Thank you to all for the words of encouragement. I'm editing and just need to write a crucial scene. It's coming...
Thank you for your patience!
The Fop Kidnapped (M/M) **Chapter VIII Added 3/31/24**
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
-
DeeperThanRed
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 958
- Joined: 6 years ago
I can't wait! Your stories are always worth the wait and this made me rereader this one from the beginning. I have to say, it holds up perfectly, you did a wonderful job with these characters and their bondage adventures.KidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑1 year ago Thank you to all for the words of encouragement. I'm editing and just need to write a crucial scene. It's coming...
Thank you for your patience!
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
That's not the only thing that's...KidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑1 year ago Thank you to all for the words of encouragement. I'm editing and just need to write a crucial scene. It's coming...
In all seriousness, I am beyond excited for the continuation of this amazing tale!
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Thank you all for your encouragement. It means so much!
Without further ado...
The Fop Kidnapped, Part VII
A Night To Remember
Canapes, Cocktails, Crowns, Chokers, and Cocks
Donald Stone and Jerry Kennedy climbed the steps of the Arts and History Museum two at a time, so eager were they to be on time for the festivities that evening. The Canaletto Exhibit was a major coup for the museum. Although the “Canaletto” of the show was Bernardo Bellotto, the nephew of the more famous Canaletto of Venetian cityscapes – nonetheless the paintings of eighteenth-century Warsaw, the Grabowski Emerald Tiara, and assorted jewelry would bring notice to their small, western city and attract the tourist dollar in a recovering economy. The pieces on display were priceless, and Don entrusted his top deputy, Stanislaus “Ski” Szymanski, to oversee security at the museum – especially for tonight’s opening function. The exhibit and the reception called for heightened protection not only because theft of either the paintings or the jewelry would be irreparable losses and bring bad press to the museum which – no matter what – would reflect poorly on Don and the police force he headed. No – on top of that – Don also had to contend with blackmail from two men – the rakish Raffles and the arrogant Gerhard Ubel. And it was from Raffles that the precious pieces were under the threat of theft. Don was sure Raffles would make a move tonight. Since Ubel was on the guest list, he wasn’t so sure the German entrepreneur might not make a play, too…
Don was roused from his thoughts, as he saw Steve “Scratch” McCann – that supercilious investigative reporter from WPQR – making his way towards him and Jerry. Of course, he had his overbearing cameraman – Bill “Buff’ Miller – in tow. Scratch used the “Gotcha!” approach in reporting. He was always looking for an angle to a story that would promote his style and himself rather than the interests of the subject of his reporting. He paid little, if any, heed to asking questions that he or his audience might find the most interesting. Instead, he needled whomever he interviewed with intrusive questions, rarely waiting for them to answer before pricking once more. To Don, Scratch had burned the Police Department and the District Attorney’s Office once too often. So, Don had little tolerance for him. Plus, Don suspected Scratch McCann wanted to out him and Jerry to the public. Leaving aside the ethical questions of outing someone purely in the interests of getting a scoop -- Don knew that Scratch and Buff, his cameraman, buffed more than the lens on his camera!
“Commissioner Stone…District Attorney Kennedy…what a surprise it is to see you coming together to the reception tonight.” Scratch McCann said with a tone just short of dripping sarcasm. He was, as usual, ready for his closeup with his toned body and movie star handsome face with his million-dollar smile showing his gleaming white – yet capped – teeth.
Ye gods! I can’t stand this phony! Don thought, as he tried to evade the microphone and television camera that would soon block his and Jerry’s entrance to the museum.
Jerry -- sensing Don’s dislike of the man – played interference for his best friend and now lover. He stepped between Don and Scratch.
“Hello, Scratch! I’m glad to see WPQR sent its ace reporter to cover the opening reception tonight for the Canaletto Exhibit at the Museum. It’s a great coup for both the museum and the city to be hosting such a renowned artist’s work. Don’t you think so?”
Don was always impressed with Jerry’s ability to turn a phrase and come up with just the right words for any occasion. Then again -- persuading juries of the state’s case was his vocation. Still – tonight he took extra pride in Jerry’s oratory.
Scratch was momentarily thrown off by Jerry turning the questioning back on him. He hesitated –
“Yes, that’s true…er…” Scratch quickly concurred and was momentarily at a loss for words.
But then – Scratch looked at Don and Jerry, and they could almost see the wheels of his mischievous mind turn. He reverted to his investigative modus operandi…
“Well, I see two of our city’s most eligible bachelors are at the event of the season – as it were – I’m sure there’ll be more than a few with their eyes set on you.” He said with a smug smile.
Don wanted to punch the conceited twit right in the kisser, but Jerry stepped once more into the breach.
“And the people of our great city expect their civil servants to work together. Commissioner Stone and I have been working closely on various cases.”
“I understand you might be working a case tonight.”
“What makes you think that?” Don asked, as he moved closer into Scratch’s space.
Jerry interjected and placed the palm of his hand on the base of Don’s back to calm his growing impatience. This did not escape Scratch’s notice, and he raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise.
“We’re always working cases, Scratch. That is what the people of our fair city expect of their civil servants.”
“My sources tell me that you may be working a case tonight. Is that true?”
“Your sources?” Don shot back.
“You and the District Attorney were spotted at a gym downtown – popular with…hhhmmm… a bohemian crowd, shall I say?” Scratch hinted as if he were in the know.
This time Don did not let Jerry step into the breach without him.
“A bohemian crowd, Scratch? We both live downtown, so you would expect the gyms there to be bohemian…Besides, I often see you and Buff – your cameraman – at the same establishments.” Don pointed out and then watched Scratch squirm.
“Er…yes…Buff and I do go to a gym downtown…” Scratch hemmed and was about to haw when he regained his stride – “It’s often a great font of information – for instance both you and District Attorney Kennedy were asking around about a certain gentleman – Who is he? Why were you asking about him? Is he someone the police are after? Is he here tonight? The works on display tonight are irreplaceable! Is there danger of theft tonight or while the Exhibit remains in our city?”
Don looked down at this pompous, little prick. At his height, he could easily intimidate the most hardened of criminals, so swatting Scratch away would be a piece of cake. But Don held himself in check. As police commissioner and a civil servant, he needed to keep the interests of the Department and the people of the city in focus. He took a moment before answering. Jerry held back, sensing Don had found his stride.
“Police investigations are always on-going, Scratch, as you surely know. I cannot comment on them. Rest assured that tonight’s opening of the Canaletto Exhibit will proceed smoothly and without a hitch. The Police Department has made security here at the museum its number one priority. Now – if you don’t mind – District Attorney Kennedy and I do not wish be late.”
With that Don and Jerry walked past Scratch and Buff to hurry up the steps to the museum’s entrance, leaving WPQR’s star reporter to wrap up his segment. As Buff shut down his camera and the other equipment, Scratch had an idea.
“Let’s stick around for a while – Maybe we can get a story for the 10 p.m. news. Come on, let’s get back to the van. We’ll drive around and see if we can get into the gala event from a back entrance – We can look around…maybe show our viewers the flaws in the police department’s security. I’d really like to show that clotheshorse of a Commissioner and the oh-so earnest DA Kennedy up.”
“Okay, Scratch. If that’s what you want.” Buff carried his equipment and followed Scratch back to their van.
Prying Eyes
Don and Jerry made their way into the museum, where a Docent directed them to the cocktail reception. Just before they made their entrance to the gala, Don pulled Jerry aside.
“Sergeant Szymanski and his men will be guarding the exhibit, but it may be best if we keep an eye on things here at the reception – be on the lookout for Raffles and that German businessman, Gerhard Ubel.”
“You’re right, Donnie.” Jerry said. He saw the mayor, her husband, and the museum director just inside the hall, greeting guests as they arrived. “It may be best if we split up after greeting Mayor Howard and the others.”
“Good thinking, Jerry. Since I know what Ubel looks like, I’ll try to spot him. Why don’t you keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Okay, pal!” Jerry turned to walk into the reception, but Don put his hand on his arm to stop him. Jerry turned to him.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, c’mere.” Don led them to a small alcove where Don thought they were safe from prying eyes. He pulled Jerry into a tight embrace.
Don kissed him. The kiss was full of passion, and it ignited Jerry’s desire for Don. Both men had waited a great while for real love. Their kiss expressed their newly found happiness. They were beginning to feel as one – their love wrapping them in a protective clinch against come what may. And that clinch made them feel invincible and more…their cocks – each entrammeled in silk and half hard already – stiffened and brushed against each other, seeking a way to break free from the confines of the soft fabric of their tuxedo trousers.
Don broke their embrace.
“We had better get going.” He simply stated.
“Don – Sir – Do we have to? We may have something even more pressing at the moment.” Jerry whispered back, and glanced down at their tented trousers.
Don pawed Jerry’s package possessively.
“There’ll be time later to unwrap this later.” Don promised.
Jerry smiled faintly, blushed, and dropped his head slightly.
Don lifted Jerry’s head and kissed him gently on the lips.
“I promise to keep you safe.” Don vowed, when their lips parted.
Jerry’s blush faded. He smiled back in confidence.
They adjusted themselves as best they could and strolled back to the entrance of the hall.
Unbeknownst to the two, there was a man in another alcove close by, who witnessed their little tête-à-tête. Gerhard Ubel stepped out from his hiding spot once Don and Jerry went on to the reception. He arrived at the museum shortly after their encounter with Scratch. He saw them go up the stairs into the museum’s entrance while the reporter with his cameraman in tow headed to the back of the building. Ubel held back – following Don and Jerry from a discreet distance. Just as he thought they were entering the gala, Ubel spied the pair wander off to an alcove. He quickly looked around to find a similar one from where he could watch them unobserved. As Ubel enjoyed the not-so-public display of affection between the two men, various schemes formed in his devious mind.
Well, well, well! Isn’t this a nice turn of events! He thought to himself, as he turned the recording button off and placed his cell phone back in the breast pocket of his dinner jacket, once Don and Jerry finished their entrevue.
Ubel waited again for them to get ahead of him. After he saw them enter the reception, he followed, but not before adjusting his own package.
Cocktails, Canapés, And Wordplay
Don and Jerry entered the reception and greeted the mayor, her husband, and the museum director, who stood at the entrance to the Exhibit chambers. The mayor, Bess Howard, had recently won re-election on a progressive – yet tough on crime – platform. She expected Donald Stone to keep a tight lid on criminality and maintain a police force above reproach with good relations with all members of the community from those living in poor socio-economic conditions to the upper echelons of the conservative elites. Mayor Howard and her husband, Mark – a billionaire businessman in the tech industry – knew Don and Jerry Kennedy were gay men and not out to the public. She supported them wholeheartedly, but she also understood the conservatives who still controlled many reins in the city would recoil if they knew their police commissioner and district attorney were gay. Her husband’s wealth might not protect her political career, if the private lives of the men she appointed became known. Try as she might, Bess Howard could not eradicate some prejudices in this western city.
A very attractive woman in her late thirties, Mayor Howard looked stunning that evening in a simple, long-sleeved, sheath midi, cocktail dress with an embroidered illusion neck, accented with beading lace. She wore her dirty-blonde hair down. Pearl earrings, a gold bracelet and her Cartier adorned her. She matched her dress with simple, low-heeled black evening shoes. Her husband, Mark, stood at her side. The same age as his wife, Mark Howard was very handsome and still possessed the lean body of a soccer player, which he was an undergraduate at Harvard. After earning his MBA also at Harvard, Mark made his fortune in the tech industry. This evening he looked resplendent in a Tom Ford peak tuxedo. Bess and Mark Howard were truly a power couple, yet the foundation of their beauty and wealth lay in their intelligence, political savvy, compassion, and down to earth kindness.
“Don…Jerry…It’s good to see you.” Bess Howard greeted them and leaned forward to kiss both men on their cheeks.
“Madame Mayor…Bess…It’s always good to see you.” Donald said after kissing her.
“Great to be here, Bess.” Jerry added, as he too kissed her in greeting.
“Hello, guys.” Mark Howard hailed them with a smile on his face and his hand extended in easy friendship.
They each in turn shook hands with the mayor’s husband. His grip was firm and underscored his unaffected nature.
Bess introduced the pair to Maria de Borbon, the Museum’s director. She was a slim, dark-haired, attractive woman about 40 years old. She wore a ripe persimmon stretch sheath, sleeveless dress. The classic silhouette highlighted her athletic figure. Gold stud earrings, a gold slim chain choker and gold bracelet were her only adornments. Almond colored pumps graced her feet. Maria greeted Don and Jerry with a warm smile.
“Your Sergeant – Stanislaus Szymanski – and his men have provided outstanding security for this evening, Commissioner. On behalf of the museum’s board, I wish to thank you.”
“You’re very kind, Dr. de Borbon. Sergeant Szymanski is my best man. I can think of no other man to better secure the exhibit.”
Jerry silently noted Don’s rare praise of Ski. He smiled with pride at his best friend – no…dare he say boyfriend? Don was a man of few words, so when he praised, it rained pennies from heaven.
“Sergeant Szymanski is a brave and dedicated police officer, Maria,” Bess chimed in. “I am sure the paintings and other objects are safe with him here…”
“All tied up?” A voice from behind suggested, before the mayor could finish her sentence.
The group all turned to see Gerhard Ubel. Maria and the Howards looked puzzled. Don and Jerry exchanged mindful glances.
“I mean to say, Madame Mayor, that your police sergeant must be preoccupied with his work guarding the artwork.” Ubel quickly added.
“Yes…of course. Hello, Mr…” Bess held her hand out to greet Ubel.
“Ubel, Gerhard Ubel, Madame Mayor, it is a delight to meet you. I am acquainted with your husband already through business.”
“Yes,” Mark agreed. “Nice to see you, Ubel.” He nodded in recognition.
Don noticed Mark did not hold his hand out to greet Ubel, and he appeared a tad frosty when acknowledging the German businessman.
Bess introduced Ubel to Maria.
“I look forward to the unveiling of your attractions tonight. I’m sure they promise to be quite an eyeful.” He told her suggestively.
The museum director appeared puzzled by the comment but smiled and thanked him anyway.
“Great artwork is always an eyeful.” He quickly covered his tracks.
Bess motioned towards Don and Jerry.
“And may I introduce our district attorney – Gerard Kennedy – and our police commissioner – Donald Stone.”
“Mr. Kennedy and I live in the same apartment building, although we have not met,” Ubel said, as he gave Jerry the once over. “Still – I have spied him about in a nook. Or was it a cranny?” He teased. “How do you do?” Ubel extended his hand to Jerry.
“I do very well, thank you.” Jerry warily shook hands with Ubel and answered him flatly.
The German businessman then turned to Don.
“And Commissioner Stone and I have met before…” He nodded to Don and proffered his hand.
Don merely nodded. “Yes, we’ve met before.”
“Ah, Commissioner…Please don’t be so restrained in your greeting although – then again – restraint may appeal to you.”
The Howards looked curiously to each other and then to Ubel and Don for explanation.
“Commissioner Stone and I met in a chance encounter recently in my building. He was quite flustered to see me. He must have visited Mr. Kennedy that evening. Isn’t that so, Commissioner.”
Don narrowed his eyes at Ubel. “Yes.”
The mayor and her husband gave knowing looks each other. They assumed Ubel must have surprised Don by bumping into him exiting Jerry’s apartment. Since both he and Jerry were closeted, exposure could present a problem for them in this very conservative city.
“Well, I am sure you realized – flustered or not – Commissioner Stone is the finest man ever to head our city’s police department.” The mayor said proudly.
Bess is a great Boss and even better friend! Don mused to himself.
“Well, I’d say when flustered, his finest is surely on display, Madame Mayor!” Ubel responded ironically.
“Yes, Don told me later about their encounter. Don promised to help Mr. Ubel out with a security issue.” Jerry rode to Don’s rescue.
Thanks, Jer. I owe you, bud. Don silently offered his gratitude.
“A security issue?” The mayor asked.
Ubel played along.
“Yes…I’m missing a valuable asset I fear a business rival may be involved.”
“Underhanded business practices?” Mark Howard asked.
“You might say that, but I want the matter to remain discreet. My business involves mergers and acquisitions – of very costly resources. Hostile takeovers are always a potential hazard.” Ubel explained without saying much at all. “Commissioner Stone was in a position to offer his help.”
“Commissioner Stone will make sure you recover your assets, Mr. Ubel.” The mayor looked to Don for agreement.
Don steeled himself before replying. Just as he was about to, Ubel played with him again.
“The job certainly aroused Commissioner Stone’s interest, but we’ll wait until the climax before further explanation.” Ubel said with a steamy smile. He then turned the conversation around. “But I won’t delay you, Dr. de Borbon and Mayor Howard, any longer. You must attend to the festivities of this fine function. I eagerly await the baubles we’re sure to see.”
Ubel gave a curt bow of his head and walked on into the hall.
“What was that all about?” The mayor asked Don.
“Rest assured, Bess,” Jerry answered, “Don needs to remain circumspect, but he has matter well in hand.”
“Be careful. Don’t get tied up with him, Don,” Mark Howard said. “He’s ruthless – a real dodgy dealer who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
“Come on, Don. We need to let these folks get the show on the road.” Jerry guided Don away from the Howards and the museum director into the reception.
“Not too sure I have matters well in hand, Jer.” Don admitted, as he and Jerry walked into the hall.
“Well, at least we know for certain Ubel is here. It will make it easier to keep an eye on him. Now, all we’ll have to look for is Raffles. And if anyone can get those two taken care of, you’re the man, Donnie. You’ll unravel these Gordian knots we’re bound up in.” Jerry reassured Don with a smile.
That smile was all Don needed to puff his own confidence up. He will apprehend Raffles, and he will confound Ubel – come what may!
The two looked about the reception. The museum had outdone itself that night. It was as if they were in the gardens of an eighteenth-century monarch’s palace. Hedges and flowers were arranged in symmetrical patterns. There were mini orangeries strategically situated about the rooms. A quartet of musicians played Baroque music softly in the background. Bars and tables laden with hors d’oeuvres and other nibbles were under small gazebos. The guests were a mixed bag of local notables and art patrons – all dressed to the nines. Servers walked about them with trays offering a selection of the hors d’oeuvres and champagne.
One server – a college-aged, young man – walked up to Don and Jerry. He stood erect with his shoulders back and chest out. The young man handled his tray deftly. His black trousers were well-creased and ironed, and his white shirt and bowtie similarly crisp. Of course, his uniform fit him like a glove. Don and Jerry declined his offer of champagne since they wanted their wits about them that night. Instead, both took glasses of mineral water with lime. As the waiter walked away, Jerry turned to Don.
“Charlie Gates must be catering tonight. He always hires college-aged men and women to work for him. He wants to give them a chance to earn some extra cash. He trains them well – paying strict attention to detail and bearing. As a former Marine, Charlie’s a stickler for discipline and appearance.”
“Yes. He is the perfect partner for Rex Burke. Charlie hires a few of Rex’s football players in the spring semester. It helps to maintain the discipline Rex expects of them in performing their best on the grid iron.”
The pair surveyed the scene before them. The guests were enjoying themselves. Charlie’s crew moved effortlessly among them. Maria de Borbon and the Howards were with Myles and Cordelia Gibson, a brother and sister who used their family fortune to fund the arts in the city. The Gibsons were also backers of very conservative – rightwing really – political causes. They accompanied Maria and the Howards, as they made their way through the assemblage to the room beyond, where a small podium stood beside the closed doors leading to the exhibit itself.
“Well, from the looks of things it promises to be an enjoyable evening.”
“Let’s hope it remains enjoyable and that’s it, Jer.” Don said, before he noticed Gerhard Ubel making his way towards them. “Here comes round two with Ubel.”
“I’ll leave you to him. I’ll locate Charlie Gates. Charlie always keeps his ear to the ground. If anything’s amiss, he’ll know it.”
They parted company. Don watched as Jerry walked toward the tables with food on offer. He paid little heed as Gerhard Ubel sidled up next to him.
“Did I fluster you before, Commissioner?”
“Ubel, your games grow tiresome.” Don declared without looking at him.
“But I’m only getting started. Consider me a cat and you the mouse I’ve caught. I’ll toy with you until fear of what I’ll do to you overcomes you, Commissioner. Then, like a cat with a mouse, I’ll snatch you up!”
“Enough with the idle threats, Ubel. Publish the photos…I don’t care.” Don said determinedly.
“Don’t you, Commissioner? How would the good citizens of this fair city react to photos of their police commissioner all tied up and gagged in another man’s apartment with his Billy Club hanging out of his jizz-stained trousers? They’d ride you out of this town on a rail!”
“I can ride it out, Ubel!” Don growled back in confidence.
“Of course, you might, Commissioner. You might survive the scandal with your pension intact, but how would the city’s elites react to the knowledge that you and Mr. Kennedy share something special, Commissioner? Would Myles and Cordelia Gibson who donate so much money to protect “Family Values” around these parts tolerate a gay police commissioner in a relationship with a gay district attorney? Would Mr. Kennedy survive that scandal?”
Don looked straight at Ubel. His iPhone pinged with a new text.
“You might want to see that text, Commissioner.”
Don took his iPhone from inside his dinner jacket and looked at the text. It was from a blocked number and was a link to a video. He hit the link and watched the recording that had a short audio clip at the end.
“I promise to keep you safe.”
Don’s stomach turned in knots. Someone had recorded the encounter just a short while ago between him and Jerry. Don’s words echoed in his mind.
I promised to keep him safe – I can take come what may, but do I want to drag Jerry down, too?
“Do you want to keep Mr. Kennedy safe? It would be a shame if anything happened to him.” Ubel coldly stated.
For several moments Don looked straight at Ubel with daggers in his eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Ubel. But let’s get one thing straight. You harm one hair on Jerry Kennedy’s head, and I will come down on you like a ton of bricks, you son of a bitch!”
“Ah! Such loyalty – it can be such an admirable quality, Commissioner.” Ubel replied with a smile.
He then turned deadly serious and added, “It can also be a liability. I want what’s mine returned. Get my diamonds back from Raffles, Commissioner, or there may be a real test of your loyalty to Mr. Kennedy. That recoding will bring you both down, if it’s released to the press.”
They stared at each other icily, saying nothing.
“Ladies and Gentlemen – honored guests – if I could have your attention, please…”
Maria de Borbon was at the microphone before the closed doors to the Exhibit. Her voice broke Don and Ubel from their battle of wills before either blinked. Each turned and walked away from each other and forward along with the other guests, as Maria de Borbon began her welcoming remarks.
Socialites, Servers, and Surprises
Jerry began looking about for Charlie Gates. As he passed through the crowd of guests, several of them greeted him. All the leading lights of the city were there that night. Politicians mixed with grande dames. Even a local sports figure (or two) was in attendance. Jerry soon bumped into Elena Rosenblatt. Elena was a wealthy socialite of an uncertain age. Her origins were obscure, but she had vaguely central European accent. She married well – several times. Each husband left her wealthier. She greeted Jerry in the European fashion with pecks on each cheek. When he was a lawyer first starting out in the DA’s Office, he received an invitation to a dinner party at her home in the swanky part of the city. She seated him next to a young, vivacious, and pretty woman. It soon became obvious to Jerry that Elena was trying to fix him up. Jerry enjoyed himself that night, but there was no match. The next time he met Elena, she told him that she knew why. “You are – as they once said – a confirmed bachelor. No worries, my friend, your secret is safe with me.” Invitations from her continued to come Jerry’s way. And she and Jerry became good friends.
“I see you arrived tonight with a very handsome man, Jerry.” She whispered in his ear. “I’ve long suspected Donald Stone was a confirmed bachelor, too. He dresses so impeccably – although that is a tired old stereotype. Still – I am glad you found each other.”
“Me too.” Jerry whispered back.
