by Zavo
Not by me, anyway.
He slowly undid the buttons on my pants and pulled my dick free. I was fully erect. He pushed my pants and briefs to my knees and, without preamble, his mouth was on my stiffer and it was deep down his throat. I clutched the edge of the kitchen table to steady myself as the handsome young actor worked his magic on my cock. As he did so, he slid a probing finger between the cheeks of my ass. When he found my secret spot he pushed insistently till it granted him access and his finger slid inside me. Without hesitation he began thrusting into me, and after several more minutes I was blasting my seed down his throat. When I was spent, he stood up and I collapsed against him. He kissed me deeply on the lips.
There was a loud knock on the door.
“Five minutes till set time, Gordon.”
He kissed me again, stuffed my cock back in my pants, and rebuttoned them.
“That will keep till later, Mr. Steele. As you heard, duty calls me.”
Without thinking, I pulled him to me and kissed him almost savagely. He returned my kisses with equal ardor. He groped my crotch, eliciting another erection. He stroked it softly through the fabric of my pants.
“I’m not going anywhere, Derrick. Again, save some of this for later.”
“Sorry, Gordon. I got carried away. Before you go back to the set, are there any recent sex partners you would add to the suspect list? They may have a grudge against you as well. You know, a jilted ex-lover.”
“As I told you before, Derrick, I haven’t slept around that much. Certainly not with any of the women. In addition to my current lover, I’ve only bedded one or two leading men. Those were over two years ago. Of course, before I achieved stardom there was a director or an assistant here and there. Any others were just one-night stands to scratch an itch. I don’t even remember most of their faces, let alone names.”
“Did you sleep with Stuart Douglas?”
“Sure I did. How do you think I got the part in The Last Trail?”
“You are a hustler after all, aren’t you?”
We both laughed at my wit.
“Please, Derrick. If you knew half the stuff that goes on in this industry, you could write a book! I just knew that picture was going to be my big break. I had no choice. Okay, enough about me. I should be wrapped up here later this afternoon. How about having dinner with me tonight? We can discuss the case while we get pleasantly drunk.”
“That sounds like a great idea, Gordon. You pick the restaurant.”
“By the way, you’re welcome to bring Daniel. You two make a nice couple. Why don’t we meet at Domenici’s for dinner? We can go over anything new you’ve learned. You’re more than welcome to stay while I reshoot this scene. However, there’s no telling how long it could take. Stuart is in one of his moods.”
“That’s fine, Gordon. I still need to speak to Stuart and Harry. I didn’t get a chance to today. But I can come back tomorrow. Hopefully, Stuart will be in a better mood. What is your shooting schedule for tomorrow?”
“I have a noon call.”
“Okay. I’m going to stop by and see Lieutenant Grogan and ask what he’s found on the list I gave him. Are you sure you can’t think of anyone else who might hold a grudge against you, Gordon?”
“Like I said, Derrick, I haven’t been in this business long enough to step on that many toes. Jerome Sinclair is the biggest one, and Stuart and Harry.”
“What about before you came to Los Angeles, Gordon? Any enemies back in Louisiana?”
“They would have done it when I lived there. The only person who I actively disliked was my father. I haven’t heard from him since I moved here. For all I know, he’s dead and buried. Believe me, no one would miss or mourn that bastard.”
“Call me at my parents’ when you’re free for dinner.”
I quickly scribbled the number on a pad of paper on the kitchen table, tore off the sheet, and handed it to him.
“Jonathan will take you back to the studio grounds. He’s called my driver, Claude, and he’ll be there waiting for you. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
He held out his hand, and we shook. I found myself not wanting to leave.
