The erotic adventures of intrepid detective Miles
Diamond kick off with The Case of the Missing
Twin. Miles is a genius in the bedroom, although
he is often at a loss when it comes to solving
crimes. Unwilling to let his limitations stand in his
way, Miles constantly finds himself in a variety of
compromising positions with a cast of randy
studs—each of whom harbors a secret of two of
his own. Miles diligently sets about uncovering
everything within reach as he tracks down the
elusive and delectable Daniel Travis.

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infringement, including infringement without
monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
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fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions,
and do not participate in or encourage the electronic
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author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are products of the author‟s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

The Case of the Missing Twin

Copyright © 2011 Derek Adams

ISBN: 978-1-55487-556-4

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in
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means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden
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The Case of the Missing Twin

The Adventures of Miles Diamond

By

Derek Adams

Dedication

To KRJ again. Thanks for everything.

1

Chapter One

t wasn‟t a good day, although you might not
have noticed, what, with the birds singing, the

blue skies, and the unseasonably warm breezes
blowing in off the Puget Sound through the city
streets. It was the sort of day that makes folks
around here whistle, sing and even nod in
greeting to bleary-eyed characters like me as I
trudged along the sidewalk, looking like the losing
side in a barroom brawl. Maybe, under different
circumstances, I would have been bounding along
cheerfully myself, smelling the salt in the air and
looking for robins…maybe. As it was, I didn‟t
dare take a deep breath for fear that the change of
pressure in my body might blow the top of my
head off. Just squinting at the pavement through
tiny slits in my puffy eyelids was bad enough—a
full-fledged stare at the brilliant morning sunshine
might very well have proved fatal.

I ducked into Lena‟s, which was blessedly dark,

and climbed onto a stool at the counter. Most of
the patrons looked rested and were gorging

I

Derek Adams

2

themselves on runny eggs and greasy slabs of
bacon. I suppressed a shudder and tried to focus
on the ashtray directly in front of me. I had to
study it for a minute before I could determine if it
had two butts in it, or maybe three. It was too
much for me to handle, so I shut my eyes and
prayed for sudden death.

“Coffee?”
I opened one eye tentatively. It was Lena, her

hennaed hair piled high. “Black,” I whispered, my
own voice sending shockwaves of agony up my
brain stem.

“Miles?” Lena shot me an appraising look over

the top of her glasses and set the coffeepot on the
counter with a sound reminiscent of the bombing
of Britain. “Honey, what happened? You look like
you got dragged the wrong way through a one-
way knothole.”

“Thanks, Lena. My latest case sort of fizzled out

on me last night.”

“From the looks of you, it must have blown up

in your face. Can I get you something to eat?”

“Just the coffee, thanks. Well, maybe a couple of

aspirin.”

“I‟ll leave the bottle.” She set a family-size

container of Bayer‟s finest in front of me and
patted my hand. I considered downing the bottle‟s
entire contents, but elected to try a wait-and-see
tactic and started with one small handful. They‟d

When I originally
wrote this, the
smoking was still
possible. I’ll just
take out the
reference, although
I do like the visual.

Not sure why this
line is indented so
far. Couldn’t back
space to fix. “Just
the coffee, thanks.
Well, maybe a
couple of aspirin.”

The Case of the Missing Twin

3

definitely be fighting an uphill battle, all the way.

It had seemed like such a sweet deal, too. I

hadn‟t had a client in so long I almost hadn‟t
answered the phone when it rang last Monday.
Daytime calls almost always led to harangues with
bill collectors and utility officials, dunning me for
money that I didn‟t have. This time, however, it
was a client—a real client with real cash.

Martha Siegal was an attractive woman in her

mid-forties who was having a bit of trouble with
her husband. It seemed he wasn‟t always safely
underfoot at home when he should have been and
Martha wanted me to find out what he was up to.
She gave me all the details—his office address,
hours, friends, clubs, hangouts and habits—
leaving me in some doubt as to why she needed
me in the first place. Then she wrote me a check, a
real check that the bank cashed without blinking
an eye, and I put all my doubts aside.

Harley Siegal was about ten years younger than

his anxious wife, and born to wander. He was
quite a looker—tall, blond, athletic, with blue eyes
that could melt ice at ten paces—so it seemed my
job would be a pleasant one. All I had to do was
follow him around, keep track of his activities, and
report back to his worried wife. Piece of cake.

For two days, it all went along smooth as

clockwork. Then last night, the world fell apart
around me, literally. I‟d followed Harley into The

To dun someone is
to make an urgent
request, especially
for money. I
suppose we could
use ‘pester’ if you
think it is more
readily
understandable.

Derek Adams

4

Triple Door, a nightclub at Second and Union. He
took a table near the band and I sat behind him,
sipping a Johnnie Walker on the rocks and taking
in the clientele. With the exception of Harley, it
was a pretty undistinguished group, which helped
to focus my attention.

He sat there, all alone, for the better part of two

hours, hitting the liquor pretty hard, not talking,
not looking around. When the band took a break,
he got up from his table and headed right for me.
As he passed, I got the impression he was
throwing a really heavy cruise my way. I sat there,
puzzling over the ramifications of that one, „til he
strolled back to his table. He didn‟t look my way
on his return, so I chalked it up to my imagination.

About half an hour and two drinks later, I got

up to go to the can. I hadn‟t even started to piss
before the door swung open and Harley sidled up
next to me at the trough-style urinal.

“Evening,” he said, his elbow brushing mine as

he unzipped his trousers.

I glanced over at him. He was looking my way,

but the trajectory of his gaze left little doubt as to
the meaning of the look he‟d given me earlier. I
was beginning to figure I had the answer to his
wife‟s questions regarding what he was up to
when he wasn‟t keeping the home fires burning.

“Damn, you‟ve got a big dick,” Harley slurred.
He wasn‟t an original conversationalist, but I

The Case of the Missing Twin

5

thought he sounded sincere. So sincere, as a
matter of fact, that my cock was in imminent
danger of showing him just how big it could get. I
wasn‟t totally convinced that pursuing this latest
development to its logical conclusion could be
justified under the heading of fact finding when I
filed a report later in the week. I was going to have
to fight hard to maintain my professional distance
on this one.

“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, trying to reel it in

before things got out of control. No such luck. His
hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around my
prick, gripping it firmly. He tugged on my handle
„til I was facing him, pushed me against the half
wall separating the urinal from the sinks and
dropped to his knees before I could so much as
voice a protest. Then he smacked his lips noisily
and right away, I didn‟t have anything to protest
about.

Harley may not have been much for

conversation, but the man knew how to suck a
cock. He polished my knob briefly, tonguing the
piss hole and licking all around the ridge of the
crown. Once he had my attention totally riveted,
he went to work on the shaft, licking its top, sides,
and bottom „til it glistened in the harsh light.

Once that phase of the inspection had been

carried out, he went for my balls, jamming them
into his mouth one at a time and sucking on them

Derek Adams

6

„til my toes were curling. I suppose I still could
have pushed him away and walked out of the
place, but it‟s dangerous to upset a man who has
your nuts sucked halfway down his throat.

By now I was starting to leak like a broken pipe

from Harley‟s expert attention, my pre-cum
dripping down onto his high forehead and
running down either side of his rather patrician
nose. I glanced down and noticed that he‟d also
been doing five-finger exercises on himself. His
own stiffer was no slouch—it jutted out from the
fly of his trousers, the head a lip-smacking cherry
red.

I tried to pull him to his feet so I could take a

closer look, but he held firm, giving me clear
signals that this was his show and he‟d call the
shots. Fine by me. I braced my elbows on the low
wall behind me and thrust my hips forward,
content to let him blow me „til my head caved in.

I thought I heard someone at the door to the

bathroom, but when I looked over my shoulder,
no one was visible, so I focused my full attention
back on Harley. He was bobbing up and down on
my dick like a precision machine, his tongue
vibrating, his throat tight and hot. He‟d pull off „til
only the tip of his tongue was teasing at my cum
hole, then slam forward, smacking his forehead
into my tight gut. I‟ve got great endurance, but a
man can only take that type of pressure for so long

The Case of the Missing Twin

7

before the trigger trips. Harley tripped mine after
about ten delicious minutes. I grabbed him by the
ears and started humping his handsome face,
bouncing my balls off his cleft chin as I prepared
to blow. When the bathroom door flew open and I
felt a heavy hand on my shoulder it was way too
late to stop.

“That‟s it, buddy!” a gruff voice barked in my

ear. I jumped back, pulling my prick out of
Harley‟s talented throat. My first shot got him
right between the eyes, splattering all over his
face. His yelp of protest turned to one of dismay
when he saw what was going on. We were busted,
plain and simple. My dick kept on spouting jism
all over Harley‟s trousers and on his shoes as he
tried to back away from me and pretend he hadn‟t
just been giving me head. Poor guy didn‟t look too
convincing.

“Harley, you disgusting pervert!”
The voice was familiar, although I would never

have expected to hear it in this particular setting.
Harley‟s dismayed expression transformed almost
instantly to one of abject terror. I turned and got a
glimpse of Mrs. Siegal, her features a mask of
murderous rage.

“He made me do it.”
Harley pointed a trembling finger my way,

obviously trying to make me the fall guy. I
scowled at him, mentally berating him for his lack

Derek Adams

8

of character.

