Re: The Fop Kidnapped (M/M) **Chapter Six Part One Added 5/21/22**
Posted: Fri May 27, 2022 7:42 pm
The Fop Kidnapped, Chapter VI, A Night to Remember
Part Two
Thursday Afternoon: Don’s Loft Downtown
Donald Stone arrived home early Thursday afternoon from police headquarters. Jerry Kennedy, who had been staying with Don since their encounters with Raffles, had arrived shortly after Don. Ever the dandy, Don wanted extra time to get himself and Jerry ready for the reception that evening. Don had taken a shower, and Jerry was now in there – mutually agreeing to get cleaned up separately, so they would not get up to any extracurricular activities and risk running late! So, now was a good time for Don to touch base with his right-hand-man, Sergeant Stanislaus Szymanski. For the past few days, Don had kept his contact with his sergeant to a minimum after briefing him about what had happened to him and Jerry with the blackmailers and assigning Sergeant Szymanski to the museum. He was very concerned about any fallout he or Jerry might experience from the blackmailers – both Raffles and the man who found Don bound, gagged, and exposed, courtesy of Raffles! Don and Sergeant Szymanski had conducted discreet inquiries into the backgrounds of both men. They had discovered a few details about Raffles, but nothing of real substance. He was believed to be Irish in origin. Interpol suspected him of being the mastermind of more than a few jewel heists throughout the world in the past few years. And true to his word to Don – Raffles always left men bound and gagged as the trademark of his jobs.
As for the second blackmailer – Don had not heard from him, but he had discovered much about the man. He was a German businessman by the name of Gerhard Ubel. His business dealings were shady – to say the least. There were a series of shell companies linked to Ubel at the heart of which was an import/export business. Don suspected the business was a front for a sophisticated burglary and smuggling ring, specializing in stolen artwork, jewelry, and other luxury goods. He did not know what Ubel’s next move would be, but Don saw his name on the guest list for the evening’s festivities at the museum. So, he had a pretty good idea of what he might expect from him. Don had already relayed that intel to Sergeant Szymanski. Now, he wanted to check with his deputy to guarantee all went well with security that evening.
As he stood at the island in his kitchen with only a bath towel around his waist, Don picked up his iPhone from the quartz countertop. He keyed the preset and put the phone on speaker mode.
As always, Szymanski answered before the second ring…
“Yo, Chief!” The sergeant saluted Don with his usual brio.
Don took a deep breath before responding.
“Sergeant – How is everything proceeding at the museum?” He asked officiously.
“Everything is secure, Chief! Officers Fujita, Johnson, and I have made sure nothing will disrupt this evening’s festivities. The museum staff already had their own protocols in place with the latest technology. The pieces of the exhibit are well protected. We’ve beefed up the museum’s safeguards. We will always monitor the Canaletto paintings from our center of operations here in the museum and in person. And we’ll keep a sharp eye on the Grabowski gems. Until the unveiling tonight at the reception, no one will be allowed to enter the main room with the tiara and main pieces except for me, my officers, and Professor Jan Tomalski.”
“Professor Jan Tomalski?” Don asked.
“An academic consultant, Chief.” Ski answered.
“Have you vetted him, Sergeant?”
“He checks out, Chief.”
“I trust your judgment, Sergeant.” Don told his deputy. And it was true – he trusted his deputy completely.
“Did you know that Canaletto’s real name was Bernardo Bellotto? He was the nephew of the renowned Canaletto who is most famous for his cityscapes of Venice and London in the mid-eighteenth century.” Ski said to Don. His voice had the eagerness of a man who had just discovered sliced bread.
.
“Yes, I did.” Don said, trying to stay serious.
“Did you also know that he used the camera obscura technique? And that most of the Old Town of Warsaw was destroyed after the Warsaw Uprising in World War II? When it was rebuilt after the war, Canaletto’s paintings served as the models for the reconstruction.”
“Thank you, Sergeant, for that history lesson.” Don declared. His voice betrayed a slight tone of irritation.
“Right, Chief. Sorry – it’s just that Professor Tomalski explained the significance of the paintings to me in the Exhibit. You know my grandparents came from Poland – and well, Chief, this exhibit makes me proud to be Polish. When I was a kid, some older kids teased me about being a “Dumb Polack,” and – you know it motivated me to excel in everything – in school, sports, in the gym. Jan has made me proud all over again –”
“Jan?” Don asked with surprise
“I mean Professor Tomalski. He’s such an expert in Polish history and culture. And he told me to call him by his first name, Chief.”
“I see. Well – Sergeant, I’m glad this assignment has filled you with pride about your heritage. But – please always maintain a professional demeanor.”
“Of course, Chief! Officers Fujita, Johnson, and I are on top of things. We – I – will not let you down.” Ski promised.
“No – I’m sure you and your team will not me down, Sergeant. I have complete trust in you.” Don assured his deputy before asking, “Now –will I see you and your men atthe reception?”
“Not until the Canaletto paintings and Grabowski gems are unveiled to the guests. We will be in the Main Exhibit Hall watching the jewels and artwork until then. We’re going there shortly to meet Professor Tomalski – before changing into more appropriate evening clothes to remain inconspicuous as possible.”
“Good. I will see you at the unveiling. Until then, Sergeant Szymanski.”
“Right-o, Chief”
Don suppressed another groan and ended the call. He walked back to his bedroom.
Jerry, who had just finished showering. He was walking out of the bathroom naked, toweling his crimson hair dry. Don gave him an appreciative smile. Jerry blushed, and it wasn’t just the cheeks of his face that reddened. Ever since Sunday night – apart from work – Don and Jerry were never away from each other. They worked out together at the gym, shopped for groceries together, and when Jerry needed some things from his own apartment, Don went with him. But they spent most of the time at Don’s loft apartment – getting to know each other in ways they never had before. And they were learning the ropes of a newfound relationship with Don in control. And Jerry liked that.