“It is such a marvelous night. The museum looks delightful. And the food and champagne are divine!”
“Speaking of which – have you seen Charlie Gates?’
“Ah! Only a divine creature could create such divine delectables. He is about.”
Elena looked around the hall. She spotted Charlie looking over the appetizers on one of the tables across the room from them.
“There, he is,” she nodded in one direction. “A divine creature – but Alas! Another confirmed bachelor!” She sighed.
“Elena, your gaydar is so finely tuned.” Jerry teased her, “One might suspect…”
“Jerry – as a woman of the world – and after burying three husbands – a relationship with another woman does have its appeal, but…”
Elena laid eyes on a very wealthy, recently divorced, older man who smiled at her as he walked by.
“A fourth husband appeals to me more.” She lightly laughed.
“Elena, you’re one of a kind.”
“So are you, Jerry. Now go and see Charlie. Tell him I will be in touch with him about my next soiree.” Elena said with a wave of her hand.
Jerry left Elena and walked towards Charlie Gates. He couldn’t miss him. At 6’3”, the chef in his mid- to late-fifties stood above the crowd. And Charlie looked professional as always. His snap closure chef coat and tuxedo trousers fitted his still-muscular frame very well. As Jerry drew closer, he stopped for a moment to observe Charlie at work. The former Sergeant Major looked down appraisingly at the trays holding his culinary creations. His was a focused demeanor. Charlie’s striking good looks emphasized the determination he took to make sure no small detail was left overlooked. Spotting a spot of sauce staining a salver, he deftly swiped it away with a small tea towel. He then smoothly placed selections of hors d’oeuvres on small plates to give to guests who came to the table. He also kept a watchful eye on his waitstaff, giving silent orders to attend to various duties with a slight nod of his head or a small signal from his hand. Charlie had mastered the fine art of catering cuisine, just as he had once mastered the martial spirit of the United States Marine Corps.
“Hello, Charlie.”
Charlie looked up. His smile broadened.
“Hiya, Jer!” He greeted Jerry jovially. “I’m glad to see you here tonight. Can I offer you a selection of tidbits?” Charlie waved his right hand over the platters.
“It all looks delicious. And I will try some. But – can I first talk to you for a moment or two?”
“Sure.” Charlie readily agreed. He nodded to a young woman who was a member of his staff. “Melissa, will you take over for me? Mr. Kennedy and I have something to discuss.”
“Of course, Sarge!” Melissa took over from Charlie.
He and Jerry walked away from the food station to a quieter spot to talk.
“Sarge?” Jerry asked with a light snicker.
“Of course, someone discovered my past life – They all like to call me that now,” Charlie answered. “Now, what did you wish to talk to me about?”
“Don wants to be extra careful tonight.”
“Of course. I saw Ski earlier with his men. They’re in the Exhibit Hall right now.”
“Well, you know Donnie – he wants to double and triple check. Have you seen anything – or anyone – out of the ordinary.”
Charlie thought for a moment before answering.
“No – Just the usual – museum staff, Ski, his men – Oh! There was a man with Ski earlier in the day. I saw him right before the reception. He was headed toward the Exhibit Hall…”
Jerry wanted to know more about him.
“Go on”
“I found out he was a professor from State.”
Jerry was relieved.
“That would be Professor Jan Tomalski. He’s an expert in early modern Polish history. He’s the expert the museum contracted for the Exhibit. He’s on the list of approved staff.”
“Well, Jerry – he’s a real looker. Maybe he and Ski…”
Jerry chuckled.
“Thanks, Charlie. If you can think of anything else…”
“Ladies and Gentlemen – honored guests – if I could have your attention, please…”
The crowd started moving into the other room, where Dr. Maria de Borbon had begun to speak.
“I saw nothing that appeared out of the ordinary, Jer,” Charlie said, and then something caught his eye.
“What the hell is he doing now?”
On the other side of the room, Charlie saw one of the new guys push a trolley cart with a platter of mini brats atop a dark tablecloth covering the sides out from under a small gazebo. He was moving in the opposite direction of the guests.
“Excuse me, Charlie.”
“One of the new guys on my staff -- a replacement. He and the guys he came with don’t listen to my orders. They left their stations earlier to give some hors d’oeuvres to Ski and his men. Now he’s going off someplace. I told him not to leave his station unless someone came to replace him.”
“A replacement? For whom?”
“Three of my regular guys – all football players on Rex’s team – came down with food poisoning. They sent three other guys to take their places tonight.”
Jerry looked over to where this new guy was. He just about to leave the room. He appeared to be leaving the reception entirely. The way only led to elevators and stairs.
“There are no guests out there…” He said.
“You think something’s not right?” Charlie asked him.
“I don’t know. But it looks funny.”
Jerry looked around, but he didn’t see Don.
“I wish Donnie were here. He’d know what to do, but I can’t wait.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Come on, then. Let’s see where this guy is going. What’s his name?”
“Stu”
Jerry and Charlie began to make their way to the other side of the room. The crowd slowed them down.
“And where are the other two?”
Charlie looked around but couldn’t see them.
“I don’t know.”
They made it across the room only in time to see the doors closing on one elevator. Charlie rushed over and pushed the button of a second one.
“Damn – This will take too long.” Charlie was riled.
Jerry saw the service stairs next to the elevators.
“The stairs will be faster. Come on – we’ve got to find out what this guy is doing.”
He pushed through the door, and he and Charlie hustled down the stairs, thinking Stu must be headed to the basement. So laser-focused were they on tracking Stu that Jerry and Charlie had no idea they were being tracked, too.
Bootie Tapping
While the guests mingled at the reception and awaited the début of the paintings and jewels, Raffles tried to assess the situation he now found himself in. The gatecrashing, imposter waiters had left him blindfolded, so he could not see what they were up to. Raffles, however, had honed all his senses over the years of heisting jewels, and he was well attuned to sight, touch, smell, taste, and hearing. When one sense was – as it were – blindsided, Raffles concentrated on using the others to his advantage. He now focused on listening to the sounds of the Exhibit Hall, tuning out – as much as possible – all distractions, save for the movements of the thieves. He could hardly hear them, so silent were they. Raffles surmised the trio used hand gestures to communicate. He heard them open a laptop and tap on its keyboard – they were hacking into the museum’s security system! It was something he had intended to do himself, had it not been for these lassoing lackeys. Ski had apprized him earlier of the supposed “state of the art” system. It was elaborate – Raffles had to admit – but he could easily have cracked it.
CLICK
And so, apparently, could the phony servers! Raffles heard the case in which the Grabowski Emerald Tiara open. The thieves were moving about quickly, carefully, and stealthily from the catering cart to the display and back again.
CLICK
They locked the case once more. Raffles listened as the trio moved swiftly away from him and the others towards the exit. They left and locked the doors to the exhibit behind them. For a moment, it was eerily quiet. Only the labored breath of his fellow captives and soft mewling from their muffled mouths broke the silence of the hall. Then, Raffles felt Ski move his wrists about, which were bound behind Raffles’ back.
This brought a weighty matter to Raffles’ mind – escape. Getting out of this situation – well – he could easily accomplish that! The meddling, masquerading manservants certainly knew how to tie a man up properly. They were quite obviously professionals – of that Raffles did not have the slightest doubt. The proof was in the pudding – or more precisely – the pinions paralyzing them all. The charlatan caterers had first cinched Ken and Noble separately and then snagged Ski to Raffles in elaborate apparatuses of ropes, hitches, and knots that would constrict and tighten around them as they struggled. The trio failed, however, to factor one possible problem in their affixing agenda – Raffles himself. There was nary a knot known to man that Raffles knew how to unknot. Raffles had mastered all hitches comprehensible. After all, he had used similar techniques to truss men up before. It would only take him a matter of time for him to unspool the knots about his wrists. In the short time he had been bound, it took little time for Raffles to discover the loop which once untwisted would release him from Ski’s bounden embrace.
A-ha! This trio is good – a variation on the constrictor knot! If I just tug right here…
But – pulling that thread would present a bigger problem. If he released himself and the others, Raffles risked blowing his cover. After all, his fellow captives saw him only as an unassuming college professor, certainly not as a Houdini, let alone a Pink Panther. There would be questions, and they might deduce his true identity. As it was, Raffles still wasn’t quite sure if Ski suspected something might have been amiss or not, when he earlier broke character to tell Ken and Noble to relax and not to fight the ties that bound them, lest they choke.
No, far better for me to remain bound, blindfolded, and gagged alongside the others than to risk it all. It calls for more than a slight change of plans. Besides…
And so, Raffles came to consider a rather ill-timed -- and somewhat worrisome sensation – developing down under – although the problem was Ahem! growing less worrisome by the second – Indeed…Raffles was finding it more pleasurable than he might have imagined. Bound face-to-face to Ski had aroused him, and – from the feel of it – had produced a similar reaction in Ski too! The thieves had woven quite a stimulus package between the two men, that had surely stimulated growth in them both. And it appeared – no matter how hard they tried – they could not shiver the lust from their lassoed loins. When Raffles shifted his hips slightly in his bonds, it caused his muldoon to stroke against Ski’s. Although blindfolded, he caught the charming cop moaning faintly under his gag. When Ski swayed somewhat in return, his own muldoon massaged Raffles’ rajah in return, which elicited an almost silent sigh of ecstasy from the captive conman!
With their wrists bound behind the backs of one another, Raffles and Ski rested their hands atop the bodacious and brawny buns of the other. Raffles now had a greater appreciation of the moniker a grateful – if lustful – public had given Ski after his heroics ended the siege of the Central Bank some time ago. Although Raffles had had the time to admire Ski’s assets – so to speak – as he spent that afternoon with him, their present predicament offered him the opportunity of a more hands-on approach to test the veracity of the moniker – “Super-Power Glutes Cop.” Raffles found it quite apt – perhaps even an understatement – as his hands lay atop the rock-hewn gluteus maximus of the handsome Stanislaus Szymanski. High and tight didn’t begin to describe those magnificently muscular hindquarters. Ski’s butt was firm indeed and – in certain ways – “thic!” But there was something different about Ski – and it came to Raffles as he admired his physique. Yes, he had a well-contoured and powerful arse, legs, abs, pecs, guns --- everything about him was magnificent! The well-muscled man surely could sweep Raffles off his feet with little effort. There was more to Ski than confidence born of strength, however. Ski had character to match! Confident – yes – Still, there was a naïveté about him, too. Ski appeared vulnerable to Raffles. As the writer Michael Cunningham once observed, when he saw a man’s butt, it reminded him that he was once innocent and childlike. Raffles thought of this, as his bound hands lay behind Ski atop his “Super-Power Glutes.”
As he was losing himself in such thoughts, Raffles suddenly felt Ski tapping a finger on his own, well-toned tush.
.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.—
And again…
.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.—
Ski was asking Raffles if he was okay – in Morse Code! Raffles wasted no time in getting a chance to tap Ski’s butt in response.
-.-- . ... (Yes).
.. .----. .-.. .-.. / --. . - / ..- ... / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / - .... .. ... (I’ll get us out of this).
Ye gods![/] Raffles almost swooned. He could not resist tapping…
-- -.-- / .... . .-. --- (My Hero)
Ski squeezed Raffles in return and puffed his chest out, pressing his hard pectoral muscles against Raffles’ own rock-hewn rack. Neither man seemed to care that their bonds constricted stiffer around their limbs and torsos as a result from Ski’s act of manly valor. Another stiffness– their erect members dueling for satisfaction and release of another sort – drew their attention away. As closely bound as they were to each other, Raffles still managed to grind his hips into Ski to massage their stiffies.
“mmuuuhhhmm” uuuhhh
Ski moaned slightly under his gag. He gyrated his beefy hips back and managed to touch Raffles in just the right spot.
“mmmuuhhmmm” uuhh
The move sent shivers up Raffles spine and back again. He needed to concentrate – so did Ski.
- .... . .-. . .----. .-.. .-.. / -... . / - .. -- . / ..-. --- .-. / - .... .. ... / .-.. .- - . .-. (There’ll be time for this later) Raffles tapped on Ski’s magnificent melons.
-.-- . ... .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- --- ..-. / -.-. --- ..- .-. ... . (Yes Of course) Ski struck Raffle’s rump back.
“mmmppphhh!!!”
“mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Moans from Ken and Noble brought Raffles and Ski back to the situation at hand. Buttering Ski’s buns would have to wait – he needed to rap Morse Code on his rump, once again! He worried that the ropes were tightening around Ski’s men.
.-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. / - .... . – - .... . -.-- / -- ..- ... - / .-. . .-.. .- -..- (We need to help them They must relax)
.. / .... .- ...- . / .- -. / .. -.. . .- (I have an idea) Ski drummed back on Raffle’s desirable derrière.
Ski started to hum under the layers of tape-gag that seal his lips shut.
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
Raffles struggled to recognize the tune, but he could not place it…
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
Ski repeated it once more.
“mmmppphhh!!!”
“mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Ken and Noble moaned again. Raffles thought they might be gasping for breath.
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
No! It couldn’t be…
Raffles couldn’t believe it! If Ski could have only seen the quizzical mien, he gave him underneath the blindfold. Nevertheless, Raffles was certain Ski could still feel the jump in his cock at the thought of the song’s meaning!
Relax Don’t Do It – Frankie Goes To Hollywood!!! Ha! I’ve got to hand it to Ski. That 80’s tune might mean something entirely different, but it’ll get the message across – Relax!
Raffles tapped out a message on Ski’s magnificently muscular hindquarters.
--. --- --- -.. / --- -. . (Good One)
Ski beat back on Raffles’ own brawny and beefy Badonkadonk.
- .... .- -. -.- ... -.-.-- / .-.. . - # ... / .... --- .--. . / .. - / .-- --- .-. -.- ... (Thanks! Let’s hope it works)
They both mmmppphhhed more bars of the ode to a certain sexual practice, hoping Noble and Ken would relax. Raffles knew for certain – and Ski surmised – that if they did not, the rope would tighten around them to cut off their air supply.
Ski knocked on Raffles’ backdoor
.... --- .-.. -.. / --- -. (Hold on)
They stopped to listen.
After a moment or two, they could hear Noble and Ken breathing steadily…calmly.
Raffles drummed Ski’s derriere.
.-- .- -.-- / - --- / --. --- (Way to go)
Ski morsed on Raffles’ mounds.
- .... .- -. -.- ... (Thanks)
Raffles decided to go for broke. Blindfolded as he was, he could hear and feel Ski’s hot breath from his nostrils. Using that breath as a guide, Raffles tilted his head and moved his gagged lips toward Ski’s own. His aim was right on center. As best he could, Raffles stole a muffled mooch from Ski. They pulled their faces away from each other.
Ski coded.
.-- .... .- - / .-- .- ... / - .... .- - (What was that)
Raffles couldn’t believe he was about to say – well, tap – it, but he did…
-.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / -- -.-- / .... . .-. --- (You’re my hero)
In the silence that followed, Raffles waited for a reply. None came. A moment later, sounds from the cocktail reception wafted through the exhibit. They grew louder with each passing second.
The tied up tandem steadied themselves for the pièce de resistance of the evening. Little did the guests outside know – Raffles pondered – that it would not be the Grabowski family jewels that would be on display that evening!
Catering A Kidnapping
Charlie and Jerry reached the lower level of the stairwell. They pushed through the doors into the hallway. Stu had already gotten off the elevator and was pushing the trolley towards the rear exit to the museum, where Charlie had parked his Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid. Stu maneuvered the trolley with some difficulty, as if it were heavier than usual for a cart bearing a tray of hors d’oeuvres. He appeared startled to see them.
“What are you doing?” Charlie asked him, as Stu stood by the cart. Stu gripped the trolley protectively. Jerry was beside Charlie. Their backs were to the stairwell doors. So busy were they concentrating on Stu, they never heard the doors open behind them.
“Oh! I thought I’d offer some of the mini brats to the security guards down here.” Stu replied rather too quickly.
Jerry looked beyond Stu.
“There’s no one down here.”
“Isn’t there?”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked him. “You and your friends have behaved rather peculiarly all this time. You disappeared for a while, then come back to tell the other waitstaff that you were giving food to the men watching over the Exhibit. I did not tell you to do that. Now, you’re telling us you’re down here to give food to security guards, but there are none around. So, I’ll ask again – what’s going on?”
“Well, I…er…” Stu stammered for an answer. He walked in front of the cart, all the time keeping an eye on Jerry and Charlie.
They never took their eyes off him. They never heard Ryan and Andy close in behind them.
“What do you have under the cart?” Jerry demanded.
“What are you doing down he…Ugh!!”
Charlie didn’t get to finish his question.
Ryan and Andy grabbed him and Jerry in chokeholds from behind and clamped damp cloths across their noses and mouths.
Jerry struggled to break free. He knew that pungent odor. It disoriented him – he didn’t have much time – he elbowed whoever was holding him in the bear hug. He could see Charlie fighting against the man clutching him. Jerry shook his head from side to side to escape the moist rag, but a vice-like grip kept it pressed against his nose and mouth.
Gotta get free…Ah! Can’t let it knock me…
His legs gave out. Jerry couldn’t fight it anymore. He fell limp and unconscious against Andy.
Andy slid Jerry onto the floor.
Charlie continued to thrash against Ryan. Like Jerry, he was caught completely unaware. His Marine Corps training, however, immediately kicked in. Charlie used his size to his advantage. He was taller than his assailant – and his unceasing commitment to working out paid off. Charlie in middle age still had the strength of a man half his age. And he was built like the proverbial Brick Shithouse. Charlie jerked his head back to smack his attacker hard. The move worked – to an extent. It loosened the grip on him – just enough for the rag to fall from his mouth and nose. Charlie next attempted to throw his attacker over him.
“GET OFF ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!” Charlie roared.
Stu hustled over and stood in front of Charlie.
“Keep your hold on him!” Stu growled, as he delivered a kick to Charlie’s breadbasket.
The hit fazed Charlie. Stu then punched hard in the same spot. As Charlie winced from the blows, Ryan forced him back and plastered the wet rag once again over his mouth and nose. The sweet smell of chloroform filled Charlie’s nostrils. It proved too much for him. Soon, the big man was a limp rag doll in Ryan’s hold.
Ryan dumped Charlie over the vanquished Jerry and kicked him in his side.
F*ck you, you Bastard!”
“Enough!” Stu barked.
“What do we do now?” Andy asked, as Ryan caught his breath from the scuffle.
“I don’t know.” Stu answered. He took his cell phone and started keying a text.
UNEXPECTED COMPANY
WHO?
Stu snapped a picture of the knocked-out pair and sent it.
THAT’S THE DA!!!
Stu looked down at Jerry.
W@ DO WE DO
TAKE THEM W/ U
Stu put his cell phone in his pocket.
“We’re taking them with us.”
“What the f*ck!!” Ryan spat out.
“Who’s the other guy?” Andy asked.
“He’s the District Attorney.”
“F*ck No! You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ryan was apoplectic. “Hold On a sec, Stu! I didn’t sign up for this. Geezus H Cryste! That’s kidnapping a government official. We could fry for this! No f*ckin’ way, Man!”
Stu grabbed Ryan’s shirt in his fists and slammed him hard against the wall. He got right up into Ryan’s face.
“You listen good – we’re in this for the long haul.” Stu spewed. “We’ve gotten paid well for this job – and promised much more. If the Boss wants us to take them with us – we do it with no questions asked. GOT IT?”
They glared at each other for a beat.
Ryan blinked
“Yeah – I got it.”
“Good.”
Andy was searching through Charlie’s pockets.
“Shit!” He exclaimed.
“No keys.”
“We could have known this before. You were supposed to pick them from his pocket earlier.” Ryan lashed at Andy.
“There wasn’t time. I couldn’t get close enough – Besides he put the keys someplace else!”
“We’re f*cked, again!” Ryan shook his head in disbelief.
“What now?” Andy looked to Stu.
“I don’t know – Let me think.” Stu scratched his head. “We’ve got to get out of here and get these two secured. They won’t be out forever,” he said nodding towards Jerry and Charlie. Stu started pushing the trolley towards the back exit bays where the Pacifica Hybrid was parked outside beyond the closed doors.
“Grab the DA and the caterer and bring them over to the exit.”
Andy crouched over and lifted Jerry up and over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Ryan hooked his arms under Charlie’s armpits, lifted him halfway up and dragged him off down the hallway.
“I could hot wire the van.” Ryan suggested.
“Yeah, you’ll have to…”
KNOCK KNOCK
The trio with their burdens in tow stopped dead in their tracks.
“Hello?” A voice hailed from outside.
“Quick – stash them over there.”
Andy and Ryan put Jerry and Charlie down on a pile of canvas tarps behind the exit doors and set themselves flush against a wall next to the tarps out of sight.
THUD THUD
“Hello?”
“Who is it?” Stu asked before opening the door.
“Steve McCann of WPQR. I’m here with my cameraman, Bill Miller. We’d like to take a behind the scenes look around the Exhibit. Will you let us in? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Stu looked over at Ryan.
“I don’t think you’ll have to hotwire that van. We might just have another ride out of here!”
Stu unlocked the door and opened it with a smile on his face, as he greeted WPQR’s star reporter and cameraman.
“Come on in, gentleman.”
Scratch and Buff walked inside, and Stu closed the door behind them
To Be Continued…
Without further ado...
The Fop Kidnapped, Part VII
A Night To Remember
Canapes, Cocktails, Crowns, Chokers, and Cocks
Donald Stone and Jerry Kennedy climbed the steps of the Arts and History Museum two at a time, so eager were they to be on time for the festivities that evening. The Canaletto Exhibit was a major coup for the museum. Although the “Canaletto” of the show was Bernardo Bellotto, the nephew of the more famous Canaletto of Venetian cityscapes – nonetheless the paintings of eighteenth-century Warsaw, the Grabowski Emerald Tiara, and assorted jewelry would bring notice to their small, western city and attract the tourist dollar in a recovering economy. The pieces on display were priceless, and Don entrusted his top deputy, Stanislaus “Ski” Szymanski, to oversee security at the museum – especially for tonight’s opening function. The exhibit and the reception called for heightened protection not only because theft of either the paintings or the jewelry would be irreparable losses and bring bad press to the museum which – no matter what – would reflect poorly on Don and the police force he headed. No – on top of that – Don also had to contend with blackmail from two men – the rakish Raffles and the arrogant Gerhard Ubel. And it was from Raffles that the precious pieces were under the threat of theft. Don was sure Raffles would make a move tonight. Since Ubel was on the guest list, he wasn’t so sure the German entrepreneur might not make a play, too…
Don was roused from his thoughts, as he saw Steve “Scratch” McCann – that supercilious investigative reporter from WPQR – making his way towards him and Jerry. Of course, he had his overbearing cameraman – Bill “Buff’ Miller – in tow. Scratch used the “Gotcha!” approach in reporting. He was always looking for an angle to a story that would promote his style and himself rather than the interests of the subject of his reporting. He paid little, if any, heed to asking questions that he or his audience might find the most interesting. Instead, he needled whomever he interviewed with intrusive questions, rarely waiting for them to answer before pricking once more. To Don, Scratch had burned the Police Department and the District Attorney’s Office once too often. So, Don had little tolerance for him. Plus, Don suspected Scratch McCann wanted to out him and Jerry to the public. Leaving aside the ethical questions of outing someone purely in the interests of getting a scoop -- Don knew that Scratch and Buff, his cameraman, buffed more than the lens on his camera!
“Commissioner Stone…District Attorney Kennedy…what a surprise it is to see you coming together to the reception tonight.” Scratch McCann said with a tone just short of dripping sarcasm. He was, as usual, ready for his closeup with his toned body and movie star handsome face with his million-dollar smile showing his gleaming white – yet capped – teeth.
