Date: Thu, 20 Mar 2014 13:52:49 -0400
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Psychic Detective 19

Psychic Detective 19
By Jake Preston


This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a
murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in
other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes
recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described
explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character
development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there
are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that
while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think
about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

In the course of this chapter, there's a certain amount of word-play based
on compound words ending in `-lingus' (the Latin word for `tongue').
`Analingus' and `cunnilingus' are familiar, but our characters extend the
pattern to include other uses of the tongue in oral stimulation. I define
them here for clarity:

Lingus (plural, linguses): any form of sexual stimulation with the tongue.

Axillingus: use of the tongue to stimulate a partner's armpits; based on
Latin `axilla', armpit.

Navelingus: use of the tongue to stimulate the navel.

Pellilingus: use of the tongue to stimulate the foreskin; based on
`pellicle' a general term for any sort of anatomical covering, such as a
foreskin.

Prectalingus: use of the tongue to stimulate the perineum (the sensitive
skin that lies between the back of the scrotum and the anus); based on
`prectum', a synonym for `perinium'.

Scrotalingus: use of the tongue to stimulate the scrotum.


Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on
nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters
and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions
for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!

Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com


      *  *  *  *  *  *


Chapter 19
Saturday Night and Sunday Morning


      The MC announced the ballot results a half-hour later. The winner was
Jack. He was invited to return to the mike. When he did, he kept his shirt
unbuttoned and open, and asked to say a few words. "This here badge is
real, it's no fake. I really am a sheriff from the Indian country in South
Dakota, and you're all under arrest," Jack said.

      Everyone laughed.

      "Seriously, guys, I'm on duty," Jack said. "This is my boyfriend
Göran. He's a lawman, too. And this is our friend Harv. He's also a
lawman. Göran, whip that badge out of your bulge and show everyone what
a stud you are." Göran smiled sheepishly and held up his sergeant's
badge.

      "This is getting better and better," someone in the crowd said,
imitating Arnold Schwarzenegger. Everyone laughed while Göran pinned the
badge on his shirt.

      "You, too, Harv," Jack said. Harv did the same.

      "We're looking for two serial killers who have been preying on young
men in the gay community," Jack continued. One of them is a tall, slender
albino with white hair, named Howard Coleman. He probably uses a fake
name. His accomplice is shorter, with dark hair.  Göran and Harv have
pictures. If any of you guys think you might have seen them, we'd like to
hear from you. We'll be mingling on the dance floor. Don't anyone leave
until I've had a chance to dance with you, or at least talk to you. That
goes for Harv and Göran, too."

      The band played slow music when they saw patrons who wanted to get
their arms around Jack. All three lawmen got offers for dates. After a
couple hours, Harv went home with a preppy- dressed guy, a diver on the
Wisconsin State swim team. Göran and Jack stayed until the bartender
called `time' and everyone left— except for the bartender and the lanky
guitarist.

      Bar patrons were ogling Jack, but the bartender conceived a crush on
Göran. He introduced himself as Jésus García Moreno. "My friends
get creeped out about calling me Jesus, so they call me Wetback, but I was
born in Stockton, California," he told Göran. "My folks are migrant
farm-workers. Every year we traveled in a cycle from San Joaquin Valley to
central Washington and back. My two older brothers are still
farm-workers. I got kicked out of the family for being gay, even though I
never had a boyfriend. I hooked up with some hobos on the railroad track in
Nyssa, and rode to Duluth in boxcars. After a couple weeks, I got my job at
the Apollo and I've been working here ever since. That was seven years
ago."

      Jésus had a lot going for him—good looks, good physique,
searching brown eyes and curly brown hair; at five feet ten, taller than
most Mexicans. More important, he had a tragic story to tell. Göran
wanted to hear it. He asked if Jésus had ever seen the Wallowa
Mountains.  "Our family worked on farms around Baker and La Grande. That's
the closest I've been. I've heard that Joseph is a nice town," Jésus
replied.

      Göran invited Jésus to come home with him. "I was hoping you'd
want that," Jésus said.

