Slasher

Chapter 13

I scrambled off the bed, all too aware of the horrified looks I was getting from Bobby's parents. His mother's eyes were fixed on our hands that were still locked together. I hastily disentangled myself and Bobby looked at me in full blown panic. My face was stained with heat.

I backed away from them, toward the door that suddenly seemed so far away.

"Bobby," I started, wanting to say something that would mitigate what his parents had seen. But the look on his face -- not to mention their's -- told me I'd be wasting my time.

I fled.

I hurried down the overly bright corridor, feeling like thirty kinds of fool. Why had I let them panic me like that? Did it really matter what they thought of me? Or even Bobby for that matter?

Poor Bobby. I wondered if I should go back and rescue him, then I realized he was going to have to deal with them himself. They were his parents. Parents, I had found out years ago, could be an endless source of comfort or nothing but pain. My father had never been able to reconcile my sexuality, so, when I came out on my eighteenth birthday, he had effectively disowned me. My mother had done her best to keep the lines of communication open, but I found even her disapproval hard to swallow after too many years, so now our family connection was a single phone call around Christmas.

It had bothered me more in the beginning. My only regret these days was the fact I couldn't take David home to brag. I was so proud of him I wanted everyone to share my joy. That wasn't to be and last Christmas was the first one in years I had gone away from the phone crying.

David had been there, of course, to hold me and tell me he loved me. That had turned into one of our wildest nights of passion yet. I still remembered it with a flush. Nothing like a few tears to bring out a man's love.

I guess you win some and you lose some.

I got my Escalade out of the parking lot and made my way back to Sunset. I'd head into the office and do a few hours work before going home to see if David was going to make it back tonight.

I debated what to pick up for supper. I was a pretty fair cook when I put my mind to it and liked to surprise David with home cooking, but then the gesture was wasted if he didn't come home, right? Until this case was solved or, God forbid, went cold again, I'd better hold off on elaborate meals. Or I'd be impressing no one but myself.

I opted for some fresh pasta and boneless chicken I could throw together for a couple of quick meals over the next few days. I planned to spend that time doing some online research for a project I was starting next week for a new client.

I managed not to think about Bobby all the way home. I wished I could have said the same for the rest of the evening. It wasn't to be.

The online research was put on the back burner while I did some banking I'd been putting off. David left the household finances up to me. He made sure his pay and the rental fee from the property he used to live in was deposited in our new joint account and I took care of the rest. He seemed satisfied with a monthly report and never asked me where any of it went.

Banking done, I pulled up Google and started running the search for my new project. I dug up the latest specs on the hardware and software the company was considering and sent queries in for price quotes. I should have called it quits then, but common sense was never my strong suit.

I called up Stephen's site. The count now stood at forty- five hundred visitors. The Slasher had added something -- an email address. Wanting feedback on how good he was?

What the hell did someone say to a serial killer? A guy who killed and mutilated young gays? Hey, I like the way you work? The chicken pasta salad I'd consumed earlier threatened to come back up and I dragged my eyes away from the screen.

What if contacting him could help lead to his capture? I copied the email address, noting it was one of the ubiquitous free email services. Of course, it offered endless anonymity.

I opted to follow suit. Signing up for an account with bogus information took me all of five minutes. The sign-on name I choose was designed to flatter a sick man with a destructive ego: slasher-fan.

It took me the better part of an hour to write a short letter meant strictly to open communication with the Slasher. Would he even answer his email?

He went to the trouble of setting it up. He must want something out of it.

I couldn't quite bring myself to flatter the sick fuck. Instead, I played the Doubting Thomas game.

I hit the send button before my better senses could kick in. Then I immediately shut down the machine. I threw myself away from the laptop, rolling the chair over to the IBM desktop. It was still chugging through the IP addresses, saving them to a file I was going to have to start sorting through soon.

It occurred to me that what I really needed to do was hack the server where the Slasher had his web pages stored. Once inside I might be able to resolve some hint of where the physical server was or who was running it.

But that took a whole other set of tools. Especially since I had to get in as the superuser. And I had to do it in such a way they didn't suspect I was there. Not that I thought they were in collusion with the Slasher -- no doubt they were just a simple ISP somewhere who had no idea what they were hosting.