“Shut up,” his wife screamed at him. “I‟ll deal

with you later.”

I didn‟t doubt that for a minute, from the way

she sounded.

“And as for you…” She spun around to me, her

face a very unbecoming shade of scarlet. “I‟m
going to get your license revoked. I‟ll have you
run out of town. I‟ll…” She spluttered to a stop,
but I had the general idea.

“Thanks,” I said, giving Harley a little nod. I

tucked my cock back into my pants and started to
leave.

“Stop him, Arlo!”
I got the sudden feeling that Martha wasn‟t

finished playing the injured spouse quite yet.
Arlo, the guy with the gruff voice, was big. He
stopped me with no trouble at all.

“Check his pockets. He‟s got my money and I

want it back.”

Arlo frisked me and lifted my wallet. I‟d only

spent a fraction of the thousand and I winced as I
saw it slipping back into Mrs. Siegal‟s well-
manicured grasp. Arlo tossed my wallet into the
urinal with a nasty laugh. I retrieved it, wiped it
on Harley‟s sleeve—he was rapidly slipping in my
estimation anyway—and turned to leave.

“You‟re a hundred short, Diamond,” she

snapped venomously. “I want my money and I

The Case of the Missing Twin

9

want it quick, or I‟ll have the police on your ass.”

“I don‟t have any other money,” I protested

weakly.

“Then you‟d better go out and peddle your

wares on the street until you get it. You owe me a
hundred bucks and I want it tomorrow,
Diamond.”

“But…” I began, my heart sinking into my

shoes.

“Throw him out, Arlo,” the Mrs. snapped,

effectively ending our exchange of views
regarding my current financial situation.

“I‟m leaving,” I protested, quickening my pace.
“Throw him out!” she reiterated, leaving Arlo

with no choice, but to obey.

He grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and

the seat of my pants, carried me through the club,
and showed me how to get down a long flight of
stairs without using my feet. I landed at the
bottom like a sack of bricks, dazed and out of
breath. I might have sat there for a few minutes to
collect myself, but Arlo was thundering down the
stairs, so I staggered to my feet and beat a hasty
retreat out into the night.

“Hey, Diamond!”
I jumped and spun around, ready to pick up

my pace if Arlo was still in pursuit. I relaxed when
I recognized Perry, an old buddy of mine who was
the chef at an area restaurant.

Derek Adams

10

“What the hell happened to you?”
He was eyeing my jacket—one of the sleeves

had parted company with the shoulder seam. “I
tripped,” I muttered sullenly, not quite prepared
to be conversational.

“Tough luck, guy,” Perry commiserated, falling

into step beside me. “I‟ve got a fifth of the finest
back at my place. Wanna talk about it?”

Perry had known me long enough to figure I

wasn‟t being totally candid with him.

“Your fly‟s open,” he added, looking discreetly

away while I remedied the situation.

Perry‟s liquor supply had been much more

extensive than he‟d indicated, contributing greatly
to my current suffering. I probably should never
have started knocking back the shots of amaretto
along with the scotch, but it was a little late to
regret that now. I groaned softly and my head
sank a little lower between my shoulders.

“Miles? Miles!”
My eyes snapped open and Lena was with me

again, pot in hand.

“You ready for a refill, honey?”
I slugged down the dregs and held out my cup.

She shook her head and pursed her lips as she
reached out to steady my hand.

“Miles,” she clucked, “you should go home and

go to bed. I don‟t think coffee‟s going to help.”

The Case of the Missing Twin

11

“Thanks, Lena.” I attempted a grin, although to

judge from her concerned expression, the effort
wasn‟t much of a success so I gave it up. When I
pulled out my wallet to pay the bill the events of
the previous night came roaring back in blazing
detail. “Can I put it on my tab?” I winced.

“That bad, huh? Forget it, honey. You just go

home and get some sleep.”

“Thanks. See you around, Lena.”
I left the restaurant, cursing the sunlight. I

didn‟t feel appreciably better, but at least I could
open my eyes without fear of instant blindness. I
turned my steps to Western and Columbia, an
area near the viaduct that had, so far, escaped
urban renewal. My building was a Victorian-era
catastrophe that was in danger of losing a century-
long battle with gravity.

Once inside, I shuffled down the hall, dodging

sleeping bums and piles of uncollected trash. I‟d
just stepped over Three-Bag Annie and her friend
Archie, so I knew I was getting warm. I scanned
the doors all along the corridor. Tucked between
the bathroom with its out of order sign and a broom
closet, the words Miles Diamond, Private Detective
flashed at me, not quite obscured by the grime on
the frosted glass. One advantage to having your
own name painted on a door in three-inch-high
letters is that you can usually find your way to
work.

Derek Adams

12

I stepped inside, flopped down in my desk

chair, folded my arms and laid my head down
wearily, still waiting for the damned caffeine to
kick in. Things weren‟t looking good at all. I‟d
really been counting on Mrs. Siegal‟s retainer to
fend off my creditors. Now, I was back to square
one. Actually, it was worse than that. I had no
doubt that she would make good on her threat to
go to the police if I didn‟t come up with the
hundred. Hell, it might as well have been a
million. My total assets were here, contained
within these four walls.

I raised my head and looked around me. The

office was painted a shade of green that I had
never seen duplicated in nature. It could make
you feel bilious, nauseous, or claustrophobic,
depending on your frame of mind. Aside from the
battered oak desk and the chair I was sitting in,
the only other piece of furniture in the small
cubicle was an ancient leather sofa that had once
been brown, but had faded to the color of dust.
Throw in a framed photograph of J. Edgar
Hoover, contributed to the decor by some long
forgotten occupant, and you have a pretty good
overall view of the universe as it existed for me on
March 20th. It wasn‟t a pretty picture.

Things hadn‟t always been this gloomy. I

actually grew up in a relatively normal, middle-
class environment with the same expectations

The Case of the Missing Twin

13

most of the other kids in the neighborhood had.
My problem was focus—I didn‟t seem to have
one. Nothing claimed my interest for long except
sex.

When I flunked out of the University of

Washington during my junior year, my folks
threw up their hands and told me I was out on my
own. At the time, my father confided in me that he
had always expected one of his children to be a
total failure—the fact that I was an only child
made his assessment weigh heavily on my mind.

Since that time, I‟d worked at a number of jobs,

each one worse than the one preceding it. Of late,
I‟ve taken to calling myself a detective, but I‟ve
been having a little trouble convincing the world
that I‟m serious about it. To be honest, most of my
experience has come from watching old film noir
flicks from the Forties. I‟ve taken a couple of
classes at Pinkerton‟s and even sent in for one of
those correspondence courses I found advertised
on a book of matches. I bogged down on that after
the third installment, but I plan to finish it up any
day now. Bottom line, barring a miracle, it was
beginning to look like I‟d be back with the want
ads come May 1st.

I figured that by then the electric company, the

phone company and the landlord would all have
caught up with me. That shouldn‟t be too hard to
do, since I‟d been sleeping on the broken-down

Derek Adams

14

couch in my office for the past three months,
having given up my apartment as an unnecessary
expense. If I hadn‟t managed to spend several
nights a week with one obliging young man or
another, that damned couch would have broken
my back by now.

Luckily, I have a reputation around town as

something of a virtuoso performer in the sack, so I
generally have my pick of the eligible bachelors
who are out prowling on any given night. Hey,
I‟m not bragging—well, not too much. At the ripe
old age of thirty, I‟m lucky enough to have a tight
body that still resists the effects of all the junk food
I cram into it. If you like your men tall and dark,
easy on the eye, built but not bulky, covered with
silky black fur in all the right places, then I‟m your
guy.

The miracle I‟d been hoping for arrived at a few

minutes after eleven. I saw a shadowy figure walk
past the door two or three times, hesitate, then rap
on the glass with bare knuckles.

“It‟s open,” I called out, hoping I didn‟t look as

hung over as I felt.

“Miles Diamond?”
“That‟s me.” I glanced at the sign on my door

for confirmation. “What can I do for you?”

“I need your help.”
I immediately thought of about six kinds of

help I wanted to give him, any one of which

The Case of the Missing Twin

15

would have kept him busy „til sundown. The guy
was a real looker—a strong-featured, Nordic
blond with eyes the color of cornflowers. From the
way he was filling out his pants and the t-shirt
under his leather jacket, it looked like his tailor
was experiencing a serious fabric shortage. His
calves bulged, his thighs bulged, his chest—well,
you get the picture. I got it too and my blood
pressure started to rise noticeably.

“At your service, Mr.…” I paused for him to fill

in the blank, smiling reassuringly.

“Travis. David Travis.”
“Well, Mr. Travis, what kind of help are you in

the market for?”

“I want you to find someone for me. It‟s very

important that you be thorough and very discreet.
Money is no object.”

That took my attention away from the fat bulge

in his crotch. “Who are we looking for?”

“My twin brother, Daniel Travis.”
“That should be a pleasure.” I grinned at him,

but he didn‟t grin back. “Just stick to the salient
details,” I drawled, scrambling around in the top
drawer of my desk, looking for paper.

“Well, Mr. Diamond, Dan and I flew back to

San Francisco from Paris two weeks ago to be with
our grandfather on his eightieth birthday.
Unfortunately, Dan and Grandfather had a serious
argument over money. So serious that

Derek Adams

16

Grandfather had to be rushed to the intensive care
unit at St. Francis Hospital. He has a bad heart.”

