Our hero, Miles Diamond, narrowly averts
financial catastrophe when he is hired by David
Travis to find his missing twin brother.
Unfortunately,

Miles‟

new

case

almost

immediately throws him into a dangerous world
of sex trafficking, drugs and international
terrorism where he is soon in as much danger as
the man he is trying to find. So far, Miles has
survived an attempt to drown him, a bomb aboard
an airplane, a pitched gun battle, a fall from the
roof of Notre Dame Cathedral and enough hot sex
to bring an ordinary man to his knees.

As part three opens, Miles‟ pals Rudy and

Jackson comb the records offices in Paris searching
for clues while Miles is out beating the bushes in
hot pursuit of his own investigations. New friends
are flushed out and old acquaintances appear on
the scene to help point the way as the intrepid trio
continue their search for the missing twin.

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infringement, including infringement without
monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
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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 Three

Copyright © 2011 Derek Adams

ISBN: 978-1-55487-998-4

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
part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other
means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden
without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

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The Case of the Missing Twin

Three

The Adventures of Miles Diamond

By

Derek Adams

To KRJ again. Thanks for everything.

1

Chapter Eight

y hands grasped the empty air as I went
over the edge of the low parapet. I had the

incredible sensation of flying—briefly—then the
gut-wrenching terror of free-fall took over. Even
so, it seemed that everything was in slow motion. I
had time to think about what a relief it was that I
had fallen over backward—that way I couldn‟t see
the cobbled pavement racing to meet me as I fell. I
rather expected the events of my life to flash
before my eyes as I‟d always heard they did at
times like this. I hate to admit it, but nothing
worth mentioning crossed my mind.

Strange to say, I didn‟t hit the ground nearly as

hard as I thought I would. I was still conscious for
one thing. Moreover, there was no pain, just a
mild jarring sensation as I imprinted my body in
the earth. Everything still seemed so real—my
eyes could still see the pure blue morning sky, my
ears still recorded the sounds around me. There
were birds twittering in the trees, horns honking,
cars shifting gears. I had no idea a ghost retained

M

Derek Adams

2

human faculties. This was very strange.

“Diamond!”
I even imagined that I heard the voices of

friends, like my buddy Rudy, calling my name.

“Diamond!”
There it was again. Only this voice was

Jackson‟s. Perhaps death was just entering another
dimension. I wondered if people had sex here and
if they did, how would I do it without benefit of
those body parts I‟d grown so accustomed to.

“For Christ‟s sake, Diamond. Say something.

Are you all right?”

I looked down. My feet were still there, but one

of my shoes was missing. The voice…Rudy‟s
voice, seemed to be coming from below me.
However, if I was on the ground, how was that
possible? I focused beyond my toes and Rudy‟s
flaming red hair filled my vision. He was about
ten feet below me, looking up anxiously.

“Rudy, can you hear me?” I called out

tentatively.

“Of course I can hear you, Miles. Can you get

down from there?”

“Down from where?” Two facts began to sink

in—I hadn‟t landed on the ground and I wasn‟t
dead. I sat up slowly, testing my limbs. It
appeared that I wasn‟t finished with my body
after all. Good thing actually—I‟m used to it and I
know how it works. Fortunately, it was beginning

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

3

to look like I could save my worries regarding sex
after death for another day. “What happened?” I
asked. My voice was the same, although I must
admit, it sounded a bit shaky.

“Come on down and I‟ll tell you.”
Rudy and Jackson came over near the edge of

whatever I was lying on and I inched down till
they grabbed my legs and lowered me to their
level. I held on to both of them for support till I
was sure I was relatively in one piece.

“Thanks,” I said weakly. I suddenly felt an

overpowering urge to sit down.

“That was one spectacular scene, Miles,”

Jackson said admiringly, clapping a gentle hand
on my shoulder. “I figured we‟d have to scrape
you up off the street with a spatula, like that goon
of Chin‟s. You got really lucky, man.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered as the reality of what

just happened set in. Luck had really been with
me. Looking behind me, I saw that I had landed
on a tent that cathedral renovation crews had
erected to protect them from the weather. The man
who had been chasing me hadn‟t been so
fortunate—he had landed six feet to the west and
missed the tent by a good three feet. “This
detective gig is getting to be a little too exciting for
me,” I muttered.

