Murder on the Hudson - 1. Chapter 1

I entered the lobby of my apartment building, and did what I always do upon arriving home from work. I opened my mailbox and retrieved the current day’s collection of bills and junk mail. Today’s mail was a little different than on other days. Among the usual stuff, one envelope stood out. It was square and at least six inches by six inches. Whoever had addressed it had used a calligrapher. The lettering was ornate, in black ink, which stood out on the very pale lavender envelope. There was no return address on the envelope.

I let myself into my fourth floor apartment, and did what I do every day. I threw the mail on the hall table. I undressed to my birthday suit and put all my dirty clothes in the hamper in the laundry room. I took a long, therapeutic shower, and cleansed my body as well as I possibly could, paying particular attention to my cock, balls and ass hole. It’s important for me to do this every evening. It’s imperative that I wash the scum of the earth out of my hair and off my body.

I’m a police detective you see. Every day I associate with the dregs of New York City society. I need to touch them, sometimes handcuff them, and even undress them to look for hidden weapons. You have no idea how my skin cringes when I perform these duties. I feel filthy. Not only do I feel contamination all over my body, but I feel the slime invading my soul as well. My evening shower is my salvation.

How different is my morning shower. In the morning, I cleanse myself of the evidence of love from the night before. I carefully wash the dried semen out of my trimmed pubic hairs and my belly button. I give equal attention to the remaining semen which might still be residing in my ass hole. As I wash, I remember the evening before.

After my evening shower, I make myself a light dinner. If I don’t wish to bother, I’ll have some fast food at Burger King or McDonalds. That shit is all the same to me. Then I go to my favorite gay bar, Dudes on East 86th Street. All my friends hang out there. Dudes caters to an older crowd, usually from the mid-thirties and older. Consequently, one does not have to suffer deafness from loud disco music. By the third beer, no later, I am sure to be hit on. I’m not particular. As long as he’s clean looking and clean smelling, I’m always up for man sex.

We usually go to my place which is in the neighborhood, but sometimes I can sense mistrust, and my trick wants to go to his place. I feel my weapon hidden inside the waist band of my trousers and I accompany him without fear. Up to this point in my life, my tricks have always been honest, and I have not had to use my gun at all.

I am a very diversified lover, and this encourages most of my tricks to be the same way. It is rare for a trick to balk at doing anything I might ask for. I love to use fellatio as foreplay and fucking to achieve orgasm. I find that most men feel the same way. I give and I take. I never get a complaint. Why would I? I am well hung, seven inches, cut and thick. My tricks love to fondle me, and can’t resist sucking me. I am always true to my promise to go slowly and gently, and to be well greased when I fuck them. It is rare that I don’t have a sex partner for the evening, but when I don’t, I use my fist. My fist is educated, and lubed for maximum pleasure.

On this evening, I got out of the shower and dressed very casually in denim shorts, a tank top and sandals. I had already decided to do fast food this evening. Before going out I always open the mail. All bills are placed in a pile to be paid on the weekend. Junk mail is thrown in the circular file. Of course, this day, there was the envelope with the invitation to open.

I am very meticulous and did not wish to damage the invitation, so I slit it open slowly with a letter opener. Like the envelope, the invitation was lavender as well, but the color was deeper, a light purple. I removed the invitation and read:

You are cordially invited to spend the

Labor Day Weekend, from Friday evening

To Monday evening,

At my home in Nyack, New York

201 River Street

(clothing optional)

Monte Barnes

Enclosed with the invitation was a stamped, return envelope for the RSVP. I was astounded. I had met Monte only once. He is a well-heeled Broadway producer. Most of his plays and musicals have been resounding successes.

One afternoon about four months earlier, I had been called upon to investigate a suspicious back stage accident at one of Monte’s productions. The male lead had tripped over a prop placed carelessly where it should not have been. His right leg suffered multiple fractures, and his understudy was set to fill in that night. Most investigators would assume that the understudy was the prime suspect, but that is not my MO. Everybody in the theater was my suspect.

Sitting at a table backstage, I interviewed every member of the cast and crew. Monte chose to be present at the interviews, and to tell the truth that was all right with me. Monte is a gorgeous hunk of a man. All during the interviews he kept staring at my crotch, and I wondered if he might not be my trick for this evening.

I concluded my interviews about an hour before curtain time. I was certain that there had been no foul play, and that a stage hand had left the prop there by accident. Everyone was relieved.

