Dirty Little Secret Ch. 05

We showered and shaved and decided we were hungry.

Tim was happy, and seemed to be floating on clouds on our way to the restaurant. I was not-I constantly looked around and suspiciously searched the faces of everyone we saw. I was convinced Hansen knew where we were, and at any moment, his goons would swoop-in on us and spirit us away to some unknown location and we would never be seen or heard from again.

I usually enjoy breakfast but that was not the case today. I scarfed-down my food in record time. Tim tried to make small talk, but I was sullen and silent; my eyes darting around the restaurant.

On our walk back to the room Tim said, "John, you're freaking me out-why don't we order room service the rest of the time we're here?"

Once we were safely in our room behind a locked and bolted door I exhaled, took Timmy in my arms; we hugged.

"I—I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "I don't know what's gotten into me...we don't need room service-I'll be fine!"

But when it came time for lunch, I suggested room service and Tim smiled and said, "That's good with me."

We never left the room the remainder of our stay.

The room quickly became hot and stuffy-there was something wrong with the thermostat. Instead of calling the front desk for someone to look at it, Tim and I stripped-down to our string, bikini briefs and would work like that for the next two-days.

Once again, I had difficulty concentrating on the task at hand. All those handjobs, blowjobs and cute boys getting fucked by hard cocks took their inevitable toll on my libido.

My balls ached for release while my hard-on threatened to burst thru my briefs and spray spunk everywhere. The front of my briefs was saturated with my excitement. I knew Tim was aware of my constant shifting about on the chair.

"Are you okay over there?" he asked me from time-to-time.

"Oh yeah—oh yeah," I'd say, "...everything is fine!"

I was embarrassed by my complete lack of self-control. I was not supposed to get excited watching these disturbing videos.

About two-hours into our work, I sensed Timmy standing beside me. He was staring at my discomfort. My briefs were powder blue and soaked with my pre-cum. He leaned down, pulled my hardness into the open, and took it in his mouth.

I weakly protested but didn't fight him. In short order, I exploded in his mouth; the tension was gone, I could concentrate on the work. I thanked him, he simply said, "Not necessary..."

Over the course of the next ten-hours, he performed this service for me three more times.

Each time he would say, "We can't have our chief investigator uncomfortable, can we?"

That night in bed it was my turn to thank him-twice! My sucking was slow and deliberate. I made sure his hips were gyrating, and his body squirming about the mattress before I allowed him to discharge into my mouth.

Before that weekend, Tim and I had been friends due to our work, and our situations with Hansen. Since then, we have become confidants and very close friends. We have each other's total and complete trust, and more importantly, we admire and respect one another.

We had made little, if any progress finding evidence against Hansen. The evil bastard had been extremely careful to edit his voice and face out of the videos, and only have his short, fat prick included.

I had moved-on to the dvd's and at first, I didn't think I'd find anything incriminating on them either, but then I saw other men involved with the boys; men who looked familiar to me, but didn't personally know.

At one point I called Tim over and asked if he knew the man in the video I was watching.

I watched his eyes grow big as saucers then he exclaimed, "OH MY GOD-that's Brian, he was a Teacher's Aide in my freshman Trig class!"

I was momentarily confused. The man I was staring at had to be at least fifty-years-old.

"NO—NO..." Tim said excitedly. "Not the man-the boy is Brian, and that's exactly the way he looked when he was our TA!!"

We looked at the date and time stamp on the video...sure enough, they coincided with Tim's freshman year.

I stared hard at the man who Brian was servicing. Goose-pimples broke-out on my flesh.

"GOOD GRIEF," I exclaimed. "I know that man! At least I know who he is..."

I opened a new window on my laptop and connected to the internet. I Googled "Furness Industries" and sure enough, up popped a photo of Bruce Furness, the founder and CEO...it was the same man as in the video!

We read a short bio of him: "Devout family man, and deeply religious, Mr. Furness built his company through hard work, skill and sheer determination."

"What is going on here?" Tim asked in a hushed tone. "Why would Hansen have such a damning video of someone like Furness?"

"I don't know..." I answered, "...but I think we just stumbled onto something important!"

The very next video I scanned gave me an "OH WOW!" moment. There was a different, college-age boy with a man I had once met in Hansen's office-Ed Flanders.

