The Mystery of the Moving Image

by C. S. Poe

  “Say it again.”

  I swallowed against the palm of his hand and met his gaze. “I want your cock,” I repeated, maybe quieter than before, but hey, at least I said it.

  Calvin, who usually had to get me considerably further along in the exploration of an orgasm before I was willing to grit any words out, looked fucking beside himself with happiness.

  He pulled his fingers free, took my hips with both hands, and rubbed his dick against the cleft of my ass. “This cock?”

  I leaned my head back against his shoulder. “Yes….” I closed my eyes as Calvin kissed my neck and continued teasing my hole. It was now or never, I supposed. “Cal?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would—will you spank me?”

  He stopped moving completely. And for one second, embarrassment like I had never known threatened to swallow me whole. But Calvin took my chin and turned it enough to kiss me hard, leaving me breathless.

  “Baby, I’d love to smack your ass until you can’t sit tomorrow without being reminded of me.”

  I felt my entire body shudder in response.

  “But I’m fairly certain that’ll wake the third occupant in this house.”

  “Oh. Right.” Motherfu—

  He smiled and caressed one asscheek. “When I get you home, though….” Calvin leaned close, bit my earlobe, and whispered, “I’ll spank you until it makes you come.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  Calvin gently let go of me, and I found I had to grab the sink to stay steady. I watched him take a moment to unwrap the condom and roll it over himself. He picked up the lube, moved to the towel, and got down on the floor. Calvin stroked a good amount of the liquid over his cock.

  “Come here,” he said, shifting a bit on his back.

  My knees gave their telltale old-man crack as I got down beside him. I climbed over Calvin, putting a leg on either side of his body. He gripped my ass tight, then spread my cheeks. I reached back, held the base of his cock, and eased myself onto the head. I sucked in a sharp breath—those first seconds, every time it was like, whoa now, was I sure about this? But Calvin always made it good. He kept still, let me find a comfortable pace, and instead focused on giving my own cock delicious, lazy strokes.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” Calvin whispered, his voice a little shaky.

  I nodded. “Sorry. Yeah.” After pausing to adjust to having my ass stretched to maximum capacity, I sat down the rest of the way. Calvin swore under his breath. My thighs were already shaking a little from the position, but I was just going to have to deal with it. I had my gorgeous boyfriend buried balls-deep in me. I wasn’t about to ruin that for an only slightly less cumbersome position.

  Calvin ran his hands up my chest and down my arms. “You look so perfect right now. Come on. Let me watch you fuck yourself on my cock.”

  I smiled, albeit awkwardly, and lifted. That pull up, the push down—it was an instinctive rhythm that even a dorky guy like me didn’t need to be taught. Every deep stroke of his dick felt like an ember was being lit in my belly. The erotic sound of sweat-slick skin meeting each time I sat was making my toes curl. Calvin held on to my hips and adjusted the way I came down, causing a zing of pleasure to nearly throw me off him. I only managed to half stifle the cry that tore out of my throat.

  “Shh…. Come here,” Calvin whispered. He took my shoulders and guided me to lean over him, arms braced on either side of his head. He grabbed on to my ass, held me still, and lifted his hips to pound into me. “You’ve got such a sweet, tight ass.”

  I dropped my head down beside his, panting and whimpering with every thrust. The sensation had morphed into what felt like an electric arc discharging across my entire body.

  “Harder,” I gritted out.

  “You sure?”

  “Please,” I begged. “Please… don’t stop. Make me feel it.”

  Calvin growled in my ear and slammed into me, giving exactly what I’d asked for.

  “I want to come,” I said, moving to kiss Calvin.

  “Yeah,” he said between kisses. “I want to see you get off with my cock still in your ass. Touch yourself, baby.”