“Come on, Miles,” Rudy said as he led me

away from the mess Chin‟s goon had made when

Derek Adams

4

he landed. “I‟ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Where‟s

Chin?”

I

looked

around

apprehensively.

“I don‟t think we‟ll be seeing him around here.”

Jackson gestured at the policemen who were
beginning to swarm around the area. “If you ask
me, the sooner we get away from this place, the
better off we‟re going to be. I don‟t know about
you fellows, but I‟d personally just as soon skip an
in-depth interview with the local gendarmerie.”
Jackson looked at me pointedly. “That is unless
you want to tell the cops why you were dancing
on the roof of the church.”

“Good plan, Jackson.” Hell, any plan was a

good plan at this point.

“Here you go, Cinderella.” Rudy chuckled as

he handed me my shoe. We pushed our way
through the knot of spectators that had gathered
around the scene and mingled with milling
Japanese tourists as they spewed forth from three
big buses.

Once we determined that the police weren‟t

following us, we crossed the river and ducked into
a narrow side street, looking for a café. After we
had settled at the table and I‟d downed the first of
the two espressos I‟d ordered, I felt much better. I
was beginning to appreciate being alive and in one
piece a whole lot.

“The people who‟ve been looking for Daniel

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

5

Travis are dropping around us like rain.” I shook
my head and looked over at Rudy and Jackson. “I
hope you guys have some ideas, because there‟s
nobody left to ask for directions.”

“Speaking of directions, you do still have the

paper with the name, don‟t you?” Rudy looked at
me as if he thought I was going to tell him I ate it.
The man just doesn‟t seem to have much faith in
me. That‟s fine—he‟ll be even more impressed
when I pull all this out of the fire.

“Of course I‟ve still got the paper.” I dug it out

of my pants pocket and smoothed it on the marble
tabletop. “Youssef ben Fahd es Vosges, where are
you now?”

“I think we should assume he‟s here in Paris. If

we don‟t start with that, we‟ve got nothing.”

“I agree with Jackson, Miles. Fortunately, the

French are fanatic about record keeping. Guests in
hotels, the residents of apartment buildings—they
have it all written down somewhere. We‟ll go to
the government records office and see what we
can find out.”

“That could take months,” I protested, not too

pleased at the idea of piling through endless
stacks of musty registration cards.

“You got any better ideas?” Rudy glared

challengingly. The man could be cruel at times.

“I‟ve had the ideas—not to mention other

things—scared right out of me recently.” I heaved

Derek Adams

6

a huge sigh. “Since there‟s no one left to follow
around, it looks like your plan is the only game in
town. We just have to settle down and do some
real work. With any luck, Chin will be laying low
for a while, which will give us time to concentrate
without constantly looking over our shoulders.
Any idea where we might find these records
offices?”

“I think I can help us with that.” It was Rudy

again, waving a green guidebook over his head.
He could be annoyingly efficient. “It‟s the
Michelin Guide to Paris. I picked it up at a little
book stall along the Seine this morning. It seems to
have advice on every subject.”

“I‟m following you, man.” I hauled myself

wearily out of my chair. After we had paid the
check and left the restaurant, Jackson scanned the
area suspiciously. Aside from an old man in a hat
and overcoat, sitting on a bench in the sunshine
about a block away, the street was empty. “I think
we‟re safe now, Jackson. Everyone who was after
us is either dead or in hiding.”

“I hope you‟re right,” Jackson muttered. His big

body settled into a more relaxed stance and he fell
in beside me as Rudy led the way for our assault
on the forces of the French bureaucracy.

“Here we are.” Rudy stopped at the doors of

what appeared to be a palace. “No guarantees, but
at least it‟s a start. If we all get to work and get

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

7

really lucky, we may just find our man.” We
walked into the cavernous lobby, dodging harried
bureaucrats as we approached the information
desk.

After Rudy had finished chatting animatedly to

the woman behind the desk, I excused myself to
go the bathroom. “I‟ll meet you upstairs, guys.”
After I‟d done my business, I decided to wash up.
I looked terrible. My elbows were raw, sliding
across the roof had ripped out the knees of my
pants and my shirt looked like it had been through
a document shredder—a dirty one at that. I
washed my face and tried to subdue my hair. The
results weren‟t all I could have hoped for, but
they‟d have to do for now.

