Loren Ch. 02

*

Mac left Liebacker's apartment and went back to Blunt's place. The coroner was gone and other then a tape outline of the body the place looked calm with no tale tail signs of the gruesome murder that had taken place hours earlier. After being in Liebacker's place for the two hours he was there, Blunt's place didn't feel so big or as ornate as it did before.

Unlike Liebacker's place Loren had a small cabinet that acted as his bar. Walking over to the bar Mac grabbed the bottle of scotch that was sitting out, broke the seal and pour a three finger slug into one of lead crystal glasses. It wasn't until the scotched burned down his throat that he realized it was the worst tasting scotch his inexperienced pallet had ever had. He picked up the bottle and looked at it noting that it was a cheap inferior brand that someone like Loren Blunt would never have purchased. Bending down he opened the liquor cabinet and perused the bottles, all of them were top shelf of the highest quality. Mac took out his notebook and made an entry about the scotch.

Grabbing one of the better bottles of scotch and the glass Mac walked into the living room taking a seat in a chair that afforded him a direct view of Loren's portrait. He poured another three fingers and raised the glass.

"To you." He toasted slugging the shot back which went down a lot smoother than the last one. "So tell me something Mr. Blunt, why would anyone want to kill someone as fine-looking as you? What could you have done to piss someone off so badly they would kill you in such a horrendous manner?"

Loren's ice blue eyes just stared down at him. Pouring himself another shot he toasted the portrait again and shot it back. The scotch was doing the job, letting his inhibitions down enough to admit that he wouldn't mind being with someone like Loren Blunt.

Sighing he stood and walked into the bedroom. It was another large room with masculine touches all around. The oversize dark mahogany four poster king size bed dominated the room. The bed had been turned down and even had the appearance that someone had slept in it. The pillows were no longer fluffed and weren't lined up with each other. There were definite signs of sexual activity on the dark sheets that were wrinkled leading Mac to believe that Mr. Blunt had most likely had sex prior to his murder – but with whom?

Mac walked over to the nightstand closest to the door and opened the top drawer. Inside he found a half used tube of K-Y lubricant and two small lengths of rope. Apparently Mr. Blunt either liked to be tied or liked to tie his men to the bed posts. He closed the drawer and walked over to the combination dressing room and closest.

Stepping into the room he flipped on the light. Mac shook his head at the decadence that someone could have so many clothes. The room itself was larger than Mac bedroom and had clothes hanging on expensive hangers on every wall of the closest. The clothes were divided, he figured, into work clothes, casual wear and night time/dress suits and tuxedos. A double breasted black tuxedo hung on a hook facing him. Either Mr. Blunt had attended a formal affair recently or had one in the future. Mac loved the cut of the modern tuxedo and allowed himself a stolen moment to imagine what it would be like to be decked out in something as fine as the one he was starring at. 'In your dreams' he sighed and moved on. There was one whole section that was just filled with shoes, over a hundred pairs in every shape and style and every pair was pristinely shined and well taken care of. Down the center of the room were three low standing three drawer dressers. One held just underwear and the finest linen handkerchiefs he had ever seen each monogrammed with LBC, the next just socks and T-shirts. In the third one the top drawer was a divided jewelry drawer that held two dozen watches all of different styles, various rings and dozens of pairs of cuff links and tie tacks. The bottom two drawers were empty. Room for growth? Or maybe for someone to move in.

Mac walked over to the row of suits that were hanging across the far wall of the room. They didn't have the conventional off the rack labels sewn into them letting him know that Loren had his clothes tailor made. Each suit was subtly different, in fabric, color or cut. Thumbing his way down the line of suits his fingers froze on the last suit hanging in the line stopping Mac dead in his tracks. It was an off the rack suit and quite cheaply made. The type of suit that definitely did not belong in Loren Blunt's closest. Could it have been Shelby Cantrell's suit? Mac ruled that out knowing full well, after the things that Liebacker had told him about Shelby that he too had his suits tailor made – even if men like Loren Blunt had to pay for them.