  I sat up a little, gripping the tile floor with my fingertips. I grabbed my dick with my other hand and jacked off while receiving the pounding of a lifetime. Just a little more. Nearly there. Almost. I wanted to close my eyes so I could pretend Calvin wasn’t totally absorbed in watching my gawky-self stumble to the finish line, but I didn’t.

  Because there was nothing to hide from him.

  “That’s right,” he said, managing to keep his voice relatively low. “You love my cock, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes—Calvin! I love it so much. Please—please come in my ass!”

  My body was as taut as a rubber band just before it reached its breaking point. And then I was awash in utter delight—nothing but orgasmic bliss.

  Cum dribbled down my fist. I stroked out the last of that high until I felt like I was about to black out. I let go of my hypersensitive cock, touched a fingertip to some of the splattering on Calvin’s abs, then slid it into his mouth. He sucked my finger hard and shuddered. Calvin’s thrusts faltered, he ground out a few smoking-hot expletives, and then he was coming.

  I dropped down on top of him afterward, and Calvin wrapped his arms tight around my back. We were a sweaty, sticky mess of tangled limbs on the bathroom floor, and I could have died happy then and there.

  Calvin gently stroked the back of my head. “That was incredible.”

  “Tell me about it.” I raised my head and fixed my glasses.

  He kissed me lightly. “What part of the sandwich am I?”

  “Huh?”

  “The peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Which am I?”

  “Jelly, definitely,” I answered.

  “You think I’m the sweet one?”

  “I’m way too salty to be.”

  Calvin smiled and petted my hair. “We really are better together.”

  EVEN THOUGH he’d been running on only a few hours of sleep pretty much every night this week, Calvin was an early riser. Granted, being squished onto a couch with me sprawled across his chest like deadweight probably hadn’t encouraged him to sleep in much. We were both up before my dad, taking turns showering and changing into the clothes I’d packed the night before.

  I sat on the floor in Pop’s office, head tilted to the side to read the spines of the books on the bottom shelf of one of several bookshelves. The office had actually been my childhood bedroom, which when I moved out, I helped convert into something more useful for my dad. Of course, since his retirement from teaching, Pop was rarely in there for more than grabbing a book to read, storing holiday decorations, or hiding the ever-growing mass of dog toys currently out of rotation.

  Despite my fear that the content of those Dickson films were irrelevant to the crimes taking place in this time period, I’d be lying if I said it was reason enough to give up the mystery. There had still been a murder. There had still been a conspiracy against Dickson. If I didn’t shine light on what had happened all those years ago, who would?

  I plucked a textbook and read the cover. From Edison to Hollywood, A History of American Cinema. I set it aside and removed a tome of a book next: A Study of Silence, Storytelling Before Talkies. The last of my film course books I’d kept from college, mostly because I couldn’t bear parting with something that had cost an arm and a leg to purchase, was called Cinema Truth, Before Chaplin, Keaton, & Lloyd.

  “Morning.”

  I glanced up to see Calvin leaning against the doorway. He was dressed and ready for the day in a dark suit. I felt a flutter of butterflies in my gut when I met his smile. Despite dating for months now, and having been naked and intimate more times than I could count, it sort of felt like those first-time jitters all over again. You know, now that I was being up front and honest about life, sex, death, and everything in between.

  “Happy birthday,” I said, by way of greeting.

  Calvin smiled a litt
le. “Thank you.”

  “I—er—I don’t have your birthday present here. With me.” Okay, I was being honest with him about everything but the fact I still hadn’t found a gift.

  “That’s okay,” he said.

  “Feel forty-three?”

  Calvin rubbed the back of his neck. “A bit. I think I’m a year or two too old for sex on the linoleum floor.” He slid his hands into his pockets and inclined his head at the books. “What’re those?”

  “Textbooks from college.”

  “A Complete History of Romanticism?” he guessed.

  “From my Film History, and Theory and Criticism classes.”

  “Sounds like some real page turners.”

  I bit back a laugh. “I’m going to call my old professor and see if he’ll meet with me today.”