I trudged up the stairs Rudy and Jackson had

used, heaving a sigh as I contemplated the task
awaiting us. As I reached out to pull open the
door leading to the records office, a heavy hand
clamped onto my shoulder. I spun around and
found myself staring at a very broad chest,
covered in an official-looking blue fabric. Looking
up, I got a glimpse of a handsome Gallic face. It
wasn‟t smiling.

“I don‟t speak French,” I replied to a torrent of

words that echoed in the bare hall. I thought that
would solve the problem. My mistake. The
guard‟s huge paw closed over my arm as we sped
down the hall, my feet barely touching the

Derek Adams

8

ground. The next thing I knew, we were in a small
room with no windows, furnished with a desk and
a single chair.

“Take off your clothes.” Things were looking

up, I thought. At least he spoke English.

“I‟m meeting some friends in the Records Hall,”

I said brightly, hoping to convince him I wasn‟t a
terrorist bent on blowing the place sky-high.

“Take off your clothes.” Maybe he only knew

the one phrase. It was a pity I didn‟t know the
French equivalent. It hardly seemed fair that his
body could remain hidden while I bared my all.
His hand moved to the holster at his hip. I
stripped.

He frisked me like I might be carrying some

weapon under my skin. He rubbed his big hands
across my chest and down my sides. His fingers
tangled in my pubes as he probed between my
legs. My cock, as usual, couldn‟t make the
distinction between a man feeling me up or
patting me down. The longer he had his hands on
me, the closer I came to popping a rod. During his
thorough inspection of my furry ass, a stray finger
burrowed into my crack and grazed the lips of my
chute.

I grunted and my big dick snapped to

throbbing attention. The guard grabbed it and
proceeded to give it the same attention he‟d been
lavishing on the rest of my anatomy. I had to

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

9

award the man high marks for thoroughness. He
shucked back my foreskin, leaving the rosy head
of my cock exposed to view. It swelled and pulsed
as the pressure of his fist around the shaft
increased.

He paused long enough to lock the door, then

proceeded to undress, folding his uniform neatly,
laying it across a small chair in the corner. As his
body came into view, I definitely liked what I was
seeing. Broad shoulders, well-defined chest,
muscular arms, washboard stomach—the man
was built. His big brown tits stood up from his
pecs like pencil erasers, making my tongue itch for
a chance to taste them. He grinned as he came
back and stood in front of me. It was the first time
his expression had changed since we met.

His succulent tit was right at lip level, so I

leaned forward and kissed it, my tongue lingering
on the hard point of flesh. He cupped my ass in
his hands and our bellies slapped together,
pressing our straining cocks between two walls of
solid muscle, his smooth, mine hairy. His fat piece
mashed against me so tight I could have taken his
pulse with it.

He massaged my butt vigorously, quickly

getting me hotter than the cord on a cheap
appliance. In the meantime, my hands roamed up
and down his broad back, exploring the ridge of
his spine. I followed the indentation down

Derek Adams

10

between his cheeks, across his tightly puckered
hole, all the way to his big balls. I had just started
tickling them when two thick fingers suddenly
breached my hole. Figuring I was in no position to
question the man‟s authority to proceed, I flexed
my sphincter around his invading digits, just to
make sure everything was in good working order.

The dude made a couple of quick moves and,

next thing I knew, I was on top of the desk in the
corner, my legs draped over his broad shoulders.
While he occupied his time fingering my hole
vigorously, I reached up and went to work on his
tits, twisting and pulling on them, getting off on
the way it made his dick bounce up and down.
Clear juice started to drizzle out of his spout about
then, glistening like tiny jewels as it splattered
down on my gut.

Just when I thought I couldn‟t get any hotter,

the guard cranked my furnace up another notch.
He grabbed my nut-sac in his big hand and
popped my balls out into a tight knot. My toes
curled and my ass hole opened up for him like an
oyster in a warm current.

“Stick it in me, man,” I groaned. He‟d mastered

that basic-English phrase well enough. He
straightened up, grabbed his cock, took aim and
punched forward, sinking about four inches into
me on the first try. I wrapped my legs around his
narrow waist and clasped my hands around his

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

11

neck, pulling him down against me.