I heard the front door and glanced at the time. Christ, it was already after eleven. I left the system running, my hacking tools ready for another attempt tomorrow. David came in before I had a chance to roll away from the machine.

He glanced at the screen and seemed satisfied it wasn't online at the time. Then he came over and dropped a kiss on my open mouth.

"Hi," I said. "Hungry? I made some pasta salad earlier. It just needs some dressing tossed on it and it's ready."

"Sounds good." He dropped into the chair when I vacated it. "You get out to see Bobby today?"

I put a serving of salad on a plate, included some of the cooked chicken, and poured bottled dressing over it all. Add a bottle of beer and dinner was served.

He accepted the plate with a muttered thanks as he stuffed a forkful in his mouth. He ate several mouthfuls before he downed half the beer and leaned back in the chair with a sigh.

"Thanks, that hit the spot. Guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"Busy night?"

"Interviews. Now that we have two vics confirmed at one location we have to round up and talk to everyone who might have been there on any of those nights." He rotated one ankle and rubbed the bottom of his stocking foot. "Leg work. We're also doing another run at the Troubadour -- I suspect some of the other vics may have met the perp there."

"Why don't you grab a shower then and bring that beer to bed." Then I watched him finish the bottle and grinned. "Okay, bring another bottle to bed. I could use one too."

"You didn't answer my question."

I grabbed his plate to take back to the kitchen. Briefly I met his gaze.

"Yeah," I said. "I went to see him."

David must have seen something in my face because he frowned. "What happened?"

"Like you warned me about. The parents showed up." I grimaced. "We were in a very compromising position."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I was trying to convince him to talk to you and he got scared. So I ended up sitting on the bed holding his hand. You'd have thought it was Sodom and Gomorrah all over again."

"What'd I tell you? Did you get anything out of him before this?"

I shook my head. "The guy showed him a card from a legitimate casting agency. It's a safe bet the thing was faked, I'm sure the name was too, though he didn't tell me what it was."

"What agency?"

I told him.

"It's worth checking out. Even if he's not connected, he might have scouted them out. The guy's got a big enough ego to be convinced he won't be caught, not matter what he does. What else?"

"That's about it. But I think Bobby knows more. He's scared."

"Can't say I blame him."

"Me either. But I'll warn you, he's talking about splitting. You may want to get in and talk to him soon."

David nodded.

I pointed in the direction of the bedroom. "Go on, shower. I'll bring a beer in for both of us."

"Yes, dear." He grinned. Then sobered. "There isn't anything else, is there? Anything on those sites?"

I hesitated, but only a fraction of a second. Then I told him about the email link. "It's like you said, he wants the adulation."

David scratched at his rough face and swore under his breath. "Why do I think his next step is contact the L.A. Times. I wish there was some way to put a plug in that, but I know they won't withhold, not that kind of story. I just wish I knew how long we had."

"Well, he's not likely to do it tonight, so come on. I want you to go to bed. You'll think more clearly after a good night's sleep."

"Think so?"

"Hey, it can't hurt."

Chapter 14

I dumped the dish and empty beer bottle in the kitchen, grabbed two more beers and returned to the bedroom. David wasn't long in coming out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a thick terry-cloth robe. I was already in bed, under the covers.

I sipped my beer and watched him approach the bed. He shrugged off the robe, draped it over the nearest chair. Naked, he slid in beside me. I handed him his beer.

"Another busy day tomorrow?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah. Finish up the first round of interviews. That usually yields us enough names to do another round, then it starts all over again if there's any new information imparted."

I sighed and snuggled against his furry chest. "I'm glad you got back before I fell asleep. I missed you at supper though."

"Yeah, well, I missed you too, hon. John's a great cop and all, but he's not the world's best conversationalist. Shop talk over a coffee and a jelly roll just doesn't have the same feeling."

I plucked the beer out of his hand, and, leaning over him, put it on the bedside table. Then I leaned down to kiss him.

"Good," I whispered against his mouth. "I'd hate to think John could replace me in anything."

"No chance of that."

Then he kissed me back and all thought of the day gone by and the one to come faded in a wave of lust. His hardening cock nudged into my thigh and I shifted my hips to nestle him between my legs.