Ye gods! I can’t stand this phony! Don thought, as he tried to evade the microphone and television camera that would soon block his and Jerry’s entrance to the museum.
Jerry -- sensing Don’s dislike of the man – played interference for his best friend and now lover. He stepped between Don and Scratch.
“Hello, Scratch! I’m glad to see WPQR sent its ace reporter to cover the opening reception tonight for the Canaletto Exhibit at the Museum. It’s a great coup for both the museum and the city to be hosting such a renowned artist’s work. Don’t you think so?”
Don was always impressed with Jerry’s ability to turn a phrase and come up with just the right words for any occasion. Then again -- persuading juries of the state’s case was his vocation. Still – tonight he took extra pride in Jerry’s oratory.
Scratch was momentarily thrown off by Jerry turning the questioning back on him. He hesitated –
“Yes, that’s true…er…” Scratch quickly concurred and was momentarily at a loss for words.
But then – Scratch looked at Don and Jerry, and they could almost see the wheels of his mischievous mind turn. He reverted to his investigative modus operandi…
“Well, I see two of our city’s most eligible bachelors are at the event of the season – as it were – I’m sure there’ll be more than a few with their eyes set on you.” He said with a smug smile.
Don wanted to punch the conceited twit right in the kisser, but Jerry stepped once more into the breach.
“And the people of our great city expect their civil servants to work together. Commissioner Stone and I have been working closely on various cases.”
“I understand you might be working a case tonight.”
“What makes you think that?” Don asked, as he moved closer into Scratch’s space.
Jerry interjected and placed the palm of his hand on the base of Don’s back to calm his growing impatience. This did not escape Scratch’s notice, and he raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise.
“We’re always working cases, Scratch. That is what the people of our fair city expect of their civil servants.”
“My sources tell me that you may be working a case tonight. Is that true?”
“Your sources?” Don shot back.
“You and the District Attorney were spotted at a gym downtown – popular with…hhhmmm… a bohemian crowd, shall I say?” Scratch hinted as if he were in the know.
This time Don did not let Jerry step into the breach without him.
“A bohemian crowd, Scratch? We both live downtown, so you would expect the gyms there to be bohemian…Besides, I often see you and Buff – your cameraman – at the same establishments.” Don pointed out and then watched Scratch squirm.
“Er…yes…Buff and I do go to a gym downtown…” Scratch hemmed and was about to haw when he regained his stride – “It’s often a great font of information – for instance both you and District Attorney Kennedy were asking around about a certain gentleman – Who is he? Why were you asking about him? Is he someone the police are after? Is he here tonight? The works on display tonight are irreplaceable! Is there danger of theft tonight or while the Exhibit remains in our city?”
Don looked down at this pompous, little prick. At his height, he could easily intimidate the most hardened of criminals, so swatting Scratch away would be a piece of cake. But Don held himself in check. As police commissioner and a civil servant, he needed to keep the interests of the Department and the people of the city in focus. He took a moment before answering. Jerry held back, sensing Don had found his stride.
“Police investigations are always on-going, Scratch, as you surely know. I cannot comment on them. Rest assured that tonight’s opening of the Canaletto Exhibit will proceed smoothly and without a hitch. The Police Department has made security here at the museum its number one priority. Now – if you don’t mind – District Attorney Kennedy and I do not wish be late.”
With that Don and Jerry walked past Scratch and Buff to hurry up the steps to the museum’s entrance, leaving WPQR’s star reporter to wrap up his segment. As Buff shut down his camera and the other equipment, Scratch had an idea.
“Let’s stick around for a while – Maybe we can get a story for the 10 p.m. news. Come on, let’s get back to the van. We’ll drive around and see if we can get into the gala event from a back entrance – We can look around…maybe show our viewers the flaws in the police department’s security. I’d really like to show that clotheshorse of a Commissioner and the oh-so earnest DA Kennedy up.”
“Okay, Scratch. If that’s what you want.” Buff carried his equipment and followed Scratch back to their van.
Prying Eyes
Don and Jerry made their way into the museum, where a Docent directed them to the cocktail reception. Just before they made their entrance to the gala, Don pulled Jerry aside.
“Sergeant Szymanski and his men will be guarding the exhibit, but it may be best if we keep an eye on things here at the reception – be on the lookout for Raffles and that German businessman, Gerhard Ubel.”
“You’re right, Donnie.” Jerry said. He saw the mayor, her husband, and the museum director just inside the hall, greeting guests as they arrived. “It may be best if we split up after greeting Mayor Howard and the others.”
“Good thinking, Jerry. Since I know what Ubel looks like, I’ll try to spot him. Why don’t you keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Okay, pal!” Jerry turned to walk into the reception, but Don put his hand on his arm to stop him. Jerry turned to him.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, c’mere.” Don led them to a small alcove where Don thought they were safe from prying eyes. He pulled Jerry into a tight embrace.
Don kissed him. The kiss was full of passion, and it ignited Jerry’s desire for Don. Both men had waited a great while for real love. Their kiss expressed their newly found happiness. They were beginning to feel as one – their love wrapping them in a protective clinch against come what may. And that clinch made them feel invincible and more…their cocks – each entrammeled in silk and half hard already – stiffened and brushed against each other, seeking a way to break free from the confines of the soft fabric of their tuxedo trousers.
Don broke their embrace.
“We had better get going.” He simply stated.
“Don – Sir – Do we have to? We may have something even more pressing at the moment.” Jerry whispered back, and glanced down at their tented trousers.
Don pawed Jerry’s package possessively.
“There’ll be time later to unwrap this later.” Don promised.
Jerry smiled faintly, blushed, and dropped his head slightly.
Don lifted Jerry’s head and kissed him gently on the lips.
“I promise to keep you safe.” Don vowed, when their lips parted.
Jerry’s blush faded. He smiled back in confidence.
They adjusted themselves as best they could and strolled back to the entrance of the hall.
Unbeknownst to the two, there was a man in another alcove close by, who witnessed their little tête-à-tête. Gerhard Ubel stepped out from his hiding spot once Don and Jerry went on to the reception. He arrived at the museum shortly after their encounter with Scratch. He saw them go up the stairs into the museum’s entrance while the reporter with his cameraman in tow headed to the back of the building. Ubel held back – following Don and Jerry from a discreet distance. Just as he thought they were entering the gala, Ubel spied the pair wander off to an alcove. He quickly looked around to find a similar one from where he could watch them unobserved. As Ubel enjoyed the not-so-public display of affection between the two men, various schemes formed in his devious mind.
Well, well, well! Isn’t this a nice turn of events! He thought to himself, as he turned the recording button off and placed his cell phone back in the breast pocket of his dinner jacket, once Don and Jerry finished their entrevue.
Ubel waited again for them to get ahead of him. After he saw them enter the reception, he followed, but not before adjusting his own package.
Cocktails, Canapés, And Wordplay
Don and Jerry entered the reception and greeted the mayor, her husband, and the museum director, who stood at the entrance to the Exhibit chambers. The mayor, Bess Howard, had recently won re-election on a progressive – yet tough on crime – platform. She expected Donald Stone to keep a tight lid on criminality and maintain a police force above reproach with good relations with all members of the community from those living in poor socio-economic conditions to the upper echelons of the conservative elites. Mayor Howard and her husband, Mark – a billionaire businessman in the tech industry – knew Don and Jerry Kennedy were gay men and not out to the public. She supported them wholeheartedly, but she also understood the conservatives who still controlled many reins in the city would recoil if they knew their police commissioner and district attorney were gay. Her husband’s wealth might not protect her political career, if the private lives of the men she appointed became known. Try as she might, Bess Howard could not eradicate some prejudices in this western city.
A very attractive woman in her late thirties, Mayor Howard looked stunning that evening in a simple, long-sleeved, sheath midi, cocktail dress with an embroidered illusion neck, accented with beading lace. She wore her dirty-blonde hair down. Pearl earrings, a gold bracelet and her Cartier adorned her. She matched her dress with simple, low-heeled black evening shoes. Her husband, Mark, stood at her side. The same age as his wife, Mark Howard was very handsome and still possessed the lean body of a soccer player, which he was an undergraduate at Harvard. After earning his MBA also at Harvard, Mark made his fortune in the tech industry. This evening he looked resplendent in a Tom Ford peak tuxedo. Bess and Mark Howard were truly a power couple, yet the foundation of their beauty and wealth lay in their intelligence, political savvy, compassion, and down to earth kindness.
“Don…Jerry…It’s good to see you.” Bess Howard greeted them and leaned forward to kiss both men on their cheeks.
“Madame Mayor…Bess…It’s always good to see you.” Donald said after kissing her.
“Great to be here, Bess.” Jerry added, as he too kissed her in greeting.
“Hello, guys.” Mark Howard hailed them with a smile on his face and his hand extended in easy friendship.
They each in turn shook hands with the mayor’s husband. His grip was firm and underscored his unaffected nature.
Bess introduced the pair to Maria de Borbon, the Museum’s director. She was a slim, dark-haired, attractive woman about 40 years old. She wore a ripe persimmon stretch sheath, sleeveless dress. The classic silhouette highlighted her athletic figure. Gold stud earrings, a gold slim chain choker and gold bracelet were her only adornments. Almond colored pumps graced her feet. Maria greeted Don and Jerry with a warm smile.
“Your Sergeant – Stanislaus Szymanski – and his men have provided outstanding security for this evening, Commissioner. On behalf of the museum’s board, I wish to thank you.”
“You’re very kind, Dr. de Borbon. Sergeant Szymanski is my best man. I can think of no other man to better secure the exhibit.”
Jerry silently noted Don’s rare praise of Ski. He smiled with pride at his best friend – no…dare he say boyfriend? Don was a man of few words, so when he praised, it rained pennies from heaven.
“Sergeant Szymanski is a brave and dedicated police officer, Maria,” Bess chimed in. “I am sure the paintings and other objects are safe with him here…”
“All tied up?” A voice from behind suggested, before the mayor could finish her sentence.
The group all turned to see Gerhard Ubel. Maria and the Howards looked puzzled. Don and Jerry exchanged mindful glances.
“I mean to say, Madame Mayor, that your police sergeant must be preoccupied with his work guarding the artwork.” Ubel quickly added.
“Yes…of course. Hello, Mr…” Bess held her hand out to greet Ubel.
“Ubel, Gerhard Ubel, Madame Mayor, it is a delight to meet you. I am acquainted with your husband already through business.”
“Yes,” Mark agreed. “Nice to see you, Ubel.” He nodded in recognition.
Don noticed Mark did not hold his hand out to greet Ubel, and he appeared a tad frosty when acknowledging the German businessman.
Bess introduced Ubel to Maria.
“I look forward to the unveiling of your attractions tonight. I’m sure they promise to be quite an eyeful.” He told her suggestively.
The museum director appeared puzzled by the comment but smiled and thanked him anyway.
“Great artwork is always an eyeful.” He quickly covered his tracks.
Bess motioned towards Don and Jerry.
“And may I introduce our district attorney – Gerard Kennedy – and our police commissioner – Donald Stone.”
“Mr. Kennedy and I live in the same apartment building, although we have not met,” Ubel said, as he gave Jerry the once over. “Still – I have spied him about in a nook. Or was it a cranny?” He teased. “How do you do?” Ubel extended his hand to Jerry.
“I do very well, thank you.” Jerry warily shook hands with Ubel and answered him flatly.
The German businessman then turned to Don.
“And Commissioner Stone and I have met before…” He nodded to Don and proffered his hand.
Don merely nodded. “Yes, we’ve met before.”
“Ah, Commissioner…Please don’t be so restrained in your greeting although – then again – restraint may appeal to you.”
The Howards looked curiously to each other and then to Ubel and Don for explanation.
“Commissioner Stone and I met in a chance encounter recently in my building. He was quite flustered to see me. He must have visited Mr. Kennedy that evening. Isn’t that so, Commissioner.”
Don narrowed his eyes at Ubel. “Yes.”
The mayor and her husband gave knowing looks each other. They assumed Ubel must have surprised Don by bumping into him exiting Jerry’s apartment. Since both he and Jerry were closeted, exposure could present a problem for them in this very conservative city.
“Well, I am sure you realized – flustered or not – Commissioner Stone is the finest man ever to head our city’s police department.” The mayor said proudly.
Bess is a great Boss and even better friend! Don mused to himself.
“Well, I’d say when flustered, his finest is surely on display, Madame Mayor!” Ubel responded ironically.
“Yes, Don told me later about their encounter. Don promised to help Mr. Ubel out with a security issue.” Jerry rode to Don’s rescue.
Thanks, Jer. I owe you, bud. Don silently offered his gratitude.
“A security issue?” The mayor asked.
Ubel played along.
“Yes…I’m missing a valuable asset I fear a business rival may be involved.”
“Underhanded business practices?” Mark Howard asked.
“You might say that, but I want the matter to remain discreet. My business involves mergers and acquisitions – of very costly resources. Hostile takeovers are always a potential hazard.” Ubel explained without saying much at all. “Commissioner Stone was in a position to offer his help.”
“Commissioner Stone will make sure you recover your assets, Mr. Ubel.” The mayor looked to Don for agreement.
Don steeled himself before replying. Just as he was about to, Ubel played with him again.
“The job certainly aroused Commissioner Stone’s interest, but we’ll wait until the climax before further explanation.” Ubel said with a steamy smile. He then turned the conversation around. “But I won’t delay you, Dr. de Borbon and Mayor Howard, any longer. You must attend to the festivities of this fine function. I eagerly await the baubles we’re sure to see.”
Ubel gave a curt bow of his head and walked on into the hall.
“What was that all about?” The mayor asked Don.
“Rest assured, Bess,” Jerry answered, “Don needs to remain circumspect, but he has matter well in hand.”
“Be careful. Don’t get tied up with him, Don,” Mark Howard said. “He’s ruthless – a real dodgy dealer who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
“Come on, Don. We need to let these folks get the show on the road.” Jerry guided Don away from the Howards and the museum director into the reception.
“Not too sure I have matters well in hand, Jer.” Don admitted, as he and Jerry walked into the hall.
“Well, at least we know for certain Ubel is here. It will make it easier to keep an eye on him. Now, all we’ll have to look for is Raffles. And if anyone can get those two taken care of, you’re the man, Donnie. You’ll unravel these Gordian knots we’re bound up in.” Jerry reassured Don with a smile.
That smile was all Don needed to puff his own confidence up. He will apprehend Raffles, and he will confound Ubel – come what may!
The two looked about the reception. The museum had outdone itself that night. It was as if they were in the gardens of an eighteenth-century monarch’s palace. Hedges and flowers were arranged in symmetrical patterns. There were mini orangeries strategically situated about the rooms. A quartet of musicians played Baroque music softly in the background. Bars and tables laden with hors d’oeuvres and other nibbles were under small gazebos. The guests were a mixed bag of local notables and art patrons – all dressed to the nines. Servers walked about them with trays offering a selection of the hors d’oeuvres and champagne.
One server – a college-aged, young man – walked up to Don and Jerry. He stood erect with his shoulders back and chest out. The young man handled his tray deftly. His black trousers were well-creased and ironed, and his white shirt and bowtie similarly crisp. Of course, his uniform fit him like a glove. Don and Jerry declined his offer of champagne since they wanted their wits about them that night. Instead, both took glasses of mineral water with lime. As the waiter walked away, Jerry turned to Don.
“Charlie Gates must be catering tonight. He always hires college-aged men and women to work for him. He wants to give them a chance to earn some extra cash. He trains them well – paying strict attention to detail and bearing. As a former Marine, Charlie’s a stickler for discipline and appearance.”
“Yes. He is the perfect partner for Rex Burke. Charlie hires a few of Rex’s football players in the spring semester. It helps to maintain the discipline Rex expects of them in performing their best on the grid iron.”
The pair surveyed the scene before them. The guests were enjoying themselves. Charlie’s crew moved effortlessly among them. Maria de Borbon and the Howards were with Myles and Cordelia Gibson, a brother and sister who used their family fortune to fund the arts in the city. The Gibsons were also backers of very conservative – rightwing really – political causes. They accompanied Maria and the Howards, as they made their way through the assemblage to the room beyond, where a small podium stood beside the closed doors leading to the exhibit itself.
“Well, from the looks of things it promises to be an enjoyable evening.”
“Let’s hope it remains enjoyable and that’s it, Jer.” Don said, before he noticed Gerhard Ubel making his way towards them. “Here comes round two with Ubel.”
“I’ll leave you to him. I’ll locate Charlie Gates. Charlie always keeps his ear to the ground. If anything’s amiss, he’ll know it.”
They parted company. Don watched as Jerry walked toward the tables with food on offer. He paid little heed as Gerhard Ubel sidled up next to him.
“Did I fluster you before, Commissioner?”
“Ubel, your games grow tiresome.” Don declared without looking at him.
“But I’m only getting started. Consider me a cat and you the mouse I’ve caught. I’ll toy with you until fear of what I’ll do to you overcomes you, Commissioner. Then, like a cat with a mouse, I’ll snatch you up!”
“Enough with the idle threats, Ubel. Publish the photos…I don’t care.” Don said determinedly.
“Don’t you, Commissioner? How would the good citizens of this fair city react to photos of their police commissioner all tied up and gagged in another man’s apartment with his Billy Club hanging out of his jizz-stained trousers? They’d ride you out of this town on a rail!”
“I can ride it out, Ubel!” Don growled back in confidence.
“Of course, you might, Commissioner. You might survive the scandal with your pension intact, but how would the city’s elites react to the knowledge that you and Mr. Kennedy share something special, Commissioner? Would Myles and Cordelia Gibson who donate so much money to protect “Family Values” around these parts tolerate a gay police commissioner in a relationship with a gay district attorney? Would Mr. Kennedy survive that scandal?”
Don looked straight at Ubel. His iPhone pinged with a new text.
“You might want to see that text, Commissioner.”
Don took his iPhone from inside his dinner jacket and looked at the text. It was from a blocked number and was a link to a video. He hit the link and watched the recording that had a short audio clip at the end.
“I promise to keep you safe.”
Don’s stomach turned in knots. Someone had recorded the encounter just a short while ago between him and Jerry. Don’s words echoed in his mind.
I promised to keep him safe – I can take come what may, but do I want to drag Jerry down, too?
“Do you want to keep Mr. Kennedy safe? It would be a shame if anything happened to him.” Ubel coldly stated.
For several moments Don looked straight at Ubel with daggers in his eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Ubel. But let’s get one thing straight. You harm one hair on Jerry Kennedy’s head, and I will come down on you like a ton of bricks, you son of a bitch!”
“Ah! Such loyalty – it can be such an admirable quality, Commissioner.” Ubel replied with a smile.
He then turned deadly serious and added, “It can also be a liability. I want what’s mine returned. Get my diamonds back from Raffles, Commissioner, or there may be a real test of your loyalty to Mr. Kennedy. That recoding will bring you both down, if it’s released to the press.”
They stared at each other icily, saying nothing.
“Ladies and Gentlemen – honored guests – if I could have your attention, please…”
Maria de Borbon was at the microphone before the closed doors to the Exhibit. Her voice broke Don and Ubel from their battle of wills before either blinked. Each turned and walked away from each other and forward along with the other guests, as Maria de Borbon began her welcoming remarks.
Socialites, Servers, and Surprises
Jerry began looking about for Charlie Gates. As he passed through the crowd of guests, several of them greeted him. All the leading lights of the city were there that night. Politicians mixed with grande dames. Even a local sports figure (or two) was in attendance. Jerry soon bumped into Elena Rosenblatt. Elena was a wealthy socialite of an uncertain age. Her origins were obscure, but she had vaguely central European accent. She married well – several times. Each husband left her wealthier. She greeted Jerry in the European fashion with pecks on each cheek. When he was a lawyer first starting out in the DA’s Office, he received an invitation to a dinner party at her home in the swanky part of the city. She seated him next to a young, vivacious, and pretty woman. It soon became obvious to Jerry that Elena was trying to fix him up. Jerry enjoyed himself that night, but there was no match. The next time he met Elena, she told him that she knew why. “You are – as they once said – a confirmed bachelor. No worries, my friend, your secret is safe with me.” Invitations from her continued to come Jerry’s way. And she and Jerry became good friends.
“I see you arrived tonight with a very handsome man, Jerry.” She whispered in his ear. “I’ve long suspected Donald Stone was a confirmed bachelor, too. He dresses so impeccably – although that is a tired old stereotype. Still – I am glad you found each other.”
“Me too.” Jerry whispered back.
“It is such a marvelous night. The museum looks delightful. And the food and champagne are divine!”
“Speaking of which – have you seen Charlie Gates?’
“Ah! Only a divine creature could create such divine delectables. He is about.”
Elena looked around the hall. She spotted Charlie looking over the appetizers on one of the tables across the room from them.
“There, he is,” she nodded in one direction. “A divine creature – but Alas! Another confirmed bachelor!” She sighed.
“Elena, your gaydar is so finely tuned.” Jerry teased her, “One might suspect…”
“Jerry – as a woman of the world – and after burying three husbands – a relationship with another woman does have its appeal, but…”
Elena laid eyes on a very wealthy, recently divorced, older man who smiled at her as he walked by.
“A fourth husband appeals to me more.” She lightly laughed.
“Elena, you’re one of a kind.”
“So are you, Jerry. Now go and see Charlie. Tell him I will be in touch with him about my next soiree.” Elena said with a wave of her hand.
Jerry left Elena and walked towards Charlie Gates. He couldn’t miss him. At 6’3”, the chef in his mid- to late-fifties stood above the crowd. And Charlie looked professional as always. His snap closure chef coat and tuxedo trousers fitted his still-muscular frame very well. As Jerry drew closer, he stopped for a moment to observe Charlie at work. The former Sergeant Major looked down appraisingly at the trays holding his culinary creations. His was a focused demeanor. Charlie’s striking good looks emphasized the determination he took to make sure no small detail was left overlooked. Spotting a spot of sauce staining a salver, he deftly swiped it away with a small tea towel. He then smoothly placed selections of hors d’oeuvres on small plates to give to guests who came to the table. He also kept a watchful eye on his waitstaff, giving silent orders to attend to various duties with a slight nod of his head or a small signal from his hand. Charlie had mastered the fine art of catering cuisine, just as he had once mastered the martial spirit of the United States Marine Corps.
“Hello, Charlie.”
Charlie looked up. His smile broadened.
“Hiya, Jer!” He greeted Jerry jovially. “I’m glad to see you here tonight. Can I offer you a selection of tidbits?” Charlie waved his right hand over the platters.
“It all looks delicious. And I will try some. But – can I first talk to you for a moment or two?”
“Sure.” Charlie readily agreed. He nodded to a young woman who was a member of his staff. “Melissa, will you take over for me? Mr. Kennedy and I have something to discuss.”
“Of course, Sarge!” Melissa took over from Charlie.
He and Jerry walked away from the food station to a quieter spot to talk.
“Sarge?” Jerry asked with a light snicker.
“Of course, someone discovered my past life – They all like to call me that now,” Charlie answered. “Now, what did you wish to talk to me about?”
“Don wants to be extra careful tonight.”
“Of course. I saw Ski earlier with his men. They’re in the Exhibit Hall right now.”
“Well, you know Donnie – he wants to double and triple check. Have you seen anything – or anyone – out of the ordinary.”
Charlie thought for a moment before answering.
“No – Just the usual – museum staff, Ski, his men – Oh! There was a man with Ski earlier in the day. I saw him right before the reception. He was headed toward the Exhibit Hall…”
Jerry wanted to know more about him.
“Go on”
“I found out he was a professor from State.”
Jerry was relieved.
“That would be Professor Jan Tomalski. He’s an expert in early modern Polish history. He’s the expert the museum contracted for the Exhibit. He’s on the list of approved staff.”
“Well, Jerry – he’s a real looker. Maybe he and Ski…”
Jerry chuckled.
