can give you a blow job. Or we can tour round the world." 'Round the world' started with prectalingus: Redman veed back while David tongued his perineum. "Prectum-prectalingus, or spaduda-spadulingus," David said. Analingus followed. David positioned Redman with his ass at the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs and rimmed. "Except for cunnilingus which we haven't got, we've coursed through all the linguses," he said-"axillingus, navelingus, oralingus, scrotalingus, pellilingus, prectalingus, spadulingus, analingus." "You're a cunning linguist, David. Does that count as cunnilingus?" Redman quipped. "Cheeky cunnilingus," David quipped back. He mounted Redman and pushed cock up his spit-shined ass. A pinch of pain brought a groan from Redman while David laid pipe. Redman's eyes widened. David noticed how the carroty hair of Redman's brows, sideburns, and forelock complimented his green eyes. He couldn't dance his dick slow enough to ease the raw friction in Redman's cavity, but Redman got used to it. David frigged Redman's cock back to kabuki-size. It loomed like an ensign over the cock-engorged entrenchment. "Are you okay?" he asked Redman. "Tubular!" Redman said. "It feels like I'm getting my cherry popped." "For everything there must be a first time," David replied. One last shove completed his penetration. * * * * * * In the dark before dawn on Sunday, David and Redman awoke to a clatter in the Sheriff's Office. "It's Nelson, or else the Sergeant," Redman whispered. They braced for the worst. "I don't know what he wants from me. I think he wants information about Five Spirits Island," David said. "Maybe he's just a sadist," Redman said. Keys rattled on a metal ring. A rectangular patch of light fell on the cell as the door of the jail cracked open. The light was obscured, momentarily, but a human figure. The door flung open. It was Dmitri. "Where's the damn light switch?" he asked. "On the other side of the door," Redman said. "How did you get in here, Dmitri?" David asked. "I crawled through a basement window in the back. This place isn't as secure as it looks," Dmitri responded. "Sam Black Bear's waiting outside in his car." He unlocked the cell and led the way. "Wow, a jail break right through the front door," Redman exclaimed. They got into Black Bear's car and sped off. No one saw them. "Winik and Svenson don't know anything about this. We didn't want them involved in a jail break," Black Bear said. "Anna spoke to Ron Matthews in Duluth. He said there's no computer record of your arrest, David, and according to your record, Redman, you were released last night." "Yeah, Nelson released me. He just forgot to unlock the cell," Redman laughed. "So this is a jail break that didn't happen. It's like Franz Kafka turned inside out. But where's Nelson? Where's the Sergeant?" David asked. "According to Sheriff Matthews, they're maintaining radio silence," replied Black Bear. "My Ford is still parked behind the Sheriff's Office," Redman said when they arrived at the lodge. "We should go back for it." "Let me have your keys," Black Bear said. "Ben Hasek and I will fetch it. You shouldn't go back to Crane Lake until we've figured this out. We should stick together." "Thanks," Redman said.