Monte graciously offered me an opportunity to see the show that night. It was a hit musical and seats were hard to get except for months in the future. I had intended going right home from there anyway, so I accepted.

“I’ll send out for sandwiches,” he said. “We can eat in my office and later we can watch the show from my box. Follow me!”

I followed him to his office. We sat and chatted, mostly about some of my more interesting cases. After the sandwiches and sodas were delivered, Monte locked his door. He came over to where I was sitting, leaned down and kissed me full on the lips. Naturally I offered no resistance.

“How about some action after the show?” he asked knowing full well what my answer would be. I am sure he could see the bulge in my pants.

“Sounds like a great plan to me,” I answered

Sitting in his box in the darkened theater, we kept groping each other all through the show. Often we leaned toward each other and brushed our lips together. Monte was nice and hard, and I could tell that he was at least as big as I am, but I guessed he was not as thick. That would be fine with me especially when he fucked me. He told me that he maintained an apartment in the city, but his real home was across the Hudson River in Nyack, NY. He asked if I would like to go to his apartment after the show. I gladly accepted.

Monte’s apartment was lavishly furnished in a baroque style. Upon entering it, I felt like I was entering a brothel in the nineteenth century. It certainly started all my sex juices flowing. As best as I can remember, Monte and I had fantastic sex together that night. We started in his shower and continued throughout the night in his bed. I can only assume that was the reason he invited me for what promised to be a sex filled weekend at his primary residence in Nyack. I was pleased to note that my sexual prowess had made me memorable.

I had not taken any vacation in quite a while, and if I didn’t take time off soon, I would lose some of my days. I quickly put in for time off over the Labor Day weekend. When it was granted, I sent Monte my RSVP. The Friday before Labor Day most of my co-workers left the office early and I was among them. I went home and had my evening shower early. I packed lightly remembering that clothing was optional. In addition, the weather reports for the weekend promised us scorching temperatures

Nyack is a lovely, quaint town, northwest of Manhattan, on the other side of the Hudson River. You can drive there from midtown Manhattan in about forty-five minutes. It boasts many antique shops and stately old mansions. A good many theater people from New York own homes there. The most famous inhabitant ever was Helen Hayes. A hospital in the County bears her name as she was the chief endower. It is a very gay friendly, and gay inhabited, town and I have been there more than once enjoying the gourmet restaurants and frequent street fairs.

I drove west across the Tappan Zee Bridge. Nyack is situated just the other side of the bridge. The late afternoon sun in the western sky was blinding me, and I was happy to get off the bridge. With the help of my GPS system, I found River Street and wound my way up a hilly road to 201.

A handsome young man, wearing a Bikini bathing suit answered the door. The weekend was starting well. The young man was delightful eye candy. After I identified myself, he took my overnight bag, which mainly contained toiletries, and asked me to follow him. He carried my bag to a room that I knew immediately was the master bedroom. Obviously Monte had further designs on me, although now, I preferred this young man.

“My name is Larry,” he said. If you need anything at all during the weekend just let me know. We are expecting only one more guest. When he arrives, I’ll take off my bathing suit. In the meantime, why don’t you strip and go down to the pool. The other guests are already there.”

“How many guests are there?” I asked.

“When the last guest arrives, we’ll have eleven,” he said, “but Mr. Barnes and I make thirteen.”

Not that I am superstitious, but I didn’t like that number at all. I stripped naked and hung my scant wardrobe in one of several walk-in closets in the room. As I went downstairs to find the pool, I was struck by the stark contrast of this house to Monte’s town house. It was so modern and so sparsely furnished that it was almost surreal. The walls were hung with abstract paintings in white and black. There was absolutely no color in the house. All the furniture was gray, black or white, with an occasional piece of silver.

Totally naked, I made my way down the stairs and out the back door. When I got to the pool area I was astonished. You should know that it takes a lot to astonish me. There were some of the most beautiful male bodies I had ever seen. Practically everyone was sporting an erection and some had coupled off and were enjoying oral and anal sex right out in front of everyone. Nobody in this crowd seemed in the least shy or inhibited.

Monte spotted me and ran over to greet me. He hugged me and pulled me tight against his naked body. His right hand cupped my balls and stroked my cock and instantly I was as hard as the rest of the crowd.

“I took the liberty of putting you in with me,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I answered and kissed Monte full on his lips. We were interrupted by Larry, the houseboy. He was still wearing his bikini bathing suit so I assumed that the last guest had not yet arrived. He was carrying a tray of hors d’oeurves and offered us some.