His tongue shot deep into my mouth, then he

started rubbing against me like a big cat, every
point of contact between us creating its own tiny
universe of pleasurable sensations. He pumped
his hips slowly at first, stirring his dick all around
inside of me, giving me shivers every time the
thick ridge of his cockhead raked over my
prostate. After I started writhing and bucking
underneath him, he picked up the pace, quickly
creating my favorite kind of friction.

His cock in me, his hot body pressed against

me, his sexy voice murmuring in my ear in a
language I couldn‟t understand—it was all too
much. Sensing my condition from the way my
sphincter spasmed around his big butt plug of a
prick, he bent his head, popped my cock in his
mouth and started sucking me off.

That did it. I howled as my jism spurted into his

mouth in thick gobs. He grabbed my pecs in a grip
of steel and started humping me like mad. Then
the floodgates opened and he filled my hot ass
with genuine French cream. I felt his cock knob
bulge rhythmically, every pulse accompanied by
an ecstatic shudder that racked his big frame. He
kept shooting till cum was practically running out
my ears, never letting my prick out of the warm
prison of his mouth. When it was all over but the
panting, he laid on top of me with his full weight,

Derek Adams

12

his sticky lips pressed to my throat.

After we both started breathing normally again,

he got up and held out his hand. I grabbed it and
he pulled me to my feet effortlessly. I gave him a
final quick hug and we both dressed, our eyes still
locked together like we couldn‟t see enough of
each other. I was starting to want him all over
again, but there wasn‟t time for it right now. Other
matters were more pressing. Besides, Rudy would
kill me if I didn‟t show up to help in our search for
Mr. Fahd.

My guard escorted me to the records office and

raised two fingers to the brim of his cap in a brisk
farewell salute. Just as I reached for the door, it
flew open and Rudy came rushing out with
Jackson close on his heels.

Rudy gave me one look, took a deep breath

and shook his head. “You don‟t have to tell me
what you were doing, Miles, I can smell it.”

“I got detained through no fault of my own.” I

was ready to say more, but Rudy cut me off.

“Miles Diamond, putting the dick back in

detective once again. Honest to God, every time
there‟s dirty work to be done, you disappear.
Then, after we get the puzzle solved, you
reappear, reeking of sex.”

“So what did you find out?” I asked, doing my

best to look abashed.

“Well, while we were waiting for someone to

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

13

help us get started, I leafed through my guidebook
and made an interesting discovery. I was thinking
about that torn piece of paper. The es Vosges part
didn‟t sound like an Arabic name. I turned up a
Place des Vosges in the guidebook. It‟s a
fashionable block of townhouses in the Marais
District.”

“Where‟s that?”
“Not too far from here. I suggest we find a

hotel, clean ourselves up, then go and pay a call
on Mr. Fahd. With any luck, he may still be in
possession of the prize.”

“I‟m right behind you, as usual,” I said, a trifle

ungraciously. I was beginning to think I might
have to share my fee with Rudy. Truth be told, my
little detective business could use some brains.
Maybe I could convince him to give up his
consulting business and become my partner.

We made it to the Place des Vosges right

around sunset. After we left the records office,
we‟d located a cheap hotel on the Rue St. Denis.
Sex shops and prostitutes lined the street, which
led Rudy to suggest that I should feel right at
home. I ignored the jibe, but made a mental note
to put any plans of a business partnership on
terminal hold. Once we checked in, I showered
and shaved, then changed into the new clothes
Rudy had insisted we buy. The shirt was black
silk—Rudy‟s choice. It set me back quite a bit, but

Derek Adams

14

Rudy convinced me that since I was on the verge
of finding the missing Travis twin and collecting
the rest of my fee, I owed it to myself. It probably
also assuaged any guilt he felt about the cash he
dropped on the costly threads he bought for
himself and Jackson. I had to admit the shirt felt
good next to my skin—not as good as the guard‟s
silky belly had felt, but nice nonetheless.