David turned the full force of his eyes on me

and I started to sweat.

“The next day, Dan flew up here to take

delivery of a new sailboat he‟d had built. There
was an accident—the diesel line for the generator
leaked and there was an explosion. The boat sank
and my brother‟s body was burned beyond
recognition. Officially, the case has been closed.”
He paused for a moment, looking over my
shoulder at the grimy green wall.

“And unofficially?” My patience was wearing

thin as I contemplated just how much money
would be no object.

“Unofficially, I don‟t think Dan is dead. I‟ve got

no proof, but I have a gut feeling that he‟s alive
somewhere and I‟ve got to find him.”

“Didn‟t the autopsy establish beyond a doubt

that your brother was the man they found with
the wreckage?”

“Not only was the body badly burned, Mr.

Diamond, but when it washed ashore…” The
young man shuddered, then continued in a tight
voice. “The head was missing.”

“So, we‟ve got no fingerprints and no dental

records to check. And, understandably, you don‟t
want to believe he‟s really dead.”

“Yes, Mr. Diamond. I‟d give it up, but I keep

The Case of the Missing Twin

17

having the feeling that he‟s trying to signal me.
Dan and I were always very close. It‟s like there‟s
some kind of psychic bond between us. It‟s not all
that uncommon among sets of twins. Since I have
nothing but that to go on, I‟m trying to keep this
quiet. That‟s why I came up here, rather than
consulting someone in San Francisco.”

All of a sudden, a bell rang—a golden bell.

Travis and San Francisco. That would be Travis
Air, Travis Timber, Travis Real Estate
Development, and Senator Travis. I could smell
money in the air. If I‟d taken a deep breath, I
probably would have smelled a rat as well, but it
was a rich rat so I took a couple of shallow breaths
instead and plunged on.

“Why did you come to me?” I asked, my

curiosity on that topic getting the better of me.

“I told you, I need discretion. I asked around

and no one had ever heard of you, so here I am.”

“I see.” I couldn‟t fault his honesty so far. I set

about building his confidence. “Do you have any
idea of what might have happened to him?” I
looked him over again—a pleasant task, no matter
how often I repeated it.

“If I thought I could find him myself, I

wouldn‟t be here,” he retorted, giving me a
condescending glance.

“I‟m just trying to get some background, Mr.

Travis.” I‟d read far enough in the damned lessons

Derek Adams

18

to know that.

“Sorry.” He softened his tone. “It‟s just that I‟ve

been so worried about Dan I don‟t know what to
do.” A big tear was glistening in the corner of one
of his gorgeous blue eyes. I rose up out of my
chair, ready to offer a comforting shoulder for him
to lay his magnificent head on. “You‟re my last
hope, Mr. Diamond.”

You‟re in real trouble, buddy, I thought, but

didn‟t say. I just stood there, about a foot from
him, looking strong and competent. Or maybe that
was horny and ready to screw—I always did get
my looks mixed up. “Is there anything at all you
can give me to go on, David? I can‟t work in a total
vacuum.” I rested my hand tentatively on his
broad shoulder.

He smiled bravely and tossed his head to coax a

stray lock of his blond mane back off his broad
forehead. It didn‟t do much for his hair, but the
effect on me was immediate. “I‟ve been trying to
shake this feeling because I don‟t want to get my
hopes up too much. Then, just the other day, I was
going through some of his things, and I came
across this card. I hadn‟t noticed it before.” He
handed me a plain pasteboard business card that
read Nelson Chin Imports, Seattle. Very vague.

“Ring any bells?” I asked, handing it back to

him. Our fingertips brushed, triggering a tingling
sensation right at the base of my cock. Looking

The Case of the Missing Twin

19

back, I now know that any idiot with even half a
mind would have realized that Travis‟s story had
more holes in it than a kitchen strainer.
Unfortunately, my little brain was totally occupied
with other, more pressing concerns—like whether
his lips felt as lush and sensuous as they appeared
to be. Like I said, maybe I was in the wrong line of
work.

“None, Mr. Diamond. I want to confront Chin,

but I don‟t want him to know that I‟m behind the
questioning. I‟ve discovered that he‟s a pretty
shady character, and I desperately want to avoid
anything that might cast a bad light on my brother
if he really is dead. Our grandfather is our only
living relative, Mr. Diamond. He‟s quite old and in
poor health. I‟m afraid any hint of scandal
concerning Dan would kill him. I‟ve been thinking
that I should just let the whole issue drop, but as I
told you, I can‟t believe he‟s really dead. Chin is
the only link I haven‟t examined. If you‟d just talk
to him, then perhaps I could put the whole issue
behind me. Have you ever had any dealings with
him?”

“I‟ve heard of him,” I answered confidently. I

hadn‟t, of course, but client confidence is a very
important thing to nurture, especially before
you‟ve discussed fees.

“You‟ll talk to him then?”
David looked so fetchingly anxious—how

Derek Adams

20

could I refuse? “Sure, I‟ll talk to him. I have ways
to get in to see almost anyone in town.” Another
exaggeration, I fear. But those eyes!

“I have to return to San Francisco today. I don‟t

want anyone to know I‟ve been here, for my
grandfather‟s sake. If you learn anything at all, I
want you to follow it—wherever it leads.”

“Leave it all to me, David.” I smiled confidently

at him.

“There‟s just one more thing. My brother and I

both have two birthmarks which would make it
quite easy to make a definite identification, should
you discover anything.”

“Hey, you‟re twins, right? How could I miss a

face like yours?”

“I‟m just trying to think of anything at all that

might be of assistance to you, Mr. Diamond.”

“Miles,” I offered. “Believe me, David, I‟ll be

happy to look at anything you want to show me.”

He shucked off his coat and pulled his shirt up

over his succulent pecs. On the left side, just above
a big pinkish-brown nipple, was a small
strawberry birthmark, shaped vaguely like a heart.
No other distinguishing scars set his body apart
from any of the other examples of physical
perfection I‟d ogled over the years, but the view
was a pleasant one. My eyes wandered down over
his flat belly—I could think of several moves that
would tense it up like a washboard.

Let’s leave him
standing.

Let’s go with
‘pinkish’

The Case of the Missing Twin

21

“And the other one?” I asked, forcing my eyes

back to his face.

He turned around slowly and pushed his pants

down to his knees. A tiny pink handprint, no
bigger than a quarter, stared up at me from his
right cheek, quivering slightly when he shifted his
weight. Without even thinking, I reached out and
caressed his sleek ass. He looked over his shoulder
and winked at me, at the same time thrusting his
butt back in what seemed an open invitation. I
petted him again and he practically purred. It was
all the encouragement I needed. I dropped to my
knees to have another look at the telltale mark.

My aim must not have been as good as I‟d

thought, because, next thing I knew, I was staring
at his quivering rosebud of an asshole. Fine golden
hairs ringed it, lying flat and damp against his
cheeks. I flicked my tongue along his crack,
pausing to tease the tight pucker on my way down
to his big fuzzy balls. He pushed back against my
face with a smack and I gave in to the impulse to
play hide and seek with my tongue. He bent over,
spread his cheeks, and opened wide.

“Oh, man, that‟s so good. Don‟t stop. Don‟t

ever stop.”

I obeyed readily, we still hadn‟t gotten around

to talking money after all, and I wanted to get him
in the right frame of mind. I jammed my tongue in
right up to the root, reached between his legs,

Go with the
commas

Derek Adams

22

grabbed his hard prick and used it to hold his butt
against my face. With my free hand, I fumbled
with my belt and zipper and released my cock
from the confines of my pants. It popped up like a
flagpole, already starting to drool.

I rimmed his tight butt voraciously, nipping

gently at his sweet little ass lips from time to time.
Judging by the way that he was writhing around
after a few minutes of this treatment, I figured he
was about ready for a change of pace. I gave him a
couple of farewell licks, stood up, grabbed his
golden mane, bent him over at the waist and
pointed my cock toward the gates of paradise.

I watched in amazement as he rammed himself

back to my short-and-curlies in one brusque move.
No need for warm-ups here. I grabbed him by the
waist and went at it top speed—pulling out „til his
ass ring was just grabbing me by the crown, then
slamming back in „til my balls bounced against
his.

David braced his arms on the back of the couch,

legs spread wide. I was pounding him so hard that
his head bounced against the wall every time I
drove it home, but he was still begging for more.
Finally, my balls snapped up in a knot and I
squirted cum up into him „til it drooled out
around the base of my prick and splattered on the
bare floor of my office.

Ever the gentleman, I reached between his legs

The Case of the Missing Twin

23

to help him out as soon as I caught my breath. His
dick flexed against my palm, filling my hand with
hot juice before I‟d done a dozen strokes. When he
came his ass ring clamped down on me like a
vise—If it‟d had teeth, I would‟ve been in big
trouble.

He pulled off me, sprawled back on the couch

and grabbed his ankles, lifting his legs and
spreading them wide. “This time around, I want
to watch you fuck me. I want to see your big prick
slipping in and out of me.” He leered at me, sweat
beading on his upper lip. I leered right back,
dropped to my knees and took aim once again.