  “Ah. About the footage?”

  I nodded, stacked the books in one arm, and stood.

  “How’d you get the shiner?” he asked next, touching his own cheekbone.

  “Oh.”

  Calvin raised his eyebrows.

  “Something happened yesterday.”

  “I gathered as much.” He reached out as I moved toward him and put his arm around my shoulders. “Does it have anything to do with an antique revolver?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Let’s grab breakfast.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I THOUGHT you wanted waffles?”

  “I do, but I’m still paying off student loans. I don’t want to go into debt over breakfast confections too.” I shifted my books to one arm and tapped the outdoor case displaying an outrageously priced menu.

  “Don’t worry about the price.” Calvin leaned close, kissed me, took one of the doorstops from my arms, and walked into the café.

  “But it’s your birthday!” I protested.

  “And I want to eat here,” he called from inside.

  I grumbled and followed him through the open doorway. The little restaurant had fewer than a dozen tables, giving it a sort of sweet, intimate vibe. All of the storefront windows were open to accept the cool morning breeze, although I’m sure it was also to entice those passing by to duck inside and have a quick meal after smelling the crackling bacon and sizzling eggs.

  Calvin was already getting a table. When the hostess motioned to free seats by the far-right window, he pointed farther in the back where it wasn’t so bright.

  I sighed kind of dreamily. Calvin always considered the needs I had that most people never thought twice about. If I wasn’t already dating him, so help me, I’d be on him like syrup on—okay, I definitely wanted some waffles.

  I followed them toward a small table near a counter with a sign advertising brunch cocktails. I sat down across from Calvin and put the books on the table, up against the wall. A waiter came by with fresh cups of coffee and menus, then left us.

  I pointed at the sign. “Want to play hooky and get drunk on blackberry mint mimosas all morning?”

  Calvin smiled at me. “Maybe if I didn’t have an open case affecting my boyfriend’s safety.”

  “It’s always something, huh?”

  “So what happened?”

  “Mr. Robert gave me two more movies for the Kinetoscope. He claimed to have not found where he’d stored them until the first package had been mailed. On my way back from Queens, some punk got the upper hand on me in the subway and stole my bag with the footage in it. It wasn’t a random occurrence—that kid followed me.”

  Calvin narrowed his eyes. “You’re certain of that?”

  “He was outside the brownstone. I asked him what door on the street was red.”

  Calvin reached into his inner coat pocket and took out a small notepad. “What did he look like?”

  “Nothing particularly unique stands out.”

  “I need more than that.”

  I shrugged, closed my eyes, and tried to recall the details outside Mr. Robert’s house, when I’d gotten the best view of the teen. “Casey Robert’s age—twenty, max. Clean shaven, maybe a tan? Tall, average build.”

  “Glasses? Tattoos? Scars?” Calvin prompted.

  I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “He had to have been working with Casey. Don’t you think?”

  Calvin set the notebook down. “This individual is certainly a person of interest now.”

  “What have you found out about the grandson?” I asked.

  Calvin opened his mouth, then closed it when our waiter returned. We each gave our orders—omelet for him, waffles for me—and were left alone again. “Nondriver’s ID for New York State with an address in Bushwick.”

  “That corroborates what his grandfather said.”

  “I’ve a meeting with his roommates this morning and the grandfather later in the day.” Calvin poured some cream into his mug. “No missing person’s report has been filed for Casey.”

  “Huh. Maybe he’s not close with family.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be.”

  “Considering his grandfather thinks he’s a thief.”

  “If the grandfather is even telling the truth himself,” Calvin added before sipping his coffee.

  “True….” Frowning, I reached for the little cup of cream but paused. “Whatever came of that paper ID in Casey’s pocket?”

  Calvin set his mug down. “School ID.”

  “And the school hasn’t reported him missing?” I asked, a bit surprised.

  “It’s one of those academies in Midtown. I requested a transcript from the enrollment office late yesterday evening.”