The Place de Vosges was only about five

minutes from our hotel by cab. It was an
impressive square, surrounded by elegant
townhouses, completed, so Rudy announced after
consulting his guidebook, in I6I2. It seemed to be
in good shape, all things considered and was
apparently quite popular with people who could
afford to live in houses that old. We found the
address listed in the phone book but the owners
had the place locked up tighter than a drum.
Repeated assaults on the doorbell and a huge
brass knocker failed to get any results, except for
curious stares from the occasional passerby,

“We can‟t give it up this easily,” Rudy opined

as we walked through the formal garden in the
center of the square, considering our options.
“Maybe they‟ve just gone out for the evening.”

“Don‟t people like that usually have servants

on tap all the time?”

“Yeah,” Jackson agreed. “If the folks living here

are in cahoots with De Groot, maybe they‟ve

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

15

blown town till things cool down.”

“So, we settle in and stake the place out,” Rudy

suggested reasonably. “What other options do we
have?”

“Uh….” I lapsed into a gloomy silence, unable

to think of a single one.

“I think I can deal with a few weeks in Paris.

What about you, Jackson?”

“A few weeks!” I yelped. “Weeks. A few

weeks? You‟re out of your mind, Rudy.”

“Patience is an important trait for detectives,

Miles. Surely you know that.”

“If I recall correctly, surveillance bored you to

death within half an hour back in Amsterdam.”

“Oh, that.” Rudy deflected my objections with a

dismissive gesture. “That was different.”

“Why?”
“Miles, this is Paris.” His tone indicated that

that was the logical conclusion to our discussion of
the subject.

“No kidding? I suppose you‟ve already worked

out the logistics regarding this little stakeout?”

“Naturally. You take the first shift and we‟ll go

back to the hotel to get all rested up for our shift
tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow,” Rudy answered vaguely. He

smiled idiotically as he spoke. I was just itching to
pop him one. “While you‟re watching the place,

Derek Adams

16

maybe you can come up with a plan so we can get
this all wrapped up. Don‟t forget, you‟re the
detective. At least that‟s what the sign on your
door back home says.”

“Right.” I ignored the crack. I wasn‟t going to

forget it, just mull it over till I thought of a snappy
comeback.

“Have a good night, Miles.” Jackson clapped a

hand on my shoulder.

“Right.”
“See you tomorrow,” Rudy reiterated.
“Right.” They disappeared through the gates

leading out of the square and I settled down on an
uncomfortable park bench. I had the vague feeling
I‟d just gotten fucked. Funny, I usually enjoyed it a
whole lot more than this.

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

17

Chapter Nine

e waited and watched for days, but no one
came, no one went. Rudy even went so far

as to check with the inhabitants of the neighboring
houses, but they proved to be a discreet lot. Fahd
lived there, that much we did know. He had
owned the house for the past three years and he
employed two full-time servants when he was in
residence. One elderly woman who lived across
the square thought that a blond man lived there as
well, but she assured us indignantly that she
wasn‟t a snoop when Rudy pressed her for details.

Bottom line, we had no choice, but to wait it

out, hoping to get some leads before we worked
our way through the money David Travis had
given me for expenses. I had drawn permanent
night watch duty, but a discovery I had made
brightened my spirits considerably, even though it
also raised my frustration level to new heights.

The bakery and Georges, the baker, were only

about a ten-minute walk from our stakeout.

W

Derek Adams

18

Naturally, I popped by every morning after Rudy
and Jackson relieved me. We were each pulling an
eight-hour shift, but Jackson always insisted on
walking Rudy from the hotel to The Big V, as we‟d
taken to calling the, by now, all too familiar
courtyard.

“What‟s up?” Jackson sat down beside me on

the park bench. I jumped guiltily, trying not to
look like I‟d been napping. Actually, I‟d only
closed my eyes briefly against the glare of the
early morning sun.

“Nothing, as always.” I stood and stretched to

get the circulation back in my cramped muscles.
“I‟m beginning to think they‟ve moved out
permanently.”

“I‟m convinced our persistence will pay off,”

Rudy countered. “These guys always return to the
scene of the crime.”

“This isn‟t actually the scene of the crime,

Rudy. As far as we know, this isn‟t the scene of
anything except a stalemated stakeout and a
potentially devastating case of hemorrhoids. I‟m
about ready to fold up our tent and rethink the
whole proposition.”

“Are you prepared to return all of Travis‟s

money when you admit defeat?” Jackson‟s
comment brought me up short.