Flanders owns one of the biggest and most prestigious real estate companies in town. It gave me an idea.

"Tim, are there any files that describe Hansen's real estate holdings? We know he owns at least two houses, does he own anything else?"

When the dominoes began to fall, they fell hard and fast.

I helped Tim scour thru Hansen's finances, and well, we were blown-away to say the least. The man owned four houses, and other properties, as well. Tim studied Hansen's financial statements and discovered several hidden bank accounts.

The evil bastard was accumulating impressive amounts of money; too much money for a man whose sole job in life had been working his way up the ranks at a state university!

Tim followed the money while I fixated on the videos. They no longer excited me; sexually, that is. They were extremely exciting because faces I recognized kept appearing on the screen-Men who either owned, or were CEO's of some of the most profitable companies in town.

I became nervous for other reasons now. Was Hansen blackmailing all these men? If he was, and they were allowing it to happen, what could we possibly do to end his blackmail of three 'nobodies' like Jeffrey, Tim and myself?

"JOHNNY, LOOK AT THIS-I FOUND A LIST-COME AND LOOK AT THIS!!" Tim's loud announcement startled me.

I hurried to where Tim was scrolling thru several screens of what appeared to be Hansen's account receivables.

I stared in awe at meticulous monthly income statements that showed Hansen receiving $2,000-a-month from five different companies or individuals. Hanson used initials instead of names, but before our very eyes were proof the evil bastard was indeed receiving monthly blackmail money.

We saw five separate initials each paying Hansen $2,000-a-month!

On top of Hansen's $7,500-a-month salary at the university, he was also getting $10,000-a-month in blackmail monies.

We stared hard at the initials...they were not the initials of the men I had identified in the videos.

FII...FRI...SMI...ADW...TSC...

A bell went-off in my head and I blurted-out: "FII-Furness Industries Incorporated!"

Almost immediately Tim shouted: "FRP-Flanders Realty Partners!"

My turn again: "SMI-Sanderson Manufacturing Incorporated!"

Then Tim: "ADW-Anderson Doors & Windows!"

We were both stuck on 'TSC'.

"No matter," I said, "...I have a few more videos to go thru-we'll find out who TSC is!"

We took a break and ordered room service: Rib-eyes, baked potatoes and salads.

It began as a victory meal, a celebration...we spoke excitedly back-and-forth, postulating as to the connection these men could possibly have to Hansen. These men were important business leaders-Hansen was scum.

How on earth did Hansen target these men? These men not only were businessmen, but community leaders, as well. They all belonged to various civic organizations, and charities.

"You know," Tim said. "Big shots like these guys all seem to sit on the Board of Directors for a lot of the same organizations!"

Alarm bells went off in my head. I felt the blood drain from my face. "OH NO," I exclaimed. "IT CAN'T BE..."

I rushed to my laptop and pounded on the keys.

"What is it?" asked Tim. "You look like you've seen a ghost-Johnny, what's going on?"

"Oh my God...I know what 'TSC' stands-for-this is bad, Tim, very, very bad!"

I found the photograph, stared at it for two-seconds then buried my face in my hands.

Tim stood behind me. He read the bold title above the photo aloud: "'The Family Wellness Council'...isn't that the group fighting so hard against gay rights and same-sex marriage?" he asked innocently.

I heard him gasp and suck in his breath. He hesitated before he spoke.

Finally, he softly asked me: "Johnny, the man sitting between Flanders and Sanderson...isn't that your dad?"

Then he spoke again. He was reading from the caption below the photo "...Ed Flanders, founder and owner of Flanders Realty Partners, Frederick Michaels, founder and owner of Tri-State Construction...OH...MY...GOD!!"

I quickly brought up the construction company website. A year ago, I had redesigned the site, leaving a backdoor entrance to private company information that only I could access, including the financials. I thought it may come in handy one day. Little did I know...

I searched the expense ledger for the past year. "Oh God..." I groaned.

Every month contained an entry that read simply: "Marketing/Entertainment - $2,000."

Unable to speak, I sat in mind-numbing silence staring at the numbers. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

There were five videos remaining I hadn't watched. I now knew what I'd see on those videos and I was sick to my stomach. A voice in my head said "Maybe you're wrong, John-maybe you won't see him." But deep down, I knew that was just wishful thinking.