Each night, Don locked Jerry in his arms and legs like he had their first night together – but not before cinching Jerry up. Don was a caring lover and mentor. He wanted to ease Jerry into this unfamiliar territory – so, he took care to remain mindful of Jerry’s experience with Raffles. Don continued to bind Jerry with his silk ties or soft cloth sashes only. And when Don gagged Jerry, he used only his hand- or neck- kerchiefs. But between Sunday and Wednesday night, Don pushed Jerry’s limits just so – knotting those ties and kerchiefs ever so slightly tighter and holding him more securely each time they fell asleep. As Morpheus came to offer sweet dreams to both men, Don told Jerry how much he was falling for him and would never let harm come to him.
Now, as the handsome and well-muscled police commissioner and the equally good-looking and fully fit district attorney gazed at one another, the condensation from the bathroom was not the only thing steaming up the bedroom. Don let his own bath towel fall to his feet, and he took the Jerry’s and dropped it alongside his. He pulled the ginger-haired muscle bear into him. Don took in the aroma of Jerry’s skin – Molton Brown’s Russian Leather gel infused his pores. Don shifted his head to the side, and Jerry bent his head in the opposite direction, as their faces drew closer. Their kisses were tentative and soft on their lips at first, but Don soon squeezed Jerry closer to him, and they began to kiss with greater abandon. The strokes of their lips on each other were filled with passion – yet showed vulnerability all the same.
When their lips parted, the men still clung to each other.
“I’ve fallen completely in love with you, Jerry Kennedy.” Don whispered his confession softly.
Jerry felt the hotness of Don’s breath on him.
“And I with you, Donnie. Never let me go.” Jerry confessed back.
“I never will.” Don promised. He drew his arms down Jerry’s back and grabbed hold of his butt cheeks. He tenderly kneaded that ample arse. Then with his index finger, Don gently pressed into and caressed the crevice of Jerry’s beefy man-buns. Jerry’s skin was still damp there from the shower. Don delved deeper, until he probed around Jerry’s rosebud.
Jerry shuddered and let out a small moan. Don pulled him tighter into him, so Jerry could understand Don was never letting him go. The cocks of the two men hardened between their firm abdominal muscles pressed against each other.
“If we keep this up, Donnie, I won’t be able to hold on longer – we’ll need to take another shower…” Jerry gasped.
“That could be a good thing.” Don murmured with a slight laugh into Jerry’s ear, as he brushed his finger into Jerry’s bud.
“I want you, Donnie, but…” Jerry pleaded with an urgent edge to his voice.
“I want all of you too, Jer…” He paused a moment. “But you’re right. This must wait until later when we get back from the reception.”
Don and Jerry kissed once more, and Don released Jerry from his embrace. He looked down at their hard-ons.
“However – I want to test your limits tonight, Jer, and I want you to remember what awaits you when we return.”
Don walked over to his bureau, opened the top drawer, and took out two, fine silk, red bowties. He walked back over to Jerry dangling the ties in his hands.
“I love you, Jer – and I’m not ever letting you get away from me.” Don affirmed. Then, motioning to the burly DA’s diamond cutter and blue baubles, he continued…
“I want you to know that I’ll keep you safe and secure, Jer. I want you to always feel that safety and security with me – especially tonight where we might face Raffles again.”
Don took one of the ties and began to secure it around Jerry’s scrotum and between each of his testicles. Jerry grew harder, as Don stitched up his sack with the silk fabric of the cravat.
With Don handling his junk, Jerry grew harder and hornier.
“Jeez, Donnie – I might cum…”
“No. You won’t.” Don said sternly.
He took Jerry by the chin. Their eyes locked onto each other.
“You won’t come until I tell you…Understand?” Don instructed him with a firmness that exuded confidence in Jerry’s control over himself.
“Yes,” Jerry answered, before adding a full beat later, “Sir.”
“Good Man.” Don praised him. He then took the second tie and began to loop it tightly around Jerry’s wood and knotted it at the base of his cock amidst his pubic hair. When Don was finished, it looked as if Jerry sported a thick Maypole around which someone had spun brightly red streamers and staked it within a Burning Bush by which lay two brightly wrapped cherry-stones. And atop that Maypole lay a very purple helmet!
“Now, let’s get dressed.”
As each began to dress, Jerry picked up a pair of red, Step One boxer briefs. As he lifted one leg to step into the underwear, Don held up his hand to stop him.
“No…Not tonight – You’re going commando, Jer.”
“But Donnie, I’m hard. How can I keep people from noticing…?”
Don put his index finger to Jerry’s lips.
“You’ll figure it out.” Don scolded him in a very mild manner.
“Yes, Sir.” Jerry assented.
They finished dressing.
As the reception called for evening attire, each man dressed in finely cut, well-tailored black tie. Jerry wore a notched lapel jacket, while Donnie – forever the fop – favored a trendier, narrow shawl collar for his dinner jacket. Don also donned a black golden paisley jacquard cummerbund and finished by tying a matching bowtie around his neck. The studs and cufflinks of his shirt were understated but elegant black onyx set in gold. And – of course – he wore – what else? – opera pumps with a quilted satin lining and grosgrain bowtie buckle.
Jerry had some difficulty clipping his more traditional cummerbund, as he stood before the full-length standing mirror in one corner of Don’s bedroom.
“Let me…” Don offered.
Jerry handed him the simple black cummerbund.
“I never know whether it goes up or down.” Jerry admitted, referring to the pleats of the gentleman’s sash.
“The pleats always go up, so a gentleman can easily store his theatre tickets.” Don explained, as he placed the cummerbund at Jerry’s natural waist and adjusted it tightly. Don noticed the mirror reflection of Jerry’s right trouser leg twitching, as he tied the cummerbund tighter.
“So – I see you dress to the right, Jer.” Don teased.
Jerry blushed, then held his bowtie up.