“Thanks, Charlie. If you can think of anything else…”
“Ladies and Gentlemen – honored guests – if I could have your attention, please…”
The crowd started moving into the other room, where Dr. Maria de Borbon had begun to speak.
“I saw nothing that appeared out of the ordinary, Jer,” Charlie said, and then something caught his eye.
“What the hell is he doing now?”
On the other side of the room, Charlie saw one of the new guys push a trolley cart with a platter of mini brats atop a dark tablecloth covering the sides out from under a small gazebo. He was moving in the opposite direction of the guests.
“Excuse me, Charlie.”
“One of the new guys on my staff -- a replacement. He and the guys he came with don’t listen to my orders. They left their stations earlier to give some hors d’oeuvres to Ski and his men. Now he’s going off someplace. I told him not to leave his station unless someone came to replace him.”
“A replacement? For whom?”
“Three of my regular guys – all football players on Rex’s team – came down with food poisoning. They sent three other guys to take their places tonight.”
Jerry looked over to where this new guy was. He just about to leave the room. He appeared to be leaving the reception entirely. The way only led to elevators and stairs.
“There are no guests out there…” He said.
“You think something’s not right?” Charlie asked him.
“I don’t know. But it looks funny.”
Jerry looked around, but he didn’t see Don.
“I wish Donnie were here. He’d know what to do, but I can’t wait.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Come on, then. Let’s see where this guy is going. What’s his name?”
“Stu”
Jerry and Charlie began to make their way to the other side of the room. The crowd slowed them down.
“And where are the other two?”
Charlie looked around but couldn’t see them.
“I don’t know.”
They made it across the room only in time to see the doors closing on one elevator. Charlie rushed over and pushed the button of a second one.
“Damn – This will take too long.” Charlie was riled.
Jerry saw the service stairs next to the elevators.
“The stairs will be faster. Come on – we’ve got to find out what this guy is doing.”
He pushed through the door, and he and Charlie hustled down the stairs, thinking Stu must be headed to the basement. So laser-focused were they on tracking Stu that Jerry and Charlie had no idea they were being tracked, too.
Bootie Tapping
While the guests mingled at the reception and awaited the début of the paintings and jewels, Raffles tried to assess the situation he now found himself in. The gatecrashing, imposter waiters had left him blindfolded, so he could not see what they were up to. Raffles, however, had honed all his senses over the years of heisting jewels, and he was well attuned to sight, touch, smell, taste, and hearing. When one sense was – as it were – blindsided, Raffles concentrated on using the others to his advantage. He now focused on listening to the sounds of the Exhibit Hall, tuning out – as much as possible – all distractions, save for the movements of the thieves. He could hardly hear them, so silent were they. Raffles surmised the trio used hand gestures to communicate. He heard them open a laptop and tap on its keyboard – they were hacking into the museum’s security system! It was something he had intended to do himself, had it not been for these lassoing lackeys. Ski had apprized him earlier of the supposed “state of the art” system. It was elaborate – Raffles had to admit – but he could easily have cracked it.
CLICK
And so, apparently, could the phony servers! Raffles heard the case in which the Grabowski Emerald Tiara open. The thieves were moving about quickly, carefully, and stealthily from the catering cart to the display and back again.
CLICK
They locked the case once more. Raffles listened as the trio moved swiftly away from him and the others towards the exit. They left and locked the doors to the exhibit behind them. For a moment, it was eerily quiet. Only the labored breath of his fellow captives and soft mewling from their muffled mouths broke the silence of the hall. Then, Raffles felt Ski move his wrists about, which were bound behind Raffles’ back.
This brought a weighty matter to Raffles’ mind – escape. Getting out of this situation – well – he could easily accomplish that! The meddling, masquerading manservants certainly knew how to tie a man up properly. They were quite obviously professionals – of that Raffles did not have the slightest doubt. The proof was in the pudding – or more precisely – the pinions paralyzing them all. The charlatan caterers had first cinched Ken and Noble separately and then snagged Ski to Raffles in elaborate apparatuses of ropes, hitches, and knots that would constrict and tighten around them as they struggled. The trio failed, however, to factor one possible problem in their affixing agenda – Raffles himself. There was nary a knot known to man that Raffles knew how to unknot. Raffles had mastered all hitches comprehensible. After all, he had used similar techniques to truss men up before. It would only take him a matter of time for him to unspool the knots about his wrists. In the short time he had been bound, it took little time for Raffles to discover the loop which once untwisted would release him from Ski’s bounden embrace.
A-ha! This trio is good – a variation on the constrictor knot! If I just tug right here…
But – pulling that thread would present a bigger problem. If he released himself and the others, Raffles risked blowing his cover. After all, his fellow captives saw him only as an unassuming college professor, certainly not as a Houdini, let alone a Pink Panther. There would be questions, and they might deduce his true identity. As it was, Raffles still wasn’t quite sure if Ski suspected something might have been amiss or not, when he earlier broke character to tell Ken and Noble to relax and not to fight the ties that bound them, lest they choke.
No, far better for me to remain bound, blindfolded, and gagged alongside the others than to risk it all. It calls for more than a slight change of plans. Besides…
And so, Raffles came to consider a rather ill-timed -- and somewhat worrisome sensation – developing down under – although the problem was Ahem! growing less worrisome by the second – Indeed…Raffles was finding it more pleasurable than he might have imagined. Bound face-to-face to Ski had aroused him, and – from the feel of it – had produced a similar reaction in Ski too! The thieves had woven quite a stimulus package between the two men, that had surely stimulated growth in them both. And it appeared – no matter how hard they tried – they could not shiver the lust from their lassoed loins. When Raffles shifted his hips slightly in his bonds, it caused his muldoon to stroke against Ski’s. Although blindfolded, he caught the charming cop moaning faintly under his gag. When Ski swayed somewhat in return, his own muldoon massaged Raffles’ rajah in return, which elicited an almost silent sigh of ecstasy from the captive conman!
With their wrists bound behind the backs of one another, Raffles and Ski rested their hands atop the bodacious and brawny buns of the other. Raffles now had a greater appreciation of the moniker a grateful – if lustful – public had given Ski after his heroics ended the siege of the Central Bank some time ago. Although Raffles had had the time to admire Ski’s assets – so to speak – as he spent that afternoon with him, their present predicament offered him the opportunity of a more hands-on approach to test the veracity of the moniker – “Super-Power Glutes Cop.” Raffles found it quite apt – perhaps even an understatement – as his hands lay atop the rock-hewn gluteus maximus of the handsome Stanislaus Szymanski. High and tight didn’t begin to describe those magnificently muscular hindquarters. Ski’s butt was firm indeed and – in certain ways – “thic!” But there was something different about Ski – and it came to Raffles as he admired his physique. Yes, he had a well-contoured and powerful arse, legs, abs, pecs, guns --- everything about him was magnificent! The well-muscled man surely could sweep Raffles off his feet with little effort. There was more to Ski than confidence born of strength, however. Ski had character to match! Confident – yes – Still, there was a naïveté about him, too. Ski appeared vulnerable to Raffles. As the writer Michael Cunningham once observed, when he saw a man’s butt, it reminded him that he was once innocent and childlike. Raffles thought of this, as his bound hands lay behind Ski atop his “Super-Power Glutes.”
As he was losing himself in such thoughts, Raffles suddenly felt Ski tapping a finger on his own, well-toned tush.
.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.—
And again…
.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.—
Ski was asking Raffles if he was okay – in Morse Code! Raffles wasted no time in getting a chance to tap Ski’s butt in response.
-.-- . ... (Yes).
.. .----. .-.. .-.. / --. . - / ..- ... / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / - .... .. ... (I’ll get us out of this).
Ye gods![/] Raffles almost swooned. He could not resist tapping…
-- -.-- / .... . .-. --- (My Hero)
Ski squeezed Raffles in return and puffed his chest out, pressing his hard pectoral muscles against Raffles’ own rock-hewn rack. Neither man seemed to care that their bonds constricted stiffer around their limbs and torsos as a result from Ski’s act of manly valor. Another stiffness– their erect members dueling for satisfaction and release of another sort – drew their attention away. As closely bound as they were to each other, Raffles still managed to grind his hips into Ski to massage their stiffies.
“mmuuuhhhmm” uuuhhh
Ski moaned slightly under his gag. He gyrated his beefy hips back and managed to touch Raffles in just the right spot.
“mmmuuhhmmm” uuhh
The move sent shivers up Raffles spine and back again. He needed to concentrate – so did Ski.
- .... . .-. . .----. .-.. .-.. / -... . / - .. -- . / ..-. --- .-. / - .... .. ... / .-.. .- - . .-. (There’ll be time for this later) Raffles tapped on Ski’s magnificent melons.
-.-- . ... .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- --- ..-. / -.-. --- ..- .-. ... . (Yes Of course) Ski struck Raffle’s rump back.
“mmmppphhh!!!”
“mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Moans from Ken and Noble brought Raffles and Ski back to the situation at hand. Buttering Ski’s buns would have to wait – he needed to rap Morse Code on his rump, once again! He worried that the ropes were tightening around Ski’s men.
.-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. / - .... . – - .... . -.-- / -- ..- ... - / .-. . .-.. .- -..- (We need to help them They must relax)
.. / .... .- ...- . / .- -. / .. -.. . .- (I have an idea) Ski drummed back on Raffle’s desirable derrière.
Ski started to hum under the layers of tape-gag that seal his lips shut.
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
Raffles struggled to recognize the tune, but he could not place it…
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
Ski repeated it once more.
“mmmppphhh!!!”
“mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Ken and Noble moaned again. Raffles thought they might be gasping for breath.
“MMMUUHHLLUUZZHH ZZHHUUNNTTHH ZZHHUU UUTTHH!”
No! It couldn’t be…
Raffles couldn’t believe it! If Ski could have only seen the quizzical mien, he gave him underneath the blindfold. Nevertheless, Raffles was certain Ski could still feel the jump in his cock at the thought of the song’s meaning!
Relax Don’t Do It – Frankie Goes To Hollywood!!! Ha! I’ve got to hand it to Ski. That 80’s tune might mean something entirely different, but it’ll get the message across – Relax!
Raffles tapped out a message on Ski’s magnificently muscular hindquarters.
--. --- --- -.. / --- -. . (Good One)
Ski beat back on Raffles’ own brawny and beefy Badonkadonk.
- .... .- -. -.- ... -.-.-- / .-.. . - # ... / .... --- .--. . / .. - / .-- --- .-. -.- ... (Thanks! Let’s hope it works)
They both mmmppphhhed more bars of the ode to a certain sexual practice, hoping Noble and Ken would relax. Raffles knew for certain – and Ski surmised – that if they did not, the rope would tighten around them to cut off their air supply.
Ski knocked on Raffles’ backdoor
.... --- .-.. -.. / --- -. (Hold on)
They stopped to listen.
After a moment or two, they could hear Noble and Ken breathing steadily…calmly.
Raffles drummed Ski’s derriere.
.-- .- -.-- / - --- / --. --- (Way to go)
Ski morsed on Raffles’ mounds.
- .... .- -. -.- ... (Thanks)
Raffles decided to go for broke. Blindfolded as he was, he could hear and feel Ski’s hot breath from his nostrils. Using that breath as a guide, Raffles tilted his head and moved his gagged lips toward Ski’s own. His aim was right on center. As best he could, Raffles stole a muffled mooch from Ski. They pulled their faces away from each other.
Ski coded.
.-- .... .- - / .-- .- ... / - .... .- - (What was that)
Raffles couldn’t believe he was about to say – well, tap – it, but he did…
-.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / -- -.-- / .... . .-. --- (You’re my hero)
In the silence that followed, Raffles waited for a reply. None came. A moment later, sounds from the cocktail reception wafted through the exhibit. They grew louder with each passing second.
The tied up tandem steadied themselves for the pièce de resistance of the evening. Little did the guests outside know – Raffles pondered – that it would not be the Grabowski family jewels that would be on display that evening!
Catering A Kidnapping
Charlie and Jerry reached the lower level of the stairwell. They pushed through the doors into the hallway. Stu had already gotten off the elevator and was pushing the trolley towards the rear exit to the museum, where Charlie had parked his Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid. Stu maneuvered the trolley with some difficulty, as if it were heavier than usual for a cart bearing a tray of hors d’oeuvres. He appeared startled to see them.
“What are you doing?” Charlie asked him, as Stu stood by the cart. Stu gripped the trolley protectively. Jerry was beside Charlie. Their backs were to the stairwell doors. So busy were they concentrating on Stu, they never heard the doors open behind them.
“Oh! I thought I’d offer some of the mini brats to the security guards down here.” Stu replied rather too quickly.
Jerry looked beyond Stu.
“There’s no one down here.”
“Isn’t there?”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked him. “You and your friends have behaved rather peculiarly all this time. You disappeared for a while, then come back to tell the other waitstaff that you were giving food to the men watching over the Exhibit. I did not tell you to do that. Now, you’re telling us you’re down here to give food to security guards, but there are none around. So, I’ll ask again – what’s going on?”
“Well, I…er…” Stu stammered for an answer. He walked in front of the cart, all the time keeping an eye on Jerry and Charlie.
They never took their eyes off him. They never heard Ryan and Andy close in behind them.
“What do you have under the cart?” Jerry demanded.
“What are you doing down he…Ugh!!”
Charlie didn’t get to finish his question.
Ryan and Andy grabbed him and Jerry in chokeholds from behind and clamped damp cloths across their noses and mouths.
Jerry struggled to break free. He knew that pungent odor. It disoriented him – he didn’t have much time – he elbowed whoever was holding him in the bear hug. He could see Charlie fighting against the man clutching him. Jerry shook his head from side to side to escape the moist rag, but a vice-like grip kept it pressed against his nose and mouth.
Gotta get free…Ah! Can’t let it knock me…
His legs gave out. Jerry couldn’t fight it anymore. He fell limp and unconscious against Andy.
Andy slid Jerry onto the floor.
Charlie continued to thrash against Ryan. Like Jerry, he was caught completely unaware. His Marine Corps training, however, immediately kicked in. Charlie used his size to his advantage. He was taller than his assailant – and his unceasing commitment to working out paid off. Charlie in middle age still had the strength of a man half his age. And he was built like the proverbial Brick Shithouse. Charlie jerked his head back to smack his attacker hard. The move worked – to an extent. It loosened the grip on him – just enough for the rag to fall from his mouth and nose. Charlie next attempted to throw his attacker over him.
“GET OFF ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!” Charlie roared.
Stu hustled over and stood in front of Charlie.
“Keep your hold on him!” Stu growled, as he delivered a kick to Charlie’s breadbasket.
The hit fazed Charlie. Stu then punched hard in the same spot. As Charlie winced from the blows, Ryan forced him back and plastered the wet rag once again over his mouth and nose. The sweet smell of chloroform filled Charlie’s nostrils. It proved too much for him. Soon, the big man was a limp rag doll in Ryan’s hold.
Ryan dumped Charlie over the vanquished Jerry and kicked him in his side.
F*ck you, you Bastard!”
“Enough!” Stu barked.
“What do we do now?” Andy asked, as Ryan caught his breath from the scuffle.
“I don’t know.” Stu answered. He took his cell phone and started keying a text.
UNEXPECTED COMPANY
WHO?
Stu snapped a picture of the knocked-out pair and sent it.
THAT’S THE DA!!!
Stu looked down at Jerry.
W@ DO WE DO
TAKE THEM W/ U
Stu put his cell phone in his pocket.
“We’re taking them with us.”
“What the f*ck!!” Ryan spat out.
“Who’s the other guy?” Andy asked.
“He’s the District Attorney.”
“F*ck No! You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ryan was apoplectic. “Hold On a sec, Stu! I didn’t sign up for this. Geezus H Cryste! That’s kidnapping a government official. We could fry for this! No f*ckin’ way, Man!”
Stu grabbed Ryan’s shirt in his fists and slammed him hard against the wall. He got right up into Ryan’s face.
“You listen good – we’re in this for the long haul.” Stu spewed. “We’ve gotten paid well for this job – and promised much more. If the Boss wants us to take them with us – we do it with no questions asked. GOT IT?”
They glared at each other for a beat.
Ryan blinked
“Yeah – I got it.”
“Good.”
Andy was searching through Charlie’s pockets.
“Shit!” He exclaimed.
“No keys.”
“We could have known this before. You were supposed to pick them from his pocket earlier.” Ryan lashed at Andy.
“There wasn’t time. I couldn’t get close enough – Besides he put the keys someplace else!”
“We’re f*cked, again!” Ryan shook his head in disbelief.
“What now?” Andy looked to Stu.
“I don’t know – Let me think.” Stu scratched his head. “We’ve got to get out of here and get these two secured. They won’t be out forever,” he said nodding towards Jerry and Charlie. Stu started pushing the trolley towards the back exit bays where the Pacifica Hybrid was parked outside beyond the closed doors.
“Grab the DA and the caterer and bring them over to the exit.”
Andy crouched over and lifted Jerry up and over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Ryan hooked his arms under Charlie’s armpits, lifted him halfway up and dragged him off down the hallway.
“I could hot wire the van.” Ryan suggested.
“Yeah, you’ll have to…”
KNOCK KNOCK
The trio with their burdens in tow stopped dead in their tracks.
“Hello?” A voice hailed from outside.
“Quick – stash them over there.”
Andy and Ryan put Jerry and Charlie down on a pile of canvas tarps behind the exit doors and set themselves flush against a wall next to the tarps out of sight.
THUD THUD
“Hello?”
“Who is it?” Stu asked before opening the door.
“Steve McCann of WPQR. I’m here with my cameraman, Bill Miller. We’d like to take a behind the scenes look around the Exhibit. Will you let us in? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Stu looked over at Ryan.
“I don’t think you’ll have to hotwire that van. We might just have another ride out of here!”
Stu unlocked the door and opened it with a smile on his face, as he greeted WPQR’s star reporter and cameraman.
“Come on in, gentleman.”
Scratch and Buff walked inside, and Stu closed the door behind them
To Be Continued…
Last edited by KidnappedCowboy 2 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Sorry that the last part is all italicized! Hit the wrong edit key (I think!) 
oh my goodness! Well worth the wait [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention]!!!!! AHHH so many moving pieces and all of them so sexy!
It's interesting that Raffles, Ski, and the others were left in the exhibit hall. I thought for sure that those four hunky hostages would have been disposed of elsewhere or ferried away with the crown jewels! But, what a display those four will make for the unveiling!
Ubel is a grade A creep! I wouldn't be mad if Raffles made him his next target. I know he's already been hit by the thief, but he wasn't the one left as the rogue's calling card. I think Raffles should fix that!
And of course, Raffles and Ski adorably using each other's asses for morse code? so hot and inventive! I still don't like them together, unless Raffles changes his ways, but it was a great scene! (Still hoping Ski goes and makes a valiant and sexy rescue of the real professor!)
Poor Jer and Charlie can't catch a break! At least they won't be alone, as I can only assume Scratch and Buff will be joining them in their unfortunate predicament.
Excellent as always! Hopefully you don't keep us waiting too long for the next update!
P.S.- I love Elena. And I want to be her... or at least be best friends with her!
P.P.S.- I am in the process of packing my bags and looking for jobs in this sexy stud city!
It's interesting that Raffles, Ski, and the others were left in the exhibit hall. I thought for sure that those four hunky hostages would have been disposed of elsewhere or ferried away with the crown jewels! But, what a display those four will make for the unveiling!
Ubel is a grade A creep! I wouldn't be mad if Raffles made him his next target. I know he's already been hit by the thief, but he wasn't the one left as the rogue's calling card. I think Raffles should fix that!
And of course, Raffles and Ski adorably using each other's asses for morse code? so hot and inventive! I still don't like them together, unless Raffles changes his ways, but it was a great scene! (Still hoping Ski goes and makes a valiant and sexy rescue of the real professor!)
Poor Jer and Charlie can't catch a break! At least they won't be alone, as I can only assume Scratch and Buff will be joining them in their unfortunate predicament.
Excellent as always! Hopefully you don't keep us waiting too long for the next update!
P.S.- I love Elena. And I want to be her... or at least be best friends with her!
P.P.S.- I am in the process of packing my bags and looking for jobs in this sexy stud city!
-
DeeperThanRed
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 958
- Joined: 6 years ago
I must say, I'm loving the fancy party setting here. All the side characters are so vivid and interesting.
I know Raffles has his reasons not to escape but one part of me thinks that he doesn't want to leave his place as being chest-to-chest and hand-to-ass with the handsome Sky. Their communication was genius. I wonder if we'll see Ken and Noble's POV as well, to see whether they also like the close proximity.
Scratch is really annoying and I can't wait for him to be captured with his yesman Buff, as much as that would mean another score for the bad guys.
Also, damn, Jerry could only get a single makeout session with Don before being a captive once more. His boyfriend is going to need a lot of rescuing tonight...
Another brilliant update!
I know Raffles has his reasons not to escape but one part of me thinks that he doesn't want to leave his place as being chest-to-chest and hand-to-ass with the handsome Sky. Their communication was genius. I wonder if we'll see Ken and Noble's POV as well, to see whether they also like the close proximity.
Scratch is really annoying and I can't wait for him to be captured with his yesman Buff, as much as that would mean another score for the bad guys.
Also, damn, Jerry could only get a single makeout session with Don before being a captive once more. His boyfriend is going to need a lot of rescuing tonight...
Another brilliant update!
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
All I can say is wow! You are a master at tone and mood, and it is incredible seeing all the layered plots unfolding into each other.
Each and every character is vibrant and detailed. And the scenario is both exciting and erotic at the same time. Raffles is still my personal favorite, but every single person in this story is interesting and developed.
This installment was well worth the wait!
Each and every character is vibrant and detailed. And the scenario is both exciting and erotic at the same time. Raffles is still my personal favorite, but every single person in this story is interesting and developed.
This installment was well worth the wait!
-
Guardianbound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 697
- Joined: 2 years ago
This continues to be a gripping tale. So many overlapping story lines. The morse code communication was brilliant. Raffles and ski's scene was erotic and tastefully written. Well worth the wait!
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Omigod, I am humbled by your kind words,[mention]gag1195[/mention], [mention]DeeperThanRed[[/mention], [mention]wataru14[/mention], and [mention]Guardianbound[/mention]
I am glad you found this chapter "well worth the wait," [mention]gag1195[/mention]
[mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention], wait until you see who needs rescuing, next!
[mention]wataru14[/mention], so glad you like Raffles.
And [mention]Guardianbound[/mention]..."erotic and tastefully written" High praise, indeed!
Thank you for taking the time to comment. As you know...when you write these stories, you crave feedback!
"
I am glad you found this chapter "well worth the wait," [mention]gag1195[/mention]
[mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention], wait until you see who needs rescuing, next!
[mention]wataru14[/mention], so glad you like Raffles.
And [mention]Guardianbound[/mention]..."erotic and tastefully written" High praise, indeed!
Thank you for taking the time to comment. As you know...when you write these stories, you crave feedback!
"
The ass Morse code was so sexy and inventive, silly yet hot.
-
privateandrews
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 174
- Joined: 4 years ago
love how i am kept gripped and panting for more.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Thank you [mention]jase1010[/mention]. I love booty calls! 
I hope to keep you panting with more update, [mention] privateandrews[/mention]!
I hope to keep you panting with more update, [mention] privateandrews[/mention]!
I have been following some of your stories for a long time before I decided to sign up. They have a lot of personality.
I love that they have both wholesome and sexy capture/bondage moments. I´m totally looking forward for more.
I love that they have both wholesome and sexy capture/bondage moments. I´m totally looking forward for more.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Thank you so much for the compliment, [mention]roxasfrey[/mention]!
Check out [mention]gag1195[/mention], [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention], and [mention]wataru14[/mention]...