I wasn’t surprised to find Jonathan waiting outside the trailer when we exited. Gordon headed off toward the shooting location while I got into the car. Once again, Jonathan chattered nonstop till we reached the second guard shack. I wasn’t listening, though, because my mind was fully absorbed with thoughts of Gordon. Once we were through the first barrier, he headed to a sleek, silver Cadillac parked next to one of the buildings. As soon as we approached it an older gentleman in black clothing stepped out and held the back driver’s door open for me.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Steele. My name is Claude. I’m Mr. Maxwell’s personal driver. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claude.”
As Jonathan bid me farewell, I climbed in the backseat. Once through the guard shack at the entrance, I gave Claude directions to the 69th Precinct. Michael was at his desk, but it was obvious he was busy and the visit would need to be brief.
“Hello, Derrick. I’ve checked all the names on the list. None have any outstanding warrants, debts, or other financial problems that I could find. Stuart Douglas has had a few arrests, but mostly for public drunkenness and brawling. Nothing related to blackmail or anything more serious. Both Jerome Sinclair and Gordon Maxwell have numerous arrests—mostly for public brawls. I’m sure you read about most of them in the local papers.”
“Thanks, Michael. Is Edward Reynolds still on the payroll?”
Edward was a handwriting expert I had worked with in the past.
“He is indeed.”
“Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow with some letters for him to perform an analysis on. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay, Derrick. I’ll let him know to expect you.”
After leaving the 69th Precinct, I asked Claude to take me to the library. He waited outside while I pored through the local papers to learn what I could about Jerome Sinclair and Gordon Maxwell. After about an hour, I had enough to satisfy my curiosity regarding both men. Tomorrow morning Daniel and I would pay a visit to Jerome Sinclair’s home. Not wanting to keep Claude waiting any longer, I decided to head home. When he dropped me off in front of the house, I thanked him for his services and went inside. Roman was happy to see me, but no one else seemed to be about. Charles informed me Daniel and Nathan had gone horseback riding. I quickly showered and dressed. There was a soft knock on my door. It was Charles, letting me know I had a phone call.
“I’ll be right there, Charles.”
When I picked it up, it was Gordon. The eagerness in his voice lifted my spirits.
“Hello, handsome. Are we still on for dinner this evening?”
“We are indeed, Mr. Maxwell.”
“How does seven p.m. sound? Do you need Claude to pick you up?”
“No, I think I’ll drive myself. I’ll see you at seven.”
I went to the billiards room for a drink. Nathan and Daniel had returned from their ride and were playing nine-ball. Daniel was more sullen than ever. I played several games and had a few more drinks. I was dreading telling Daniel I was having dinner with Gordon.
“I’m going to meet Gordon for dinner, Daniel. I’d love for you to join us.”
“No thanks, Derrick. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”
His tone caused Nathan to raise his head from his intended shot. I started to say something, but his look stopped me. I knew my brother would find out what he could while I was gone.
I went back to my room to change, then stopped by the billiards room on my way out. I kissed Daniel good-bye and told him I wouldn’t be out late.
When I pulled up to Domenici’s, the place was packed. I had just parked my car and was heading to the front door when I met Gordon coming from the opposite direction. It was immediately obvious that a night out with Gordon Maxwell wasn’t going to be boring. He caused a stir the
moment he entered the restaurant.
The maître d’ fawned over him and ushered him quickly to a private table in the back, secluded by cleverly placed fronds and statues. On the way there, all heads turned as we passed, and the noise rose several levels. A waiter immediately arrived at our table with a chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses. Gordon ordered the chef’s special and I did as well. The food was excellent, and the wine flowed freely. Gordon turned out to be a delightful and engaging conversationalist. He also had a wonderful sense of humor. Several times what I assumed were fans tried to approach our table, but they were blocked by the cadre of waiters taking care of us.
When we had finished dessert accompanied by an excellent brandy, Gordon asked if I’d like to go to a local bar for a nightcap. I politely turned him down, simply because I was tired. He gallantly paid the check and walked me to my car. We shook hands and said good night.
“I’ll give you a call sometime tomorrow, Derrick, to see how the case is going.”