By the time David Travis left my office, I‟d had

a thorough workout. He was still raring to go on
to round three, but I‟ve always been a believer in
moderation, so I gently pushed him out the door,
grabbing his ass in fond farewell. Even without
the four grand in crisp, new one-hundred dollar
bills that he‟d put on my desk as he left, I‟d have
been willing to look long and hard for anything he
wanted, just so I could bring it back and maybe
spread those golden thighs again.

“Well, well. If it isn‟t Miles Diamond, not-so-

private dick, hard at work again.”

I looked up. Rudy Vale, the guy who had the

office directly across from me, was leaning against
the doorframe, taking a quick inventory of my

Derek Adams

24

new client‟s visible assets as he disappeared down
the hall. I smiled cheerfully and flipped him off.
He followed me into my office and shut the door.

“Mind if I use your phone, Diamond? The

phone company took mine, cord and all, and left
me a nasty ransom note. Oh, well, business is so
bad I don‟t think I‟ll miss it all that much.”

Rudy billed himself as a consultant, but I‟d

never caught him in the act so I didn‟t have any
idea what type of advice he was passing out. His
current plight led me to believe it was nothing
anyone was willing to pay for.

“You‟re still in service, aren‟t you?”
“Yeah,” I replied smugly. “For your

information, business has just picked up. I may
even have the place redecorated.”

“You don‟t mean to say he paid you for what I

couldn‟t help overhearing for the last three-
quarters of an hour?”

“That was a bonus. He just happens to be my

new client.”

“Great. A quarter here, a quarter there—keep it

up and you just might be able to afford a
newspaper to start job hunting.”

“Eat your heart out, Rudy.” I picked the cash

up off my desk and fanned it out like a winning
poker hand.

“Jesus, Diamond! You really do have a client!

So, what gives?”

The Case of the Missing Twin

25

I remained silent, relishing his curiosity.
“Look, Miles, I know there‟s nothing you can

do with your private parts that‟s worth that kind
of bread, so why don‟t you just spill it?”

“This is strictly professional, buddy. I am

embarking on a very important case. Missing
person, absolute discretion required.”

“I‟d love to know what line you used on the

poor sucker to get him to part with that wad. So
what happened? Did his aging mother wander off
and get lost in the produce department at
Safeway?”

“Petty jealousy really cheapens you, Vale. This

is a sticky situation and he‟s turned to me for
help.”

“Well, you‟re obviously familiar with sticky

situations.” He eyed the globs of cum on the back
of the sofa and shook his head. “I‟ll make my call
and let you get back to work.”

“What‟s up?”
“I have to cancel a date tonight. The bank

confiscated my checkbook. The world is closing in
on me.”

“Here,” I pushed a crisp hundred-dollar bill

across to him. “As card-carrying members of the
underclass, we‟ve got to stick together.”

“I know I should square my jaw and refuse

nobly, but…” He pocketed the cash and stood in
the doorway with his arms folded. “So who is this

Derek Adams

26

mysterious client, Miles?”

“His name is David Travis. He‟s on the lookout

for his dead brother.”

“Given a detailed map of the cemetery, I think

even you might be able to find him.”

“Very funny, Vale. He doesn‟t believe his

brother is really dead. Twins often know things
like that.” I glared at him balefully. I was in no
mood to have my myriad limitations pointed out
to me. Rudy had been privy to several of my
business problems since we‟d met and I think his
confidence in my abilities had been unfavorably
influenced. Maybe I talked too much.

“The Travis twins? You‟re kidding!”
“Does this look like a joke?” I waved the cash at

him again. “If it is, I‟m ready to laugh.”

“Those people have all the money in the world.

Why would he come looking for you? You have to
admit your record is a little spotty, to say the
least.”

“He wanted total discretion.”
“He got total obscurity, Miles. Face it, buddy,

something isn‟t quite right here.”

“The cash is real, isn‟t it?” I was clinging to this

line of reasoning, because I couldn‟t answer any of
his other questions.

“It appears to be.” Rudy looked at the bills

carefully. “They‟re real, or a damned good copy. I
still think this is a setup.”

The Case of the Missing Twin

27

“Pessimist.” I looked him over appraisingly. He

looked as good as always. Rudy was a tall
redhead with a body out of a wet dream, and
when we first met, I‟d had a hard-on for him for
weeks. Then we‟d gotten to be friends and the
moment had never seemed right to make a pass at
him. I still wondered if his butt was smooth and
freckled like his handsome face, or dense in
coppery hair like his arms and chest. Maybe
someday I‟d find out.

Pushing these unproductive thoughts aside, I

rummaged around in the bottom drawer of my
rickety old desk, digging for the yellow pages.
There were no Nelson Chins in the import
business as far as I could make out, but there were
two listed in the white pages. The first call netted
me a quick course in the finer points of speaking
Chinese; the second was a disconnect. So far, so
bad.

“Stumped already, Miles?” Rudy was grinning

at me wickedly.

“I have four thousand dollars in my hand,

Rudy. Never underestimate me.”

“Three thousand nine hundred,” he corrected

me. “Word has it you had a thousand in your
pocket last night.”

I looked up at him sharply. “How the hell did

you hear about that?”

“Perry Martin‟s sister lives in the same

Derek Adams

28

apartment building I do, remember? We ride the
bus together.”

“That‟s the last time I tell anyone anything,” I

groused. All of my disasters seemed to play to
large audiences. It wasn‟t fair.

The phone rang shrilly, startling the hell out of

me.

“Diamond,” I barked into the receiver, putting

a hard edge on the old delivery. Knocks „em over
almost every time.

After a brief pause, a muffled voice with a trace

of an accent I couldn‟t place hissed at me over the
wires. “Stay away from Travis and you may live
long enough to start collecting unemployment, my
friend.”

“What?” I spluttered, somewhat taken aback by

this turn of events. My caller didn‟t care to
elaborate and hung up noisily.

“Creditors?” Rudy was studying my face

closely. I shook my head. “I didn‟t think so.
What‟s up?”

“Just a friendly warning to keep my nose out of

this case.”

“Good news travels fast. Maybe you should

pay attention.”

“I can‟t. I need this money. You need this

money. I can‟t just throw in the towel before I even
get started. No, Rudy,” I intoned, stabbing at the
air for emphasis, “Miles Diamond is hot on the

The Case of the Missing Twin

29

trail.”

“Oh brother.” Rudy shook his head and walked

out of the office.

I didn‟t know whether I wanted to kick his butt

or fuck it—maybe a little of both.

Derek Adams

30

Chapter Two

have to admit the phone call unnerved me
somewhat. It was obvious that persons

unknown were on Travis‟s trail and they weren‟t
happy about his decision to call in reinforcements.
Once away from the distractions provided by his
face and body, I must admit that even I was hard
pressed to accept his story at face value. No matter
what I‟d said to Rudy, I couldn‟t buy the intuition
bit or give much credit to his claims of a psychic
bond with his brother. That meant he must have
had something else to go on—but what? Maybe I
should have grilled him a little more intensively
before I drilled him.

I recalled reading something in the Seattle

Times not long ago about an explosion in one of
the boat yards on Lake Union, but I hadn‟t paid
much attention at the time. I opened the upper
right drawer in my desk and riffled through the
pile of business cards, matchbooks, and slivers of
paper that constituted my address book. I‟d spent

I

The Case of the Missing Twin

31

the evening not long ago with a guy who worked
at the public library. With any luck, he might still
remember our tryst in a fond enough light to do a
bit of footwork for me.

“Rob Marley, please.” I tapped Chin‟s card

against the edge of the desk while the connection
was being made. I still couldn‟t figure why Travis
had come to me, of all people. Surely, there were
detective firms in San Francisco who could assure
discretion—or competence for that matter. My
faith in my abilities had been pretty badly shaken
of late. So much so that I had to agree with
Rudy—I was beyond discretion. Nevertheless, the
hefty retainer fee currently gracing the scarred top
of my desk was most gratifying. Now all I had to
do was earn it.

“This is Rob Marley. How may I help you?”
“Rob. Miles Diamond.” Silence. “We met a

couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, yes.” His enthusiasm was at a very low

ebb. Perhaps it hadn‟t been one of my better
evenings. “I‟m still waiting for you to send me the
twenty.”

“Hey, Rob, that‟s one of the reasons I called. I‟m

putting it in the mail right now and I couldn‟t find
your home address.” I was beginning to think that
maybe I should have walked to the library and
done my own research. “I was also wondering if
you could check your newspaper archives for me.

Derek Adams

32

I‟m working on a case.”

“Johnnie Walker or Jack Daniels?”
“Very funny, Rob. Actually, I‟m trying to get

some background information on that explosion at
the shipyards on Lake Union. I think it took place
a couple of weeks ago.”

“You‟re really sending the cash?”
“With interest. Can you help me out?” He

clicked me on hold without a yes or a no, so I
settled back to wait. Shit, I‟d forgotten all about
his damned money—which was just another
reason I had to make a go of this case. My money
troubles were starting to tarnish my romantic
image.

“Miles? I got a couple of short notices here. The

first is from March 4th, the day after the explosion.
The victim was one Daniel Travis, age twenty-six.
It was a major explosion. It came close to setting
the whole end of the lake on fire.”

“They were sure it was Travis?”
“Identification had to be made circumstantially.

The body was charred beyond recognition. Even
the head was missing. They did, however, find a
watch and ring on the corpse, both of which
belonged to Travis. The second clip just says that a
representative of the Travis family came to claim
the remains.”