Their tales are amazing and will have you on the edge of your seat.
And if you're tied up, their stories will keep you bound for hours!!!
Thank you for the praise! I'm blushing over here...KidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑1 year ago Check out @gag1195, @DeeperThanRed, and @wataru14...
Their tales are amazing and will have you on the edge of your seat.
And if you're tied up, their stories will keep you bound for hours!!!
Same here! A lovely compliment [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention], especially from a master wordsmith such as yourself!wataru14 wrote: ↑1 year agoThank you for the praise! I'm blushing over here...KidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑1 year ago Check out @gag1195, @DeeperThanRed, and @wataru14...
Their tales are amazing and will have you on the edge of your seat.
And if you're tied up, their stories will keep you bound for hours!!!
-
DeeperThanRed
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 958
- Joined: 6 years ago
I'm honored to be mentioned among great writers like you guys. Thanks!KidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑1 year agoThank you so much for the compliment, @roxasfrey!
Check out @gag1195, @DeeperThanRed, and @wataru14...
Their tales are amazing and will have you on the edge of your seat.
And if you're tied up, their stories will keep you bound for hours!!!
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
WOW, just WOW! This might be my favorite story so far on this board. I wasn't so sure about the writing style at first, but once I had a chapter or two under my belt I got into its flow. Raffles is a great bad guy(?) and his "calling card" of leaving hunky, tied up men at the scenes of his crime is so fun and kinky. Your choice of victims is great too, as they're mostly mature older guys. The kind who are most embarrassed about being stripped nude, bound, and edged! Not sure who my favorite characters are yet, but I love Don and Jerry's burgeoning romance (which Raffles totally jumpstarted with his deviousness) and I must admit a certain fondness for the beefy Ski as well. Hope we get a flashback story at some point of the infamous time he rescued the hostages butt-naked and showed his assets to the whole city.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Thank you, [mention]Croup[/mention]. I try to develop each character. And I intend to write the story of Ski's bank heist adventure!
Much of him will be bared in it!
Much of him will be bared in it!
I haven't even gotten past the Cop being untied the next morning. I was spent before Raffles left the apartment. This is everything I want in a story. Also everything Id like in real life.
-
Guardianbound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 697
- Joined: 2 years ago
I'm back in the comments wishing for more of these hunky dashing men. Every chapter is written close to perfection and reads like an actual book I can pick up at the public library (minus the M/M bondage of course)!!
A few scenes I keep coming back to: Don finding and rescuing Jerry, with Jerry recounting how raffles got to him. Ski and Raffles being bound together, and enjoying it.
A few scenes I keep coming back to: Don finding and rescuing Jerry, with Jerry recounting how raffles got to him. Ski and Raffles being bound together, and enjoying it.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
High praise, indeed, [mention]Guardianbound[/mention]
I'm about halfway complete with the next chapter.
I'm about halfway complete with the next chapter.
-
TightropesEU
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 208
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Amsterdam
- Contact:
Can't waitKidnappedCowboy wrote: ↑10 months ago High praise, indeed, @Guardianbound
I'm about halfway complete with the next chapter.
-
KidnappedCowboy
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 968
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: USA
- Contact:
Well, I finally finished an update. I hope it is worth the wait!
The Fop Kidnapped
Part VIII
Family Jewels On Display
Members of the museum staff stood ready to open the doors to the Exhibit Hall, once Maria de Borbon finished her opening speech of welcome to the assembled guests and of gratitude to those who had made the Canaletto Exhibit possible. When she concluded her remarks, Mayor de Borbon swept her right arm in the direction of the hall and announced –
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the treasures of Poland…”
The staff opened the doors to the Canaletto Exhibit.
“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A woman screamed.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd gasped in shock.
Maria de Borbon turned to see what had shocked the crowd. She gasped in disbelief at the sight before her.
At the very end of the hall – dead center –Ski and Raffles stood coupled in a tight, naked embrace within a cobweb of cinches, while Noble and Ken were balled-up, bound bundles in their birthday suits at their feet. All four men not-so-gently garbled for release through their tape-gagged lips.
“MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!” “MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!”
“MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!” “MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!”
Behind the muffled and strung quartet, soft lighting from above illuminated display cases which had been intended to blaze brightly from the sparkle of the Grabowski Emerald tiara and other priceless jewels in all their splendor underneath, but now drew attention not only to their missing contents, but also to the family jewels of the tied-up men on display in their place.
Donald Stone leapt into action from the crowd with his iPhone already at his ear.
“I need the Crime Scene Investigative Unit at the museum – pronto! And as many patrol officers as we can spare.”
He motioned to a museum security guard.
“Close all the exits. Make sure no one leaves. When the police arrive, direct them in here – but do not let anyone else enter.”
He pointed to two other guards.
“Come with me.”
The crowd caught a glimpse of Raffles and Ski tumbling down and untangling themselves from their enforced coupling before Don and the guards closed the doors behind them and dashed to their rescue. By the time the trio reached the fettered foursome, Raffles and Ski had unraveled themselves and had begun to liberate Noble and Ken from their chokeholds.
Outside the hall the security detail secured all the exits, but not before one attendee had beaten a hasty retreat. With all eyes of the crowd fixed on the brouhaha of the bound quartet and the empty cases behind them, no one noticed Gerhard Ubel slip out of the reception room.
An Hour Or So Later…
Raffles stood to one side of the Exhibit Hall, fully clothed once more. A rookie officer had been assigned to stay with him, which seemed to be routine for witnesses and/or victims of armed robberies. Also routine was the fact that the police kept him, Ski, Noble, and Ken separated to take individual witness statements from each. Raffles had finished giving his to a Detective Sondra Miller, an attractive African-American woman in her mid-thirties. She was very attentive to Raffles as a victim of a crime, but she remained the model of professionalism in taking his witness statement. When Detective Miller asked Raffles how he was able to free himself from such intricate bondage, he claimed dumb luck. She appeared to buy it and walked away to consult with another detective. Dumb luck – truth be told – had played no part in freeing him and the others – Raffles knew – as he stood to one side of the exhibition hall taking stock of what had just occurred. He wondered who the burglars were working for…
There’s little doubt…and I underestimated him. I need to be cautious…he and his men are willing to kill…
Moments Before the Unveiling
In their bound embrace Raffles and Ski braced themselves for their curtain call, as they listened to Maria de Borbon wrap up her welcoming remarks to the assembly beyond the doors. It was eerily quiet in the Exhibit Hall – The calm before the storm! – Raffles thought. And then he heard…
“Eccch”
“Agghhh”
Ken and Noble were choking! In anticipation of would-be rescue, they had begun to struggle again to free themselves – forgetting the earlier hummed warnings from Ski and Raffles. They were now tightening the chokeholds those phony waiters had placed them in. There was no time left. Raffles needed to act – Now! He leaned into Ski, and the two men toppled to the floor. As they dropped, Raffles worked the master knot that bound his wrists together. He quickly loosened the bonds around his wrists and with a free hand removed the black neoprene, padded blindfold from him. He remained securely trussed up to Ski in a web of rope, but Ski was struggling now to free himself. Noble and Ken were both gasping for breath. Before they strangled themselves, Raffles rolled himself and Ski over to them. When they knocked into the throttling pair, Raffles hurriedly unhitched the master knots of the cords around their necks.
By then, Donald Stone and museum security guards had closed the outer doors with the gasps of the crowd still echoing in the Exhibit Hall beyond and had run towards the waylaid men. Raffles was more than certain he covered his tracks in the commotion. He would claim dumb luck played the savior of the choking cops. Don and the guards were soon over the foursome and finished freeing them from their bonds. Raffles could now breathe easy – But he failed to notice Ski – disentangling himself from the last ropes – give him a puzzled look.
The Investigation continues…
Raffles tried to remain as unremarkable as possible to maintain his subterfuge. Up to now Donald Stone had failed to recognize him – so far, so good! Raffles wanted to keep it that way. Lucky for him, he knew from past experiences the odds were in his favor that he would remain incognito. Most people – Raffles had discovered – generally accepted the obvious – even if the obvious was not what it appeared to be. The tweaks and twitches to his looks were just subtle enough to let him pass for the real McCoy– aka Professor Jan Tomalski – but not enough to withstand closer scrutiny if the occasion arose. Subtlety – Raffles had discovered – was the key to the subterfuge. It allowed people to believe he was the genuine article, but careful inspection would reveal Raffles was simply playing a role. For the moment, Raffles was safe. No one at the museum and none of the police at the Exhibit knew the real Professor Jan Tomalski. And Raffles was unknown to the police there, too. Well – there was one notable exception – Commissioner Donald Stone! Donnie had not spotted him yet. Aiding Raffles’ ruse was the investigation of the crime scene. The urgency to gather as many details and clues as possible in the initial aftermath of the crime preoccupied the commissioner’s attention. He had little time for a close inspection of Jan Tomalski’s features.
This gave Raffles time to think. He was more than sure who was behind the heist, but he knew he could still be fingered for it. So, Raffles had to get to the jewel thieves before the police did. In the present circumstances, Raffles realized Donald Stone would eventually turn his attention to him. And questioning him face-to-face, Donnie might not be so easily fooled for much longer. Raffles noticed Donnie walk over to Ski, and the two men fell into deep conversation. Raffles could not make out what they were saying to each other, but Ski had glanced once or twice over to him. Were they talking about him, he wondered. If they were, it was important then to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. Raffles looked around to see if he could use anything as a diversion for a quick exit. He lighted upon the tray with the spiked apricot juice and glasses that he had intended to offer Ski, Noble, and Ken to render them unconscious, so he could seize the emeralds.
The best laid plans… He mused.
Raffles could not let anyone discover the Mickey Finns he slipped in those glasses, but they could still work in his favor. While the rookie cop babysitting him looked away, he walked casually over to the tray – all the while keeping an eye on Don and Ski in conversation with one another. After Ski’s initial perusals of him, other particulars of the investigation soon drew the attention of the strapping sergeant and his classy commander. As both men crouched down to examine the ropes that had fettered the foursome earlier, Raffles made his way over to the tray on the side table. When he saw Ski and Don pick up loosened knots for a closer look, Raffles keeled over…
SHATTER!!
The table overturned – sending the contents of the bottle and glasses crashing to the floor. The Apricot juice formed a puddle on the highly polished parquet floor.
All eyes in the Exhibit Room turned towards him. Ski rushed over. Donald Stone followed.
“Jan…Are you alright?” Ski asked, helping him to his feet.
“I think so…” Raffles answered, rubbing his forehead with his right hand, as he balanced himself with his left arm on Ski. “I guess it all just got to me…the robbery…being bound and gagged…everything.” He sounded lightheaded.
“It’s been too much on you. You need medical attention.” Ski expressed both concern and determination.
“No…that’s not necessary…I just need to get home…and some sleep. I have my SUV here…” Raffles responded as he stood on his own.
“No – it’s not safe for you to drive…I’ll take you home.” Ski declared.
“That’s not necessary.” Raffles had to put him off that idea. “I’ll be alright.”
“Professor Tomalski, I’m Police Commissioner Donald Stone. It is certainly your right to refuse medical treatment, but I must insist that you allow Sergeant Szymanski to escort you home. This evening has been quite an ordeal. You were a victim in an elaborately planned art heist…left bound and gagged. You’re unsteady on your feet.” Donald Stone spoke in a very authoritative tone.
“And Ski experienced the same ordeal.” Raffles rejoined looking at Donald unflinchingly. “Should he be the one to escort me?”
Does he recognize me?
“Yes, Professor…but Sergeant Szymanski is a well-trained, highly disciplined police officer, who has had experience with this type of crime before. He is a professional who knows his commitment to serve the public comes first.”
He does not recognize me. I need to agree to let Ski escort me back to Tomalski’s home before he does.
“Very well, Commissioner, if you insist…” Raffles didn’t push his luck. He looked over at Ski. MMMmmm…More time with the sexy sergeant might not be such trouble…
“Professor, Sergeant Szymanski will let you know if we need another statement from you. If such is the case, you may need to come down to Police headquarters. I am sure Detective Miller gave her card and her contact numbers to you. If there is anything you might need – do not hesitate to contact her or Sergeant Szymanski.”
Don extended his hand. Raffles took it. As they shook, Don looked squarely at Raffles. Their eyes met.
A memory flashed quickly across Don’s mind.
I’ve met this man before
“Thank you, Commissioner.” Raffles dropped Don’s hand and turned to Ski.
“I need to get home.”
Raffles turned. He retrieved his rucksack with the tricks of his trade concealed inside (luckily the police had not examined it) and moved at a steady pace toward the exit. Ski was soon at his side.
Don watched as they walked away. Something bothered him.
Where have I met him before?
Before he could mull that over further…
“Commissioner – I will hold you personally responsible for the missing jewelry. The Grabowski tiara is irreplaceable…as a museum trustee, I…!!”
Myles Gibson with his sister Cordelia close at heel had barged into the Exhibit Hall, just as Ski and Raffles exited. Cordelia stole a quick, appreciative glance at the handsome and brawny men as they crossed paths.
“You’re not supposed to be in here. This is a crime scene. You may compromise crucial evidence.”
Donald looked over to a rookie officer.
“Escort Mr. Gibson and his sister out of here.”
“Just a minute, Stone.” Gibson stood squarely in front of Don. “I’m a trustee of this museum,” he repeated, “I have a right to be in here.”
“It’s now a crime scene, and you have no such right, Mr. Gibson.”
“You need to get to the bottom of this, Stone. How could a crime like this occur? And what is the meaning of tying up four, young, muscular men naked? Is a h-o-m-s-e-x-u-a-l gang of thieves behind this robbery?” Myles demanded, drawling out every letter of homosexual.
“Don’t try to push my police commissioner around, Myles!” Bess Howard declared, as she marched up to Don and Gibson. Her husband Mark followed close behind alongside Elena Rosenblatt.
“I’m a major donor to the Governor, Madame Mayor. If Stone doesn’t do his job, I’ll see to it the Governor brings pressure to bear down on you to fire his dandified, candy derriere!”
“Don’t speak to my wife like that, or I’ll…” Mark Howard confronted Gibson.
“Or you’ll do what, Howard?” Gibson retorted.
“Allow me, Mark,” Elena Rosenblatt chimed in, putting a hand laden with an oversized cocktail ring and dangling bracelets on his shoulder to hold him back.
“Myles Gibson,” she began, bracing herself for a takedown. “I, too, am a trustee of this museum. And I am a major donor to the Governor’s likely opponent this fall. And it looks like my horse may win that race. So, let Commissioner Stone do his job free from any threats from the likes of you. And furthermore, Myles, please spare us your anti-gay animus. Those young men were put through the wringer this evening…PERIOD. Furthermore…” Elena wagged her carefully manicured finger at Gibson, “I had some very interesting pillow-talk with my second husband, who was one of your fraternity brothers at State. I seem to recall him telling me about how much you seemed to enjoy being Pledge Master, especially when pledges came from the football team. What was it that they called you?”
Elena paused for effect. She waved a finger, tilted her head before resting her chin in the crook between her third and index fingers, and stood deep in thought for a second or two.
“Oh, yes,” she recalled, “Aunt Pittypat…wasn’t that it? Pittypat…because you so enjoyed patting those pledges on their tight patooties!”
Gibson scowled at her in response, red rising in anger to his cheeks.
Elena looked over to his sister Cordelia, who was intently watching Noble and Ken twist their torsos and bend over to stretch their hamstrings, as they recovered from their ordeal.
Elena delivered her last zinger.
“It looks as if Cordelia certainly appreciates the male physique. Wouldn’t you say, Myles?”
“CORDELIA,” Myles barked, “We’re going.” He beat a hasty retreat toward the doors.
Cordelia appeared startled from her reverie. Quickly composing herself, she trailed her brother out of the Exhibit Hall.
Don, Elena, and the Howards watched them leave.
“I need to ask you also to leave, as well” Don broke the silence. “We cannot contaminate the crime scene.”
“Of course,” Mayor Howard replied. “I have full faith in you, Commissioner.”
She and Mark turned and left. Elena began to go with them. Don put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Thank you, Elena.” He said softly.
“You’re a good man and a good policeman, Don. Don’t forget that, and don’t let that conflicted closet case get to you.”
Don smiled.
“I won’t.” He looked around him. “Is Jerry waiting for me outside?”
“No, Don. Before all this occurred, I saw him leave the reception. He was following Charlie Gates, who had gone after one of his employees.”
Don grew concerned.
“Where were they going?”
“They took the stairs,” she replied.
“Excuse me, Commissioner.” Detective Miller interrupted the conversation.
“Yes, Detective.”
“We think we’ve discovered how the thieves made their getaway.”
Don turned to Elena.
“Thank you – I’ve got to go.”
Elena clasped his left forearm.
“Be careful, Donnie.”
“I will, Elena.”
Elena Rosenblatt stood for a moment watching Don walk away with Detective Miller before she turned to rejoin the mayor and her husband.
“What do you have, Detective Miller?” Don asked her.
“We believe, sir, the thieves made their way down to the basement. Security cameras show them making their way to a loading dock at rear of the museum.”
“What about the security footage up here, Detective? And outside on that loading dock…Do we any feed on the thieves on those cameras?”
“The security cameras up here and outside the loading dock are on a continuous loop of the same scene. The thieves or someone on the inside tampered with them.”
“SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!” Don swore – well – that wasn’t quite a swear, because Police Commissioner Donald Stone did not – swear, that is – in the presence of ladies and children – even if women worked with or under him. “Can’t we catch a break?”
“There’s more, sir…” Sondra Miller hesitated.
“Out with it, Detective.”
“The feed from the security cameras shows two men following the thieves.”
“And…”
“The men are Charlie Gates, the caterer, and District Attorney Jerry Kennedy, sir.”
It was as if someone had sucker punched Don. He willed himself to slow his breathing before speaking.
Jerry’s okay…I need to stay professional.
“And where are they?”
“We don’t know, sir. We cannot locate them. They’ve vanished. We theorize the thieves may have taken them with them.”
Please, God! Let him be okay.
“And why is that, Detective?”
“We’ve managed to get partial views from one security camera of what happened near the entrance to the museum at the loading dock. It’s not clearcut or direct footage, and it does not record either Mr. Gates or District Attorney Kennedy, but we can make out the thieves leaving the museum with a small box, which probably contained the stolen tiara and other jewelry, as well as…”
“Go on.”
“The thieves then took a dolly and loaded what appear to be larger containers individually on the dolly.”
“Two containers?”
“No, sir. Four containers.”
“Four?”
“Yes, sir…four containers.”
“And you suspect Charlie Gates and District Attorney Kennedy were in two of those containers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But what…or who…were in the other two containers?
“As yet, we do not know the answer to that, sir.”
Deliverance
Upon exiting the museum, Raffles and Ski headed up the street, where Ski guided Raffles to his truck.
“After what you’ve been through, you are in no condition to drive,” he explained.
“May I remind you…” Raffles countered, cocking an eyebrow at the concerned cop.
Ski held up his hand and palmed Raffles.
“Yes, I experienced getting held up at gunpoint, forced to strip, and tied up too,” He waited a beat – “but I’ve been through this before. And I’m the professional here, Jan.”
In police work perhaps… Raffles thought but answered otherwise.
“Alright…point taken.”
Ski deactivated the alarm and locks of his late model, black metallic Ford F-150 XL.
I might’ve figured…Only an All-American car for an All-American Man! Raffles judged Ski’s chariot of choice to himself.
Ever the gallant like his boss, Ski walked around to the passenger side and held the door open for Raffles.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”
“I’d expect no less,” Raffles teased.
“Just get in.” Ski gave a quick jerk of his head towards the open cab.
Raffles climbed in and tossed his rucksack in the back, while Ski walked around the front and got into the driver’s seat. The two men were so tall and powerfully built they took up most of the cab. Raffles gave Ski his – or rather Jan Tomalski’s address – and they were soon on their way. As Ski drove from the museum, both men sat in silence. Raffles watched Ski deftly maneuver the large vehicle along the darkened, side streets, and he realized he would have to give Ski the bum’s rush once they arrived at Jan Tomalski’s home – even though he ached to spend more time with him, and he would rather rush his delectably brawny bum than rush him off. But the last thing Raffles could do was to let Ski into the professor’s house. He was certain the professor was still very much bound and gagged as he had left him, but he dared not take any chances. Jan Tomalski still might raise the tocsin with muffled cries for release…then again, Raffles hoped the good professor was no doubt at the moment crying for release from the day-long marathon of men-in-bondage-peril-themed films and shows he had been bound to watch.
“Why steal the jewels? The gems would be hard to fence.” Ski asked him without eyes off the road.
“I’m surprised you would ask me that. Are you supposed to discuss the case with me?”
Ski turned and looked hard at Raffles for a moment. His eyes were soon back on the road. He took another moment before answering the question.
“I’m not.” He paused, before finishing, “but you are an expert on the jewelry.”
Raffles turned and looked out the passenger door window. It was late – nearly 10 o’clock – and he was very tired from the day. It was a rare occurrence for him to be on the receiving end of a good trussing, and the experience had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
I should have known better!
He had not taken the possibility that others would be interested in the jewels. It was a mistake that could have exposed him to even worse consequences. He wasn’t dealing with rookies. Those young guys not only knew how to strap men up securely and gag them tightly – they also knew how to tie deadly knots – ones that would restrict rather than loosen when their targets struggled!!! They were professionals. Raffles was sure of that – and lethal ones at that! If Raffles hadn’t acted when he did, Ski’s men – and Ski himself – could have strangled themselves. Raffles was equally sure they were working at the behest of someone else. How should he answer Ski now? What did Ski know? And what did he suspect?
How much can I say without revealing anything? It’s probably best to just answer the question in clinical terms.
He took a deep breath and turned to face the handsome lawman.
“The jewelry would be hard to fence unless they broke the pieces up and attempted to sell them off individually. Their value is entwined with their history. Selling individual stones would be less lucrative but a lot less risky to a burglar. And they cannot just fence the items themselves – unless they were hired to do so by someone who wants the tiara and other pieces for their eyes only…”
Raffles paused.
“So, you think the thieves stole the collection at the behest of another?” Ski prompted him.
“Don’t you?” Raffles turned the question back to Ski.
“Without a doubt.” Ski finished for him.
“Why ask me, then?” Raffles queried. His heart skipped a beat…worried about the answer Ski might give him.
Before Ski could answer, his iPhone interrupted them.
“Yeah, Chief!”
The call went to Speaker.
“Sergeant, have you dropped Professor Tomalski home, yet?”
“No, sir. We’re 10 minutes away from his residence.”
Raffles liked the way Ski greeted and answered Don with a delicate mixture of cheeky familiarity and deferential obedience to his commanding officer. He was momentarily distracted with a most pleasant picture…
It would definitely be worth both our whiles teaching you the ropes, Ski! He thought to himself.
“Once you’ve dropped the professor home, Sergeant, I want you to drive to 4616 Melrose Place. It’s the residence of three college students who were supposed to be waiters for Charlie’s Chow at the museum tonight. The other waitstaff here at the museum told us three waiters filled in for the three college students who reside at that address.”
“Melrose Place is before my street.” Raffles spoke up.
Ski glanced at him sideways.
“Sergeant, you need to get to that address ASAP.”
“Yes, Chief!”
Donald Stone ended the call.
“Melrose Place is just ahead.” Raffles directed Ski.
Ski made the right to Melrose and proceeded three blocks down to 4616, which was on the right side of the street. Ski steered his Ford into a space right out front. The house was dark, as was the entire street, it seemed. Raffles unbuckled his belt and moved to open the passenger side door. Ski put a hand to his left shoulder to stop him.
“I need you to stay here. I don’t know who is inside that house or what to expect…”
“But…”
“No buts, Jan. I’m a law enforcement officer. You are a civilian. Stay here.”