“Okay, Gordon. Good night.”
When I got home, I was slightly drunk. I managed not to make too much noise and reached my room without knocking anything over. I was hoping Daniel would be awake, but he was snoring steadily. I thought of waking him for a quick romp but decided against it because of his surliness earlier in the evening. I undressed in the dark and slid beneath the sheets.
When I woke, sunlight was bathing the room and I had a slight headache. It took me a moment to realize Daniel’s strong arms were wrapped tightly around me. I could feel his stiff prick pressing urgently between the cheeks of my ass. Without speaking I rolled over onto my stomach. He grabbed me at the hips and pulled me to my knees. His urgency was infectious. He reached over me and grabbed the usual container from the nightstand drawer. A shiver swept through my body as he spread the unguent on my eager opening. I felt his enormous cockhead press against me, and then he was inside me, skewering me to the bed. He lay prone on me and began deep, powerful thrusts. I arched my back and met each of his thrusts with a powerful one of my own. It wasn’t too long before his pace increased and he was releasing his fluid inside me.
When he was spent he pulled out, flipped me over roughly, and covered me with his sweaty, hairy body. His lips sought mine, and our tongues intertwined.
“Good morning, Mr. McAllister. That was a beautiful start to my day.”
“Mine too, Mr. Steele. I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I think I’m just overworked and tired, and dealing with a lot of stress. Hopefully, Nathan will hire one or two great detectives. Now, why don’t you join me for a quick shower, and we’ll head downstairs for breakfast.”
The shower turned out to be anything but quick. Daniel lathered and scrubbed every inch of my body. Soon, my cock was deep down his throat, and he wrenched a powerful explosion from me. By the time we made it downstairs I was ravenous. My mother and Nathan were at the dining room table but my father was already on the golf course.
“Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Nathan.”
I kissed my mother on both cheeks and gave Nathan a playful punch in the arm.
“My, someone is certainly in a good mood this morning. It must be all that rest you got last night.”
“It sure was, brother. Do you have any news for us about potential new hires?”
“Grab a plate and I’ll fill you in.”
The sideboard was once again laden with platters of ham, pancakes, scrambled eggs, biscuits, homemade muffins, and fresh fruit.
I filled my plate with a little bit of everything, and Daniel did the same. Mother was just finishing up, and rose to leave.
“I’m heading to my bridge game and then lunch at the club. I’ll see all of you later. Good luck with the hiring.”
We all said good-bye and Nathan began speaking as Daniel and I worked our way through our respective mountains of food.
“I’ve had numerous inquiries this past week for the detective ad I placed in the Herald Examiner. However, most lacked the experience we require, and that special something Steele Investigations brings to the table. We simply don’t have time to train anyone new. Also, as I’ve already said, many of the qualified candidates came from Theodore Stillson’s agency.”
He looked directly at me as he made this next statement.
“I feel the wounds are still too fresh to be taking on any of his former staff. Yesterday, I did have a call from a Calvin Montgomery. He and his brother are detectives in New York City. They’re relocating to Los Angeles in the next two days and are looking for work. I have a meeting with them the day they arrive. His brother’s name is Benjamin.”
Beside me, Daniel dropped his fork, producing a loud clang on the table. “Sorry, boys, I’m a little clumsy this morning. Guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
Nathan continued. “That’s all I have for now. I’m heading into the office. I’ll let you know if any more qualified candidates surface.”
“I’ll see you later, Nathan,” I replied.
After Nathan left, Daniel turned to me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I forgot I have a call to make. Once I’m back, we can drive to Sinclair’s estate.”
He kissed me on the head and left the dining room. With nothing else to do, I helped Charles clear the breakfast dishes. When Daniel returned, we headed for Jerome Sinclair’s. When I had stopped at the 69th Precinct yesterday Michael had given me Jerome’s address. Daniel was behind the wheel while I nursed my hangover. As the actor who had been beaten out by Gordon for the lead role in Men of the West, Jerome was high on our list of suspects. Also, after our run-in with him at the studio, it was clear he had a temper. As Daniel drove, I filled him in on what I had learned about Jerome at the library yesterday as well as my visit with Michael.
