Full Release (16 page)

As far as being convincing, I had to remember everything Eddie did with me. I sat down and took some notes. Maybe that seems silly, but I’m an accountant. It’s my nature to organize things. I remembered six moves he did really well. I numbered them and jotted down a brief description. Six was not a lot; I’d have to pick up a book on massage. Hopefully, it would have a section on how not to actually hurt people.

Protecting myself would be a little trickier. I wished I could have the clients come to my house. I could set up my extra room with candles and soft music. I could also hide weapons all over the place. But Eddie’s killer had been here. He’d know something was up the minute I gave him the address.

Buying a gun was out of the question. First, it would be difficult to keep nearby while doing a nude massage. Second, even if I could figure out a way to conceal it, I was pretty sure there was at least a week long waiting period and that didn’t work for me. Probably the thing that most put it out of the question was that the police would find it suspicious when I applied for the permit. Yes, I could try to get an illegal gun, but I had no idea how to go about that. No, the only possibility was a knife. Like a switchblade.

Of course, I had no idea where to buy a switchblade. I pulled out my smart phone, jumped on the Internet and Googled it. I found an online knife store. I’d rather go and pick one up so that I had it today, but then I noticed they had a category called California Legal. Apparently, I lived in a state that had really solid knife control -- but still allowed you to own a machine gun. Logical.

I clicked on the link. All the knives on the page had short, stocky blades. You might be able to hurt someone with a knife like that, but I wasn’t sure you’d hurt them enough to keep them from killing you. I went back to the main page and checked out some of the longer, more reassuring blades, but realized they probably wouldn’t send them to me in California if they weren’t legal here.

Giving up, I went out into the garage to dig around in the boxes from the kitchen. Jeremy and I had bought a nice set of knives. I just had to find them. Fortunately, the police had opened every single box, so it wasn’t hard to figure out which one held the kitchen knives. My first instinct was to go with a paring knife. It was small and would be easy to hide. Though the blade seemed long enough, it was thin and likely to break. I decided to go with the boning knife; the blade was not only thicker, but nearly twice as long. I’d manage to hide it somehow.

Almost a half hour had passed since I’d placed the ad, so I decided to check my email. I didn’t expect to have any responses, and I knew I was being obsessive. But when I checked my email, I had three responses to the ad. One was a request for more pictures; the second for an appointment later in the week; the last wanted an appointment that same afternoon.

I ignored the request for more pictures. Went ahead and agreed via email to the appointment later in the week. We’d work out the details later. Then, I took a deep breath and sent my phone number to [email protected]. I wasn’t ready and knew it. But the possibility that I might have already snagged Eddie’s killer was too much to pass up.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Chapter Sixteen

Houses in the Hollywood Hills are typically built on tiny, misshapen lots that rise and fall at alarming inclines. They’re built crammed together, sometimes just a few feet apart. They cling to their hill, rising one level on top of another. So it was a surprise when I reached Tomahawk Lane and found that db4162’s house was a two-story Spanish mansion sitting on more than an acre of well-landscaped lawn.

He’d sounded nice enough over the phone. “Is this Zeus?” he’d asked.

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

“Your mother must have enjoyed the classics,” he said, with just a touch of snideness.

“She was well read,” I said dryly. Sort of imitating my friend Peter.

This made him laugh. When he stopped, he asked, “So, you’re available this afternoon around three o’clock?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of massage is it?” he asked.

Every single kind of massage I’d ever heard of instantly flew out of my head. “It’s a mixture really. Erotic mostly.” I giggled, in what I hoped was a flirtatious manner. Apparently, he wasn’t all that picky about what type of massage he had because he gave me his address and began to explain the directions.

I stopped him, saying, “It’s okay. I have GPS on my phone.”

Walking up to the house, I was nervous. I tried to reassure myself. It wasn’t like I had to get an erection myself. All I had to do was get naked, rub the guy for the better part of an hour and then jerk him off. It was simple. I’d find a way to manage it. And if this was Eddie’s killer, the boning knife was in my gym bag, wrapped in a towel underneath a plastic bottle of Intensive Care Lotion with Aloe, an old set of jersey sheets, a couple of wash rags, and my first iPod, the one that was too big for the gym.