Raffles slumped back into the passenger seat and watched as Ski get out and walked around to the front the Ford and up the unlit walkway leading to the porch of an old Victorian-style house. Ski climbed up the two steps of the front porch and rapped on the front door. Raffles could hear him announce that he was a police officer. Ski waited a moment for a response, before once again knocking and declaring his identity. There was no answer. He tried opening the front door. It was locked.
Raffles got of the Ford and made his way up to the front porch.
“I thought I told you to stay put.” Ski growled.
“I thought you might need my help.” Raffles offered as an explanation.
“I ought to put the cuffs on you for disobeying a police directive.”
“If it would make you feel better.” Raffles shot back.
“Don’t tempt me, Jan…” Ski gave him a frustrated look, inhaled deeply, and slowly exhaled. “Alright…wait here at the front door, while I check round the house for an open door or window,” he finally said.
Ski trotted down from the porch and sprinted around to the back of the house. Raffles waited to make sure he was out of sight. Once the coast was clear, he walked over to one of the tall and narrow windows to see if he could peer inside. Drawn curtains blocked any view into the house, but Raffles drew an ear close to the windowpane to listen. It was eerily quiet on the porch, but he could just make out soft moaning coming from within the house. The low whimpering was the unmistakable sound of muffled cries for help.
Raffles acted swiftly. He went to the door and tried the knob again. It would not budge. Checking once more to make sure he was alone, Raffles next retrieved two picks from a concealed pocket within the waistline of his trousers. He inserted the picks into the keyhole of the door and deftly maneuvered them around the lock’s chamber. In mere seconds he heard the distinctive click of an unlocking dead bolt. Returning the picks to their hideaway within his trousers, Raffles turned the doorknob and walked into the unlit house. He quickly scanned his surroundings. Raffles stood at one end of a long hall. He made out a staircase to his left leading upstairs. At the other end of the hall lay the kitchen. To his right was a large, cased opening into what must have been the living room. The muffled cries emanated from within that room. Raffles hurried into it and reached for a light switch. He found it easily, turned it on, and light illuminated the room.
“Omigod!” Raffles muttered.
Right smack in the middle of the room three college-aged, young men sat bound and gagged – one lassoed very well to a sturdy wooden chair, another bound up to a sofa, and the third hogtied before them on the floor. The fellows tied up to the chair and sofa were struggling against the ropes tethering them to the fixtures, while the third fellow lay very still.
The fellow bound in the chair was trying desperately to free himself. When he saw Raffles, he motioned vigorously with his head to draw Raffles’ attention to his hogtied confrere and begged for help with plaintive but muffled cries.
“MMMMPPHHLLLPPP HHHUUUMMM!!!” (“Help Him!!!”)
The young man was choking. Whoever had hogtied him had tethered the rope from his ankles to around his neck. Raffles could hear him gasping for breath.
“Those bastards!!!” Raffles garbled as he dove down to his knees beside the poor fellow. He extricated a Swiss Army pocketknife from his trousers’ pocket, quickly opened it, cut the hogtie cinch, and gently guided the young fellow’s feet backwards to the floor. Raffles then grabbed hold of the duct-tape wrapped around the chap’s head gagging him. Raffles pulled the tape down. Seeing a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth, Raffles removed it. He tossed a saliva-soaked sock to the side. The young man wheezed and struggled for breaths. Raffles tenderly rubbed his back to calm his breathing.
“You’re safe now.” He reassured the young man.
Raffles then noticed that the lad’s hands were balled with layers of duct-tape over his bound wrists, and the full force of the ruthlessness of the thieves who had done this to the lad hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Cold-hearted scum,” he whispered. They made it so he could not free himself from a literal stranglehold.
“What the frack! How’d you get in here?” Ski shouted out, as he stood at the archway into the room.
“Go back to the kitchen. Find a knife or scissors. See if you can grab some water;’ Raffles ordered him in answer.
Ski immediately turned and sprinted back to the kitchen. He got his iPhone out and called for backup.
“We may need medical assistance,” Raffles called after Ski. He heard Ski request EMTs.
Raffles extended the scissors from his Swiss Army knife and began to cut away at the duct-tape around the bound bloke’s wrists. He did this deftly but with care not to cut the lad. Within moments Raffles had the duct-tape off. He crumbled it and tossed it aside. Making quick work, he found the master knot and soon released the poor lad from his captivity. Gently, Raffles rolled him onto his back and then helped him to a seated position. He still struggled with his breathing, but he was getting it under control.
His two mates watched Raffles care for him, and when Raffles looked up, he saw tears streaming down their faces.
“He’s okay, and we’ll have you free in a moment.” Raffles reassured them.
“MMMTTHHMMMKKKK UUU” The chairbound lad mumbled his thanks.
Ski came back into the room holding a knife and bottles of water. He tossed a bottle to Raffles, who unscrewed the cap. Ski went over to the chairbound lad, who started to shake his head back and forth and gesture his chin in the direction of his buddy trussed on the sofa.
“HHMMMNNNUUU. GGHHTHH HHHMMMM…TTTHHRRAAHHHYY!”
“He wants you to free his pal first, Ski. His name’s...”
“Trey,” the newly freed fellow answered hoarsely. “That’s Eric,” he nodded towards his friend tied up in the chair, “And I’m Chad…Thank you.”
“Here…drink some of this – slowly.” Raffles handed Chad a bottle of water.
“Thank you.” He said after taking a few sips.
Ski cut through the ropes securing Trey to the couch and began working the knots securing the rope around his wrists, ankles, and limbs. Raffles stood up and went over to Eric to set him loose from the chair.
Tears were still falling down the young man’s face.
Raffles put a hand on his right shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
“You, Trey, and Chad are going to be okay.” He told him emphatically.
“MMMHHMM MMMHHUU!” Eric slowly nodded his head up and down. He looked at Raffles with pleading eyes. His tears started to subside.
“This may hurt some, but I will try to make it hurt as little as possible for you.” Raffles said quietly, as he took out the scissors from his Swiss Army knife and sliced a bit of the tape gagging Eric. He carefully started to tear the tape away from Eric’s mouth and from around his head. Raffles slowly pealed the layers of adhesive so as not to pull hair from the young man’s full beard and bro cut. He worked like an expert surgeon carefully and precisely. Once all the tape was gone, Eric expelled the rolled-up jockstrap from his mouth into Raffles hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Raffles replied in a soothing and tender voice, while screwing the cap off a water bottle before holding it up to Eric’s lips.
“If you want to get the taste out of your mouth, take a few sip of this and spit it out here.” Raffles indicated the crumpled-up jock in his other hand.
Eric took a sip from the proffered bottle and then spit out into the crumpled jockstrap.
“Thank you.”
“You’re going to be okay.” Raffles promised him again.
As Raffles cut the tape from around his hands, untied the knots, and unraveled the rope securing him to the chair, Eric looked over to his buddies. Ski was untethering Trey from the sofa, and Chad remained sitting on the carpet. He had drawn his knees up to his chest with his arms holding his legs tight to his chest. The poor guy looked like he was barely holding it together.
“He could have died if you hadn’t gotten here…” Eric whispered. He began to shake.
Raffles finished untying him. He wrapped his arms around Eric and drew him into a hug.
“SSSHHH…ssshhhh…It’s okay…It’s okay – you all are going to be okay.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Ssshhh…There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You and your friends were victims of men who wanted you out of the way for their plans.”
“No…It’s not that” Eric said quietly, so that only Raffles could hear – “It’s what happened later.”
“It’s okay,” Raffles repeated quietly.
“After they left, the three of us struggled to free ourselves. We cried and yelled for help, but with our mouths stuffed and tape gagging us, it was useless. And the more we fought against the ropes, the tighter the knots became. The rope restricted our movement more – after what seemed like forever, we each began to tire and nod off…”
Eric spoke quickly between his soft sobbing – fear gripping him. Raffles kept him in an tight embrace and patted his back to quiet him.
Eric continued – “…Trey slipped off into sleep first, then Chad. I tried to keep awake and wriggle out of the ropes – but I soon nodded off too. And then the dreams – No! – the nightmares started…over and over…they were tying us up – gagging us – and then…”
Eric took gulps of breath.
Raffles held him tighter in the hug – rubbing his back to calm him. He did not speak, except to tell Eric softly, “You were very courageous. We’re here for you now.”
“The guy who tied me up and made me call Charlie – he had a gun – they all did – but what he did – he took that gun and rubbed my…”
“I kept seeing him do that over and over in my dreams. When I woke…”
“It’s alright…” Raffles comforted him.
“I came! I had a fracking wet dream,” Eric mumbled. “And I was still hard…”
He sobbed. Raffles let him get it all out, saying nothing – just continuing to hold the young man tight in a hug. As Eric’s head lay cradled in the crook of his neck, Raffles felt those tears fall on him. After a while, the tears stopped falling.
“I’m so ashamed,” he whispered. “We were in danger – Omigod! Chad nearly choked to death – And I got excited!” Eric confessed in disbelief.
Raffles was filled with overwhelming sympathy for this young man and his companions and quietly raged at the men who did this to them.
“You did nothing wrong, Eric. That reaction was normal. Our body responds in different ways sometimes when it must deal with a range of emotions – especially in response to the ordeal you, Chad, and Trey went through. Getting an erection – even ejaculating -- is one of those responses. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He held Eric tighter.
“Thank you.” Eric said softly.
All the while Raffles tended to Eric, Ski made sure Trey and Chad were okay. But Ski kept an eye on Raffles. He heard him comfort Eric, and he began to wonder about the man he knew as Professor Jan Tomalski.
“He has experience well beyond being a tweedy academic. Just what is Jan’s background?
Police sirens in the distance kept Ski from exploring that question further…
Ski’s White Out
After back-up arrived and making sure Eric, Trey, and Chad received medical attention, Ski called their parents to inform them of what had happened, so they could attend to their sons. Those were hard calls – as a police officer he often had to inform people of accidents, crimes, and at times – God forbid! – even deaths of their loved ones. Those calls wrenched at his gut, no matter how hard he tried to detach himself from his job. Ski then directed the senior officer on the scene to assume command of the investigation of the crime. Before they left, Ski noticed Jan slip a business card in Eric’s hand, hug him once more, and heard him tell the young man to call him if he needed a sympathetic ear to talk to or a shoulder to lean on.
As Ski drove away from Melrose Place to take Jan home, he kept his own counsel. It had been a trying night for him. First taken by surprise and left cruelly bound and gagged alongside his men, Ski experienced an urgency born of his desire to free himself and the men he was responsible for. Ski then suffered the humiliation of failing in his orders – to protect the prized pieces of the museum’s exhibit from brazen bandits – compounded by the discovery of him and Jan – bound, gagged, and aroused – before the crowd of opening-night guests, which included his idol and commander, Donald Stone! Adding to an already harrowing experience was the discovery of those poor, young guys – a trio of college jocks waylaid by malicious assailants who left them tensely trussed up and mercilessly muzzled! Ski made a silent vow that he would bring those hard-hearted scoundrels responsible for this debacle of an evening to justice! Now, Ski only wanted to get Jan home for some much-needed rest. He himself needed to catch some z’s before he had to return to Police Headquarters to work on the investigation.
Ski glanced over at the man seated next to him. He couldn’t suppress his growing desire for Jan. And it scared him! He hoped – No! Ski knew Jan felt the same mix of desire and dread too. Ski felt it as they were pressed so closely together when the thieves left them bound face to face. Ski could feel the heat rising from Jan’s skin, the pounding of his heart, and the desire rising in his loins. It matched Ski’s own in every way. God! He wanted this man so badly! And they had only met that morning. It was electric from the very beginning – every moment they were together going over the exhibit. Jan explaining the history of the Graboswki jewels and the paintings. He gently guided Ski to appreciate the beauty of it all. And Jan hung on every word of his, as he went over the details of the security arrangements. Ha! That security accounted for naught! The robbery laid waste to all that Ski, Ken, and Noble had done. If one good thing had come of it, the bondage Ski endured with Jan had bound them tighter to one another more than their captors had ever intended!
Still, there was something about Jan Tomalski that nagged at the back of Ski’s head. Ski couldn’t put his finger on it, but…
“That’s my house right over there,” Jan interrupted Ski’s thoughts, pointing to a Craftsman home.
Ski pulled into the driveway, put the truck in park and cut the engine.
Both men sat there quietly in the cab of the truck, staring straight ahead – almost daring the other to be the first to break the silence between them. Ski was unsure what to do – what to say. He could feel his heart pumping like mad. It had been a roller-coaster of a day. His adrenaline was still stoked from all that had befallen him, Ken, Noble, and Jan…Jan – God! Ski felt so alive with him. He had never felt this way about another guy! Sure, he had dated other guys…but his relationships never seemed to last.
He heard Jan’s slow but steady breaths. It seemed like an eternity, but it was only lasted a few moments before Ski turned to Jan.
“I’m sorry.” he said quietly.
“About what, Ski? The robbery was not your fault. You did everything you could do to protect the jewelry and pictures. More importantly – you did everything to protect me and your men – Ken and Noble.” Raffles reached over and grasped Ski’s right hand resting on the console between the seats. He squeezed it hard.
“You’re a good cop, Ski,” he continued, “You proved that twice tonight – and you are a good man too – putting the safety of others before yourself. First at the museum and then with those poor kids back there.”
“That was you, Jan. I saw and heard what you did and said to Eric. He and his friends were terrorized. They were scared and confused. Jan – you knew just what to say to him – to let him know he would be okay – that it was fine for him to have those conflicting feelings…”
“Thank you, Ski. You too comforted those young men. And you were so kind and sensitive afterwards – talking with their parents and making sure all were in safe hands before we left.”
They fell silent.
“I guess this is Good Night then…” Ski finally said with regret.
Raffles turned as much as he could in the passenger seat to face Ski. He let go of Ski’s hand, grasped his head in his hands, and pulled Ski closer. Ski leaned in to meet his lips.
Ski felt as if he were on fire. The kiss charged him in every way imaginable. The touch of Jan’s lips on his own was tender, raw, and stoked Ski’s desire for this man he had barely known for a day. He kissed back, parting his lips, and their embrace became more passionate. Jan’s tongue brushed Ski’s teeth, and in no time their tongues sparred with each other. Ski breathed in the scent of sweat, musk, and the heady hunger emanating from the man who was making him feel so desired. And just like that, Jan pulled back.
“I’ve got to go.”
Jan turned around, grabbed his rucksack from the back of the truck’s cab, got out, and walked across the path to the front porch of his home. Ski watched him go. He was confused -- trying to make sense of what just happened and why Jan took off so quickly. Ski couldn’t let Jan go like this.
“Jan,” Ski called after him, “Wait – Please!”
He got out of his truck and followed Jan up the path.
Jan had just opened the front door and was about to go inside. He let go of the handle and turned toward Ski. The door stood halfway open. He waited as Ski sprinted across the walkway onto the porch.
“We can’t just say goodbye like this and go our separate ways, Jan.”
Raffles sighed and walked over to him. He reached up and cupped Ski’s left cheek. He gently stroked the strong jawline with his thumb. Jan’s touch felt so right to Ski.
“Ski, we’ve only known each other a day.”
“Jan – you cannot tell me that you did not feel something back there. Dammit! You’re getting into my bones.”
Raffles let out a chuckle. His hand continued to cup Ski’s cheek.
“Well, our boners dueled with each other earlier at the museum.”
Ski couldn’t help but chortle back.
“Yeah, Jan, they did – But I am so filled with desire for you. And I also want to get to know you better.”
Raffles continued to caress Ski’s cheek.
“I’d like that too, Ski…but today – it’s been so much for me – for both of us…”
The front door swung open more.
“It was, Jan…And I want to make it better for you.”
Ski turned his head and kissed the palm of Raffles’ hand that still cupped his chin.
“You did make it better for me – for all of us – today, Ski. Keeping calm – getting us out of the ordeal at the museum – and then rescuing those young, college guys…”
“You stepped up too. You saved my men, Jan, and you saved those boys...”
A muffled sound echoed from inside the house.
“MMmmpphh…mmmppphh…mmmppphh…”
Ski furrowed his brows. He looked toward the open, front door and then back at Jan.
“What was that?”
A barely discernable expression of concern crossed Raffles face before it changed to one of questioning. But Ski noticed.
“What sound?”
“MMmmmppphhh….mmmppphh.”
“You know what I mean, Jan.”
“It’s not what you think, Ski.”
“I don’t what I’m thinking, Jan, but let’s step inside and see what’s going on.”
Raffles turned and walked into the house. Ski followed. He put his right hand inside his jacket to make sure his Smith & Wesson M&P 9 was at the ready. The house was dark. Ski could make out a light switch right inside. He switched on the lights, illuminating a nicely appointed, hardwood-floored interior. They stood in a hallway with a living room to one side and a dining room to the other. There was a staircase leading upstairs, and Ski could see a large kitchen lay at the other end of the hall.
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Jan.”
“Okay, Ski.”
“Mmmmmmpphhhing…mmmpphhhiing!!”
The sounds were coming from upstairs.
“Drop your rucksack on the floor. Lean against the wall with both hands on it and spread your legs.”
Raffles dropped the rucksack near the bottom of the staircase and assumed the position against the wall extending just past the staircase.
“This is not necessary – It is not what you think, Ski.”
Ski did not respond. He patted Raffles down quickly, checking for any weapons. He was satisfied there were none on him.
“Okay…you can turn around.”
Ski removed a pair of handcuffs from their case attached to his belt. He handed them to Raffles.
“You don’t have to do this, Ski. I can explain…”
“Mmmmmmpphhhing…mmmpphhhiing!!”
Ski looked around and motioned to the newel post of the staircase.
“Snap one cuff on your wrist, then put the cuffed wrist through the space under the banister between the post and the next rail. Then bring your other wrist around the post and snap the other cuff on that wrist.”
Raffles took the handcuffs from Ski. He looked at them, then looked up at Ski. His eyes were filled with sorrow and pleading.
“It’s not what you think, Ski.”
“Just do it…Now!” He ordered.
Raffles shook his head in despair and let out a sigh. He did what Ski had ordered him to do and cuffed himself inside the post and first rail of the bannister.
Ski checked to make the cuffs were locked tight around Raffles’ wrists.
They were.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh!!”
Ski removed his Smith & Wesson from its holster and took the stairs two at a time.
Raffles watched him go, before he maneuvered his cuffed hands, so he could extract the picking tools from the pocket inside the waistline of his trousers. He was glad Ski had not been so thorough when he frisked him.
At the top of the stairs, Ski quickly scanned the layout of the darkened, second floor. He held his revolver in both hands at arms’ length. Two bedrooms were on either side of the hall with their doors open. A hurried look inside each revealed nothing, as did another scan inside a hall bathroom. There was a closed door at the end of the hallway. The glow of a computer or television screen seeped from around the door, creating a halo effect.
He barked out a warning.
“POLICE!”
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski paused before the door and listened. The muffled moans mixed with other voices – like the dialogue of a film...
“The big chump sits there…This fellow who’s supposed to be bright…he sits there…now geta load this…look…look…the attitude…large as life…Heehaw…he sits there…waiting to be tied up and gagged…the big dope…mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Ski pushed the door open – his Smith & Wesson at the ready. He did a quick sweep. There was no one there, except a man with his back to him in an alcove. He was bound to an ergonomic chair facing a television set mounted on the wall. The old, Cary Grant film, “Arsenic and Old Lace,” was on. Ski holstered his revolver and rushed over to the man. He grabbed hold of the back of the chair and swiveled it gently around, so the man could face him. A slight shock jolted him.
“Jan?”
The resemblance was uncanny. The doppelganger was naked with his wrists secured behind his back. Rope tethered him to the back of the chair at his upper chest and waist and pulled his biceps close to his sides, puffing his chest out. The crisscrossing of the rope across his chest made his erect nipples jut out just so between their cords. His legs were lashed together at his ankles, above and below his knees, and across his upper thighs. To keep him further fixed to the chair the cotton lead leashed his legs at his ankles to the chair’s base above its coasters.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski quickly recovered from his initial shock, and his training shifted to automatic –
“I’ll have you untied in a moment, sir.”
As Ski crouched down on his haunches to undo the ropes at the man’s ankles, the odor of sweat and semen filled Ski’s nostrils. He noticed the man was half-erect, and dried cum matted his thighs and chest. He glanced up at the man, who averted his eyes to avoid Ski’s gaze.
“It’s okay, sir. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
The knots had been intricately woven. They reminded Ski of the knots of the rope woven around him earlier in the museum and the knots he found to the ropes pinioning the college guys just a short while ago. Anger began to well up in him.
The phony bastard!
It was a tough go at getting those knots loosened. While he tried to work the loops out, Ski glimpsed over at the tv. Mortimer – Cary Grant – was still tied up. Jonathan – Raymond Massey – and Dr. Einstein – Peter Lorre – stood behind him. Their plans to carve him up had been interrupted by the arrival of Officer O’Hara, played by Jack Carson. But instead of freeing Mortimer right away, the cop decided to leave him tied up and gagged, so he could listen to O’Hara talk about ideas for a play he had written. Cry Grant alternated between mmmppphhhs as pleas and mmmppphhhs as cries of exasperation.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh! Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski returned his concentration to the bonds.
“Not to worry, sir. I’ve seen the film before. Cary Grant is set free, just like you will be soon.” He reassured the man.
But it was not Cary Grant that the man was worried about. He now desperately tried to warn Ski, his would-be savior, of the fate about to befall him.
Ski would later think that he, like Cary Grant, was a “Big Chump,” oblivious to the fact that he was about to be tied up and gagged.
Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh! Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
The assailant had the advantage. Crouched low on his haunches, Ski could do little to maneuver himself into a fighting stance, as he was pulled backwards. Before he could cry out, a strong hand holding a damp, sweet-smelling cloth gripped his mouth and nostrils. Wooziness overwhelmed Ski, and he soon swooned into a stupor before passing out completely.
A Set Pair
Jerry was the first to come to. He was still more-than-a-tad muddled – having no idea how long he had been unconscious or where in the Sam Hill he was. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from it, Jerry took in his present surroundings and circumstances. He was in a room with mirrored walls on all sides and a mirrored ceiling above. Closed circuit cameras were set in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. Jerry couldn’t move or say much, since he was tied up and gagged. His wrists were bound behind his back and tethered to the back seat bar of a heavy, wooden ladderback chair bolted to the floor. Jerry’s upper arms, chest, and waist were similarly restrained and tethered to the back slats and sides of the chair. His legs were spread apart with rope tightly encircling each ankle, above and below each knee, around his muscular thighs and tethering each of his legs at those points to the front legs of the chair, thus both immobilizing him firmly to the chair and exposing his nether regions. And exposed they were! Jerry was naked – except for the red bowties around the base of his ginger-nestled cock and balls which Don had carefully tied earlier in the evening. And now his bound legs splayed his red, bow-tied, packaged package on obscene display!
Jerry tested the bonds. From his first experience of getting tied up with the brazen burglar, he knew it would be a futile effort. Raffles knew his knots! Still, Jerry writhed and squirmed. Strangely enough – the wood of the chair’s seat felt smooth and cool on his bare-skinned, bodacious, and brawny buttocks as he brushed back and forth trying to break free. If anything, however, the knots grew tighter, and the ropes dug deeper into his muscles. It was as if Raffles wanted to harm Jerry. Resisting the lashes only tightened their constriction on him, so Jerry soon held still.
Funny… Jerry thought, Raffles – even if he was a burglar and rake – did not appear to be a man who wanted to cause harm to another man…[/]
Crying for help was not an option. A crumpled wad of cloth filled Jerry’s mouth. From its faint citrusy taste, Jerry surmised his kidnappers had used his own cologne-scented handkerchief to plug his mouth. He would have to get used to the slight sting of the scent on his tongue, because he could not spit it out. The kidnappers had looped several layers of silver duct-tape over his mouth and around his head – thus sealing his lips shut and keeping that handkerchief firmly in place.