Monte pointed over his left shoulder and said, “The bar is over there. Help yourself and mix your own drinks.” I had an hors d’oeurves in my right hand, so Monte took my left hand and led me over to meet the rest of the guests. He introduced me to Barry, Elroy, Abel, Grant, Francis, Don, Conrad, Ian and Harry.

“You’ll never remember all the names,” Monte said, “so don’t strain yourself.” Monte was unaware of my police training. At that moment I could name every guest at the pool without hesitation. As an extra added attraction, I could even describe each cock in minute detail. Let me not forget, I could also describe every tattoo and body piercing, and to whom it belonged.

I had just finished shaking the last hand when the doorbell rang. Larry put down the tray of hors d’oeurves and disappeared into the house. I figured that it would take Larry seven minutes to reappear without his Bikini, and the last guest would get to the pool in fifteen minutes after being shown to his room and given time to undress.

Larry reappeared in nine minutes carrying a fresh tray of pigs in a blanket. I hadn’t counted on that, and I chided myself for not factoring in his household duties. He was now nude of course, and I could see immediately why Monte kept him around. As eye candy, he was looking better and better to my horny eyes.

The last guest appeared in exactly fifteen minutes. He was probably the oldest man present. He looked to be in his early fifties, but no matter. He was buff and muscular and sported a better than ample package and he was still flaccid. Monte introduced him around and came to me last.

“Ken, my dear friend,” he said to me. “In case you were worried about us being raided. I’d like you to meet Jason. He’s our chief of police here in Nyack.” Then he turned to Jason. “Chief, I’d like you to meet Ken. He’s a detective with the New York City Police Department. You two should have lots to talk about.” I noticed that surnames were completely taboo.

Jason and I shook hands warmly. I asked him if he would like a drink because I was just on my way to the bar to make one for myself. He nodded and we headed that way together. By this time the sun was very low in the sky, and suddenly lights were turned on, illuminating the pool and the pool area. Jason mixed himself a scotch and soda and I made a vodka tonic. I motioned to two lounge chairs at poolside which were unoccupied and we claimed them for ourselves. We began to talk some shop, and I couldn’t help being envious of the quiet life of Nyack’s police chief. Crimes were minimal and violent crimes almost non-existent.

In the middle of our conversation, Jason stood up and sat down on my lounge chair. I had to scoot over to make room for him. “You’re hot,” he said and he laid his hand across my package. He started to stroke my cock and then he started to lean over as if he was going to blow me. Out of nowhere, Monte appeared. He pushed Jason away from me.

“Not tonight, Chief. This one’s mine,” Monte said. I could swear his tone was menacing. Jason glared at Monte, and he jumped up and made his exit. Frankly I was pissed. I didn’t care to be referred to as ‘this one’ as if I were a commodity.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. “Jason and I were really enjoying each other’s company. I’m a big boy and that was totally uncalled for.”

“Yes, it was,” Monte said with a smile on his face. “Everyone here knows the rules of the house. The guy in my bedroom is off limits to everyone else. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I answered, “but I don’t know if I like your house rule. Most of these guys are hot, hot, hot!”

“They are all hot,” Monte said. “At one time or another every one of them has shared my bedroom at one of my parties.” He sat down next to me where Jason had been, and he kissed my cock. Then he left me to go talk to the other guests.

Larry came over to me and told me what room he was in should I need anything during my stay. Then he rang a gong to get everyone’s attention.

“Dinner will be served in one hour, at 8:30, in the dining room. You might wish to shower before dinner, but again clothing is optional. Should you choose not to dress, Monte has asked that you kindly bring a fresh, dry towel to place on your dining room chair. We’d like to avoid hash marks on the white upholstery.” He said the last words with a smirk in his voice.

I went to Monte’s room and ran into the shower. Since I am a creature of habit, I paid particular attention to my private area as I do every evening. While I was scrubbing my ass, the shower door opened and Monte came in. He enfolded me in his arms and began to kiss me on the lips. Little by little his lips descended my body until his tongue was caressing my cock. Monte was a superb cock sucker and it didn’t take me long to fill his mouth with my copious flow of jism. Monte swallowed every drop.

“That was good,” he said. “You owe me one, and I’ll collect when we turn in tonight.”

“The pleasure will be all mine.”

As we were drying each other off, I asked. “I didn’t see any cooking going on. What’s for dinner?”