      Jésus was on friendly terms with Calvin Cohn, the band's leader
and guitarist. Five feet six and lean, looking a bit awkward, Calvin
introduced himself to Jack. "Friends call me CC," he said. Jack noticed a
hint of fem in Calvin's manner. He was three years out of high school, and
just finished his freshman year in college. "I got bullied in high school,
and beat up a couple times," CC said. "That's why I was afraid to go to
college. I thought I'd get more of the same, but it turns out I was wrong."

      "You're not alone, CC," Jack said. "Every gay man I know suffered in
high school."

      "Yeah, but besides that I was a squirt, and Jewish, and no good at
sports," Calvin said.

      "You've got more going for you than you realize, CC," Jack
said. "You've put together a great band, and you're a pretty good musician
yourself. Are you majoring in Music?"

      "I'm not sure. I'll be a sophomore this fall, so I've got another
year to decide," Calvin said. "I really liked my Intro to Philosophy
course."

      "Philosophy"— Jack picked up his theme— "What interested you
about it? Aesthetics?  Ethics? Meaning of life? Logic? Metaphysics? Maybe
history of ideas?"

      "My professor made Ethics exciting," Calvin said. "He framed it as a
debate between religious and secular approaches. Religious ethics is
top-down, like Moses coming down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments
chiseled in stone by God Himself. Secular ethics is grassroots morality
without divine intervention. When we debated this in class, the professor
challenged the fundamentalist Christians to read Aristotle's Nichomachean
Ethics as an example of a totally natural system of ethics. It's a book
that the Catholic Church accepts as valid. I doubt that the fundamentalists
in my class ever read it, but I did."

      "So did I," Jack said, sharing Calvin's excitement about an ancient
book that is mentioned more often than read. "I like the way Aristotle
starts out with the premise that it's natural for humans to look for
goodness— a point that he argues with examples of professions and
crafts, like the physician whose goal is good health, or a shipbuilder
whose goal is a seaworthy ship. This is the origin of ethics without God."

      "You have read it, Jack!" Calvin exclaimed.

      "What did you take away from it, CC?" Jack asked.

      "Just this," Calvin replied: "that the major Western ideas about
ethics—striving for goodness through moderation and temperance— came
from Aristotle, even though most people credit the Bible."

      "Have you read Sam Harris, a book called The Moral Landscape?" Jack
asked. Calvin shook his head no. "He tries the opposite approach: imagine
the worst of all possible worlds, in which every sentient creature must
suffer the worst pain for the longest time possible. We can all agree to
call that `badness'. Anything else is better. Using absolute badness as the
starting point, we can apply logic to derive a system of ethics in which
goodness is the opposite of badness. We know, for example, that gay-bashing
is wrong because it's the intentional infliction of unnecessary pain on
other sentient creatures. The Christian fundamentalists argue that bullying
is moral correction, or a boyhood rite de passage and proof of the bully's
masculinity. Take my striptease act, for example. If the fundies had seen
it, they'd be waiting outside Apollo's to beat me up because I violated
their moral code and threatened their masculinity by acting gay."

      "Somehow I doubt that they'd come after you, Jack," Calvin said.

      They exchanged a smile and a silence. "You're not the only man whose
been beaten up for being gay," Jack said. "CC, I hope you don't think I'm
being too forward, but... we're going to Göran's house in Duluth for the
night. I wonder, would you like to come with us?"

      "Are you sure?" Calvin asked. "I don't know what to say."

      "Say yes," Jack replied. "I'm asking you for a date."

      "Okay," Calvin said. "Jack, there's something else I've got to tell
you. This albino guy, Coleman, he and his friend were here last weekend, on
Friday night. Coleman's friend called himself Brad. I asked if Brad was
short for Bradley. He said no, he was Brad Nails."

      "Let me guess, he propositioned you and left when you said no
thanks," Jack said.

      "Not exactly," Calvin replied. "He said that maybe we could go out
sometime, like on a date. I gave him a blow job in the men's room. After
that they took off."

      "Would you say he was a smooth talker?" Jack asked. Calvin said
yes. "Did you notice anything unusual about him?"