My eyes were glazed-over; my hands trembled as I inserted the first video and began watching.

So far so good, I told myself. He's not here...

I fast-forwarded and scanned the faces. Nope-not yet. I began to breathe easier. I finished the video and felt some of the tension drain from my body. I inserted another video.

Mid-way thru the second video my brain froze; I couldn't talk or think. I slowed it down to normal speed. Looked at the participants on the screen; rewound it then watched again.

I began muttering, "This can't be-this can't be-this can't be..."

I was staring at my own father sitting naked on the edge of a bed. Someone was kneeling between his legs; a boy or young man, I couldn't see his face; he had my father's cock in his mouth. My father was smiling and whispering words of encouragement to the boy.

My mind screamed: OH—MY—GOD—my father has a dirty little secret of his own!!

It was horrible but I couldn't look away. I fast-forwarded the video to the point I saw my father's body begin to shake and buck wildly on the bed; his eyes closed and his cries of joy assaulting my ears. I could actually hear the boy gulping-down my father's cum.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry...I thought of my father's tirades against queers and faggots; his life-long obsession with 'abnormal deviants.'

This is incredible-simply unbelievable! I thought.

Then came the worst part-he wasn't done yet. He stood and his cock was still pointing straight-out from his pot-belly.

He helped the boy to his feet, faced him towards the bed, then pushed the boy over until his head and shoulders were resting on the mattress and his ass was in line with my father's erection.

My father wasted no time. He slowly pushed his cock into the boy until he was all the way inside. Then he began his steady, un-relentless fucking of the boy's defenseless asshole.

I was totally stunned. I stared at the scene unfolding before my eyes with a morbid curiosity.

This went beyond mere hypocrisy; my father; the pious and self-righteous, King-of-the-Homophobes had not only received a blowjob from a guy, but was still so excited afterwards, he eagerly fucked the boy in the ass!

Here was the man who ranted-and-raved about the evils of homosexuality ramming his cock in-and-out of a boy's asshole...here was the man who forced my brother into a pray-the-gay-away 're-education camp'...here was the man who went ballistic and dis-owned me when I outed myself in front of him and my mother!

I heard the boy on the video moan; he must have loved my father's dick in his ass-he was getting close to orgasm. My ears pricked-up-I heard him moan again-who is that? I wondered.

Suddenly the camera angle shifted from the rear to the front. The boy shouted and cried-out as his body was racked with spasms and wild gyrations.

I froze when I saw the boy's face; I began screaming too: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."

I pushed myself from the desk and tumbled backwards and collapsed on the floor. I hit my head on something hard. The last thing I remembered before passing-out was the shock in Timmy's voice when he exclaimed: "OH MY GOD-ISN'T THAT LANE WITH YOUR DAD?"

When I awoke, Tim was pressing a cold, wet wash cloth on my forehead; I was lying on the floor and had one helluva headache.

"Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed when my eyes fluttered open. "I was just about to call for an ambulance! Are you okay?"

Tears flooded my eyes as I gazed at is beautiful face. Then I said, "No, I'm not okay...things are never going to be the same again after seeing those two together!"

"Johnny," said Tim softly, "...after all the videos you watched today, and all the dirty little secrets we discovered-nothing was going to be the same anyway..."

He was right, of course. It had been our goal from the beginning to find a way to bring down Hansen any way we possibly could; and now that we uncovered his blackmail schemes, we had to focus on how to use the information we now possessed.

My father and Lane are as much victims in this as Jeffrey, Tim and me, and everyone else in those god-awful videos. Hansen has to be stopped, and we now had the means to do just that. The only question that remained was how to use the videos to our advantage.

Tim and I soon became aware the answer to our problem was much more difficult than we'd assumed it would be. We became engaged in an intense discussion on how to proceed from this point forward.

Hansen had edited himself out of all the videos I'd watched; the only incriminating and embarrassing evidence was against the boys and men who were actually shown in the videos.

Yes, we had a paper-trail showing the men were paying Hansen money, but without their corroboration, we couldn't prove it was blackmail. Hansen could say they were simply business deals.

And the men involved, the elite of the business and civic community, and five of the ten board members for 'The Family Wellness Council,' how could they possibly testify to Hansen's blackmail without exposing their lies and hypocrisy, ruining their businesses and lives, and the lives of their family members?