“I may get excited, but I am completely helpless.” Jerry fessed up.
“All the better for me to keep a tight rein on you.” Don ribbed him once more, before he took the tie from Jerry.
As he pressed close to Jerry from behind to tie his bowtie, Jerry felt Don’s own erection push against his muscular hindquarters.
Don detected his lover’s surprised look in the mirror’s reflection.
“I wouldn’t ever let you go commando solo, buddy.” Donnie explained, as he knotted the bowtie strongly around Jerry’s neck.
Jerry never felt more secure and in love than in that moment. And neither did Don.
Just before putting their dinner jackets on, Don gave Jerry a last inspection. Jerry’s fitted shirt accented his best features – his broad shoulders and brawny chest tapered down to a sturdy but firm waist. The cummerbund accentuated the V-shape of the DA’s torso. The fitted and well-tailored trousers stressed his well-formed legs – especially his meaty buttocks and beefy thighs. And due to his wrapped willy underneath those trousers, one’s attention drifted to his very bountiful – and now artfully bound – basket.
Finally, Don helped Jerry into his dinner jacket, and Jerry returned the favor. After each checked for his wallet, iPhone, and keys, the sharply dressed men left the loft apartment and descended to find their Uber ride awaiting them on the street below, where it would take them to a night to remember.
The Arts and History Museum, Thursday Afternoon
Raffles had never experienced this array of emotions before any of his heists or abductions that coursed through him that day at the Arts and History Museum. Those feelings surprised him a great deal, and he was at a loss to explain it. He spent the afternoon going around the exhibit with Sergeant Stanislaus Szymanski – Ski, as he wanted Raffles to call him – and as Ski it was that Raffles came to like calling the dashing detective. Raffles knew the pieces of the display well – he had done his homework – and as he imagined how the real Professor Jan Tomalski would act and what he would say, he went over the exhibition discussing the provenance and the significance of the artwork with Ski, especially the Grabowski Emerald Tiara. The police sergeant showed great interest in everything Raffles told him. Ski was curious to know about the artist, his paintings, and their significance to Polish history. He showed the same keen intent, as he listened to Raffles relate the relate the history of the tiara and its import on Polish history. In return, Raffles found Ski to be clever, cultured, and – oh – so – charming.
Ski seemed to hang on to every word Raffles said about the exhibit. His questions demonstrated a genuine curiosity about history, artwork, and culture. When Raffles asked Ski about himself (feigning unfamiliarity with Ski’s courageous deeds as a USMC officer or as a police hostage negotiator), Ski never mentioned his exploits. Instead, he talked about the men with whom he served – how proud he was to serve alongside and under men who unfortunately never made it back from war or who had worked with him heretofore. Ski also played up the professionalism of the men with whom he now served. Ski was not one to take sole credit for any good deed, but he took full and sole responsibility for when situations turned sour. He sang the praises of Officers Fujita and Johnson – never once deviating from calling them a team. Raffles clearly came to understand what drew Donald Stone to promote Ski. Ski was a chip off Police Commissioner Stone’s block – minus the head cop’s foppish ways – although Raffles loved the cut of Ski’s jib! And as for Ski’s appraisal of Donnie Stone – it was clear Ski hero-worshipped him, considered him a father-figure, and wanted to make him proud.
As he went over the exhibit that afternoon and mulled over the job of stealing the tiara, Raffles thought back on the men he had left bound and gagged in the past few years at the scenes of his crimes. Some were just as comely and charming as Ski! He had had his fun with them – always by mutual consent – and then he left them as his calling cards without a second thought! There was Sergei from the time he lifted the long-thought-lost Picasso from that Russian oligarch’s villa on the Tegernsee in Bavaria. The oligarch had obtained the Picasso from a shady dealer. Raffles restored it to the possession of a family who had been forced to part with it for a price far below its market value, so that they could escape Europe before the war. Sergei – the oligarch’s bodyguard – was – like Ski – a military hero. but – unlike Ski –an insufferable braggart -- especially when it came to his medals and manhood. The Picasso hung over the oligarch’s bed. Raffles simply left Sergei – clad only in his jockstrap – hogtied on the bed in its place. Well, he also left a rather large dildo up Sergei’s tight sphincter muscle and with his precious prizes pinned to his pouched, precious prick!
And there was Bolin Xiao. He was so handsome! As handsome as Ski – but while Ski demonstrated modesty, Bolin Xiao exuded pomposity. Xiao never passed a mirror without checking his reflection in it – so arrogant was he! A corrupt Chinese businessman who traded in stolen gemstones – his associates were surprised to find him pig-tied before an empty safe. And since Xiao believed his load was like sweet nectar from the gods, Raffles left him tasting it from the cum rag he stuffed in his mouth before cleave-gagging Xiao! To boot, Raffles also left a mirrored bowl in the cradle behind Xiao’s bound feet and under his chin, so that Xiao could see his reflection – as the bowl collected his slooge-mixed drool
Raffles could continue to reminisce at great lengths on other men, like Sergei and Xiao, whom he had met and manhandled through his mannapping muggings, but in truth, they were all passing fancies. None had managed to get a handle on him! Working his way through his mixed emotions though – Raffles began to admit to himself there was something different about Ski. Of course, lust played a part. From the moment he laid eyes on Ski that day, Raffles wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes from Ski’s brawny body and bewitch him. Yet, there was more – Raffles was on the hook for the handsome, heroic – yet – still humble – hunk.