“That‟s it?” I had been hoping for something a

little more substantial.

The Case of the Missing Twin

33

“That‟s it, man. Now, when are you mailing

that cash?”

“Today, Rob. Absolutely without fail.” He

rattled off his address and hung up without
saying goodbye, thank you, or kiss my butt. Men!

When two hours of relentless concentration and

about half a pack of cigarettes had failed to
provide a flash of inspiration that would solve the
case, I decided to hike over to the International
District and do a little on-site sleuthing. I started
to take the cash with me, but decided that this
office in this building would be the last place on
earth anybody would look for it. I left it tucked
into the top drawer of the desk, hidden under a
mountain of unpaid bills.

The afternoon had blossomed into one of those

false summer days that real Seattle natives prize
so highly. Honest to God, it has to be one of the
few places in the world where people keep their
shorts and sandals on tap, even in the dead of
winter. Everywhere I looked, people were
swarming to the sunny areas, soaking up the rays
like they were drugs. Bicycle messengers in shorts,
construction workers with their shirts stuffed in
their back pockets, businessmen with their coats
off, their necks and chests bared to the light—It
was enough to get me agitated in the space of a
few short blocks. One young hunk sprawled on a
park bench almost made me forget all about my

Derek Adams

34

mission.

I wanted to talk to my old buddy, Ralph Wong.

I knew he‟d be likely to have a good sense of what
was going on in the Asian community, especially
if those goings-on were illicit. Ralph was a dealer
of pharmaceuticals, although he operated without
the benefit of a pharmacy or a license. I‟d known
him in high school when he‟d been the ideal
student—letting me copy his homework in
exchange for an occasional joint. Now he was a
dealer while I was grooming myself to be an
upholder of law and order. Ralph knew everyone
and he‟d talk, for a price.

Ralph was in his office when I looked in—China

Gate Cafe, last booth on the right. He was studying
the cracks in the lid of a white porcelain teapot
when I first caught his eye. He gave me a terse
nod as I scooted in opposite him.

“Miles, my man. What‟ll it be? Uppers,

downers, all-arounders, sexual enhancements—
you name it.”

“Thanks, Ralph. Today I‟m in the market for

information. Do you know this guy?” I threw
Chin‟s card down on the Formica tabletop. Ralph
pushed the card back to me with the filter of his
cigarette, as though he was afraid to touch it.

“You don‟t want to see this dude, man. He‟s

very bad medicine.”

“Oh, but I do, Ralph. I‟m working on a case.”

Line indented in
error.

The Case of the Missing Twin

35

“If he‟s involved in a case you‟re working on,

take my advice. Move to Miami and change your
name.”

“Thanks for the encouragement. Now, do you

know where he is or not?” I sweetened the pot
with a C note that I dropped casually between us.
“I really need to talk to this guy, Ralph.”

“We‟re talking hard drugs, prostitution,

extortion, white slavery…”

“White slavery? Come on Ralph, this isn‟t a

Charlie Chan movie.”

“Take my word, man,” he shot back, sounding

offended. “I know it sounds farfetched, but my
information is accurate and up to date.”

“The address, Ralph?”
“Fong Lin Benevolent Society. When they‟re

getting ready to stuff your balls down your throat,
just forget you ever knew me, okay?”

“See you around, Ralph.” I got up and walked

out of the place. The two dudes seated at a small
table by the front door left immediately afterward,
a fact I probably should have paid more attention
to at the time, but didn‟t. I found the Fong Lin
easily enough. It was in a dilapidated building in
the heart of the district. A gaudy dragon was still
holding the sign in his mouth, but he was looking
pretty dispirited, ready to drop it on some poor
sucker‟s head at the slightest provocation. I
pushed the door open into the dingy entry.

Derek Adams

36

Whatever his business was, Mr. Chin wasn‟t
spending any money on advertising. The stairwell
looked like it hadn‟t been cleaned since the tired
dragon outside was young.

When I got to the third floor, there were no

more stairs. There was, however, a single door
dead ahead, no bell or knocker in evidence. I
talked to it with my fist and stood back, waiting. I
didn‟t have to wait long. The door swung open
and I was confronted by a bruiser twice my size
who didn‟t look like he took kindly to being
interrupted in the middle of whatever the hell
he‟d been doing when I knocked.

“Nelson Chin, please,” I asked politely.
“Who wants him?”
“Miles Diamond. I‟m here regarding a matter of

mutual interest. It‟s very important.” I kept my
remarks to the point. No use confusing the
messenger.

“Wait here,” he growled, slamming the door in

my face, effectively limiting my options. Footsteps
on the stairs gave me something to think about
while I cooled my heels in the hall. I turned and
smiled wanly as two familiar faces loomed into
view. My friends from the China Gate apparently
couldn‟t stand to have me out of their sight.

Neither of them was inclined to be

conversational, so I spent a few seconds
memorizing their ugly mugs for future reference

The Case of the Missing Twin

37

before turning my attention back to the peeling
paint on the door. The first bruiser reappeared in
the doorway and nodded. I started to step inside
when I heard the goons closing in on me. They
twisted my arms behind my back and yanked up
so hard that my feet left the floor. Hell, if they
were that worried about the carpets, I would‟ve
wiped my feet. The feeling of well-being that had
been buoying my spirits since this morning
rapidly gave way to some serious concerns about
my immediate future—if, in fact, I had one.

My bearers dropped me unceremoniously in

the center of a large room and stepped back to
block the door through which we had just entered.
This solid wall of flesh put an end to any fleeting
ideas of escape I might have entertained. I checked
to see that my arms were still functioning and took
a look around. Whatever money Nelson Chin
hadn‟t spent downstairs, he‟d more than
compensated for in his private quarters. The room
was paneled in dark, expensive looking wood. The
place was deep in Asian art—the good kind. I‟m
no expert, but it looked strictly museum quality.
Who knows, maybe that‟s where it came from. The
bruiser who‟d initially greeted me opened a
second door and stood aside, motioning me in. It
slammed shut behind me with the finality of
prison gates in an old Cagney film.

Nelson Chin‟s inner office was like the entry,

Derek Adams

38

only more so. The thick carpet on the floor shone
like silk in the afternoon sun. The walls were lined
in book and display cases, all arranged to
perfection. The huge desk in the center of the
carpet was hand-carved rosewood, bound in
brass. Whatever this dude‟s line of business, he
was obviously a success.

“Mr. Diamond?”
I spun around in the direction of the voice. “Mr.

Chin?” I replied as soon as I could find my tongue
and get it working. Nelson Chin wasn‟t at all the
slimy, drug-ravaged thug I‟d been expecting. He
was about six-two, late twenties, face all strong
planes and angles, accentuated by his close
cropped, black hair, and a body that set my libido
to fluttering. He was wearing a pair of black
running shorts that were making love to his ass
while gently cradling his cock and balls.

“Pardon the way I look,” he began, fixing me

with his black eyes, “but you caught me in the
middle of a workout.”

“I can talk while you continue,” I offered, not at

all averse to seeing his lithe body in action. He
motioned for me to follow. We entered a fully
equipped gym and he lay back on the weight
bench, legs spread wide.

“How may I help you?” he asked, lifting the

barbell down and starting to press.

“I‟m looking for a man named Daniel Travis.”

The Case of the Missing Twin

39

“Sorry, I never heard of him.” He was pumping

the barbell like it was made of balsa wood. I
checked the weights and did some quick mental
math. I estimated he was pushing about two-
hundred-twenty-five. I was impressed. Watching
Chin‟s body work against the weights was very
gratifying to my aesthetic sense. His pecs bulged,
his lats fanned out, his biceps swelled up to the
size of grapefruits—only I‟ve never seen
grapefruits with veins. A fine sheen of sweat was
beginning to plaster the silky hairs in his armpits
flat. As he continued his reps, the only signs of
strain were the corded tendons in his neck and a
small vein pulsing just below his navel. I forced
my eyes back to his face and did my best to keep
my mind on business.

“Then why did you agree to see me?” Chin

looked at me curiously but didn‟t answer. There
was heat in his eyes, but not a hint of warmth. He
was a man to be wary of. “Your business card was
found among his personal papers.”

“Many people have my card.” He looked up at

me, still smiling, still betraying no effort. “Who
sent you here?”

“A little bird told me that you might be

involved.” I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped
was a knowing scowl.

“Mr. Diamond,” he grunted, still pumping the

weights, “if you‟re involved with talking animals,

Derek Adams

40

perhaps you should be off looking for Dr.
Doolittle. Why didn‟t your little bird come to me
directly?”

“The bird didn‟t seem to think you‟d be a nice

man to talk to.”

“„I‟m very nice, under the right circumstances,

Mr. Diamond.” He hooked the barbell back onto
the stand and stood up, no more than a foot from
me. “You‟re a very handsome man, Mr. Diamond.
Is your body as good as I hope it might be?”

“That depends on your expectations, Mr.

Chin,” I retorted, unable, unwilling, and
unequipped to resist his challenge. His hands
slipped inside my jacket and up to my chest. He
started massaging my pecs, searching for my
nipples with his thumbs. I returned the favor and
his tits popped out to meet my pinching fingers. I
tugged the rapidly stiffening nubs of flesh and his
crotch ground into mine.