When db4162 let me in, I recognized him immediately. He was David Barker, head of Lovetime TV. His picture was constantly in the trades. In his early fifties, he was more than well preserved. He was pampered, tanned, and groomed to within an inch of his life. He probably had a trainer who came everyday and a cook who made sure he never noticed how low cal his meals actually were.

His hair was a close-cropped deep brown -- if it was dyed, it was done so well I couldn’t tell. His eyes were an almost turquoise blue (possibly contacts) and his teeth an unnatural bright white. His toned body was lean and angular. With an obvious sense of the dramatic, he’d opened the door naked. He didn’t have a tan line.

“Zeus! I’m so glad you could make it.” He smiled. I suspected it was a smile that had been getting him what he wanted most of his life. “Come on in. Would you like some water?”

I declined the water and asked, “Where would you like me to set up?”

“Out by the pool, under the lanai. It’s wonderful in the afternoon.” He aimed me through the enormous living room, then said, “I have to finish up a call. Then I’ll be right out.”

As he left the room, he made sure I got a good view of his remarkably well-shaped ass. I exhaled. It wasn’t going to be too bad. David Barker was an attractive man. It wouldn’t be difficult to earn my money today. Unless, of course, he turned out to be the guy who’d killed Eddie.

I dragged Eddie’s table out to the lanai. I was glad David wasn’t there to see how awkward I was setting up the table. Apparently, the practicing I’d done hadn’t helped. When I finally got the table up, I opened my gym bag and took out the sheet. It was queen-sized, so I had to fold it three times to get it to fit the table without draping down to the floor.

From my bag, I pulled out the lotion and in the process managed to drag out the boning knife with it. It hit the cement with a clang. Quickly, I snatched it up and got it back into the bag. I decided, though, that I should put the bag under the table. That way if it turned out I needed the knife, it would be very close by. I’d just finished sliding the bag under the massage table when David came out to the lanai. Rather dramatically, he said, “I’m disappointed.”

“Um...why?” I asked. Had he decided he didn’t want me and I’d have to leave? God, that was a humiliating thought.

“You’re still wearing clothes.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, I was shy. I’d dressed very carefully in a pair of drawstring pants that had been Jeremy’s and a T-shirt with an extra deep V-neck. I’d actually chosen the outfit for ease of removal, but now I hesitated.

“You’re not going to make me stand here naked all alone are you?”

I pulled the T-shirt over my head and dropped it onto the patio. I stepped out of my flip-flops. Slowly, my eyes on David’s, I untied my pants and let them drop. David smiled. “Very nice.”

I felt like I was losing control of the situation, so I quickly said, “I think you’re supposed to be on the table face down.”

Obediently, he climbed up and stretched out. I pressed play on my iPod and Ella Fitzgerald began to sing.

“Oh, thank God,” David said into the donut where he’d placed his head.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

“I get really tired of the new-agey shit other guys bring.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I spread lotion all over my hands and walked over to the table. Rubbing my hands together to warm the lotion, I took a good look at him. Shoulders wide and a well-muscled back tapering into a waist that had thickened only a bit with age. His buttocks stood up nicely and looked to be nice and firm. He had almost no fat on him. He was all sinewy muscle and skin.

I began rubbing his shoulders, squeezing them.

“Harder,” David said. I pressed my thumbs deep into his shoulder muscles. He groaned. “That’s it.”

I attacked his shoulders and back as aggressively as I could with one of Eddie’s moves. The one I’d numbered three. David seemed to enjoy the move. And began talking while I repeated it.

“Never date anyone more than ten years younger than you are. It’s too much of a headache. Ahhhhh.” He took a few deep breaths and then said, “Harder. Of course, the problem is I’m just not attracted to people my own age. I know that might seem disgusting, especially to someone who’s still young like you are, but there’s a biological imperative at work.”

I was getting bored with the abusive part of the massage, so I lightly ran my fingers down his spine right to the top of his buttocks.