“Well, since you put it that way…” My chances

of ever being able to scare up that amount of

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

19

money were fairly—make that extremely—
remote.

“Face it, Miles, Elmo‟s right. We have no other

options. It could be a hell of a lot worse. We could
be staking out a cheap motel in Tacoma.”

“Elmo?” I blurted, missing the remainder of

Rudy‟s thought as I considered the name. I looked
at Jackson. He eyed the pavement, his feet
shuffling in a little dance of extreme discomfort.

“Jeez, babe! You know I hate that name.”
“It‟s a great name,” Rudy countered, resting his

hand briefly on Jackson‟s bull neck. “I like it.”

“Oh….well.” Jackson heaved a resigned sigh,

obviously conceding the point to Rudy.

“Well, fellows, I think I‟ll be on my way. You

two have a great day.” I left them standing in the
sunshine, doing my level best to suppress a wave
of laughter that threatened to choke me. Elmo and
Babe. Life is entirely too funny sometimes.

Georges was making an elaborate production of

stacking bread in the window when I opened the
door of his shop. I arrived every morning at eight-
thirty, regular as clockwork and Georges always
made a point of waiting on me personally. His
wife—Georges was married to the dark-haired
woman who had been in the shop the first day I
stumbled in looking for directions—wasn‟t in
evidence this morning. She usually took up her

Derek Adams

20

post near his elbow, glaring at me malevolently. I
had quickly learned to ignore her, much as
Georges himself did. “Bonjour, Miles.” Georges
smiled happily when I entered the shop. “You are
looking very well today.” I had taken off my jacket
on the way over, stopping just outside the shop to
roll my shirtsleeves up to my biceps. He looked at
me, a hunger in his eyes that no amount of bread
could assuage. He was wearing the same sexy
shirt that showed off his chest so well, causing the
lump in my pants to tingle and throb, just as it
always did when I looked at him.

“Morning, Georges. You‟re looking well

yourself.” I licked my lips and winked at him,
only a heartbeat away from jumping him, right
then and there.

“Come on into the back. I would like to show

you where I work.”

“Delighted.” My stomach suddenly filled with

fluttering butterflies as I considered the
possibilities. This was a new twist! I didn‟t see his
wife hovering around and my libido soared up
into the danger zone. I followed him around the
counter and through the door into the kitchen.

A layer of flour covered everything, giving it all

a slightly ghostly look. The smell of baking bread
permeated the air, almost, but not quite,
overpowering the distinctive aroma of Georges
himself.

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

21

“Where is Madame Derain?” I asked, trying to

sound casual. I half expected to see her lurking in
the huge flour bin near the back door.

“She is with the accountant this morning. She

will be gone for several hours.” This was very
good news indeed. Georges stopped abruptly and
I narrowly missed colliding with him. He turned
and the next thing I knew, his arms wrapped
around my waist and our tongues entwined in a
passionate kiss. I put my hands on his broad chest,
my fingers going instinctively for his succulent
nipples. They were hard against the balls of my
thumbs and judging by his shuddering response
to my touch, very sensitive.

I finally broke our kiss, pushed Georges back

against the edge of the large table in the center of
the room and set about discovering just how
sensitive they really were. He whimpered,
tangling his fingers in my hair, holding my mouth
right on target. I chewed the thick meaty point on
his left pec till he was panting, then set about
working over its twin.

He deftly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my

fly. I did the same for him and pulled his work
pants down around his knees. Georges was
obviously raring to go. His fat prick jutted up out
of the thatch of his pubes, stretching towards his
navel. I forced his lean thighs apart and ran a
tentative finger across his tight ass pucker. He

Derek Adams

22

whimpered and his bung throbbed invitingly.

I wanted his ass and I wanted it bad. I took a

step back, flipped him around and helped him out
of his pants. I got naked as well and knelt behind
him, cupping his glorious buttocks in my hands.
They were pale, smooth and firm as melons. I
kissed both cheeks gently, then began tonguing
the damp furrow between them. He leaned
forward onto the table, his big hands pulling the
two perfect globes wide apart.