“I anticipate at least a little body hair.” His

hands went back to my waist and he pulled the
tails of my shirt out of my pants. “Very good, Mr.
Diamond. Very exciting.” His fingers were
splayed on my belly, stroking the line of hair that
split it down the middle. I stepped back and shed
my clothes while Chin watched. He reached out
and stroked my broad chest approvingly. His
fingers trailed on down over my belly and tangled
in my curly bush. I felt his thumb and forefinger

The Case of the Missing Twin

41

taking some quick measurements around the base
of my cock. His fingers didn‟t meet on the other
side and his smile broadened.

My hands were free so I slipped them into the

back of his shorts. His ass was smooth as marble
and about as hard. One of my unruly fingers
sought out his ass crack and found it, tracing the
deep cleft between the tight globes.

“How could I say no to a man of such

towering…intellect?” he murmured, his fist
closing down tight on my rapidly growing prick. I
ignored the jibe. I didn‟t want to date the guy, I
just wanted to get some information out of him
and fuck him. Right now, I was ready to settle for
the latter. When I made contact with his asshole, it
felt like the damned thing was kissing my fingers.
Mr. Chin was hungry.

I figured my time was valuable and my cock

was hard, so I skipped the niceties and forced
Chin down to his knees. He went for my balls first,
sucking one, then both deep into his hot mouth.
His tongue skittered over the tingling orbs, laving
them with spit. He ducked his head slightly and
pulled down on them, stretching their cords „til I
felt a dull ache in the pit of my gut. I groaned with
pleasure.

After licking and sucking my balls „til I was

reduced to pounding my fists on his beautifully
muscled shoulders, he abandoned the fuzzy orbs

Derek Adams

42

and began licking his way up the shaft of my cock.
It bounced and started drooling sticky honey,
which Chin caught on his tongue and spread over
the big knob on the end. Then he lunged forward
and started swallowing, never letting up „til his
nose was buried in my bush. I stroked his neck,
amazed by what all those straining muscles in his
throat were doing to me.

After a couple of minutes, I tried to pull him

back to his feet, but he tightened his hold on my
hairy butt and kept on sucking. I was looking for
something to occupy my hands, so I reached down
and started playing with his tits. That triggered
something fundamental, I guess, because his
tongue and throat started doing things to my prick
that I‟d never even imagined. I just concentrated
on the tit work—that and on keeping my balls
from snapping up into my armpits.

I finally gave up on trying to hold back and

gave him what he wanted, squirting a heavy load
of my finest right down his throat. At this point,
he was groaning louder than I was, thrashing
around below me, the muscles in his back tensing
under his ivory skin. He milked the last drops out
roughly with his fist, then stood up abruptly, his
eyes flashing as he glared at me insolently.

“Fuck me!” he barked. It was an order that I

was more than willing to obey. I slipped my hands
back into the waistband of his shorts and ripped

The Case of the Missing Twin

43

them off him. His fat prick slapped up against his
belly, the bulbous head flared out tight.

“Make me want to,” I snapped, my voice low,

controlled. Chin licked his lips and spun around,
bracing his arms against the weight rack above the
bench. I took a step back and eyed his gorgeous
ass. It was hard as a rock, deep dimples winking at
me from both cheeks.

“Beat my ass, Diamond, make it sting.” He

looked back over his shoulder at me. Sweat was
dripping off his face and his lips were pulled back
from his teeth in a feral smile.

My forefinger homed in on him, made contact

and slipped easily into the heat. I swatted him
soundly and his ass ring squeezed tight around
my invading digit.

I continued spanking Nelson Chin „til his ass

glowed a bright red and he was writhing with
anticipation. A quick check of his equipment left
no doubt that he enjoyed the discipline. His balls
were pulled up so tight they were just a bulge on
either side of his throbbing cock shaft. Since my
nuts were in about the same state, I decided not to
waste any more valuable time. I popped my finger
free and pointed my hard-on at my target.

Chin shivered when I breached his chute and

began driving inch after inch of my prick deep
into his guts. I grabbed him by the shoulders and
slammed forward roughly, knocking him against

Derek Adams

44

the rack, making the weights rattle and shake. As
soon as I was in all the way, he started bucking
and squirming, bringing his whole body into focus
around my cock.

After the first couple of minutes, I couldn‟t tell

for sure just who was fucking whom, but I didn‟t
much care. I humped and pumped, bringing him
up onto his toes with every thrust. I also took the
opportunity to explore his body—twisting his tits,
squeezing his massive arms, slapping his muscle-
ridged gut—in short, doing everything in my
power to keep the suspect in a receptive mood.

When I finally got around to fisting his dick, he

went wild. Every muscle in his body flexed,
snapping his little sphincter down nice and tight. I
was close anyway and the smell of his cum as he
started blasting it out all over the bench sent me
right off the top of the charts. I locked my arms
around his chest and reared back, lifting Chin off
his feet. I didn‟t loosen my grasp „til his chute was
full and my nuts were starting to hang down
between my thighs again.

“You‟re a champ, Mr. Chin.” I sighed as my

cock slipped out of him. I stroked him from knees
to shoulders one final time and let him go.

“So are you, Mr. Diamond. I‟d like to keep you

around longer for my amusement and
gratification. Unfortunately, I can‟t let good sex
overrule the demands of my business.”

The Case of the Missing Twin

45

“I‟ve got business to attend to as well, Mr.

Chin,” I replied, looking around for my clothes.
Oddly enough, they were not in evidence. “Before
I go, I‟ll ask you one more time—what happened
to Daniel Travis? My client seems to think you
might have some inside information that you
haven‟t offered to share with him.”

“You‟re a very handsome man, Mr. Diamond.

You are also a sexual athlete of Olympian
prowess. Unfortunately, you‟re not very smart.
You should never have come here, although in
that case I would have been deprived of a very
pleasurable diversion.” He ran a finger from the
base of my cock, tracing a line up my torso to my
neck. He put his finger on my lips and gave me a
funny little smile. “What a terrible waste.”
Something about his tone was very discouraging.

As I started to reply, I heard a soft, swishing

sound behind me. Before I could even turn to look,
a bomb went off in my head. The lights went off,
the stars came out, and I sort of faded away as
well. I had a last fuzzy vision of Chin‟s perfect
body as I fell against it on my way to the floor.

Derek Adams

46

Chapter Three

was running through the streets of the
International District. It was night and there

were fireworks going off all around me. Chin and
his goons were in hot pursuit. I ducked down an
alley but it was a dead end. When I spun around,
Chin was standing in front of me, naked and
holding a barbell. He gave me an evil leer and
tossed it at me like it was light as a feather. It
cracked into my skull and I was flying,
constellations exploding in front of my eyes as I
cartwheeled through space. I kept reaching out to
grab something to arrest my fall, but my fingers
kept closing on empty air. Then a freight train
came up from beneath me, whistle screaming. It
roared up the back of my neck and through my
skull, exploding in a thousand shards of bright
light.

My eyes fluttered as I finally came to, but I

wasn‟t convinced it was such a hot idea. All I
knew for certain was that my little hangover that

I

In this instance,
cartwheeled is one
word. ‘A handspring
to one side,
performed with
arms and legs
extended.’ For
example, after the
royal wedding the
other day, there
was footage of a
churchman turning
cartwheels in
Westminster Abbey.
To observe this, just
google ‘westminster
abbey cartwheel’.
There are videos of
the event. This is a
reference to Miles’
feeling he is
spinning as he

The Case of the Missing Twin

47

morning couldn‟t hold a candle to what Chin‟s
goons had done to me. It was no wonder David
Travis hadn‟t wanted to confront this guy directly.
It occurred to me that his intuition seemed to be
very good so far. Maybe even a little too good. I
tried to shake that thought—according to the
books, it‟s best to remain loyal to your client, even
if he‟s managed to help you get your ass in a sling.

I tried a couple of tentative moves, hoping that

my head was still attached to the rest of my body.
My head moved, but that was about it. I finally
built up the courage to open my eyes, thinking
that might offer an explanation of my plight. It
explained a lot, but it didn‟t make me feel much
better.

Nelson Chin had generously let me take

possession of his weight bench, but I was in no
position to do any presses. My wrists were bound
together, pulled up over my head and fastened to
the end of the bench. My legs were spread wide,
and my ankles were tied to the hooks above my
head that were designed to hold the barbell. I
could practically have sucked myself off if I‟d
dared to raise my head, which I didn‟t quite have
the nerve to do. Besides, my cock was just
dangling there above me, all shriveled up, looking
like it might never rise again.

When I did finally sneak a peek between the V

of my legs, I saw one of Chin‟s helpers watching

Unnecessary tab at
beginning of
paragraph.

Derek Adams

48

my ass like it was a TV screen. I thought of asking
him what was playing, but thought better of it. I
was hardly in a position to antagonize the help
with any attempts at witty repartee. Lying here in
silence while the bones in my skull re-knit
themselves seemed by far the best bet.

My attention was suddenly distracted by Chin‟s

voice. I peeked over at his office door. He was on
the telephone, pacing back and forth behind his
desk as he spoke. Even from this angle, I could see
a wild gleam flashing in his dark eyes. His nostrils
were flaring and he was stabbing nervously at the
air in front of him.