Now he had two mysteries to solve. Why the inferior brand of scotch and now a cheap suit in Loren Blunt apartment? Was it the man he was entertaining? If so how did he leave without his clothes?

Mac continued his journey through Loren's apartment heading into the master bathroom. The room had every amenity Mac's didn't – from a sunken bathtub built for two (or three) to a walk in shower that could hold more than two people as well. It appeared that Loren Blunt didn't care to do anything alone. On the oversize counter there were upscale products for shaving, cleaning your face and brushing your teeth. Like everything in the apartment it was all high end. But Mac didn't expect anything less.

Turning Mac rested his backside against the bathroom sink and looked through the closest into the Master bedroom. Something appeared off. The width of the Master bedroom and bathroom didn't match the width of the closest and since the bedroom didn't back up to another apartment there was either some dead space...or...another room. Mac went back to the closest and walked the wall that would have originally been on the street view. He ran his hand along the wall until he came across a small hook tucked into the corner. He flipped the hook and a door size panel of the wall opened towards him.

Mac walked around to the doorway and looked into the dark room. He took a step forward and felt along the wall until his fingers found the light switch and he flicked it on. In stunned silence Mac moved into the hidden room and after taking a deep breath looked around.

Mac was standing in a room the size of the closet that was a completely decked out dungeon. Loren Blunt had a kinky side to him...and that only made Mac smile. They were two birds of a feather!

As intrusive as he felt Mac couldn't help himself he had to look and touch everything in the room. He especially liked the X-style cross on the wall that had leather cuffs attached to each end and wondered if Loren cuffed his prey or was cuffed in. It didn't matter to Mac. He loved being tied up and tying his partner up – although it had been a long time and what seemed like a lifetime ago since he had been in a dungeon...

************

Mac's Story – Part I

I was the first of four boys born to the second generation of an Irish Catholic family that had long ago settled in the Bronx. Every male since my grandfather had been beat cops protecting their beloved streets of New York. The McParson clan of cops was as famous in the Bronx as the Rockefellers were in Manhattan – only without the riches.

I did have every intention of being a cop...I just didn't want the same life my grandfather and father had. I had aspirations of being a homicide detective, which thankfully my family wholeheartedly supported. As my grandfather put it I was adding a new element to our family history.

Following our family tradition I joined the army as soon as I graduated high school, did my four years and a week after I was out entered the police academy. The only custom I hadn't fulfilled was having a woman by my side with children at her breasts.

The problem was I had done the dating women thing all through high school and the army but was never able to sustain a relationship more than a few weeks and could never imagine myself spending a 'lifetime' with any of them. Much to the dismay of my family I didn't think marriage was on the horizon for me at any point in my life.

I knew that I had always had an attraction to men. It wasn't until I was in the police academy that I allowed myself to come to terms with it. I was raised in a sheltered existence where homosexuality didn't exist and was never discussed other than the few times my father would recount stories of undercover cops busting 'pansies', as he called them, for soliciting. In 1936 men didn't openly admit their attraction to other men forcing me to keep whatever urges I had deep within me.

At the police academy my favorite time of the day was the late afternoon when all of the cadets would hit the showers and I got to see all their cocks swinging out in all their glory. I loved how open we all were about showing ourselves and it never matter if some of us walked around sporting a straight out woody. After my years in the army I had learned to tame my cock so I wasn't always hard, but there were a few guys that seemed to love showing themselves off to the point of stroking their cocks letting everyone see them play with themselves. After a cool forty minutes of watching these hot men strutting around naked I'd normally rush home and in the sanctity of my bedroom I'd masturbate to my favorite fantasy - me on my knees with all of those beefy cadets lined up in the shower waiting their turn for me to sucking each one of their sweet cocks until they came in my mouth. But they were only fantasies and I doubted seriously I would ever act on them.