“If we were still living in primitive conditions, the fact that my genes had survived this long would mean something significant. And I’d be doing my best to implant them in the youngest, most fertile female I could find. The fact that I’m a fifty-two year-old homosexual living in the twenty-first century doesn’t change my biological imperative in the least.”

I slid my hands over his buttocks, his inner thighs. I could see his balls and the tip of his cock between his thighs. I tweaked them. “Oh my God,” he gasped.

He lifted his ass into the air, offering it. A light growth of hair in the small of his back was now matted with lotion.

“Still,” David said, his voice breathier now. “Understanding something doesn’t make--”

I flattened my hand into a blade and slid it between his buttocks, Eddie’s move number five. Moving it back and forth, I let my fingers rub David’s asshole. He forgot what he was talking about. He squeezed his buttocks together, as though he didn’t want to let go of my hand.

Moving my hand even lower, I cupped his balls with my fingers, while my thumb poked and prodded his pucker hole. I took a chance and slipped my thumb into him. He moaned. With my other hand, I kept up the pretense of an actual massage by squeezing his buttocks.

Taking my thumb out, I slipped in my middle finger. It took a moment, but I found his prostate and began gently rubbing it. David helped me by lifting his ass and moving it in a circle. His cock was still laid out between his thighs. It had begun to grow and was now nicely thick and pink. At the end of it, a drop of pre-come oozed out.

I began to feel proud of myself. Without any real experience at all, I was managing to pull this off. My client seemed pleased. Confidently, I told him to flip over. When he did, he took a peek at me. My dick was semi-hard, so he reached out and took hold of it. I decided to let him do what he wanted, but to continue with the massage.

Slowly, he jacked me while I rubbed his pecs. The hair on them had been carefully trimmed. His nipples stood at attention. His bellybutton, an out-y, looked like a dab of dough stuck in the middle of his tight abs.

I swept my hands across his entire torso, making sure to brush the end of his hard cock as I dipped beneath his belly button. He shivered with pleasure. His thighs were thick, obviously the result of years of weight training. Covering them with lotion, I dug my fingers into them. David exhaled sharply; I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain.

When I finished his thighs, I reached up and grabbed his balls with one hand. They were large and perfectly oval. Teasing them, I watched his cock spring away from his belly. Taking his dick in one fist, I squeezed and pushed my hand all the way to the base.

Lacing my fingers together, I made a tunnel between my palms. Using both hands, I pumped him. Over and over again. He was squirming on the table. Then I decided to try the wave thing that Eddie had done to me, move number two. Starting at his thighs, I brushed my hand up and across his cock. It worked. His breath quickened. I repeated the movement; wave after wave.

Suddenly, his hands flew into the air. My heart jumped. Was he reaching for my neck? No, he wasn’t. He was reaching for me. Mutely asking me to come closer. I stepped closer, and he put a hand on my ass. Feeling the curve of it, just as I’d felt the curve of Eddie’s, he came. Come sprayed across his belly and my hand.

As his breathing slowed to normal, he chuckled and said, “Wow, Zeus…you really are a god, Zeus.” I had the feeling he’d been saving that one up since I arrived. I took the washcloth out of my bag and carefully cleaned him. He sat up and looked down at my still hard cock. He took it in his hand and leaned close to me. “If I had more time, I’d let you fuck me.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe next time.”

I have to admit, I was pleased that I done well enough that he might call me again. He jumped off the table and waddled into the house. I folded up the sheet, which was now smeared with lotion. I reminded myself to pick up some extra sheets, preferably flannel like Eddie used. I had a department store credit card hidden in a drawer somewhere. It would be good to have a couple sets of sheets. Obviously, a lot of laundry would be involved in this endeavor.

After I packed up my bag and folded up the table, I put my clothes on. That was odd. I’d never been the type to walk around naked. Normally, I would have thrown my clothes on quickly and then folded up the table. Something in me was changing.

David reappeared wearing a pair of plaid shorts and nothing else. He walked me to the door. By the door, sat a small table upon which he’d left his wallet in a hand blown bowl. Counting out a number of bills, he handed them to me.