“…very important has come up regarding the

most recent shipment I made to you. Yeah, that‟s
the one. You still got it? What?” He stopped in
mid-stride, his body tensing like a coiled spring. “I
know I said that, but things have changed over
here.” He began searching frantically among the
papers on the top of the desk. “Listen you fool,
there‟s no trouble with it, but recent events lead
me to believe there could be an even bigger profit
involved here than we had originally anticipated.”

Chin snapped his fingers and the dude eyeing

my ass stood up and scurried across to him.
“Smoke!” Chin barked. The man plucked a pack of
cigarettes off the desk, earning a grudging nod
from his employer. “Yeah, lots more. Let‟s just say
it could multiply your profit ratio by about a

The Case of the Missing Twin

49

thousand percent if we can regain possession and
perhaps even return the goods to the proper party.
You do know how to get back in touch with the
man who took delivery, don‟t you?”

He got the cigarette lit, then went back to

poking the air with this new weapon. “Don‟t give
me that, De Groot. I know you better than that. I
think you‟ll be able to convince the buyer that it‟s
in his best interest to accept an equal trade. I‟ll be
calling back in twelve hours and I sincerely hope
you have the answer I want to hear.”

He inhaled deeply, then spewed out a silvery

pall of smoke around his handsome head. The
gesture reminded me of the dragon hanging above
the entry. Who knows, maybe they were related.
“You do that. Twelve hours starting now,
remember? Yeah. Very urgent. I‟ve already had
some incompetent dick in here nosing around.
Poor schmuck doesn‟t know his asshole from a
hole in the floor, but I still can‟t risk having him
poking around. Don‟t worry, he‟ll be out of the
picture soon enough.”

I wasn‟t too thrilled by his allusion to

incompetent dicks, but I‟m afraid I had to agree
with him. A competent dick would have ended
our scene with Chin tied to the bench and the
aforementioned competent dick rescuing the
missing twin and collecting his just rewards. I was
convinced that Chin was talking about Dan Travis,

Derek Adams

50

in spite of the businessman‟s jargon he was using.
For a stab in the dark, David had done pretty well.
Unfortunately, the whole setup had gone radically
wrong on my end. According to the books, I was
supposed to be about two steps ahead of the bad
guys. The truth was, I couldn‟t take any steps at all
right now. I was going to have to work on that
aspect of things—seriously and quickly.

And then there was that remark about having

me out of the picture. That turned my thoughts
selfishly back to my own predicament. It wasn‟t a
good one. I eyed the knots on the ropes around
my ankles—good hemp, professionally tied. I was
trussed up like a calf at branding time, but I
probably wasn‟t going to get off with only a
scorched ass. It‟d be a hell of a shame if I didn‟t
live long enough to collect the balance of my fee
from David Travis. It was time to think.

“What?” Chin was still on the phone. “Listen,

asshole, you aren‟t thinking about trying to cut me
out, are you?” The wild look was back in his eyes
and the cloud of smoke around him was getting
denser by the second.

“You just find the goods and turn them over to

me or I‟ll come to Amsterdam and be all over your
fat ass like a bad dream. Is that clear?” It must not
have been because the veins in Chin‟s temples
started to bulge.

“It‟d be a real pity to miss out on your next

The Case of the Missing Twin

51

birthday just because you got greedy, wouldn‟t it?
Yeah, I thought so.” This Chin was a hell of a
persuasive guy, a fact to which I could readily
attest on several levels.

“So you find him and turn him over to me. Go

and get him back, for Christ‟s sake! I don‟t fucking
care if you have to go to the North Pole. Just do it,
De Groot! If you try to cross me, I‟ll be very
unhappy.”

He slammed the receiver down hard. I filed

away the bits and pieces I‟d been overhearing for
future reference—on the off chance that I wasn‟t
going to be pushing up daisies in the next twenty-
four hours or so, that is. Chin stalked into the gym
area and I closed my eyes. I couldn‟t think of any
pleasant topics of conversation to help pass the
time, so I played dead, thinking maybe he‟d just
toss me out into the street and call it even.

“Jackson!” Chin snapped.
“Yes, sir!” The chair hit the wall as my guard

jumped to his feet for the second time in the past
five minutes.

“Oh, sit down,” Chin said, his tone almost

jocular. “That asshole De Groot is trying to pull a
fast one on us, Jackson.” Chin sat down on the
edge of the weight bench, leaning back against me
like I was a piece of the furniture.

“Oh yeah.” Jackson‟s tone of voice shifted

subtly from menial to that of confidant. “So, how

Derek Adams

52

do you figure?”

“The fat greaseball told me he wasn‟t sure

where our package got off to. He‟s too fucking
cautious not to know exactly where it is. In his
business, he deals with a very small, very select
clientele. I figure he stumbled onto our package‟s
value and now he‟s got the same idea I‟ve got,
only he isn‟t planning to share the good fortune
with me.”

Chin shifted his weight, putting a new strain on

the ropes at my wrists and ankles. I was beginning
to wish he‟d start pacing again. “I had to get the
evidence out of the country for a while, but I
should never have trusted De Groot. He‟s telling
me bullshit about how there‟s been a transaction
and he can‟t be sure of the final destination.”

Chin slammed his fists down against the end of

the bench, jarring my head painfully. I groaned
involuntarily, but kept my eyes shut tight. I could
feel him shifting as he turned around to look at me
over his shoulder. I hoped I was doing a
convincing job of playing dead.

“De Groot has smelled the money in this deal

and we‟ve got to move fast or the bastard‟ll leave
us out in the cold.” Chin stood up.

I felt his hand on me, toying with the long silky

hairs growing on the inside of my thigh.

“We know Travis suspects something. This

rather remarkable specimen would never have

Change ‘tumbled’ to
‘stumbled’

The Case of the Missing Twin

53

stumbled onto us without a guide and a street
map.”

“What are we going to do with him anyway?”

Jackson‟s tone of voice sounded oddly concerned.

“Just keep an eye on him for right now. He‟s so

beautiful.” Chin sighed and ran his hand over my
ass. “What a pity.” I couldn‟t suppress a sigh after
that comment. Things definitely didn‟t look good.

“Should I hit him again?” Jackson asked.
I heard footsteps approaching the head of the

bench and tensed up, ready for the worst.

“No!” Chin shouted vehemently. “No, don‟t.

Not now. Just keep an eye on him. I have to run a
few urgent errands. Personal errands. Keep him
here until you hear from me.”

“I‟ll sure do that, Mr. Chin. You can depend on

me.”

I was neck-deep in shit now! Maybe I could

make friends with Jackson and convince him to let
me go. Then again, maybe I could just call the
Mounties or the Cavalry and have them drop by
for a quick rescue.

The door slammed as Chin left. Next thing I

knew, a calloused hand was caressing my ass,
barely ruffling over the silky brown fuzz covering
my cheeks. The sensation was a pleasant one,
sending a shiver along my spine. I looked up and
saw Jackson standing above me, face flushed, eyes
hot with desire.

Derek Adams

54

Jackson wasn‟t much to look at. His face

testified to the fact that he‟d let down his guard
once too often in the boxing ring. His nose was
flattened and he had multiple scars above his
eyebrows. He had great arms though. His biceps
were swollen and knotted with muscle and his
thick forearms were cabled with prominent veins.
The cheap cotton shirt he wore was stretched tight
across his chest and shoulders. It was a hell of a
time to be evaluating the dude as a potential sex
object, but then again, one thing might lead to
another and I was currently on a one-way street to
nowhere.

“Damn, you‟ve sure got a pretty ass,” he said

finally.

I smiled at him encouragingly and did my best

to flex the muscles in my butt. “Thanks. You‟re not
so bad yourself.” He looked pleasantly surprised
by that and his hand slipped to center stage. His
palm pressed against my crack, his fingertips
caressing my ball-sac. “If you‟d untie me, maybe
we could have ourselves some fun while the boss
is out of the way.” I looked up at him hopefully.

“Oh, no you don‟t. I‟m not stupid enough to fall

for something like that.”

Oh, well. It had, at least, been worth a try. I

smiled again and, next thing I knew, Jackson was
climbing out of his clothes. He wasn‟t planning to
untie me, but I had the feeling he wasn‟t going to

The Case of the Missing Twin

55

go back to his chair, either.

The body lived up to the promise of his arms.

He was a solid wall of muscle from head to toe.
His torso was hairless except for a patch of brown
fuzz growing between his bulging pees. It trailed
in a thin line down his hard belly, then flared out
in a dense thatch between his legs. He kicked his
clothes aside and straddled the bench behind me.
His chest pushed against my butt and his homely
face appeared between my legs. He didn‟t waste
any time asking permission—he just wrapped his
arms around my midsection and buried his face in
my ass crack.

Jackson may have been a lousy boxer, but he

sure as hell knew how to make a guy feel good.
Within seconds, my prick was wide awake and
poking me in the chin. His tongue dug into my
bunghole, twisting and poking at the tender flesh.
He kept his hands busy as well, exploring the
contours of my torso with his callused fingers. I
was in a hell of a fix, but he was succeeding in
getting me seriously turned on. His breath was hot
as he licked my balls, dribbling gobs of spit onto
my crack.

Once I was primed to his satisfaction, he stood

up behind me, his stiff prick waving in the air like
a big, veiny club. From my perspective, the head
looked about as big as a small apple and was
almost as red. He pointed it at the target, winked

Derek Adams

56

at me and launched his assault. My asshole
stretched wider and wider, but I couldn‟t quite
dial it up to the enormous setting that was
obviously required for this job. I whimpered my
discomfort as he kept on pushing.