Two years later I graduated with honors and was lucky enough to have my pick of where to start my career as a police officer. I knew that my desire to become a homicide detective was going to be a long road. I would have to bide my time as a beat cop before that could happen. In New York the average time it took for a street cop to become a detective was a minimum of seven years, but was more like ten years. I didn't have the patience to wait that long so when I got a unique offer from the City of New Orleans to train directly as homicide detective I jumped at the opportunity. I signed a five year contract with them, kissed my family good bye and started a new life in the Deep South.

*

New Orleans was a world away from New York. Putting aside the similarities of it being the melting pot of the south, like New York was for the north the city itself was so very different. On the one hand it was a segregated city with the whites living in certain wards, the blacks in others, the French still in others but then in certain parts of the city, like the French Quarter everyone came together and skin color, ethnicity and even sexual preferences simply didn't matter. New York was going through a 'Victorian phase' since prohibition had been repealed. New Orleans had a European flare to itself where people just seemed to go with the flow of things. There was always something for everyone in New Orleans.

There was even something for me.

I spent my first few months getting my bearings and used to the 'southern' way of life. I was assigned to a senior detective by the name of Samuel Worthington - 'Mule' to his friends. He had been a homicide detective for over thirty years and could tell just by looking at a dead body how the person died, when they died and most times who killed them. He spoke with a strong Cajun accent, that I had to train my brain to understand, but his closure rate was the highest of any of the other detectives and the city.

Samuel was born and raised, and as he put it – would die in New Orleans. As far as he was concerned there was nothing worth seeing or doing outside the city limits. His goal was to not only make me the best homicide detective the city had ever known but to make sure that I fell in love with the city enough to stay there after my five years were up. I would just smile and say "We'll see" knowing full well that the only objective I had was to get my five years behind me and go back home again. Like Samuel's heart was a part of New Orleans, mine was all New York's.

*

I had been to French Quarter on cases with Samuel but had not ventured there on my own until I finally decided it was time four months after I had been there. Samuel and I had closed a big case the day before and he granted me the privilege of having a full two days off, a Saturday and Sunday which was unheard of for a rookie like me.

It was an unusually mild September Saturday with the noxious southern humidity at bay as I sat at the outdoor café in the heart of the French quarter. I had just finished a late lunch and was taking a short pause before continuing my walking tour or the area. It was in between lunch and dinner service and the café was mostly empty. Other than myself there were only two other of the ten tables occupied so no one was complaining that I was daydreaming a bit after my meal.

"May I join you?" Torn from my contemplations I looked up into a set of deep brown eyes staring down at me.

"Um...sure...I guess." I said. "I've already eaten though." My strong New York accent deterred me from being comfortable talking to people in the south. I had had my shares of dirty looks and under-breath muttered 'damned Yankee' too many times in my short four months in the south.

"That's okay." He sat down and looked at me. "My name's William. I couldn't help but notice you sitting by yourself, looking so lonely, I'd thought maybe I'd keep you company for a little while."

Being just a little slow on the uptake it took me a minute to realize he was trying to pick me up.

"Now you are wondering why I picked you." He said after I didn't speak for a long time. "I was eating lunch inside the restaurant and saw you sit down. I've been watching you for the past the hour and have noticed that you only look at men as they walk by and have never once given a woman a second look. I even enjoyed when you gave a particularly long gaze to a big muscular black man that walked by. I almost imagined that you had to wipe the drool from your lips."

I know I turned red and for some reason was still mute unable to fathom what I could say to salvage what little bit of dignity I had left. I took a quick second to look at William. He was older than I was, most likely in his mid to late thirties. He wasn't a bad looking man, I wouldn't say that he was stunningly handsome but he did have a raw sex appeal about him. Even more than that, he was tall and his body was fit the two of the things that attracted me to men.

"Shall I leave you alone?" He asked a moment later when I still hadn't spoken.

"I...I'm sorry, you just took me by surprise." I said meekly.

"That's fine. As I said, my name is William...last name Spencer. I'm a reporter at the Times...and you are?"