He groaned when my hand drifted down and closed over his swelling cock. I pushed the foreskin back off his mushroom-shaped cap and slid my finger across his piss slit, teasing out a drop of pre-cum. Then another.

I twisted around on the bed until my head lay against his pubes and my rigid tube of flesh was even with his mouth. I groaned when he wrapped his hot mouth around me, then slipped his cock head between my lips.

With one hand I adroitly ran a stiff finger between the cheeks of his ass and toyed with the puckered flesh of his back door. He rocked in my mouth and the muscles of his butt tightened around my hand. I inserted my finger and he cried out, the sound muffled by my seven inches buried to the pubes in his throat. He flexed his throat and ran his tongue around my shaft, his hand squeezing my balls and stroking the sensitive flesh behind them.

When two of his fingers went up my fuck hole I writhed under him. My orgasm rose up in me, my balls tightening and my cock throbbing in his mouth. He convulsed around me, shoving his fingers in as far as they would go and fucking me with the dual action of his mouth and his fingers.

I increased the pressure on his cock and was rewarded with a splash of hot cum in the back of my throat. I rocked my head up and down, stroking him hard with my lips and tongue. Another explosion of cum and suddenly he gave a guttural cry and drove himself into me, blasting my mouth full of thick, hot streamers of jism. I swallowed them all and reached for more.

My own orgasm mounted and my balls crawled up tight against the base of my cock. He shoved a third finger into my tight ass and stroked my prostate, wringing an explosion of love juice out of my steel-hard cock.

I shifted position and came back up to lay my head on his shoulder. We were both breathing hard as we shared a kiss and tasted our own cum on each others' mouth. With one hand I idly played with the hair around his right nipple.

"Baby," I murmured. "Damn, you are hot."

"Mmmm, you should talk."

I half sat up and reached for my beer. He did the same. We finished them quickly, then draw the comforter up around us and settled back into each other's arms.

"Supper tomorrow?" I asked.

"I'll try."

It was the best he could offer and though I was disappointed I could hardly chastise him. Not when I knew what he was doing.

"Did you think about using the email address you found?" David murmured against my hairless chest.

I didn't tell him I already had. "Yeah, I did. What would I say?"

"Stroke his ego. Think of how you'd feel if you did something you were really proud of. What would you want people to say to you?"

"You want me to contact him?"

David sighed. "I want to do whatever it takes to get this guy."

"I'll try."

He kissed me hard on the mouth. "Whatever it takes, I'll be home for supper tomorrow. You can be one of my interviews. I may not be able to stay, but I can give you an hour at least."

"For that I'll do anything you want."

"I knew you would."

We kissed again, more leisurely then drifted off to sleep holding each other.

He left the next day before I was fully awake. I headed in to work for 9:00 and began to build a portfolio for the new client we hoped to entice into signing a long term contract with us. Petey stuck his head in twice, checking out my progress until I growled at him to go bug some middle managers if he expected me to get my job done in a reasonable amount of time. Fortunately dollar signs were more important to Petey than hassling me, so he left and didn't return until late in the day, when he found me packing up to go home.

"Leaving so soon?"

I made a big show of checking my watch. "It is 6:10, Petey. What time do you suggest I leave at?"

"You normally stay much later --"

"Yeah, well guess what, Petey? I have an important dinner to make for my husband tonight. You remember him, don't you? Big guy. Cop? Detective Laine."

I think the only thing that unnerved Petey more than my homosexuality was David's. Calling him my husband horrified the man even more. Petey was incapable of thinking in terms of gay partnerships.

"Fine," Petey rasped. "Can you at least tell me how the Tand-Howser project is coming? I spoke with Mr. Yamamoto, the CEO, earlier, and assured him the specs would be in to him by the deadline."

"Then I guess we're both lucky that they're almost done. Deadline's Tuesday, right? I'll have it on your desk Monday before lunch. Is that copacetic?"

Petey offered me a crisp nod. "Excellent."

He turned and strode away, no doubt before I could tell him more about my 'husband'. I slung my laptop bag over my shoulder, punched for the elevator, and hummed On the Road Again all the way to the basement garage.