      "Well, he has an uncut dick, about six inches. And a long scar at the
top of his leg, about eight inches long. The scar showed signs of stiches,"
Calvin said. "There's something else, Jack.  Our drummer this evening was a
last minute replacement. Our regular drummer is a guy named Craig Clark. No
one seems to know where he's been for the last three days."


      On the drive across the High Bridge back to Duluth, Calvin rode in
Göran's car, and Jack rode with Jésus. That way if Jésus got lost,
Jack could get on the phone with Göran for directions. But of course,
Jésus had lived in the Twin Ports long enough that he wasn't going to
get lost. In reality it gave them a chance to learn more about their
prospective bedmates. "One thing I like about being gay is that once you've
agreed to have sex, the dialogue is just beginning," Jésus said. "You
still have to talk about tops and bottoms."

      What if I told you that Göran is an uncompromising top?" Jack
asked.

      "Ouch!" Jésus exclaimed. "I'd say he's lucky to have you,
Jack. You must think I'm rather superficial... The first thing I bring up
is the question about if Göran's a bottom."

      "The TBV question," Jack mused. "It's gotten to be politically
incorrect to say so, but it's the elephant in the room when two guys are
negotiating a possible relationship. If a guy is adamant about being a top
or a bottom, it's better to tell the truth up-front.

      "When I was strip-dancing in the limelight, your eyes were on
Göran. I don't think that's superficial, and neither will he," Jack
said. "If you ask him if he's a bottom, I'm sure he'll give you an answer."

      "Whoo-ee, I'm in love!" Jésus exclaimed. "I've got to tell you,
Jack, I wouldn't have guessed that Calvin Cohn was your type. You got a lot
of propositions from great-looking guys.  You turned them down while you
waited for CC to get next to you. What's up with that?"

      "Do you remember gym class in school, when all the boys lined up to
be chosen for a team in volleyball or baseball?" Jack asked.

      "Sure."

      "There was always some shrimpy boy, or maybe a fat boy who got chosen
last."

      "That was you?" Jésus asked.

      "No. As a kid, I was a pistol, always getting into fights. When it
was my turn to be captain, I always picked the shrimpiest boys first. The
teacher didn't appoint me as captain very often. She thought I was
subverting the ideal of competitiveness when I picked my teammates.  My
friends in school were unpopular boys. When I saw Calvin, well, he looks
like one of those schoolboys from my past, except that he's grown up." Jack
looked ahead to the right from the High Bridge at the cliffs of Duluth
rising above Lake Superior. "It's an awesome sight, even at night," he
said.

      Calvin and Jack had fallen into mutual attraction. It was a
low-burning fire, but sometimes a smoldering ember blazes suddenly into a
bonfire, or a forest fire. Jack wasn't ready to burn down a forest, but two
things about Calvin appealed to hem. First: his naďve honesty about his
BJ-encounter with `Brad Nails', which for tawdriness rivaled the most
meaningless episodes in `Queer As Folk'. Second: their discourse about
Aristotle, however brief, disclosed that CC had actually read this
philosopher, not just read about him in some college textbook.  That by
itself would have been enough to attract Jack, who saw in Calvin a mind
full of intellectual curiosity. He recognized a kindred spirit, a youthful
caterpillar destined to flourish as a butterfly. Never mind about Calvin's
unimposing physique. When it came to that, Jack was looking for his
opposite, and so, in a way, was Göran. Then, too, as for unmeaningful
sexual encounters— all four of them knew that's what they were heading
for at Göran's house— it's a path tried and true for two gay men to
have sex first and get acquainted later, only then learning whether or not
they have enough in common to form a true friendship. If random sexual
encounters are debris-scattered ashes and embers, it is from them that
friendship and love can be kindled. Apollo's was Babylon, easily condemned
by outsiders based on partial knowledge of the characters of the men about
whom they are judgmental. These were Jack's thoughts about Calvin, when he
and Jésus drove across the High Bridge, turned right on Superior Avenue,
and right again across the lift-bridge to Park Point, to the place that
Göran called home.