"Mark...Mark McParson..." I extended my hand to his and we shook. He had a firm grasp but held onto my hand just a moment longer than most men would deem acceptable.

"You wouldn't be the Mark "Mac" McParson the wonder cop that just captured the Canal Street serial killer?" My red face gave me away and for a moment I thought about ending this awkward meeting. The one thing I could never chance was anyone on the police force finding out where my tendencies might lie.

"WOW! I'm honored to meet you." He said enthusiastically.

"It really wasn't me that solved it, Samuel Worthington, my partner, did most of the work. He just wanted to propel me into the limelight."

"Mule's a good guy. I've known him for many years and he's never propelled any of his partners into the limelight – as you so eloquently put it...he's a news whore and loves to see his name in print, so either you are sucking his cock or you did the work." William was so direct I didn't know how to react. "I shocked you? Hang around me long enough and you will get to know that I am a man that only speaks the truth. So...are you sucking his cock?"

"Are you writing a story?" I asked giving him one of my no nonsense looks.

"Not at all Mr. McParson, I'm just trying to figure out if I'm wasting my time or if I should continue my more than obvious seduction of you."

"Why not slow down the two things Mr. Spencer. Don't look at it as a waste of time and back off a little on the seduction bit. Unless you were specifically hanging out in this café with the only thought on your mind to pick someone up today I would say that maybe you don't have as many friends as you would like, because you obviously were eating alone, so I say let's take a walk and you can show me around the city and see how things play out."

"I like intelligent astute men Mr. McParson..."

"Mac" I said interrupting him.

"Mac. What a masculine nickname. I hate being called Bill or Billy and especially Willy, so I let my friends call me Spenc...and I would like you to be a friend." He gave me a sly wink and a genuine smile. "Fine, backing off...let's walk and you can tell me all about yourself and what brought you to our fair city."

*

We walked for a few hours, talking more than looking. The daylight melded into dusk and then darkness and I was shocked when I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearly eight in the evening.

"Do you need to leave?" Spenc asked.

"No, I was just surprised how quickly the time has passed."

"Good company will do that...would you like to get a drink? I belong to a private club that is somewhat close to here. We could go there and relax, have a few drinks, maybe a late supper." For some reason I hesitated and Spenc picked up on it immediately. "Don't worry Mac, the people that are members of this club are all professional and all discrete. We know how to keep our dirty little secrets and respect everyone's privacy."

"I've never done anything like this before." I blurted out. Spenc stopped dead in his tracks his mouth gaped open.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"I've never been with a man before." I said in a low voice that was almost a whisper.

"But you have a desire?"

I shrugged. "I have fantasized about it. I love being around men and seeing them naked. I've just never done anything about it." Spenc moved our conversation around the crowds of people that were pouring into the French Quarter to a deserted alleyway. "It's one thing to think about it but an entirely different thing to act on it. I'm a cop, I come from a family of cops...I could never face anyone again if they knew." I had never worn my overwhelming fear of being found out so openly before and the thought of it was sending me into a panic.

"Mac...Mark, you listen to me. You are an adult and what you do in your private life is your own business. Don't you think that at one time or another we all faced this crossroad. Some of us earlier than others because it's simply a part of who we are. Other people, like you, take more time." He was leaning against the wall staring down the alley in an effort to protect the conversation we were having. "I was in college when I chose to let my life play out the way it has. I was lucky that the man that took my hand helped me to understand the feelings I was experiencing were normal and not 'sick' as so many people have labeled homosexuals."

I was quiet for a long time letting his words sink in. I was torn on so many levels. Deep inside I knew that one of the reasons I was in New Orleans, not just the job opportunity I was given, was to distance myself from New York, and my family, but to try to figure things out. Now that the reality was here what was my life going to be like? Could I ever go back home again? I felt like I would be living a lie and I wasn't sure that I could do that.

I looked at Spenc. He was being so patient with me and I become conscious for the first time that this wasn't just a simple pick up and seduction on his part. "You didn't just happen to see me at the café today did you?"