He had a tightly puckered asshole, ringed with

fine dark hairs. I licked them away from my
target, then lapped sensually across the delicate
flesh. He tasted of soap and sweat and funk—a
heady mixture that made my dick throb eagerly. I
poked him gently with the tip of my tongue and
his ring dilated slightly, letting me fight my way
beyond it to Georges‟ hidden delights. He was
clean, hot and silky soft inside. When I reached up
between his legs and squeezed his hooded prick,
the honey squirted out of him, oozing between my
fingers and dripping to the floor like drops of
spun glass.

I smeared his juice on my cock, milking myself

as well to come up with enough of the slick stuff
to ease the way when I moved on to the next
phase of my seduction. I gave his ass hole a final
poke and stood up, rubbing the shaft of my
throbbing cock up and down his crack.

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

23

I was just getting ready to aim my arrow at his

quivering bullseye when Georges spun around
and hit the floor on his knees, obviously anxious
to see what he was getting himself into or what
was ready to get into him, to be more precise. He
wrapped his floury fingers around my prick,
licked the sticky head, then shucked my foreskin
forward over the tip of his tongue. He nibbled the
tender overhang till I thought my knees would
buckle, then lunged forward and butted me in the
gut with his forehead, his lips tight around the
base of my cock. His hands splayed on my ass,
pulling me forward, almost as though he wanted
to swallow me, cock first. I took it for as long as I
could, then grabbed him by the arms and hauled
him back to his feet, kissing his sticky lips.

“Fuck?” I asked urgently.
“Fuck!” he agreed, favoring me with a lewd

wink.

I turned him around again and took careful

aim. I pushed forward slowly, savoring the
sensations as his tight little pucker gradually
expanded to let me in. I‟d feed him two inches,
then pull back one, in two, back one, continuing
till I had buried my long cock to the hilt. Damn, he
felt good! I leaned against him for a long time, not
moving, just flexing the muscles in my groin
enough to swell the big knob on the end of my
dick. He felt it all right, groaning his appreciation

Derek Adams

24

softly.

I started fucking him slow and easy, pulling out

till only the head was still wedged up in him, then
driving it in to the hilt. His muscular butt thrust
back to meet my every stroke, encouraging me to
pound harder and faster. Soon, I was slamming
into him with all my strength, making the old
wooden table under us buck and creak with the
strain.

Georges arched his back like a bow as he craned

his neck to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around
his chest and kept on driving, sweat pouring off of
me in the overheated room as I rapidly
approached the point of no return.

He was jacking himself frantically, grinding his

ass against my hips, his muscles knotted by the
intensity of his rapidly approaching orgasm. I
reached between his legs and started squeezing
his nuts, wanting him to shoot with me and
knowing that the time was now.

“Mon Dieu!” he growled, shuddering as his

spunk started pumping. I looked over his
shoulder and saw it hit the table, creamy colored
against the pure white of the flour. My toes curled
right about then and I joined him, shooting jizz up
his butt like a fountain.

Afterward, I held him tight, licking the sweat

off his neck and stroking his flat belly. I was ready
to go all over again and I got the feeling that he

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

25

had no intention of giving up possession of my
prick unless he had to. Just as I was starting to
fondle his fat nuts in preparation for round two,
the bell above the front door rang.

Georges tensed slightly. “Customer,”“ he

muttered unhappily. “I must go and wait on them.
You will stay here?”

“I will definitely…” That was as far as I got.

The mystery customer was none other than
Madame Derain, back rather early from her
appointment. Georges‟ ass hole clamped down so
tight that my dick popped out of him like a cork
out of a bottle of champagne. His good wife took
one look, dropped her purse and picked up a
lethal-looking rolling pin. I lunged for my clothes,
but she cut me off, backing me into a corner.

Georges tried to come to my rescue, but she

whacked him across the shoulders with her
weapon, knocking him to his knees. The woman
had blood in her eyes and I had no doubt that she
was going to kill me if she got the chance. It
occurred to me out of the blue that the crime of
passion had originated in France and they
considered it a good defense in cases like this. Not
only would she probably beat me to death, she
might possibly get a medal for going to the
trouble.

I crept slowly around the table, looking for a

chance to make good my escape. I feinted to the

Derek Adams

26

right, threw her off balance for a split second and
made a beeline for the door. I grabbed my pants,
but she was on me in a flash, gripping one of the
legs and refusing to let go.