      In the car ahead, Göran asked Calvin how long he'd known
Jésus. Calvin told the story about Jésus's life as a migrant worker
in California and Oregon, how he became a bartender, and how he gave
Calvin's rock'n'roll band some gigs at Apollo's, until they became a
regular fixture on Thursdays through Saturdays.

      "Jack really likes you. I think you already know that," Göran
said.

      "Does that bother you, Göran?" Calvin asked. "Because if it
doesn't, I..."

      "Don't worry about that, kid," Göran said. "Right now I've got the
hots for Jésus, so I can't complain if Jack's got the hots for
you. We're both okay with that."


      They reached Göran's house on Park Point. Göran showed them the
master bedroom and a guest bedroom for Jack and Calvin. "I've got a Jacuzzi
in the back, overlooking the beach," he said. "We'll use it in the
morning." They took turns in the shower, and gathered in the living room,
naked, for whiskies. Göran gave everyone a viagra, and took one
himself. When they exchanged jokes about tops and bottoms, four cocks
jumped to attention.

      "I think we should decide right now," Jésus said."

      "You're pretty sure of yourself, Jésus," Göran exclaimed. "Tell
you what, guys, I'll let Jésus top me if Jack lets CC top him. The top
man's first job is to lead his partner by the hand to their bedroom, and CC
and Jack must go first, when they're ready."

      Jack and Calvin went outside to the patio for privacy, while Göran
and Jésus fondled on the love seat. Jack pulled Calvin into an
embrace. Calvin fondled Jack's butt and drove his fingers deep into his
cleft. "I never fucked ass before," Calvin said.

      "In that case, I'll have to make a man of you," Jack said. He guided
Calvin's hand under his scrotum and between his legs. Calvin copped a feel
of Jack's butthole.

      "You mean you'll do it, Jack?" Calvin asked.

      "All night, and tomorrow," Jack said. He held out his hand for
Calvin. "Lead the way, CC Rider, and try not to smirk when we walk past the
boys."

      Calvin led the way, parading as if through the Arc du Triomphe,
showing off his prize stallion while strutting effeminately. "Looks like
Jack's got more than he bargained for," Jésus said, remarking on
Calvin's seven-inch dick (and not all the way hard) looking party-size
against his slight torso. Jésus took Göran's hand and led him to the
master bedroom.

      It didn't take Jésus the Bartender long to get inside Göran. He
was an experienced top, and Göran was willing. Saturday night and Sunday
morning were graced by mutual gratification.  Later they became lovers. But
the most interesting sex tales dramatize innocence, intrigue, or an
initiation. For those we open the curtain on Jack and Calvin.

      Jack and Calvin both self-identified as tops, and shared intellectual
interests, but in other respects they were opposites— to put it bluntly,
a stud and a sometimes feminish nerd. Jack was (and is) a dark-haired,
brown-skinned beauty— so appealing that Calvin lingered with fingers and
tongue over every inch of his body from earlobes to toes. He buried his
face in Jack's pits, his tongue in the man's navel and crotch, his nose
deep in the cleft of the sexiest ass he'd ever seen. Jack's foreskinned
cock was an attraction, too. "Don't ever convert to Judaism, Jack," Calvin
said: "I wouldn't give up this foreskin for anything!" More than physical
possession, Calvin wanted romance. It was as if he feared that if he
fucked, the spell would be broken and Jack would vanish. After a prolonged
session of mutual axillingus, navelingus, pellilingus, scrotalingus,
prectalingus, and analingus, Jack propped his ass on a pillow and invited
Calvin into the cockpit. "We've coursed through all the linguses as though
they were a linguistic curriculum," Jack said. "Now it's time to fuck."

      Calvin obeyed, and fucked so romantically that Jack shot spooge
between their bellies.  His seminal fragrance inspired Calvin to some
serious humping that set Jack to groaning. Later, when Jack saw that
Calvin's cock was engorged in a second wind, he flipped over and told
Calvin to fuck from behind. That's how he inspired Calvin to the
self-confidence he needed to fuck like an animal, with the uncontrolled
energy that Jack wanted from him.