Ski was wholly different from the other men Raffles had encountered on his tying-up trysts and gagging gambols. Ski was warm, considerate, playful, and trusting. In the few, short hours they had spent together, Raffles discovered a yearning to never part from Ski. Could it be? The lone wolf he had always thought himself to be, was an illusion? Could Raffles be falling for Ski? Falling in love with him may be the easy part, he thought. Admitting it to himself – that took guts. It scared him because it would mean that he was vulnerable – having to expose himself to someone else. It could bring Raffles great joy, but that love could also bring great pain. Would Ski understand why he did what he did? Somehow -- weighing all those possible joys and sorrows, Raffles had never felt more at peace with another man. He desired to share everything with him – give himself over to this man – entirely. To fulfill that desire of being with Ski, Raffles had to solve the problem at hand. He needed to go through with the theft of the tiara – and, of course, leave his usual cartes de visite – but he resolved to take not only the tiara with him. He’d take Ski along, too!
Raffle’s plan called for him to assemble an hour before the reception with Ski, Ken Fujita, and Noble Johnson in the Main Exhibit Hall wherein the Grabowski Emerald Tiara was the centerpiece of the exhibit. The exhibit would not be unveiled until the Grand Opening of the Exhibit just under an hour into the reception. Of course, Ski, his men, and he – who the others thought was Professor Jan Tomalski – would be inside that Hall too until then. But Raffles had other designs in mind. As the pièce de résistance, the tiara lay at the far end of the hall. Close by and artfully camouflaged by the décor of the exhibit was the utility closet where Raffles had stowed the ropes, duct-tape, and other material he would need to carry off the tiara and to place his calling cards.
To accomplish all this – Raffles needed to take down three, strapping, tough, able-bodied, manly men. He had thought a great deal that afternoon on how to pull that chore off. Raffles decided that his tried-and-true method always worked best for that task. Just as he rolled Police Commissioner Donald Stone the previous Saturday night, Raffles would serve the policemen Mickey Finns. Of course, since they were on duty, he could not serve them potent potables. But Raffles could serve them a non-potent Polish potable – a traditional Compote – a sweet, fruit drink often served on holiday occasions. A good measure of chloral hydrate in the bottle would do the trick –rendering Ski, Ken, and Noble unconscious long enough not only for Raffles to tie them up and gag them, but also time to stage the two officers in place of the tiara and to bundle Ski away.
Close to 4:00 p.m. Thursday Afternoon, The Arts and History Museum
Charlie Gates drove to the Arts and Museum in his Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid with the fellas who were taking the places of his regular waiters Eric, Trey, and Chad for this evening’s reception. The rest of his staff had arrived earlier at the museum to prepare the food that would be on offer that night. Charlie had been with them, but he went back to the business to pick up the three new servers, as well as the last batches of his signature Mini Brats, a specialty that proved quite popular in this western city. Landing the museum’s account and catering the reception for the opening of the exhibit was a big deal for Charlie and his business. Charlie was 57, but he had only taken up the catering business two years ago, after retiring as a Sergeant Major in the USMC. He served more than thirty years in the Corps – and being a US Marine was the highest honor of his lifetime. But his passion was food. Charlie had overseen food services for the Corps in many parts of the world, and he gained a great reputation for improving the quality of the food served to the men and women under his charge. So, after his retirement, Charlie decided to put his passion for food, his organizational skills, and his Marine gung-ho attitude to good use and started a catering business.
He opened Charlie’s Chow in the western city he had come to love when stationed there twenty years before. It turned out – to little surprise – that Charlie was a greet chef and businessman. Through word of mouth, Charlie’s Chow’s catering jobs multiplied. The museum was Charlie’s biggest client yet. He’d like to retain the museum as a regular client, but Charlie had no great desire to expand Charlie’s Chow further. He had been a Marine for the greater part of his adult life, and most of his career in the Corps was spent under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. His sexual experiences with men had been for the most part furtive, and he had never had a boyfriend for any length of time. Charlie did not want the opportunity for a long-term relationship to pass him by. Even in his mid-to-late fifties, Charlie was still quite a catch. He stood 6’ 3” tall and weighed approximately 195 lbs. – all of it pure muscle by keeping in tip-top, Marine Corps shape. With his close-cropped, greying brown hair, blue eyes, and handsome features, people told Charlie that he reminded them of the actor, Ray Stevenson. In sum, Charlie was what they called a PHD – a Pretty Hot Daddy!
Charlie had only just started seeing another man. He was Rex Burke, the football coach at the local university. They met when Charlie called him to praise the work ethic of his players whom Charlie had hired as waiters – Eric, Trey, and Chad. One thing led to another, and Charlie took a chance and asked the Coach for dinner. They had been seeing each other quietly for a few weeks –Coach Burke was still in the closet. This western city – unfortunately – still had certain expectations of its Championship-Winning football coach. Charlie understood, and he was helping Rex get ready to take his step out of the closet. A gay, championship-winning college football coach would be big news in this metropolis – Hell – in all of America for that matter! But for the moment, Charlie was focused on making tonight a championship-winning event. He trusted his staff would play their parts – as if the Championship was on the line. If all went well, Charlie would tell Rex what good waiters the fellow football players, whom Eric, Trey, and Chad had sent to replace themselves, were.
As he approached the museum, Charlie turned to one of those fellows – Stu, Charlie remembered he said that was his name – who was in the front passenger seat next to him. “I’m glad you and your friends could fill in for Eric, Trey, and Chad. It’s just a damn-sight pity that they came down with food poisoning.”
“Yeah – We left them tied up in knots.” Stu responded.
Through the rearview mirror, Charlie noticed the two in the backseat steal glances at each other.
“Yes, sir,” one of them -- Andy, Charlie thought – echoed Stu, “they’re really knotted up.”
“We left the guys all bound up at home.” The third – Ryan – chimed in.
Charlie, tsked and shook his head in sympathy. He concurred with the three men in the van.
“Yes – food poisoning can really leave your stomach bound up in knots,” he said, not once suspecting they meant anything else.
When they arrived at the museum, Charlie became so busy with final preparations, that he never noticed Stu, Andy, and Ryan take the knapsacks they came with and place them under a catering trolley cart, concealed by a tablecloth. They then pushed the cart aside by one of the bars. Afterwards, the three fell in with the other staff and got to work on the final arrangements any waitstaff makes to assure a successful evening will be had by all.
