White Stripes

"Yep. We found him right off. We think he's the ticket taker in that garage you're supposed to be in, son."

The cop looked down at the razor on the bed. "He put that razor there?" he asked.

"Yes," Chad answered.

"Lucky we can along when we did then, I reckon," the cop said. "You stay put right here, like I said, until we can figure out where you fit in all of this. Where is it? Did you even know you had it on you?"

"The iTrail GPS logger they sewed into our clothes to keep track of us? Yes, I knew I had it. That's what I was counting on you using to track me. It's there, in my shorts. Sewn in the hem. I knew it was there, honest. He took me just like he took the other guy."

"We'll see about that," the man said, sternly.

He was gone quite some time. Chad moved to his back on the bed, raised on his elbows, his feet flat on the floor at the foot of the bed, and facing the door to the bedroom, when the detective returned.

"It was quite a story that guy wove, Mr. Barnes. He says when he came back to his car in the garage, you had popped his trunk and were putting a body in it. He says you're here willingly."

"That's bullshit," Chad said. "He had the trunk open when I came up the ramp to find someplace to take a whizz, and he stuffed me in the trunk too. The guy in the trunk can tell you I didn't put him in there."

"The guy in the trunk's going to be OK, but not for a while. It could be a couple of days before he can tell us anything. I figure this razor on the bed and finding him fucking you bound tells me all I need to know. You were away from your work detail, though. If you were up there even to just rip off that guy's car, that would be a violation of your sentence. How much longer do you have to serve?"

"A week and a half."

"If you're written up for attempted theft, even if cleared of everything else here, you'll be in for your full sentence. How much longer on that?"

"Six months," Chad answered with a sad voice. As they were talking, though, Chad saw the detective looking him over real good. He, of course was still naked, and was lying there on his back, legs opened, and his torso propped up on his elbows. He was half hard too. He'd been enjoying the fuck and this detective looked pretty good to him too.

"I'm sure you'd hate to have to serve the full sentence," the detective said. He was talking to Chad, but his eyes were on Chad's half hard. His hand drifted down to his package too. Chad could see that his crotch was tented.

"What were you in for?"

"Petty theft . . . and male prostitution. I could be real good to a man who was good to me."

They both remained where they were for half a minute, neither saying anything. Chad was waiting for the man to do something—to tell him to dress and take him in or to suggest something else. The man just stood there, looking at Chad's package.

"Where are the others?" Chad finally asked. "The man who assaulted me and the other policemen?"

"The ambulance has been here to get the victim—the other victim . . . maybe it could be that way—and the other policemen have taken the man who was assaulting you into custody. It's just you and me here now. I'm supposed to bring you in myself."

"Isn't there something you could do? How you could report what happened? Something that wouldn't say I was doing something wrong? Something I maybe could do to help you write up my side of this?"

"I could write it up so that the man came down to the second level and grabbed you while you were taking a piss."

"That would be great. Is there anything I could . . .?"

"Did you see where the man kept his condoms?" He was already unzipping his trousers and pulling his cock out. He was hard.

"There, in the nightstand drawer." Chad wrapped his hands around his knees and lifted and spread his legs while the detective rolled on a condom.

"So, telling me that would constitute a yes, and your rap sheet is right—you're over eighteen?"

"Yes to both," Chad answered. "As long as we're being good to each other."

"Oh, I can be good to you if you make it worth my while."

The detective slapped Chad's hands away from his knees and took hold of his legs himself and wishboned them even further, as he thrust a cock inside Chad's channel that was appreciably thicker and longer than the one that had just previously been in there. Chad arched his back; grabbed at the detective's shirt, scrabbling at unbuttoning him and reaching in to grab his pecs; and cried out, "Yes, yes, fuck me hard!" as he settled in to what had been both the cause of and the solutions for his problems for some time.

When the detective tied his wrists together with plastic restraints and pushed the ball gag back into his mouth, Chad knew this wasn't going to be an easy ride.