“mmmmpppphhhh…mmpphh…”
Jerry looked over. Facing him – mere inches away – was Charlie. He was tied up in a parallel-like fashion to Jerry. The strapping, former Marine sergeant was just stirring from the slumber forced upon him. Their kidnappers had tied Charlie’s wrists behind him and attached the bindings to the slats of a sturdy chair – the twin of Jerry’s. Charlie’s well-muscled and tattooed arms and torso were bound securely to the slats and arms of the chair. His still well-hewn abdominal muscles puffed out beneath the cruel cords confining them to his seat. Like they had done to Jerry, the kidnappers had stripped Charlie of his clothes. They left him in his underwear – a classic, white McDavid jockstrap. His manhood swelled the jock’s knit pouch – visible to all between his legs spread wide and bound – like Jerry’s – at various points to the legs of the chair. When he was fully conscious, Charlie began to struggle to free himself. His strong arms and the muscles of his torso bulged under the rope, as he strained to break its hold on him. Even in his late fifties, Charlie possessed the strength of a man much younger than his years. His thick thigh muscles flexed this way and that, and he squeezed his beefy butt upward to gain some slack to slip from the rope’s bonds. It was futile! The kidnappers had tied him up only too well. He let out a frustrated snort.
To Be Continued…
The Fop Kidnapped
Part VIII
Family Jewels On Display
Members of the museum staff stood ready to open the doors to the Exhibit Hall, once Maria de Borbon finished her opening speech of welcome to the assembled guests and of gratitude to those who had made the Canaletto Exhibit possible. When she concluded her remarks, Mayor de Borbon swept her right arm in the direction of the hall and announced –
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the treasures of Poland…”
The staff opened the doors to the Canaletto Exhibit.
“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A woman screamed.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd gasped in shock.
Maria de Borbon turned to see what had shocked the crowd. She gasped in disbelief at the sight before her.
At the very end of the hall – dead center –Ski and Raffles stood coupled in a tight, naked embrace within a cobweb of cinches, while Noble and Ken were balled-up, bound bundles in their birthday suits at their feet. All four men not-so-gently garbled for release through their tape-gagged lips.
“MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!” “MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!”
“MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!” “MMPPPHHUULLPPPHHH!”
Behind the muffled and strung quartet, soft lighting from above illuminated display cases which had been intended to blaze brightly from the sparkle of the Grabowski Emerald tiara and other priceless jewels in all their splendor underneath, but now drew attention not only to their missing contents, but also to the family jewels of the tied-up men on display in their place.
Donald Stone leapt into action from the crowd with his iPhone already at his ear.
“I need the Crime Scene Investigative Unit at the museum – pronto! And as many patrol officers as we can spare.”
He motioned to a museum security guard.
“Close all the exits. Make sure no one leaves. When the police arrive, direct them in here – but do not let anyone else enter.”
He pointed to two other guards.
“Come with me.”
The crowd caught a glimpse of Raffles and Ski tumbling down and untangling themselves from their enforced coupling before Don and the guards closed the doors behind them and dashed to their rescue. By the time the trio reached the fettered foursome, Raffles and Ski had unraveled themselves and had begun to liberate Noble and Ken from their chokeholds.
Outside the hall the security detail secured all the exits, but not before one attendee had beaten a hasty retreat. With all eyes of the crowd fixed on the brouhaha of the bound quartet and the empty cases behind them, no one noticed Gerhard Ubel slip out of the reception room.
An Hour Or So Later…
Raffles stood to one side of the Exhibit Hall, fully clothed once more. A rookie officer had been assigned to stay with him, which seemed to be routine for witnesses and/or victims of armed robberies. Also routine was the fact that the police kept him, Ski, Noble, and Ken separated to take individual witness statements from each. Raffles had finished giving his to a Detective Sondra Miller, an attractive African-American woman in her mid-thirties. She was very attentive to Raffles as a victim of a crime, but she remained the model of professionalism in taking his witness statement. When Detective Miller asked Raffles how he was able to free himself from such intricate bondage, he claimed dumb luck. She appeared to buy it and walked away to consult with another detective. Dumb luck – truth be told – had played no part in freeing him and the others – Raffles knew – as he stood to one side of the exhibition hall taking stock of what had just occurred. He wondered who the burglars were working for…
There’s little doubt…and I underestimated him. I need to be cautious…he and his men are willing to kill…
Moments Before the Unveiling
In their bound embrace Raffles and Ski braced themselves for their curtain call, as they listened to Maria de Borbon wrap up her welcoming remarks to the assembly beyond the doors. It was eerily quiet in the Exhibit Hall – The calm before the storm! – Raffles thought. And then he heard…
“Eccch”
“Agghhh”
Ken and Noble were choking! In anticipation of would-be rescue, they had begun to struggle again to free themselves – forgetting the earlier hummed warnings from Ski and Raffles. They were now tightening the chokeholds those phony waiters had placed them in. There was no time left. Raffles needed to act – Now! He leaned into Ski, and the two men toppled to the floor. As they dropped, Raffles worked the master knot that bound his wrists together. He quickly loosened the bonds around his wrists and with a free hand removed the black neoprene, padded blindfold from him. He remained securely trussed up to Ski in a web of rope, but Ski was struggling now to free himself. Noble and Ken were both gasping for breath. Before they strangled themselves, Raffles rolled himself and Ski over to them. When they knocked into the throttling pair, Raffles hurriedly unhitched the master knots of the cords around their necks.
By then, Donald Stone and museum security guards had closed the outer doors with the gasps of the crowd still echoing in the Exhibit Hall beyond and had run towards the waylaid men. Raffles was more than certain he covered his tracks in the commotion. He would claim dumb luck played the savior of the choking cops. Don and the guards were soon over the foursome and finished freeing them from their bonds. Raffles could now breathe easy – But he failed to notice Ski – disentangling himself from the last ropes – give him a puzzled look.
The Investigation continues…
Raffles tried to remain as unremarkable as possible to maintain his subterfuge. Up to now Donald Stone had failed to recognize him – so far, so good! Raffles wanted to keep it that way. Lucky for him, he knew from past experiences the odds were in his favor that he would remain incognito. Most people – Raffles had discovered – generally accepted the obvious – even if the obvious was not what it appeared to be. The tweaks and twitches to his looks were just subtle enough to let him pass for the real McCoy– aka Professor Jan Tomalski – but not enough to withstand closer scrutiny if the occasion arose. Subtlety – Raffles had discovered – was the key to the subterfuge. It allowed people to believe he was the genuine article, but careful inspection would reveal Raffles was simply playing a role. For the moment, Raffles was safe. No one at the museum and none of the police at the Exhibit knew the real Professor Jan Tomalski. And Raffles was unknown to the police there, too. Well – there was one notable exception – Commissioner Donald Stone! Donnie had not spotted him yet. Aiding Raffles’ ruse was the investigation of the crime scene. The urgency to gather as many details and clues as possible in the initial aftermath of the crime preoccupied the commissioner’s attention. He had little time for a close inspection of Jan Tomalski’s features.
This gave Raffles time to think. He was more than sure who was behind the heist, but he knew he could still be fingered for it. So, Raffles had to get to the jewel thieves before the police did. In the present circumstances, Raffles realized Donald Stone would eventually turn his attention to him. And questioning him face-to-face, Donnie might not be so easily fooled for much longer. Raffles noticed Donnie walk over to Ski, and the two men fell into deep conversation. Raffles could not make out what they were saying to each other, but Ski had glanced once or twice over to him. Were they talking about him, he wondered. If they were, it was important then to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. Raffles looked around to see if he could use anything as a diversion for a quick exit. He lighted upon the tray with the spiked apricot juice and glasses that he had intended to offer Ski, Noble, and Ken to render them unconscious, so he could seize the emeralds.
The best laid plans… He mused.
Raffles could not let anyone discover the Mickey Finns he slipped in those glasses, but they could still work in his favor. While the rookie cop babysitting him looked away, he walked casually over to the tray – all the while keeping an eye on Don and Ski in conversation with one another. After Ski’s initial perusals of him, other particulars of the investigation soon drew the attention of the strapping sergeant and his classy commander. As both men crouched down to examine the ropes that had fettered the foursome earlier, Raffles made his way over to the tray on the side table. When he saw Ski and Don pick up loosened knots for a closer look, Raffles keeled over…
SHATTER!!
The table overturned – sending the contents of the bottle and glasses crashing to the floor. The Apricot juice formed a puddle on the highly polished parquet floor.
All eyes in the Exhibit Room turned towards him. Ski rushed over. Donald Stone followed.
“Jan…Are you alright?” Ski asked, helping him to his feet.
“I think so…” Raffles answered, rubbing his forehead with his right hand, as he balanced himself with his left arm on Ski. “I guess it all just got to me…the robbery…being bound and gagged…everything.” He sounded lightheaded.
“It’s been too much on you. You need medical attention.” Ski expressed both concern and determination.
“No…that’s not necessary…I just need to get home…and some sleep. I have my SUV here…” Raffles responded as he stood on his own.
“No – it’s not safe for you to drive…I’ll take you home.” Ski declared.
“That’s not necessary.” Raffles had to put him off that idea. “I’ll be alright.”
“Professor Tomalski, I’m Police Commissioner Donald Stone. It is certainly your right to refuse medical treatment, but I must insist that you allow Sergeant Szymanski to escort you home. This evening has been quite an ordeal. You were a victim in an elaborately planned art heist…left bound and gagged. You’re unsteady on your feet.” Donald Stone spoke in a very authoritative tone.
“And Ski experienced the same ordeal.” Raffles rejoined looking at Donald unflinchingly. “Should he be the one to escort me?”
Does he recognize me?
“Yes, Professor…but Sergeant Szymanski is a well-trained, highly disciplined police officer, who has had experience with this type of crime before. He is a professional who knows his commitment to serve the public comes first.”
He does not recognize me. I need to agree to let Ski escort me back to Tomalski’s home before he does.
“Very well, Commissioner, if you insist…” Raffles didn’t push his luck. He looked over at Ski. MMMmmm…More time with the sexy sergeant might not be such trouble…
“Professor, Sergeant Szymanski will let you know if we need another statement from you. If such is the case, you may need to come down to Police headquarters. I am sure Detective Miller gave her card and her contact numbers to you. If there is anything you might need – do not hesitate to contact her or Sergeant Szymanski.”
Don extended his hand. Raffles took it. As they shook, Don looked squarely at Raffles. Their eyes met.
A memory flashed quickly across Don’s mind.
I’ve met this man before
“Thank you, Commissioner.” Raffles dropped Don’s hand and turned to Ski.
“I need to get home.”
Raffles turned. He retrieved his rucksack with the tricks of his trade concealed inside (luckily the police had not examined it) and moved at a steady pace toward the exit. Ski was soon at his side.
Don watched as they walked away. Something bothered him.
Where have I met him before?
Before he could mull that over further…
“Commissioner – I will hold you personally responsible for the missing jewelry. The Grabowski tiara is irreplaceable…as a museum trustee, I…!!”
Myles Gibson with his sister Cordelia close at heel had barged into the Exhibit Hall, just as Ski and Raffles exited. Cordelia stole a quick, appreciative glance at the handsome and brawny men as they crossed paths.
“You’re not supposed to be in here. This is a crime scene. You may compromise crucial evidence.”
Donald looked over to a rookie officer.
“Escort Mr. Gibson and his sister out of here.”
“Just a minute, Stone.” Gibson stood squarely in front of Don. “I’m a trustee of this museum,” he repeated, “I have a right to be in here.”
“It’s now a crime scene, and you have no such right, Mr. Gibson.”
“You need to get to the bottom of this, Stone. How could a crime like this occur? And what is the meaning of tying up four, young, muscular men naked? Is a h-o-m-s-e-x-u-a-l gang of thieves behind this robbery?” Myles demanded, drawling out every letter of homosexual.
“Don’t try to push my police commissioner around, Myles!” Bess Howard declared, as she marched up to Don and Gibson. Her husband Mark followed close behind alongside Elena Rosenblatt.
“I’m a major donor to the Governor, Madame Mayor. If Stone doesn’t do his job, I’ll see to it the Governor brings pressure to bear down on you to fire his dandified, candy derriere!”
“Don’t speak to my wife like that, or I’ll…” Mark Howard confronted Gibson.
“Or you’ll do what, Howard?” Gibson retorted.
“Allow me, Mark,” Elena Rosenblatt chimed in, putting a hand laden with an oversized cocktail ring and dangling bracelets on his shoulder to hold him back.
“Myles Gibson,” she began, bracing herself for a takedown. “I, too, am a trustee of this museum. And I am a major donor to the Governor’s likely opponent this fall. And it looks like my horse may win that race. So, let Commissioner Stone do his job free from any threats from the likes of you. And furthermore, Myles, please spare us your anti-gay animus. Those young men were put through the wringer this evening…PERIOD. Furthermore…” Elena wagged her carefully manicured finger at Gibson, “I had some very interesting pillow-talk with my second husband, who was one of your fraternity brothers at State. I seem to recall him telling me about how much you seemed to enjoy being Pledge Master, especially when pledges came from the football team. What was it that they called you?”
Elena paused for effect. She waved a finger, tilted her head before resting her chin in the crook between her third and index fingers, and stood deep in thought for a second or two.
“Oh, yes,” she recalled, “Aunt Pittypat…wasn’t that it? Pittypat…because you so enjoyed patting those pledges on their tight patooties!”
Gibson scowled at her in response, red rising in anger to his cheeks.
Elena looked over to his sister Cordelia, who was intently watching Noble and Ken twist their torsos and bend over to stretch their hamstrings, as they recovered from their ordeal.
Elena delivered her last zinger.
“It looks as if Cordelia certainly appreciates the male physique. Wouldn’t you say, Myles?”
“CORDELIA,” Myles barked, “We’re going.” He beat a hasty retreat toward the doors.
Cordelia appeared startled from her reverie. Quickly composing herself, she trailed her brother out of the Exhibit Hall.
Don, Elena, and the Howards watched them leave.
“I need to ask you also to leave, as well” Don broke the silence. “We cannot contaminate the crime scene.”
“Of course,” Mayor Howard replied. “I have full faith in you, Commissioner.”
She and Mark turned and left. Elena began to go with them. Don put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Thank you, Elena.” He said softly.
“You’re a good man and a good policeman, Don. Don’t forget that, and don’t let that conflicted closet case get to you.”
Don smiled.
“I won’t.” He looked around him. “Is Jerry waiting for me outside?”
“No, Don. Before all this occurred, I saw him leave the reception. He was following Charlie Gates, who had gone after one of his employees.”
Don grew concerned.
“Where were they going?”
“They took the stairs,” she replied.
“Excuse me, Commissioner.” Detective Miller interrupted the conversation.
“Yes, Detective.”
“We think we’ve discovered how the thieves made their getaway.”
Don turned to Elena.
“Thank you – I’ve got to go.”
Elena clasped his left forearm.
“Be careful, Donnie.”
“I will, Elena.”
Elena Rosenblatt stood for a moment watching Don walk away with Detective Miller before she turned to rejoin the mayor and her husband.
“What do you have, Detective Miller?” Don asked her.
“We believe, sir, the thieves made their way down to the basement. Security cameras show them making their way to a loading dock at rear of the museum.”
“What about the security footage up here, Detective? And outside on that loading dock…Do we any feed on the thieves on those cameras?”
“The security cameras up here and outside the loading dock are on a continuous loop of the same scene. The thieves or someone on the inside tampered with them.”
“SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!” Don swore – well – that wasn’t quite a swear, because Police Commissioner Donald Stone did not – swear, that is – in the presence of ladies and children – even if women worked with or under him. “Can’t we catch a break?”
“There’s more, sir…” Sondra Miller hesitated.
“Out with it, Detective.”
“The feed from the security cameras shows two men following the thieves.”
“And…”
“The men are Charlie Gates, the caterer, and District Attorney Jerry Kennedy, sir.”
It was as if someone had sucker punched Don. He willed himself to slow his breathing before speaking.
Jerry’s okay…I need to stay professional.
“And where are they?”
“We don’t know, sir. We cannot locate them. They’ve vanished. We theorize the thieves may have taken them with them.”
Please, God! Let him be okay.
“And why is that, Detective?”
“We’ve managed to get partial views from one security camera of what happened near the entrance to the museum at the loading dock. It’s not clearcut or direct footage, and it does not record either Mr. Gates or District Attorney Kennedy, but we can make out the thieves leaving the museum with a small box, which probably contained the stolen tiara and other jewelry, as well as…”
“Go on.”
“The thieves then took a dolly and loaded what appear to be larger containers individually on the dolly.”
“Two containers?”
“No, sir. Four containers.”
“Four?”
“Yes, sir…four containers.”
“And you suspect Charlie Gates and District Attorney Kennedy were in two of those containers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But what…or who…were in the other two containers?
“As yet, we do not know the answer to that, sir.”
Deliverance
Upon exiting the museum, Raffles and Ski headed up the street, where Ski guided Raffles to his truck.
“After what you’ve been through, you are in no condition to drive,” he explained.
“May I remind you…” Raffles countered, cocking an eyebrow at the concerned cop.
Ski held up his hand and palmed Raffles.
“Yes, I experienced getting held up at gunpoint, forced to strip, and tied up too,” He waited a beat – “but I’ve been through this before. And I’m the professional here, Jan.”
In police work perhaps… Raffles thought but answered otherwise.
“Alright…point taken.”
Ski deactivated the alarm and locks of his late model, black metallic Ford F-150 XL.
I might’ve figured…Only an All-American car for an All-American Man! Raffles judged Ski’s chariot of choice to himself.
Ever the gallant like his boss, Ski walked around to the passenger side and held the door open for Raffles.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”
“I’d expect no less,” Raffles teased.
“Just get in.” Ski gave a quick jerk of his head towards the open cab.
Raffles climbed in and tossed his rucksack in the back, while Ski walked around the front and got into the driver’s seat. The two men were so tall and powerfully built they took up most of the cab. Raffles gave Ski his – or rather Jan Tomalski’s address – and they were soon on their way. As Ski drove from the museum, both men sat in silence. Raffles watched Ski deftly maneuver the large vehicle along the darkened, side streets, and he realized he would have to give Ski the bum’s rush once they arrived at Jan Tomalski’s home – even though he ached to spend more time with him, and he would rather rush his delectably brawny bum than rush him off. But the last thing Raffles could do was to let Ski into the professor’s house. He was certain the professor was still very much bound and gagged as he had left him, but he dared not take any chances. Jan Tomalski still might raise the tocsin with muffled cries for release…then again, Raffles hoped the good professor was no doubt at the moment crying for release from the day-long marathon of men-in-bondage-peril-themed films and shows he had been bound to watch.
“Why steal the jewels? The gems would be hard to fence.” Ski asked him without eyes off the road.
“I’m surprised you would ask me that. Are you supposed to discuss the case with me?”
Ski turned and looked hard at Raffles for a moment. His eyes were soon back on the road. He took another moment before answering the question.
“I’m not.” He paused, before finishing, “but you are an expert on the jewelry.”
Raffles turned and looked out the passenger door window. It was late – nearly 10 o’clock – and he was very tired from the day. It was a rare occurrence for him to be on the receiving end of a good trussing, and the experience had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
I should have known better!
He had not taken the possibility that others would be interested in the jewels. It was a mistake that could have exposed him to even worse consequences. He wasn’t dealing with rookies. Those young guys not only knew how to strap men up securely and gag them tightly – they also knew how to tie deadly knots – ones that would restrict rather than loosen when their targets struggled!!! They were professionals. Raffles was sure of that – and lethal ones at that! If Raffles hadn’t acted when he did, Ski’s men – and Ski himself – could have strangled themselves. Raffles was equally sure they were working at the behest of someone else. How should he answer Ski now? What did Ski know? And what did he suspect?
How much can I say without revealing anything? It’s probably best to just answer the question in clinical terms.
He took a deep breath and turned to face the handsome lawman.
“The jewelry would be hard to fence unless they broke the pieces up and attempted to sell them off individually. Their value is entwined with their history. Selling individual stones would be less lucrative but a lot less risky to a burglar. And they cannot just fence the items themselves – unless they were hired to do so by someone who wants the tiara and other pieces for their eyes only…”
Raffles paused.
“So, you think the thieves stole the collection at the behest of another?” Ski prompted him.
“Don’t you?” Raffles turned the question back to Ski.
“Without a doubt.” Ski finished for him.
“Why ask me, then?” Raffles queried. His heart skipped a beat…worried about the answer Ski might give him.
Before Ski could answer, his iPhone interrupted them.
“Yeah, Chief!”
The call went to Speaker.
“Sergeant, have you dropped Professor Tomalski home, yet?”
“No, sir. We’re 10 minutes away from his residence.”
Raffles liked the way Ski greeted and answered Don with a delicate mixture of cheeky familiarity and deferential obedience to his commanding officer. He was momentarily distracted with a most pleasant picture…
It would definitely be worth both our whiles teaching you the ropes, Ski! He thought to himself.
“Once you’ve dropped the professor home, Sergeant, I want you to drive to 4616 Melrose Place. It’s the residence of three college students who were supposed to be waiters for Charlie’s Chow at the museum tonight. The other waitstaff here at the museum told us three waiters filled in for the three college students who reside at that address.”
“Melrose Place is before my street.” Raffles spoke up.
Ski glanced at him sideways.
“Sergeant, you need to get to that address ASAP.”
“Yes, Chief!”
Donald Stone ended the call.
“Melrose Place is just ahead.” Raffles directed Ski.
Ski made the right to Melrose and proceeded three blocks down to 4616, which was on the right side of the street. Ski steered his Ford into a space right out front. The house was dark, as was the entire street, it seemed. Raffles unbuckled his belt and moved to open the passenger side door. Ski put a hand to his left shoulder to stop him.
“I need you to stay here. I don’t know who is inside that house or what to expect…”
“But…”
“No buts, Jan. I’m a law enforcement officer. You are a civilian. Stay here.”
Raffles slumped back into the passenger seat and watched as Ski get out and walked around to the front the Ford and up the unlit walkway leading to the porch of an old Victorian-style house. Ski climbed up the two steps of the front porch and rapped on the front door. Raffles could hear him announce that he was a police officer. Ski waited a moment for a response, before once again knocking and declaring his identity. There was no answer. He tried opening the front door. It was locked.
Raffles got of the Ford and made his way up to the front porch.
“I thought I told you to stay put.” Ski growled.
“I thought you might need my help.” Raffles offered as an explanation.
“I ought to put the cuffs on you for disobeying a police directive.”
“If it would make you feel better.” Raffles shot back.
“Don’t tempt me, Jan…” Ski gave him a frustrated look, inhaled deeply, and slowly exhaled. “Alright…wait here at the front door, while I check round the house for an open door or window,” he finally said.
Ski trotted down from the porch and sprinted around to the back of the house. Raffles waited to make sure he was out of sight. Once the coast was clear, he walked over to one of the tall and narrow windows to see if he could peer inside. Drawn curtains blocked any view into the house, but Raffles drew an ear close to the windowpane to listen. It was eerily quiet on the porch, but he could just make out soft moaning coming from within the house. The low whimpering was the unmistakable sound of muffled cries for help.