Part Two
Thursday Afternoon: Don’s Loft Downtown
Donald Stone arrived home early Thursday afternoon from police headquarters. Jerry Kennedy, who had been staying with Don since their encounters with Raffles, had arrived shortly after Don. Ever the dandy, Don wanted extra time to get himself and Jerry ready for the reception that evening. Don had taken a shower, and Jerry was now in there – mutually agreeing to get cleaned up separately, so they would not get up to any extracurricular activities and risk running late! So, now was a good time for Don to touch base with his right-hand-man, Sergeant Stanislaus Szymanski. For the past few days, Don had kept his contact with his sergeant to a minimum after briefing him about what had happened to him and Jerry with the blackmailers and assigning Sergeant Szymanski to the museum. He was very concerned about any fallout he or Jerry might experience from the blackmailers – both Raffles and the man who found Don bound, gagged, and exposed, courtesy of Raffles! Don and Sergeant Szymanski had conducted discreet inquiries into the backgrounds of both men. They had discovered a few details about Raffles, but nothing of real substance. He was believed to be Irish in origin. Interpol suspected him of being the mastermind of more than a few jewel heists throughout the world in the past few years. And true to his word to Don – Raffles always left men bound and gagged as the trademark of his jobs.
As for the second blackmailer – Don had not heard from him, but he had discovered much about the man. He was a German businessman by the name of Gerhard Ubel. His business dealings were shady – to say the least. There were a series of shell companies linked to Ubel at the heart of which was an import/export business. Don suspected the business was a front for a sophisticated burglary and smuggling ring, specializing in stolen artwork, jewelry, and other luxury goods. He did not know what Ubel’s next move would be, but Don saw his name on the guest list for the evening’s festivities at the museum. So, he had a pretty good idea of what he might expect from him. Don had already relayed that intel to Sergeant Szymanski. Now, he wanted to check with his deputy to guarantee all went well with security that evening.
As he stood at the island in his kitchen with only a bath towel around his waist, Don picked up his iPhone from the quartz countertop. He keyed the preset and put the phone on speaker mode.
As always, Szymanski answered before the second ring…
“Yo, Chief!” The sergeant saluted Don with his usual brio.
Don took a deep breath before responding.
“Sergeant – How is everything proceeding at the museum?” He asked officiously.
“Everything is secure, Chief! Officers Fujita, Johnson, and I have made sure nothing will disrupt this evening’s festivities. The museum staff already had their own protocols in place with the latest technology. The pieces of the exhibit are well protected. We’ve beefed up the museum’s safeguards. We will always monitor the Canaletto paintings from our center of operations here in the museum and in person. And we’ll keep a sharp eye on the Grabowski gems. Until the unveiling tonight at the reception, no one will be allowed to enter the main room with the tiara and main pieces except for me, my officers, and Professor Jan Tomalski.”
“Professor Jan Tomalski?” Don asked.
“An academic consultant, Chief.” Ski answered.
“Have you vetted him, Sergeant?”
“He checks out, Chief.”
“I trust your judgment, Sergeant.” Don told his deputy. And it was true – he trusted his deputy completely.
“Did you know that Canaletto’s real name was Bernardo Bellotto? He was the nephew of the renowned Canaletto who is most famous for his cityscapes of Venice and London in the mid-eighteenth century.” Ski said to Don. His voice had the eagerness of a man who had just discovered sliced bread.
.
“Yes, I did.” Don said, trying to stay serious.
“Did you also know that he used the camera obscura technique? And that most of the Old Town of Warsaw was destroyed after the Warsaw Uprising in World War II? When it was rebuilt after the war, Canaletto’s paintings served as the models for the reconstruction.”
“Thank you, Sergeant, for that history lesson.” Don declared. His voice betrayed a slight tone of irritation.
“Right, Chief. Sorry – it’s just that Professor Tomalski explained the significance of the paintings to me in the Exhibit. You know my grandparents came from Poland – and well, Chief, this exhibit makes me proud to be Polish. When I was a kid, some older kids teased me about being a “Dumb Polack,” and – you know it motivated me to excel in everything – in school, sports, in the gym. Jan has made me proud all over again –”
“Jan?” Don asked with surprise
“I mean Professor Tomalski. He’s such an expert in Polish history and culture. And he told me to call him by his first name, Chief.”
“I see. Well – Sergeant, I’m glad this assignment has filled you with pride about your heritage. But – please always maintain a professional demeanor.”
“Of course, Chief! Officers Fujita, Johnson, and I are on top of things. We – I – will not let you down.” Ski promised.
“No – I’m sure you and your team will not me down, Sergeant. I have complete trust in you.” Don assured his deputy before asking, “Now –will I see you and your men atthe reception?”
“Not until the Canaletto paintings and Grabowski gems are unveiled to the guests. We will be in the Main Exhibit Hall watching the jewels and artwork until then. We’re going there shortly to meet Professor Tomalski – before changing into more appropriate evening clothes to remain inconspicuous as possible.”
“Good. I will see you at the unveiling. Until then, Sergeant Szymanski.”
“Right-o, Chief”
Don suppressed another groan and ended the call. He walked back to his bedroom.
Jerry, who had just finished showering. He was walking out of the bathroom naked, toweling his crimson hair dry. Don gave him an appreciative smile. Jerry blushed, and it wasn’t just the cheeks of his face that reddened. Ever since Sunday night – apart from work – Don and Jerry were never away from each other. They worked out together at the gym, shopped for groceries together, and when Jerry needed some things from his own apartment, Don went with him. But they spent most of the time at Don’s loft apartment – getting to know each other in ways they never had before. And they were learning the ropes of a newfound relationship with Don in control. And Jerry liked that.