      Jack led Calvin to the shower stall, where they washed the
perspiration of sex from each other's bodies while Calvin groped Jack
possessively. "You're learning, buddy," Jack said.  "You're a natural at
this. All we need is a lot more experience." "Oh, yeah?" Calvin replied. He
fucked Jack a third time, standing up under the flow of water from the
showerhead.

      In aprčs-sexe pillow-talk, Jack and Calvin praised each other for
their performance and for their bodies. Calvin raised the inevitable
question— "What does an athletic stud like you see in a nerd like me?"

      "Do you think I'm so vain that I want to make love with a mirror
image of myself?" Jack asked. "I'm not a narcissist, and besides, you've
got a powerful cock, CC. When I feel the weight of your body over me, it
makes me feel strong. You make me feel good about myself."

      "That should be my line," Calvin said. "For me you're a dream come
true."

      "I've got a proposition for you, CC," Jack said. "First thing Monday
morning, Göran and I are driving up to Ashawa. I'd like you to come with
us for a week, maybe longer. We can stop by your home tomorrow to pick up
your clothes and discuss it with your folks."

      "What about you and Göran?" Calvin asked.

      "We'd be three in a bed," Jack said. "You can fuck Göran, too."

      "Really? Calvin was incredulous. "Do you think he'll let me?"

      "Why wouldn't he?" Jack retorted.

      "My Mom and Dad know I'm gay, but they've never met any of my
boyfriends, because, well... I've never really had a boyfriend," Calvin
said.

      "Then let's hope I make a good impression," Jack laughed. "I'll dress
the part, in my Sheriff's dress uniform. I hardly ever get to wear it. Just
the two of us— we'll visit your parents tomorrow. They live in Superior,
right?"

      "Actually, they're in West Duluth," Calvin said.

      "I've got to be honest about something, CC," Jack said. "I like you a
lot and I want us to spend time together, but there's another reason why
you should come with us to Ashawa. I'll tell you when we meet your
parents. It's something they should know, too."

      "Now you've got me in suspense," Calvin said.




      Abraham and Sarah Cohn weren't strictly Orthodox, but they were
fairly conservative Jews who had come to grips with the fact that their
only child was gay. When Calvin showed up at home with a lawman dressed in
a dark blue uniform and sporting a badge, they thought that he was in
trouble. "No trouble," Jack assured them. "Calvin's been helping us with an
important investigation." He gave his ID to Abraham, and then to Sarah, so
they could examine it.

      "South Dakota," Abraham said.

      "Lakota," Sarah said. "You're a long way from home, Mr. Jackson."

      "Call me Jack, Mrs. Cohn. Your son does."

      "Mom and Dad, Jack is sort of... my boyfriend," Calvin stammered.

      "Maybe you should come in," Sarah said.

      When they were seated in the living room, Jack broke an awkward
silence: "CC is interested in philosophy. We've been batting ideas around,
about Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics. He's a remarkable young man,
Mr. Cohn, and Mrs. Cohn. He's the first person I've ever met who's actually
read Aristotle, not counting classmates when I was in college at Emory."

      "You graduated from Emory?" Abraham exclaimed.

      "In Atlanta?" Sarah echoed.

      "I was fortunate to get a scholarship there," Jack said. "I graduated
seven years ago, and I've been Sheriff in Lakota for the last three years."

      "I'm grateful that Calvin is making respectable friends," Sarah
said. A tremor in her voice suggested misgivings. Until now, Calvin's
homosexual had been an uncomfortable abstraction. Now it became a reality,
with his boyfriend sitting in their living room. Even so, Jack Jackson was
strikingly handsome, and manly. Her maternal instinct kicked in. "Not just
respectable, but really quite a good looking boy," she added.

      Jack blushed. Mrs. Cohn approved his modesty. "Mr. Cohn, Mrs. Cohn,"
Jack said, "I've invited CC to come to Lake Ashawa with me, and with my
colleague, Detective Sergeant Göran Svenson. We'll be there for a week,
maybe longer. We're following a trail of clues that leads us to Ashawa. It
will be my first time in the North Country, but Göran grew up there and
knows the lay of the land."