What started as a 'Project' to get ourselves out from under Hansen's blackmail suddenly turned into a problem with monumental consequences.

During one break in our discussion, I turned-on my cell phone to check for messages. There was a voicemail from Denny.

"John, what the hell are you guys up to?" he asked. It wasn't his normal voice; he sounded scared. "Call me as soon as you get this-I don't care how late it is-call me ASAP!"

His tone frightened me. The hair on my neck stood straight; a chill raced up-and-down my spine. I quickly called him back.

Denny answered immediately and said, "Hansen was here..." Those three words sent another chill up my spine.

He spoke in a hushed voice, I could barely hear him. He continued: "Hansen said if you don't return what you stole from him he would destroy all of us-you, me, Tim and Jeffrey...what the hell is going on? What are you guys doing?"

"Denny, listen to me, we're trying to put a stop to his blackmail-we can't go on like this-we found his videos-we found his financials-we can end this once and for all!"

Silence. Then in a small voice Denny added: "He said if you and Tim don't meet him in his office at the university Monday morning at 8 o'clock...well, every video he has of the four of us will go online..."

"Denny, we're innocent victims in all this...people will sympathize with us-not him! We can take him down!" I pleaded my case.

I heard him sigh then he said: "Johnny...I don't want to sound selfish, but...well, I know how bad this has been on you guys...and I know this has to stop...it's just that, well, the doctors say I'm going to make a full recovery-that I'll be able to play football again next season-my dream is still alive! Ever since I was a kid all I wanted was to play professional football...I can still chase that dream!"

"Denny," I said. "It doesn't matter if people see those videos-we have nothing to hide anymore-we'll get thru this together!"

I heard an exasperated "Oh Johnny, my sweet and dear, naïve Johnny" then he added: "First off, you and I are both on scholarship...did you read the terms of the scholarship?"

"Well, most of it...some of it," I admitted.

Then he said: "Did you read the 'moral turpitude' clause? It's quite broad, and forbids any activities that may reflect negatively on the university...Johnny, the moment those videos are shown across the world you and I will be expelled from school...do you know this state still has anti-sodomy laws?"

"Well, no..." I mumbled.

"Johnny, just because you and I can openly admit to our relationship now, it doesn't mean that it is a good idea...if those videos go public I'll never play football again...it's one thing to admit you're gay-it's totally different if people watch you performing sex acts that are still illegal in many states! Isn't there any other way out of this? I'm sorry for being so selfish...I'm sorry..." he said sadly.

And I was sorry, too. I was sorry I didn't consider all the ramifications of my actions. The last thing I want is to hurt other people-even the men in the videos...the lying, bold-faced hypocrites they are, if their activities were disclosed there would be severe, real-life damage to these men and their families.

There had to be another answer-I had to think of a solution that would free those around me and not harm anyone else.

"So he wants to see us Monday morning at eight, huh?" I asked Denny unnecessarily.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm sorry...he also said to tell you to bring the copies of his files you made...I'm sorry, Johnny..."

"No, it's alright-I don't want to hurt anyone, Denny, but I'm not giving up-I'll think of something...good night."

"I love you, John," he said.

"I love you, too-hurry-up and get well!" I replied.

On our way home Sunday evening we stopped at 'GI' and retrieved the keys to the new locks Jeffrey promised would be installed. I found them in my desk drawer along with an artificial four-leaf clover Jeffrey liked to hand-out for 'good luck.' I smiled at his whimsical sense of humor.

We drove in silence the rest of the way home. I was searching for a parking place on the street when I heard Tim say, "Uh-oh."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Johnny," he whispered. "The lights are on in the house-I know I turned them all off Friday morning-they're on in the basement, too!"

That icy chill running up my spine was becoming all-too familiar. I parked the car, turned-off the motor and sat still; trying to think of our next move.

We stared at the windows; didn't see any shadows or movement inside; and I said, "C'mon...we're going in!"

We stealthily made our way to the front door. OH SHIT-the door was open!

The door was cracked open about two-inches; we stood very still and strained to hear noises from within. Not a sound—not a peep.

I motioned for Tim to stay quiet then slowly pushed open the front door. I looked around the living room and saw nothing unusual. I carefully stepped into the room and listened-nothing. I walked deeper into the room, heard or saw nothing out of the ordinary then motioned Tim inside.