Each night, Don locked Jerry in his arms and legs like he had their first night together – but not before cinching Jerry up. Don was a caring lover and mentor. He wanted to ease Jerry into this unfamiliar territory – so, he took care to remain mindful of Jerry’s experience with Raffles. Don continued to bind Jerry with his silk ties or soft cloth sashes only. And when Don gagged Jerry, he used only his hand- or neck- kerchiefs. But between Sunday and Wednesday night, Don pushed Jerry’s limits just so – knotting those ties and kerchiefs ever so slightly tighter and holding him more securely each time they fell asleep. As Morpheus came to offer sweet dreams to both men, Don told Jerry how much he was falling for him and would never let harm come to him.
Now, as the handsome and well-muscled police commissioner and the equally good-looking and fully fit district attorney gazed at one another, the condensation from the bathroom was not the only thing steaming up the bedroom. Don let his own bath towel fall to his feet, and he took the Jerry’s and dropped it alongside his. He pulled the ginger-haired muscle bear into him. Don took in the aroma of Jerry’s skin – Molton Brown’s Russian Leather gel infused his pores. Don shifted his head to the side, and Jerry bent his head in the opposite direction, as their faces drew closer. Their kisses were tentative and soft on their lips at first, but Don soon squeezed Jerry closer to him, and they began to kiss with greater abandon. The strokes of their lips on each other were filled with passion – yet showed vulnerability all the same.
When their lips parted, the men still clung to each other.
“I’ve fallen completely in love with you, Jerry Kennedy.” Don whispered his confession softly.
Jerry felt the hotness of Don’s breath on him.
“And I with you, Donnie. Never let me go.” Jerry confessed back.
“I never will.” Don promised. He drew his arms down Jerry’s back and grabbed hold of his butt cheeks. He tenderly kneaded that ample arse. Then with his index finger, Don gently pressed into and caressed the crevice of Jerry’s beefy man-buns. Jerry’s skin was still damp there from the shower. Don delved deeper, until he probed around Jerry’s rosebud.
Jerry shuddered and let out a small moan. Don pulled him tighter into him, so Jerry could understand Don was never letting him go. The cocks of the two men hardened between their firm abdominal muscles pressed against each other.
“If we keep this up, Donnie, I won’t be able to hold on longer – we’ll need to take another shower…” Jerry gasped.
“That could be a good thing.” Don murmured with a slight laugh into Jerry’s ear, as he brushed his finger into Jerry’s bud.
“I want you, Donnie, but…” Jerry pleaded with an urgent edge to his voice.
“I want all of you too, Jer…” He paused a moment. “But you’re right. This must wait until later when we get back from the reception.”
Don and Jerry kissed once more, and Don released Jerry from his embrace. He looked down at their hard-ons.
“However – I want to test your limits tonight, Jer, and I want you to remember what awaits you when we return.”
Don walked over to his bureau, opened the top drawer, and took out two, fine silk, red bowties. He walked back over to Jerry dangling the ties in his hands.
“I love you, Jer – and I’m not ever letting you get away from me.” Don affirmed. Then, motioning to the burly DA’s diamond cutter and blue baubles, he continued…
“I want you to know that I’ll keep you safe and secure, Jer. I want you to always feel that safety and security with me – especially tonight where we might face Raffles again.”
Don took one of the ties and began to secure it around Jerry’s scrotum and between each of his testicles. Jerry grew harder, as Don stitched up his sack with the silk fabric of the cravat.
With Don handling his junk, Jerry grew harder and hornier.
“Jeez, Donnie – I might cum…”
“No. You won’t.” Don said sternly.
He took Jerry by the chin. Their eyes locked onto each other.
“You won’t come until I tell you…Understand?” Don instructed him with a firmness that exuded confidence in Jerry’s control over himself.
“Yes,” Jerry answered, before adding a full beat later, “Sir.”
“Good Man.” Don praised him. He then took the second tie and began to loop it tightly around Jerry’s wood and knotted it at the base of his cock amidst his pubic hair. When Don was finished, it looked as if Jerry sported a thick Maypole around which someone had spun brightly red streamers and staked it within a Burning Bush by which lay two brightly wrapped cherry-stones. And atop that Maypole lay a very purple helmet!
“Now, let’s get dressed.”
As each began to dress, Jerry picked up a pair of red, Step One boxer briefs. As he lifted one leg to step into the underwear, Don held up his hand to stop him.
“No…Not tonight – You’re going commando, Jer.”
“But Donnie, I’m hard. How can I keep people from noticing…?”
Don put his index finger to Jerry’s lips.
“You’ll figure it out.” Don scolded him in a very mild manner.
“Yes, Sir.” Jerry assented.
They finished dressing.
As the reception called for evening attire, each man dressed in finely cut, well-tailored black tie. Jerry wore a notched lapel jacket, while Donnie – forever the fop – favored a trendier, narrow shawl collar for his dinner jacket. Don also donned a black golden paisley jacquard cummerbund and finished by tying a matching bowtie around his neck. The studs and cufflinks of his shirt were understated but elegant black onyx set in gold. And – of course – he wore – what else? – opera pumps with a quilted satin lining and grosgrain bowtie buckle.
Jerry had some difficulty clipping his more traditional cummerbund, as he stood before the full-length standing mirror in one corner of Don’s bedroom.
“Let me…” Don offered.
Jerry handed him the simple black cummerbund.
“I never know whether it goes up or down.” Jerry admitted, referring to the pleats of the gentleman’s sash.
“The pleats always go up, so a gentleman can easily store his theatre tickets.” Don explained, as he placed the cummerbund at Jerry’s natural waist and adjusted it tightly. Don noticed the mirror reflection of Jerry’s right trouser leg twitching, as he tied the cummerbund tighter.
“So – I see you dress to the right, Jer.” Don teased.
Jerry blushed, then held his bowtie up.
“I may get excited, but I am completely helpless.” Jerry fessed up.