  “Still waiting on it?”

  “They go home at five o’clock on the dot. Even so, from what I gather, the school pumps out ‘graduates’ so fast, I doubt teachers bother to learn their names.”

  “So one missing student wouldn’t exactly cause alarm.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think so.”

  I leaned back in my chair, staring at Calvin.

  He raised a light-colored eyebrow. “What?”

  “Which academy is it?”

  “You know I’m not supposed to tell you any of this.”

  “But you will,” I said, smiling a little.

  Calvin held my gaze.

  “Please,” I added.

  He threaded his fingers together and rested them on the tabletop.

  “You’re the most handsome detective to ever grace the NYPD,” I concluded.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  Calvin finally smiled, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Smooth.”

  “Thanks,” I said, grinning.

  “Sunrise Film Academy,” he said before pointing a finger at me. “And don’t you dare go there to snoop around.”

  “Sunrise Film Academy?” I repeated.

  “Yes, that was not lost on me,” Calvin answered.

  “Hold on!” I raised both hands in sudden excitement, knocking one into my coffee mug. “Oh shit!” I grabbed the cup, spilling half the drink onto my hands and the tabletop. “Hot! Motherf—ffft!”

  Calvin grabbed his cloth napkin, took my hands, and blotted them dry.

  I clenched my jaw and hissed, “Thank you.”

  He let go and sopped up the mess on the table before the dark liquid could reach my books.

  “What’s their school logo look like?” I shook my hands and wiggled my fingers a bit.

  “Here we are, gentlemen,” our waiter said, returning to the table. “Omelet and waffles.” He set the plates down and refilled the mugs. “Anything else I can—oh!” He took a rolled napkin from his apron pocket and gave it to Calvin before picking up the soiled one from between our plates.

  “This is great, thank you,” Calvin answered. He waited until our server left, then reached into his coat pocket to remove his cell. He poked at the screen, turned it around, and said, “Here’s their homepage.”

  I pushed my glasses up and leaned in close. It looked like a sun
rising over a hillside. Or rather, a film reel with a bit of celluloid probably meant to emulate the sun’s rays. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  I pointed at the phone and looked up at Calvin. “Do you know who goes to this school?”

  “I’m certain you’ll tell me.”

  “Lee Straus.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Calvin tucked the phone into his pocket.

  “When he came to the Emporium yesterday, I noticed a lanyard around his neck. The logo is the same.”

  “Lee said he was an adjunct professor.” Calvin picked up his utensils and cut into the omelet.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I don’t think these academies have professors,” he continued.

  “So Lee’s got an ego.”

  Calvin gave me a look.

  “He does,” I replied. “I’m not trying to be a jerk about it.”

  “Seb.”

  “Do you still have the business card he gave you the other day?” I asked.

  Calvin looked a bit surprised as he took a bite of food. He set his fork down, reached for his wallet, and sifted through a few cards. He plucked one, stared at it, then set it on the tabletop.

  I put a finger on it and dragged the card closer.

  Sunrise Film Academy

  Lee Straus, Instructor

  East 28th Street, New York, New York

  “He might know these teens,” I stated.

  “And he might not,” Calvin replied. He took another bite.

  I frowned and poured syrup onto my waffles. “I think it’s more than coincidence,” I mumbled. “Especially seeing how it’d be hard for him to walk by the Emporium on his lunch break when I’m twenty blocks away from the academy.” I looked up and stuffed a hunk of waffle in my mouth.

  Calvin set his fork down again and stared at me. “What do you expect me to say to that? Lee is now a suspect because he teaches at the school Casey attended and he made the mistake of visiting your shop?”

  I held up a finger, taking a longer-than-intended moment to chew the huge piece of waffle. “No,” I said around the last bits. “Unless you have reason to think—”

  “I don’t have reason to think Lee is a suspect,” Calvin said firmly.