Surprisingly, or maybe not so, his story was similar in many ways to Gordon’s. The papers indicated Jerome was three years older than Gordon. He had also grown up in a one-horse town in the South—his being Montcalm, Georgia. He’d left at the age of eighteen to find fame and fortune on the sunny West Coast. It had taken more than six years for Jerome to reach his current star status. After several bit parts, he had finally landed a big role in his first major motion picture. It was in his third picture where he and Gordon had first crossed paths.
Thus began one of the most volatile and closely watched feuds in Hollywood history. The newspapers and magazines were full of tales of the two stars vying for the same roles, criticizing one another’s performances, and drunken and sometimes violent public brawls. The two young men were becoming the scourge of the motion picture industry. The fans ate it up. Nothing was too salacious to be reported, hinted at, or outright fabricated.
The fact the two handsome actors were now costarring in Men of the West had garnered international headlines. Every eye in Hollywood was on them, to see if the two would be able to set aside their rivalry long enough to work together and produce a winning picture. Michael’s digging had revealed both Gordon and Jerome had numerous arrests. Not surprisingly, all involved each other. Stuart Douglas was also no stranger to the law. Most of his arrests dealt with public drunkenness and physical assaults. Stella Langton was as clean as they come. Stella had been born into and grown up as Hollywood royalty. Both her parents were veteran stage actors and made the successful leap to the silver screen. She’d married Jerome when he was twenty-four; she was ten years his senior. Many stories in the papers intimated the marriage had been a calculated move to save her flagging career. On his part, it had been to gain access to her enormous family wealth.
When we pulled up to the gate, Daniel grabbed the handset, pressed the button, and announced our arrival. At least five minutes passed before a surly voice responded. Whoever it belonged to did not even ask our names nor what our business with Sinclair was.
“Mr. Sinclair is not receiving any visitors this morning. Especially reporters. Please call for an appointment.”
Before Daniel or I could respond, we heard the click announcing th
e connection had been broken.
“Get that bastard back on the line.”
Daniel grabbed the handset again and this time, when the same surly voice answered, I leaned across Daniel and shouted into the speaker.
“Tell Mr. Sinclair it’s Daniel McAllister and Derrick Steele from Steele Investigations. He can either talk to us here or officially down at the Sixty-ninth Precinct. It’s his choice.”
The surly man did not respond but simply clicked off the speaker once more. Several minutes passed. The gates swung open. We drove between them and along the meandering driveway. When we reached the house we parked in front of a set of large marble steps that led up to enormous double doors. The house itself was a massive, three-story affair. Certainly it was more than enough for Jerome and Stella—I had read they had no children. The house was of a yellowish marble, with loads of Roman features and accents. To the left of the house I could see tennis courts. Two people were currently playing, but I couldn’t discern any features from this distance.
It was immediately evident that the Sinclair estate was much more opulent and grand than Gordon’s, at least on the outside. I wondered how much of Stella’s family money was behind this. The grounds were well-manicured, containing a variety of shrubs, trees, and flowers, interspersed with fountains, benches, stone walkways, and statuary of every shape and configuration. When we got out of the car an imposing man in a black suit met us at the bottom of the steps. He looked more like a bodyguard than a servant.
“Detectives. Please follow me.”
We fell in step behind him and the three of us climbed the wide steps to the oversized front doors. It felt as if we were about to enter a mausoleum. The man stopped so quickly I almost bumped into him. He opened the left one, stepped back, and waved us inside. He came in behind us and closed the door. Once inside the foyer he stepped back against the wall and folded his arms. The foyer dazzled in marble, plants, and all things gold. Another man appeared who looked old enough to have attended the crucifixion of Jesus.