“All the better for me to keep a tight rein on you.” Don ribbed him once more, before he took the tie from Jerry.
As he pressed close to Jerry from behind to tie his bowtie, Jerry felt Don’s own erection push against his muscular hindquarters.
Don detected his lover’s surprised look in the mirror’s reflection.
“I wouldn’t ever let you go commando solo, buddy.” Donnie explained, as he knotted the bowtie strongly around Jerry’s neck.
Jerry never felt more secure and in love than in that moment. And neither did Don.
Just before putting their dinner jackets on, Don gave Jerry a last inspection. Jerry’s fitted shirt accented his best features – his broad shoulders and brawny chest tapered down to a sturdy but firm waist. The cummerbund accentuated the V-shape of the DA’s torso. The fitted and well-tailored trousers stressed his well-formed legs – especially his meaty buttocks and beefy thighs. And due to his wrapped willy underneath those trousers, one’s attention drifted to his very bountiful – and now artfully bound – basket.
Finally, Don helped Jerry into his dinner jacket, and Jerry returned the favor. After each checked for his wallet, iPhone, and keys, the sharply dressed men left the loft apartment and descended to find their Uber ride awaiting them on the street below, where it would take them to a night to remember.
The Arts and History Museum, Thursday Afternoon
Raffles had never experienced this array of emotions before any of his heists or abductions that coursed through him that day at the Arts and History Museum. Those feelings surprised him a great deal, and he was at a loss to explain it. He spent the afternoon going around the exhibit with Sergeant Stanislaus Szymanski – Ski, as he wanted Raffles to call him – and as Ski it was that Raffles came to like calling the dashing detective. Raffles knew the pieces of the display well – he had done his homework – and as he imagined how the real Professor Jan Tomalski would act and what he would say, he went over the exhibition discussing the provenance and the significance of the artwork with Ski, especially the Grabowski Emerald Tiara. The police sergeant showed great interest in everything Raffles told him. Ski was curious to know about the artist, his paintings, and their significance to Polish history. He showed the same keen intent, as he listened to Raffles relate the relate the history of the tiara and its import on Polish history. In return, Raffles found Ski to be clever, cultured, and – oh – so – charming.
Ski seemed to hang on to every word Raffles said about the exhibit. His questions demonstrated a genuine curiosity about history, artwork, and culture. When Raffles asked Ski about himself (feigning unfamiliarity with Ski’s courageous deeds as a USMC officer or as a police hostage negotiator), Ski never mentioned his exploits. Instead, he talked about the men with whom he served – how proud he was to serve alongside and under men who unfortunately never made it back from war or who had worked with him heretofore. Ski also played up the professionalism of the men with whom he now served. Ski was not one to take sole credit for any good deed, but he took full and sole responsibility for when situations turned sour. He sang the praises of Officers Fujita and Johnson – never once deviating from calling them a team. Raffles clearly came to understand what drew Donald Stone to promote Ski. Ski was a chip off Police Commissioner Stone’s block – minus the head cop’s foppish ways – although Raffles loved the cut of Ski’s jib! And as for Ski’s appraisal of Donnie Stone – it was clear Ski hero-worshipped him, considered him a father-figure, and wanted to make him proud.
As he went over the exhibit that afternoon and mulled over the job of stealing the tiara, Raffles thought back on the men he had left bound and gagged in the past few years at the scenes of his crimes. Some were just as comely and charming as Ski! He had had his fun with them – always by mutual consent – and then he left them as his calling cards without a second thought! There was Sergei from the time he lifted the long-thought-lost Picasso from that Russian oligarch’s villa on the Tegernsee in Bavaria. The oligarch had obtained the Picasso from a shady dealer. Raffles restored it to the possession of a family who had been forced to part with it for a price far below its market value, so that they could escape Europe before the war. Sergei – the oligarch’s bodyguard – was – like Ski – a military hero. but – unlike Ski –an insufferable braggart -- especially when it came to his medals and manhood. The Picasso hung over the oligarch’s bed. Raffles simply left Sergei – clad only in his jockstrap – hogtied on the bed in its place. Well, he also left a rather large dildo up Sergei’s tight sphincter muscle and with his precious prizes pinned to his pouched, precious prick!
And there was Bolin Xiao. He was so handsome! As handsome as Ski – but while Ski demonstrated modesty, Bolin Xiao exuded pomposity. Xiao never passed a mirror without checking his reflection in it – so arrogant was he! A corrupt Chinese businessman who traded in stolen gemstones – his associates were surprised to find him pig-tied before an empty safe. And since Xiao believed his load was like sweet nectar from the gods, Raffles left him tasting it from the cum rag he stuffed in his mouth before cleave-gagging Xiao! To boot, Raffles also left a mirrored bowl in the cradle behind Xiao’s bound feet and under his chin, so that Xiao could see his reflection – as the bowl collected his slooge-mixed drool
Raffles could continue to reminisce at great lengths on other men, like Sergei and Xiao, whom he had met and manhandled through his mannapping muggings, but in truth, they were all passing fancies. None had managed to get a handle on him! Working his way through his mixed emotions though – Raffles began to admit to himself there was something different about Ski. Of course, lust played a part. From the moment he laid eyes on Ski that day, Raffles wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes from Ski’s brawny body and bewitch him. Yet, there was more – Raffles was on the hook for the handsome, heroic – yet – still humble – hunk.
Ski was wholly different from the other men Raffles had encountered on his tying-up trysts and gagging gambols. Ski was warm, considerate, playful, and trusting. In the few, short hours they had spent together, Raffles discovered a yearning to never part from Ski. Could it be? The lone wolf he had always thought himself to be, was an illusion? Could Raffles be falling for Ski? Falling in love with him may be the easy part, he thought. Admitting it to himself – that took guts. It scared him because it would mean that he was vulnerable – having to expose himself to someone else. It could bring Raffles great joy, but that love could also bring great pain. Would Ski understand why he did what he did? Somehow -- weighing all those possible joys and sorrows, Raffles had never felt more at peace with another man. He desired to share everything with him – give himself over to this man – entirely. To fulfill that desire of being with Ski, Raffles had to solve the problem at hand. He needed to go through with the theft of the tiara – and, of course, leave his usual cartes de visite – but he resolved to take not only the tiara with him. He’d take Ski along, too!