“I hired a private chef to cater. His truck will arrive any minute from Manhattan. If they didn’t fuck up, we’ll be having shrimp cocktail, Cornish hen with baked potatoes, an assortment of red wines and baked Alaska for dessert. They will also leave food for Saturday and Sunday dinners. After we dine tonight the other guests will spend the evening poolside for however long they want, but you and I are retiring after dinner for a sporting event of our own.”

“That sounds good to me,” I said and I fondled Monte’s cock.

I put on a pair of boxer shorts and Monte looked at me questioningly.

“I don’t like nudity around food,” I said. I can’t tolerate the vision of pubic hair alighting in my shrimp cocktail.”

Monte laughed. He went to his dresser and took out a pair of briefs which he put on. We smiled at each other and went down to dinner.

I was amazed at the dinner conversation. To my surprise there was little or no talk about sex. The group seemed to be very intelligent. The main topic of discussion was current events, with a smattering of the two taboos, religion and politics. Occasionally everyone seemed to be talking at once and at other times one person was able to hold everyone else’s attention. On a scale of one to ten, our dinner conversation would have rated a ten.

My trained eye was able to pick out one guest who seemed not to participate in the evening’s proceedings. Chief Jason sat very quietly. His eyes never stopped staring at Monte. There was venom in that stare, I swear. Monte seemed not to notice. I had to conclude that there must have been many times in the past that they had vied for the same prey. Was I someone’s prey this evening? I could only wonder.

Almost everyone at the table was nude. Only a couple of other guests wore underwear or shorts like Monte and me. We had been served by the caterer’s all male crew and as everyone got up to leave the table, the cleanup began immediately. Four guests had coupled off and each couple went to a bedroom just as Monte and I did. The rest went to the pool for a little more frolicking. Since the caterer was doing all the household chores, I noticed that Larry joined the other guests at the pool. Monte must have given him permission.

Back in our room, Monte locked the door and began to kiss me passionately. Our tongues brushed together sending shivers through my body. He led me to the bed and whispered, “You owe me. Pay up.”

“Not so fast,” I told him. With that I proceeded to give him a trip around the world. I didn’t miss an inch of him, front or back. Of course, I stayed away from his cock and balls until he began to whimper and he begged me to take him. I took his cock in my hand and started to lick the head and his piss slit. Monte was whining like a baby. Finally, I put him out of his misery. I enveloped his cock with my mouth. My tongue ran up and down his shaft and my lips ran alongside, travelling with my tongue.

I sensed he would cum soon and I stopped. “Where’s your lube and condoms?” I asked.

“In the top drawer of my night table.”
I reached into the drawer and pulled out a condom, which I rolled down Monte’s cock. Then I greased his cock and my ass hole. I straddled Monte and lowered myself on his cock until he fully penetrated me. I began to push down on him as he thrust up to me. We tried to delay Monte’s orgasm as long as possible, but finally he came screaming loudly. Eventually he softened and fell out of me. I let my body fall forward on top of him, and we began to kiss.

We lingered for what seemed like forever, but at last we got up and went to the bathroom where we disposed of the condom and washed up as best we could. Finally, we got back in bed, cuddled together and fell asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I thought that I heard a thud against our bedroom door. I sighed uncomfortably, but Monte’s arm was around me and I did not wish to wake him up so I just continued to sleep. About five in the morning, I did wake up because I had to pee so badly. Monte was still asleep and snoring lightly. I crept out of bed to go to the bathroom. While I was peeing, I remembered what I thought was a dream, but I suddenly began to sense that it was no dream. I walked stealthily to the door so as not to disturb Monte. I unlocked it and I tried to open it.

The door opened out into the hall. As I pushed the door to open it, I was met with a great resistance. The door would not budge. I pushed harder and moved it a few inches. I kept at it until I had opened it enough to squeeze myself through.

There were several night lights in the hallway, enough for me to see that someone’s wrists were bound with pillow cases, and then tied to the bedroom door handle. I had noticed where Larry had turned the hall lights on and off, and I ran directly to the light switch. I turned it on without hesitating.

Someone was tied to the door handle as I described. He was naked and his body was turned to the floor. I went over and put my fingers on the victim’s carotid artery. There was no discernable pulse. I turned the head and gasped. It was Abel, and he was quite dead. His throat had been slit, but obviously it had been done elsewhere. There was no sign of any blood in the hallway.