“Am I hurting you, buddy?” He sounded

genuinely concerned.

I looked him in the eyes and nodded in the

affirmative. His eyes were brown, fringed with
long dark lashes. They were the one undamaged
feature in his face.

“This setup stinks, man,” I groaned. “If you‟d

just untie my legs, I know this would all be much
easier—and a hell of a lot more fun for both of us.
My hands will still be tied, so I won‟t be going
anywhere.”

He considered this, then reached forward and

started with the knots in the ropes around my
ankles. The motion brought his big balls within
reach. I ran the tip of my tongue over the tiny
ridge running up the center of the sac. He froze,
his hands suspended in mid-air. When he looked
down at me, I gave him a grin and licked again.
His expression relaxed and he went back to his
knots.

When he got them undone, I hooked my knees

over his shoulders. “Let me down easy.” I sighed.
“I feel like a pretzel.” He lowered me slowly,
massaging the small of my back and my cramping

The Case of the Missing Twin

57

hips. Christ, it felt good to straighten out! My butt
nestled against his belly. I felt the head of his prick
poking eagerly at my twitching ass hole. As he
continued his massage, a warm, tingling feeling
radiated through me, and my cock slowly
stretched up beyond my navel again.

I slipped my legs down off his shoulders and

wrapped them around his waist. Now I was ready
for him. He pressed into me and my tight little
pucker opened up like a flower in the sunshine. It
had been a long time since I‟d been the fuckee
instead of the fucker, and I had to admit I was
liking it already. I savored every fat, throbbing
inch of his meat as he plugged it in deep.

Jackson‟s hands hovered tantalizingly above

the tingling flesh of my torso. The hairs on my
body were like little nerve fibers, sending all the
sensory impressions from his hands directly to my
groin. When he massaged my aching biceps,
sending the blood back along to my poor hands, I
smiled up at him gratefully.

“You‟re one hot dude,” he whispered.
“Untie my hands,” I pleaded. “I want to touch

you.”

“I can‟t do that, man. Sorry.” He seemed to

mean it.

If I had any hope at all for survival, it looked

like I‟d have to pin it on my new fuck buddy. I still
had to work out some of the finer details of my

Derek Adams

58

escape, but for now, it was essential to keep the
guy happy. I dropped the subject of involuntary
bondage and set out to dazzle him with my
technique. Jackson grabbed the barbell rack for
leverage and drove it home, plugging my butt
with about ten inches of very thick dick. I breathed
a relieved sigh when his balls bounced off my
tailbone.

“Hey, Jackson.” He looked down at me, his

eyes glazed with lust. “Kiss me, man. I like to get
kissed while I‟m getting fucked.” He was clumsy
at first, like he‟d never done it before. He learned
fast though, and soon our tongues were parrying
and thrusting against each other. Through it all, he
continued with the old in-and-out, his fat low-
hangers slapping rhythmically against my
tailbone. Every time he raked the hard ridge of his
cock crown across my prostate, my ass ring
spasmed and my dick swelled like it was going to
erupt.

It finally did, a thick drop of my man-cream

oozing out, filling my cumhole like a liquid pearl.
I started to howl like a dog baying at the moon,
the spunk spouting out of me like water out of a
fountain. The first shot caught me on the forehead
and trickled into my hair. The next one arced up
and splattered across my chest. Then I really
tightened down and popped a shot over my head,
which splashed onto my forearms. Jackson‟s eyes

The Case of the Missing Twin

59

rolled back in his head and he started jabbing into
me at about ninety miles per hour. His cock
swelled to even more monumental thickness as he
emptied his balls then collapsed on top of me,
panting and laughing.

“You were incredible, man,” he gasped. “You

sure as hell are full of juice. What a turn-on.”

“You‟re not so bad yourself.” I smiled up at

him. “I haven‟t been on the bottom for a long time.
I‟d forgotten what I was missing. Thanks.” He
stood up reluctantly, scooped a glob of cum off
my belly and popped it into his mouth. Then he
dropped to his knees and proceeded to lick me
clean, his rough tongue grooming my fur into
tight curls. When he‟d lapped up the last drops, he
padded off to Chin‟s office, returning with a
washcloth and a big towel. He cleaned me up,
then proceeded to reach for the ropes that had
bound my feet. He was interrupted when the
telephone rang shrilly in Chin‟s office.

He ran to pick it up.
I strained to listen but he wasn‟t saying much.

He hung up and walked back over to the weight
bench, a stricken look on his face. “I‟m gonna
untie you so you can get dressed, then I‟ve gotta
take you someplace.”

“What‟s up?” Apprehension suddenly ruined

the nice afterglow I‟d been enjoying. Jackson
refused to look me in the eyes. My heart sank. It

Unnecessary tab
indent

Derek Adams

60

looked like my luck had run up against a stone
wall.

After slipping back into his clothes, Jackson

untied me. My hands were numb at first, then the
pinpricks started shooting through my fingers. I
flexed my arms tentatively. They still worked, sort
of. I dressed clumsily, stepped into my loafers and
waited. “Where are you taking me, Jackson?” I
asked finally, breaking the oppressive silence
between us.

“Turn around,” he mumbled.
As I obeyed him, I heard a familiar swishing

sound. “Please,” I had started to say when the
cosh got me on the back of the head, putting a
sudden end to my curiosity.

I started coming around again, in spite of all my

efforts not to. I was surprised my fucking skull
hadn‟t caved in over the course of the day. I didn‟t
know where Jackson had taken me, but I knew
that it was dark and cold and wet and I didn‟t like
it one bit. I groaned when I realized that my hands
were once again over my head. Only this time
they seemed to be supporting the weight of my
entire body. My eyes focused on a pair of heavy
shoes, right at eye level. It seemed like a hell of a
place for a pair of shoes.

Then I caught on and groaned, but not from

headache. I was suspended from a hook that had

The Case of the Missing Twin

61

been bolted into the scabrous old brick wall. My
body hung down in a narrow, straight-sided pit,
my nose about six inches below the level of the
floor. “We‟re in the old Seattle underground,
aren‟t we?”

He nodded.
“You‟re really going to kill me, aren‟t you

Jackson?”

“I‟m sorry man. I‟ve got my orders and if I

don‟t follow them, I‟ll be worse off than you.”

“I find that just a little bit hard to believe under

the circumstances.” I tried for a tough guy smile,
but it never quite got off the drawing board.
“Could you at least give me a clue to the setup?” I
strained my neck to look up at him. The fact that
he looked as miserable as I felt was cold comfort
for me.

“It was Chin‟s idea. The tides are high tonight.”

It was a simple, concise explanation, but a quick
review of city history brought it all home in a
sickening flash. Back in the I890s, Seattle had been
plagued by flooding because the city was in a tidal
basin. Locals had even gone so far as to raise the
toilets up on platforms to improve drainage. This
hadn‟t been entirely successful, giving rise to the
term wetbacks to describe unsuspecting souls who
forgot to consult the tide tables before doing their
business. They had eventually raised the city
streets and the storefronts were shifted to the

Derek Adams

62

second floors of these old buildings. Some of the
original sub-basements in Pioneer Square still
flooded at high tide. I was had!

“Jackson, come on, man. I thought you liked

me. You don‟t want me dead, do you?” A
scuttling sound caught my ear. I turned and got a
glimpse of a sewer rat the size of a healthy house
cat. It scurried off clumsily, probably to alert the
family that lunch was going to be ready soon.
“Come on, man. Think what you‟re doing.”

“Shut up, you hear me? I can‟t listen to you.”
He turned and started walking away, the light

of his flashlight receding as well, leaving me in
total darkness. Suddenly I felt cold water rising
around my ankles.

“Jackson! Get back here. Please.” My cries

echoed hollowly in the empty cellar. “Don‟t leave
me here to die. Goddamn you, Jackson.” The light
disappeared into the distance as the water lapped
ever higher on my legs. Funny thing about being
in a place that‟s pitch black—your eyes never
adjust. I kept trying anyway, hoping to conjure up
a stray tour of the underground or even a group of
boy scouts intent on earning a merit badge in
emergency rescue. Nothing. In the meantime, the
water was up to my chest and rising fast.

As the cold, briny water lapped over my lips, I

found myself wishing, for the first time in my life,
that I‟d followed my dad into the accounting

The Case of the Missing Twin

63

business. Relative to my current situation, a
spreadsheet seemed like the most interesting thing
in the world.

The water rippled up into my nose and I made

one final effort to lift myself out of danger. There
were no toeholds for my scrabbling feet, and the
pit was too narrow for me to kick my legs up over
the edge. I tried flexing my biceps. No go on that
front. My arms were numb and I was a dead man.
This was totally wrong. I was too young to die like
this. I had cases to solve, money to spend, men to
chase. I spat brine then took a deep breath just
before the water rose up over the bridge of my
nose and stayed there.

To Be Continued…

* * *

About the Author

Derek Adams is the award-winning author of the
novel 'Jake Westerby: Deep Undercover.' He has
also written more than a hundred short stories
which he insists are ongoing chapters in his
autobiography. When not chronicling his amorous
adventures, Adams writes about gay history and
travel. He currently lives in Seattle.