Raffle’s plan called for him to assemble an hour before the reception with Ski, Ken Fujita, and Noble Johnson in the Main Exhibit Hall wherein the Grabowski Emerald Tiara was the centerpiece of the exhibit. The exhibit would not be unveiled until the Grand Opening of the Exhibit just under an hour into the reception. Of course, Ski, his men, and he – who the others thought was Professor Jan Tomalski – would be inside that Hall too until then. But Raffles had other designs in mind. As the pièce de résistance, the tiara lay at the far end of the hall. Close by and artfully camouflaged by the décor of the exhibit was the utility closet where Raffles had stowed the ropes, duct-tape, and other material he would need to carry off the tiara and to place his calling cards.
To accomplish all this – Raffles needed to take down three, strapping, tough, able-bodied, manly men. He had thought a great deal that afternoon on how to pull that chore off. Raffles decided that his tried-and-true method always worked best for that task. Just as he rolled Police Commissioner Donald Stone the previous Saturday night, Raffles would serve the policemen Mickey Finns. Of course, since they were on duty, he could not serve them potent potables. But Raffles could serve them a non-potent Polish potable – a traditional Compote – a sweet, fruit drink often served on holiday occasions. A good measure of chloral hydrate in the bottle would do the trick –rendering Ski, Ken, and Noble unconscious long enough not only for Raffles to tie them up and gag them, but also time to stage the two officers in place of the tiara and to bundle Ski away.
Close to 4:00 p.m. Thursday Afternoon, The Arts and History Museum
Charlie Gates drove to the Arts and Museum in his Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid with the fellas who were taking the places of his regular waiters Eric, Trey, and Chad for this evening’s reception. The rest of his staff had arrived earlier at the museum to prepare the food that would be on offer that night. Charlie had been with them, but he went back to the business to pick up the three new servers, as well as the last batches of his signature Mini Brats, a specialty that proved quite popular in this western city. Landing the museum’s account and catering the reception for the opening of the exhibit was a big deal for Charlie and his business. Charlie was 57, but he had only taken up the catering business two years ago, after retiring as a Sergeant Major in the USMC. He served more than thirty years in the Corps – and being a US Marine was the highest honor of his lifetime. But his passion was food. Charlie had overseen food services for the Corps in many parts of the world, and he gained a great reputation for improving the quality of the food served to the men and women under his charge. So, after his retirement, Charlie decided to put his passion for food, his organizational skills, and his Marine gung-ho attitude to good use and started a catering business.
He opened Charlie’s Chow in the western city he had come to love when stationed there twenty years before. It turned out – to little surprise – that Charlie was a greet chef and businessman. Through word of mouth, Charlie’s Chow’s catering jobs multiplied. The museum was Charlie’s biggest client yet. He’d like to retain the museum as a regular client, but Charlie had no great desire to expand Charlie’s Chow further. He had been a Marine for the greater part of his adult life, and most of his career in the Corps was spent under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. His sexual experiences with men had been for the most part furtive, and he had never had a boyfriend for any length of time. Charlie did not want the opportunity for a long-term relationship to pass him by. Even in his mid-to-late fifties, Charlie was still quite a catch. He stood 6’ 3” tall and weighed approximately 195 lbs. – all of it pure muscle by keeping in tip-top, Marine Corps shape. With his close-cropped, greying brown hair, blue eyes, and handsome features, people told Charlie that he reminded them of the actor, Ray Stevenson. In sum, Charlie was what they called a PHD – a Pretty Hot Daddy!
Charlie had only just started seeing another man. He was Rex Burke, the football coach at the local university. They met when Charlie called him to praise the work ethic of his players whom Charlie had hired as waiters – Eric, Trey, and Chad. One thing led to another, and Charlie took a chance and asked the Coach for dinner. They had been seeing each other quietly for a few weeks –Coach Burke was still in the closet. This western city – unfortunately – still had certain expectations of its Championship-Winning football coach. Charlie understood, and he was helping Rex get ready to take his step out of the closet. A gay, championship-winning college football coach would be big news in this metropolis – Hell – in all of America for that matter! But for the moment, Charlie was focused on making tonight a championship-winning event. He trusted his staff would play their parts – as if the Championship was on the line. If all went well, Charlie would tell Rex what good waiters the fellow football players, whom Eric, Trey, and Chad had sent to replace themselves, were.
As he approached the museum, Charlie turned to one of those fellows – Stu, Charlie remembered he said that was his name – who was in the front passenger seat next to him. “I’m glad you and your friends could fill in for Eric, Trey, and Chad. It’s just a damn-sight pity that they came down with food poisoning.”
“Yeah – We left them tied up in knots.” Stu responded.
Through the rearview mirror, Charlie noticed the two in the backseat steal glances at each other.
“Yes, sir,” one of them -- Andy, Charlie thought – echoed Stu, “they’re really knotted up.”
“We left the guys all bound up at home.” The third – Ryan – chimed in.
Charlie, tsked and shook his head in sympathy. He concurred with the three men in the van.
“Yes – food poisoning can really leave your stomach bound up in knots,” he said, not once suspecting they meant anything else.
When they arrived at the museum, Charlie became so busy with final preparations, that he never noticed Stu, Andy, and Ryan take the knapsacks they came with and place them under a catering trolley cart, concealed by a tablecloth. They then pushed the cart aside by one of the bars. Afterwards, the three fell in with the other staff and got to work on the final arrangements any waitstaff makes to assure a successful evening will be had by all.