      "And you think that Calvin can help with your investigation?"
Mrs. Cohn asked.

      "I do," Jack said. "But there's another reason, too. We're trying to
track down a pair of serial killers. Right now, CC is the only witness who
has actually seen both of them, but they've seen him, too, and they know
who he is. I fear for his safety if he stays in Duluth. I want him with me,
so I can watch his back."

      Calvin giggled. "Well, that came out wrong!"

      Mr. Cohn frowned.

      "Forgive your son's nervous humor, Mr. Cohn," Jack said. "If I was in
his position, I'd be making gallows-humor jokes, too."

      Mrs. Cohn ended the tension: "Well, Calvin, you'd better get upstairs
and pack your things. Take your time. Make sure you've got everything you
need, and don't forget yarmulke and your Tanekh."

      "There's a synagogue in Virginia, Mrs. Cohn. I'll make sure he gets
there," Jack said.

      "I'm going to the kitchen to prepare lunch," Mrs. Cohn
said. "Abraham, you take Jack to the back yard and show him the garden. I'm
sure you have things to talk about."

      The Cohn's back yard was vibrant with spring flowers and
roses. Abraham pointed out the variety of roses and named each one. When he
was finished, Jack changed the subject: "CC and I met at the Apollo where
he works. It was in the course of business. We were both doing our jobs,
and we made a connection as friends, and then, well... as more than
friends."

      "When Calvin was in high school, he was bullied and beat up. That's
how we found out he's gay," Mr. Cohn said. "We've never met any of his gay
friends. You're the first one, Mr.  Jackson."

      "Please call me Jack, but if you don't mind, I'll call you Mr. Cohn."

      "I respect that you came here to tell us, instead of just taking off
to the North Country," Abraham said. "But I'm confused. Is he a witness or
a lover?"

      "Both, by his own volition," Jack said. "I'm not saying we're in
love, but we like each other a lot."

      "I want assurance that my son will be treated honorably," Abraham
said.

      "We've become friends, Mr. Cohn," Jack said. "Sex is important to us,
but there's more to friendship than sex."

      "I see," Mr. Cohn said. Jack sensed that he wanted to know more.

      "You know that in the game of hockey you've got offensive and
defensive players.

      "Yes."

      "The most important offensive player is the forward—well, two
forwards. The forward's job is to shoot the puck into the goal. And the
most important defensive player is the goalie," Jack said.

      "Yes, of course."

      "Well, Mr. Cohn, it's like this," Jack said. "In our game of hockey,
CC is the forward, and I'm the goalie. I don't normally play goalie, but
it's the only thing CC asks of me, and it's not too much to ask, so I do
it."

      Mr. Cohn couldn't hide his surprise. "I guess I thought... well,
Calvin's always been such a sensitive boy, and, to be honest, maybe a
little, ah..."

      "I know what you mean, Mr. Cohn," Jack said. "But sometimes
appearances are deceiving. CC acts fem when he's nervous. When he's feeling
confident, there's nothing fem about him."

      "It seems you know more about my son than I do, Jack," Abraham said.

      "You know that's not true," Jack replied. "I've learned this one
thing about CC, and now you know it, too."

      Abraham took Jack by the hand and led him into the dining room, where
Sarah and Calvin were already seated for lunch. "I see that you to have
become friends," Sarah smiled. She wanted to know all about their
conversation.

      "Mr. Cohn showed me the roses, and named every species," Jack
replied. "The rest was just guy talk."

      "Why, Jack, you're blushing!" Calvin exclaimed.

      "As me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," Jack said.

      Jack gave Sarah a lot of names and contact info for people they could
trust— Göran Svenson, Tom Preston, Anna Ravitch, Sam Black Bear, Red
Hawk, and Dark Eagle. "Göran prepared this list. Don't speak to anyone
else, especially not Deputy Sheriff Nelson. He's under investigation, too.
We'll probably be staying in a cabin at Wayward Island Retreat. There'll be
room for you in the cabin or in the lodge, if you decide to come up. I'd be
delighted if you would!"