Raffles acted swiftly. He went to the door and tried the knob again. It would not budge. Checking once more to make sure he was alone, Raffles next retrieved two picks from a concealed pocket within the waistline of his trousers. He inserted the picks into the keyhole of the door and deftly maneuvered them around the lock’s chamber. In mere seconds he heard the distinctive click of an unlocking dead bolt. Returning the picks to their hideaway within his trousers, Raffles turned the doorknob and walked into the unlit house. He quickly scanned his surroundings. Raffles stood at one end of a long hall. He made out a staircase to his left leading upstairs. At the other end of the hall lay the kitchen. To his right was a large, cased opening into what must have been the living room. The muffled cries emanated from within that room. Raffles hurried into it and reached for a light switch. He found it easily, turned it on, and light illuminated the room.
“Omigod!” Raffles muttered.
Right smack in the middle of the room three college-aged, young men sat bound and gagged – one lassoed very well to a sturdy wooden chair, another bound up to a sofa, and the third hogtied before them on the floor. The fellows tied up to the chair and sofa were struggling against the ropes tethering them to the fixtures, while the third fellow lay very still.
The fellow bound in the chair was trying desperately to free himself. When he saw Raffles, he motioned vigorously with his head to draw Raffles’ attention to his hogtied confrere and begged for help with plaintive but muffled cries.
“MMMMPPHHLLLPPP HHHUUUMMM!!!” (“Help Him!!!”)
The young man was choking. Whoever had hogtied him had tethered the rope from his ankles to around his neck. Raffles could hear him gasping for breath.
“Those bastards!!!” Raffles garbled as he dove down to his knees beside the poor fellow. He extricated a Swiss Army pocketknife from his trousers’ pocket, quickly opened it, cut the hogtie cinch, and gently guided the young fellow’s feet backwards to the floor. Raffles then grabbed hold of the duct-tape wrapped around the chap’s head gagging him. Raffles pulled the tape down. Seeing a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth, Raffles removed it. He tossed a saliva-soaked sock to the side. The young man wheezed and struggled for breaths. Raffles tenderly rubbed his back to calm his breathing.
“You’re safe now.” He reassured the young man.
Raffles then noticed that the lad’s hands were balled with layers of duct-tape over his bound wrists, and the full force of the ruthlessness of the thieves who had done this to the lad hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Cold-hearted scum,” he whispered. They made it so he could not free himself from a literal stranglehold.
“What the frack! How’d you get in here?” Ski shouted out, as he stood at the archway into the room.
“Go back to the kitchen. Find a knife or scissors. See if you can grab some water;’ Raffles ordered him in answer.
Ski immediately turned and sprinted back to the kitchen. He got his iPhone out and called for backup.
“We may need medical assistance,” Raffles called after Ski. He heard Ski request EMTs.
Raffles extended the scissors from his Swiss Army knife and began to cut away at the duct-tape around the bound bloke’s wrists. He did this deftly but with care not to cut the lad. Within moments Raffles had the duct-tape off. He crumbled it and tossed it aside. Making quick work, he found the master knot and soon released the poor lad from his captivity. Gently, Raffles rolled him onto his back and then helped him to a seated position. He still struggled with his breathing, but he was getting it under control.
His two mates watched Raffles care for him, and when Raffles looked up, he saw tears streaming down their faces.
“He’s okay, and we’ll have you free in a moment.” Raffles reassured them.
“MMMTTHHMMMKKKK UUU” The chairbound lad mumbled his thanks.
Ski came back into the room holding a knife and bottles of water. He tossed a bottle to Raffles, who unscrewed the cap. Ski went over to the chairbound lad, who started to shake his head back and forth and gesture his chin in the direction of his buddy trussed on the sofa.
“HHMMMNNNUUU. GGHHTHH HHHMMMM…TTTHHRRAAHHHYY!”
“He wants you to free his pal first, Ski. His name’s...”
“Trey,” the newly freed fellow answered hoarsely. “That’s Eric,” he nodded towards his friend tied up in the chair, “And I’m Chad…Thank you.”
“Here…drink some of this – slowly.” Raffles handed Chad a bottle of water.
“Thank you.” He said after taking a few sips.
Ski cut through the ropes securing Trey to the couch and began working the knots securing the rope around his wrists, ankles, and limbs. Raffles stood up and went over to Eric to set him loose from the chair.
Tears were still falling down the young man’s face.
Raffles put a hand on his right shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
“You, Trey, and Chad are going to be okay.” He told him emphatically.
“MMMHHMM MMMHHUU!” Eric slowly nodded his head up and down. He looked at Raffles with pleading eyes. His tears started to subside.
“This may hurt some, but I will try to make it hurt as little as possible for you.” Raffles said quietly, as he took out the scissors from his Swiss Army knife and sliced a bit of the tape gagging Eric. He carefully started to tear the tape away from Eric’s mouth and from around his head. Raffles slowly pealed the layers of adhesive so as not to pull hair from the young man’s full beard and bro cut. He worked like an expert surgeon carefully and precisely. Once all the tape was gone, Eric expelled the rolled-up jockstrap from his mouth into Raffles hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Raffles replied in a soothing and tender voice, while screwing the cap off a water bottle before holding it up to Eric’s lips.
“If you want to get the taste out of your mouth, take a few sip of this and spit it out here.” Raffles indicated the crumpled-up jock in his other hand.
Eric took a sip from the proffered bottle and then spit out into the crumpled jockstrap.
“Thank you.”
“You’re going to be okay.” Raffles promised him again.
As Raffles cut the tape from around his hands, untied the knots, and unraveled the rope securing him to the chair, Eric looked over to his buddies. Ski was untethering Trey from the sofa, and Chad remained sitting on the carpet. He had drawn his knees up to his chest with his arms holding his legs tight to his chest. The poor guy looked like he was barely holding it together.
“He could have died if you hadn’t gotten here…” Eric whispered. He began to shake.
Raffles finished untying him. He wrapped his arms around Eric and drew him into a hug.
“SSSHHH…ssshhhh…It’s okay…It’s okay – you all are going to be okay.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Ssshhh…There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You and your friends were victims of men who wanted you out of the way for their plans.”
“No…It’s not that” Eric said quietly, so that only Raffles could hear – “It’s what happened later.”
“It’s okay,” Raffles repeated quietly.
“After they left, the three of us struggled to free ourselves. We cried and yelled for help, but with our mouths stuffed and tape gagging us, it was useless. And the more we fought against the ropes, the tighter the knots became. The rope restricted our movement more – after what seemed like forever, we each began to tire and nod off…”
Eric spoke quickly between his soft sobbing – fear gripping him. Raffles kept him in an tight embrace and patted his back to quiet him.
Eric continued – “…Trey slipped off into sleep first, then Chad. I tried to keep awake and wriggle out of the ropes – but I soon nodded off too. And then the dreams – No! – the nightmares started…over and over…they were tying us up – gagging us – and then…”
Eric took gulps of breath.
Raffles held him tighter in the hug – rubbing his back to calm him. He did not speak, except to tell Eric softly, “You were very courageous. We’re here for you now.”
“The guy who tied me up and made me call Charlie – he had a gun – they all did – but what he did – he took that gun and rubbed my…”
“I kept seeing him do that over and over in my dreams. When I woke…”
“It’s alright…” Raffles comforted him.
“I came! I had a fracking wet dream,” Eric mumbled. “And I was still hard…”
He sobbed. Raffles let him get it all out, saying nothing – just continuing to hold the young man tight in a hug. As Eric’s head lay cradled in the crook of his neck, Raffles felt those tears fall on him. After a while, the tears stopped falling.
“I’m so ashamed,” he whispered. “We were in danger – Omigod! Chad nearly choked to death – And I got excited!” Eric confessed in disbelief.
Raffles was filled with overwhelming sympathy for this young man and his companions and quietly raged at the men who did this to them.
“You did nothing wrong, Eric. That reaction was normal. Our body responds in different ways sometimes when it must deal with a range of emotions – especially in response to the ordeal you, Chad, and Trey went through. Getting an erection – even ejaculating -- is one of those responses. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He held Eric tighter.
“Thank you.” Eric said softly.
All the while Raffles tended to Eric, Ski made sure Trey and Chad were okay. But Ski kept an eye on Raffles. He heard him comfort Eric, and he began to wonder about the man he knew as Professor Jan Tomalski.
“He has experience well beyond being a tweedy academic. Just what is Jan’s background?
Police sirens in the distance kept Ski from exploring that question further…
Ski’s White Out
After back-up arrived and making sure Eric, Trey, and Chad received medical attention, Ski called their parents to inform them of what had happened, so they could attend to their sons. Those were hard calls – as a police officer he often had to inform people of accidents, crimes, and at times – God forbid! – even deaths of their loved ones. Those calls wrenched at his gut, no matter how hard he tried to detach himself from his job. Ski then directed the senior officer on the scene to assume command of the investigation of the crime. Before they left, Ski noticed Jan slip a business card in Eric’s hand, hug him once more, and heard him tell the young man to call him if he needed a sympathetic ear to talk to or a shoulder to lean on.
As Ski drove away from Melrose Place to take Jan home, he kept his own counsel. It had been a trying night for him. First taken by surprise and left cruelly bound and gagged alongside his men, Ski experienced an urgency born of his desire to free himself and the men he was responsible for. Ski then suffered the humiliation of failing in his orders – to protect the prized pieces of the museum’s exhibit from brazen bandits – compounded by the discovery of him and Jan – bound, gagged, and aroused – before the crowd of opening-night guests, which included his idol and commander, Donald Stone! Adding to an already harrowing experience was the discovery of those poor, young guys – a trio of college jocks waylaid by malicious assailants who left them tensely trussed up and mercilessly muzzled! Ski made a silent vow that he would bring those hard-hearted scoundrels responsible for this debacle of an evening to justice! Now, Ski only wanted to get Jan home for some much-needed rest. He himself needed to catch some z’s before he had to return to Police Headquarters to work on the investigation.
Ski glanced over at the man seated next to him. He couldn’t suppress his growing desire for Jan. And it scared him! He hoped – No! Ski knew Jan felt the same mix of desire and dread too. Ski felt it as they were pressed so closely together when the thieves left them bound face to face. Ski could feel the heat rising from Jan’s skin, the pounding of his heart, and the desire rising in his loins. It matched Ski’s own in every way. God! He wanted this man so badly! And they had only met that morning. It was electric from the very beginning – every moment they were together going over the exhibit. Jan explaining the history of the Graboswki jewels and the paintings. He gently guided Ski to appreciate the beauty of it all. And Jan hung on every word of his, as he went over the details of the security arrangements. Ha! That security accounted for naught! The robbery laid waste to all that Ski, Ken, and Noble had done. If one good thing had come of it, the bondage Ski endured with Jan had bound them tighter to one another more than their captors had ever intended!
Still, there was something about Jan Tomalski that nagged at the back of Ski’s head. Ski couldn’t put his finger on it, but…
“That’s my house right over there,” Jan interrupted Ski’s thoughts, pointing to a Craftsman home.
Ski pulled into the driveway, put the truck in park and cut the engine.
Both men sat there quietly in the cab of the truck, staring straight ahead – almost daring the other to be the first to break the silence between them. Ski was unsure what to do – what to say. He could feel his heart pumping like mad. It had been a roller-coaster of a day. His adrenaline was still stoked from all that had befallen him, Ken, Noble, and Jan…Jan – God! Ski felt so alive with him. He had never felt this way about another guy! Sure, he had dated other guys…but his relationships never seemed to last.
He heard Jan’s slow but steady breaths. It seemed like an eternity, but it was only lasted a few moments before Ski turned to Jan.
“I’m sorry.” he said quietly.
“About what, Ski? The robbery was not your fault. You did everything you could do to protect the jewelry and pictures. More importantly – you did everything to protect me and your men – Ken and Noble.” Raffles reached over and grasped Ski’s right hand resting on the console between the seats. He squeezed it hard.
“You’re a good cop, Ski,” he continued, “You proved that twice tonight – and you are a good man too – putting the safety of others before yourself. First at the museum and then with those poor kids back there.”
“That was you, Jan. I saw and heard what you did and said to Eric. He and his friends were terrorized. They were scared and confused. Jan – you knew just what to say to him – to let him know he would be okay – that it was fine for him to have those conflicting feelings…”
“Thank you, Ski. You too comforted those young men. And you were so kind and sensitive afterwards – talking with their parents and making sure all were in safe hands before we left.”
They fell silent.
“I guess this is Good Night then…” Ski finally said with regret.
Raffles turned as much as he could in the passenger seat to face Ski. He let go of Ski’s hand, grasped his head in his hands, and pulled Ski closer. Ski leaned in to meet his lips.
Ski felt as if he were on fire. The kiss charged him in every way imaginable. The touch of Jan’s lips on his own was tender, raw, and stoked Ski’s desire for this man he had barely known for a day. He kissed back, parting his lips, and their embrace became more passionate. Jan’s tongue brushed Ski’s teeth, and in no time their tongues sparred with each other. Ski breathed in the scent of sweat, musk, and the heady hunger emanating from the man who was making him feel so desired. And just like that, Jan pulled back.
“I’ve got to go.”
Jan turned around, grabbed his rucksack from the back of the truck’s cab, got out, and walked across the path to the front porch of his home. Ski watched him go. He was confused -- trying to make sense of what just happened and why Jan took off so quickly. Ski couldn’t let Jan go like this.
“Jan,” Ski called after him, “Wait – Please!”
He got out of his truck and followed Jan up the path.
Jan had just opened the front door and was about to go inside. He let go of the handle and turned toward Ski. The door stood halfway open. He waited as Ski sprinted across the walkway onto the porch.
“We can’t just say goodbye like this and go our separate ways, Jan.”
Raffles sighed and walked over to him. He reached up and cupped Ski’s left cheek. He gently stroked the strong jawline with his thumb. Jan’s touch felt so right to Ski.
“Ski, we’ve only known each other a day.”
“Jan – you cannot tell me that you did not feel something back there. Dammit! You’re getting into my bones.”
Raffles let out a chuckle. His hand continued to cup Ski’s cheek.
“Well, our boners dueled with each other earlier at the museum.”
Ski couldn’t help but chortle back.
“Yeah, Jan, they did – But I am so filled with desire for you. And I also want to get to know you better.”
Raffles continued to caress Ski’s cheek.
“I’d like that too, Ski…but today – it’s been so much for me – for both of us…”
The front door swung open more.
“It was, Jan…And I want to make it better for you.”
Ski turned his head and kissed the palm of Raffles’ hand that still cupped his chin.
“You did make it better for me – for all of us – today, Ski. Keeping calm – getting us out of the ordeal at the museum – and then rescuing those young, college guys…”
“You stepped up too. You saved my men, Jan, and you saved those boys...”
A muffled sound echoed from inside the house.
“MMmmpphh…mmmppphh…mmmppphh…”
Ski furrowed his brows. He looked toward the open, front door and then back at Jan.
“What was that?”
A barely discernable expression of concern crossed Raffles face before it changed to one of questioning. But Ski noticed.
“What sound?”
“MMmmmppphhh….mmmppphh.”
“You know what I mean, Jan.”
“It’s not what you think, Ski.”
“I don’t what I’m thinking, Jan, but let’s step inside and see what’s going on.”
Raffles turned and walked into the house. Ski followed. He put his right hand inside his jacket to make sure his Smith & Wesson M&P 9 was at the ready. The house was dark. Ski could make out a light switch right inside. He switched on the lights, illuminating a nicely appointed, hardwood-floored interior. They stood in a hallway with a living room to one side and a dining room to the other. There was a staircase leading upstairs, and Ski could see a large kitchen lay at the other end of the hall.
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Jan.”
“Okay, Ski.”
“Mmmmmmpphhhing…mmmpphhhiing!!”
The sounds were coming from upstairs.
“Drop your rucksack on the floor. Lean against the wall with both hands on it and spread your legs.”
Raffles dropped the rucksack near the bottom of the staircase and assumed the position against the wall extending just past the staircase.
“This is not necessary – It is not what you think, Ski.”
Ski did not respond. He patted Raffles down quickly, checking for any weapons. He was satisfied there were none on him.
“Okay…you can turn around.”
Ski removed a pair of handcuffs from their case attached to his belt. He handed them to Raffles.
“You don’t have to do this, Ski. I can explain…”
“Mmmmmmpphhhing…mmmpphhhiing!!”
Ski looked around and motioned to the newel post of the staircase.
“Snap one cuff on your wrist, then put the cuffed wrist through the space under the banister between the post and the next rail. Then bring your other wrist around the post and snap the other cuff on that wrist.”
Raffles took the handcuffs from Ski. He looked at them, then looked up at Ski. His eyes were filled with sorrow and pleading.
“It’s not what you think, Ski.”
“Just do it…Now!” He ordered.
Raffles shook his head in despair and let out a sigh. He did what Ski had ordered him to do and cuffed himself inside the post and first rail of the bannister.
Ski checked to make the cuffs were locked tight around Raffles’ wrists.
They were.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh!!”
Ski removed his Smith & Wesson from its holster and took the stairs two at a time.
Raffles watched him go, before he maneuvered his cuffed hands, so he could extract the picking tools from the pocket inside the waistline of his trousers. He was glad Ski had not been so thorough when he frisked him.
At the top of the stairs, Ski quickly scanned the layout of the darkened, second floor. He held his revolver in both hands at arms’ length. Two bedrooms were on either side of the hall with their doors open. A hurried look inside each revealed nothing, as did another scan inside a hall bathroom. There was a closed door at the end of the hallway. The glow of a computer or television screen seeped from around the door, creating a halo effect.
He barked out a warning.
“POLICE!”
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski paused before the door and listened. The muffled moans mixed with other voices – like the dialogue of a film...
“The big chump sits there…This fellow who’s supposed to be bright…he sits there…now geta load this…look…look…the attitude…large as life…Heehaw…he sits there…waiting to be tied up and gagged…the big dope…mmmppphhh mmmppphhh!!!”
Ski pushed the door open – his Smith & Wesson at the ready. He did a quick sweep. There was no one there, except a man with his back to him in an alcove. He was bound to an ergonomic chair facing a television set mounted on the wall. The old, Cary Grant film, “Arsenic and Old Lace,” was on. Ski holstered his revolver and rushed over to the man. He grabbed hold of the back of the chair and swiveled it gently around, so the man could face him. A slight shock jolted him.
“Jan?”
The resemblance was uncanny. The doppelganger was naked with his wrists secured behind his back. Rope tethered him to the back of the chair at his upper chest and waist and pulled his biceps close to his sides, puffing his chest out. The crisscrossing of the rope across his chest made his erect nipples jut out just so between their cords. His legs were lashed together at his ankles, above and below his knees, and across his upper thighs. To keep him further fixed to the chair the cotton lead leashed his legs at his ankles to the chair’s base above its coasters.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski quickly recovered from his initial shock, and his training shifted to automatic –
“I’ll have you untied in a moment, sir.”
As Ski crouched down on his haunches to undo the ropes at the man’s ankles, the odor of sweat and semen filled Ski’s nostrils. He noticed the man was half-erect, and dried cum matted his thighs and chest. He glanced up at the man, who averted his eyes to avoid Ski’s gaze.
“It’s okay, sir. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
The knots had been intricately woven. They reminded Ski of the knots of the rope woven around him earlier in the museum and the knots he found to the ropes pinioning the college guys just a short while ago. Anger began to well up in him.
The phony bastard!
It was a tough go at getting those knots loosened. While he tried to work the loops out, Ski glimpsed over at the tv. Mortimer – Cary Grant – was still tied up. Jonathan – Raymond Massey – and Dr. Einstein – Peter Lorre – stood behind him. Their plans to carve him up had been interrupted by the arrival of Officer O’Hara, played by Jack Carson. But instead of freeing Mortimer right away, the cop decided to leave him tied up and gagged, so he could listen to O’Hara talk about ideas for a play he had written. Cry Grant alternated between mmmppphhhs as pleas and mmmppphhhs as cries of exasperation.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh! Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
Ski returned his concentration to the bonds.
“Not to worry, sir. I’ve seen the film before. Cary Grant is set free, just like you will be soon.” He reassured the man.
But it was not Cary Grant that the man was worried about. He now desperately tried to warn Ski, his would-be savior, of the fate about to befall him.
Ski would later think that he, like Cary Grant, was a “Big Chump,” oblivious to the fact that he was about to be tied up and gagged.
Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh! Mmmmmmpphhh…mmmpphhh…mmmppphhh!”
The assailant had the advantage. Crouched low on his haunches, Ski could do little to maneuver himself into a fighting stance, as he was pulled backwards. Before he could cry out, a strong hand holding a damp, sweet-smelling cloth gripped his mouth and nostrils. Wooziness overwhelmed Ski, and he soon swooned into a stupor before passing out completely.
A Set Pair
Jerry was the first to come to. He was still more-than-a-tad muddled – having no idea how long he had been unconscious or where in the Sam Hill he was. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from it, Jerry took in his present surroundings and circumstances. He was in a room with mirrored walls on all sides and a mirrored ceiling above. Closed circuit cameras were set in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. Jerry couldn’t move or say much, since he was tied up and gagged. His wrists were bound behind his back and tethered to the back seat bar of a heavy, wooden ladderback chair bolted to the floor. Jerry’s upper arms, chest, and waist were similarly restrained and tethered to the back slats and sides of the chair. His legs were spread apart with rope tightly encircling each ankle, above and below each knee, around his muscular thighs and tethering each of his legs at those points to the front legs of the chair, thus both immobilizing him firmly to the chair and exposing his nether regions. And exposed they were! Jerry was naked – except for the red bowties around the base of his ginger-nestled cock and balls which Don had carefully tied earlier in the evening. And now his bound legs splayed his red, bow-tied, packaged package on obscene display!
Jerry tested the bonds. From his first experience of getting tied up with the brazen burglar, he knew it would be a futile effort. Raffles knew his knots! Still, Jerry writhed and squirmed. Strangely enough – the wood of the chair’s seat felt smooth and cool on his bare-skinned, bodacious, and brawny buttocks as he brushed back and forth trying to break free. If anything, however, the knots grew tighter, and the ropes dug deeper into his muscles. It was as if Raffles wanted to harm Jerry. Resisting the lashes only tightened their constriction on him, so Jerry soon held still.
Funny… Jerry thought, Raffles – even if he was a burglar and rake – did not appear to be a man who wanted to cause harm to another man…[/]
Crying for help was not an option. A crumpled wad of cloth filled Jerry’s mouth. From its faint citrusy taste, Jerry surmised his kidnappers had used his own cologne-scented handkerchief to plug his mouth. He would have to get used to the slight sting of the scent on his tongue, because he could not spit it out. The kidnappers had looped several layers of silver duct-tape over his mouth and around his head – thus sealing his lips shut and keeping that handkerchief firmly in place.
“mmmmpppphhhh…mmpphh…”
Jerry looked over. Facing him – mere inches away – was Charlie. He was tied up in a parallel-like fashion to Jerry. The strapping, former Marine sergeant was just stirring from the slumber forced upon him. Their kidnappers had tied Charlie’s wrists behind him and attached the bindings to the slats of a sturdy chair – the twin of Jerry’s. Charlie’s well-muscled and tattooed arms and torso were bound securely to the slats and arms of the chair. His still well-hewn abdominal muscles puffed out beneath the cruel cords confining them to his seat. Like they had done to Jerry, the kidnappers had stripped Charlie of his clothes. They left him in his underwear – a classic, white McDavid jockstrap. His manhood swelled the jock’s knit pouch – visible to all between his legs spread wide and bound – like Jerry’s – at various points to the legs of the chair. When he was fully conscious, Charlie began to struggle to free himself. His strong arms and the muscles of his torso bulged under the rope, as he strained to break its hold on him. Even in his late fifties, Charlie possessed the strength of a man much younger than his years. His thick thigh muscles flexed this way and that, and he squeezed his beefy butt upward to gain some slack to slip from the rope’s bonds. It was futile! The kidnappers had tied him up only too well. He let out a frustrated snort.
To Be Continued…
Last edited by KidnappedCowboy 2 weeks ago, edited 3 times in total.