The bitch was strong as an ox, holding my

pants with one hand, swinging the rolling pin
wildly with the other. I felt the breeze as the pin
flew by uncomfortably close to my nose. I gave the
pants a final desperate yank, lost my balance and
fell over backward into the bin of flour. A cloud of
fine white dust enveloped me. It filled my eyes,
nose and mouth, choking me as I scrambled
around, trying to get my feet under me again.
Meanwhile, Madame Derain was pounding the
side of the bin vigorously, making my ears ring.

“Run!” Georges screamed, coming up behind

his wife and pinning her arms to her sides. I
leaped out of the bin, grabbed my wallet off the
floor and flew out the back door into an alley,
stark naked except for a coating of baker‟s flour.

I thought briefly about returning for my pants,

but Georges lost his grip on the little lady and she
lunged toward me, effectively changing my mind.
I dashed down the alley, looking desperately for
shelter. There was none anywhere.

The sharp tattoo of high heels against the

cobblestones made me redouble my efforts. I
dashed back into the Rue St. Sabin, narrowly
missing a housewife laden with parcels. She

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

27

started screaming at the top of her lungs as I
hightailed it on down the street.

The streets were full of people at this hour of

the day and I caused quite a stir as I loped along,
trailing a fine white cloud in my wake. This was
absolutely the worst! I‟d made many a hasty
retreat in my day, but never totally naked, my
wallet wedged between my clenched teeth. I
would have hailed a cab if I had seen one, but
unfortunately, the traffic consisted primarily of
buses and delivery trucks. The few private cars
that happened along sped up when their drivers
got a glimpse of me. All of a sudden, I burst out
into a large square with a tall column in the
middle. I was in the Place de la Bastille, one of the
great tourist attractions in the city. A crowd was
beginning to gather behind me, so a retreat in that
direction seemed unwise. I dodged through the
heavy traffic, my progress accompanied by
squealing brakes and the shriek of metal against
metal as I brought traffic to a sudden halt. A
gaggle of Japanese tourists, clustered around the
base of the column in the center of the square,
turned on me, cameras clicking, as I dived through
their ranks. I thought briefly of slipping into a tour
bus, but a burly driver blocked my way.

A fire escape attached to a building on the

opposite side of the square caught my eye and I
ran desperately on. By the time I reached my goal,

Derek Adams

28

my lungs were ready to burst. The street was
deserted, but I heard sirens wailing in the distance
and had no doubt they were wailing for me.

I crouched below the fire ladder, then sprang

up with all my strength, arms extended. I caught
the lowest rung and somehow hauled myself up
to the first landing. The window would not budge,
making ingress impossible. I scrambled to the next
level and another shutout. By the time I struggled
up to the fifth landing, I began to think I had made
a tactical error and cut myself off from further
flight. When I gave this window a desperate yank,
it gave slightly. I put all my strength into it and it
opened enough for me to wriggle inside to what I
hoped was safety.

I collapsed onto the wood floor and rolled over

onto my back, my heart pounding like it might
burst. How did I manage to get into these
undignified scrapes all the time? My cock, that
was how. I had had hours of pleasure following
the dictates of my randy, one-eyed buddy, but he
tended to be somewhat less than discreet at times.
The problem was he had almost total control over
my life. Maybe it was time to take charge and
learn to say no. I glared down at my crotch
accusingly.

A door creaked open nearby diverting my

attention. I started to sit up, then froze when I
heard what sounded distinctly like a gun cocking.

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

29

“Move one muscle and you‟re a dead man. I
promise you that.”

Derek Adams

30

Chapter Ten

ot moving seemed like a terrific idea—partly,
because I was still gasping air into my flour-

coated lungs, but mostly because the gun aimed at
a spot in the middle of my forehead looked so real.
I was somewhat relieved that the resident of the
flat had issued the command to freeze in
English—unless, of course, I was learning to
translate French threats. I opened my eyes a little
more, trying to focus on a point slightly beyond
the barrel of the gun in order to gauge the person
behind the trigger finger.

The gun wielder was a woman—tall,

statuesque, blonde and beautiful. The expensive-
looking dress and spike heels she wore were
oddly at variance with her proficient handling of
the gun. Her feet were slightly apart and she
gripped the butt of the weapon in both hands,
sighting—rather accurately, I noted—down the
barrel. I detected no fear in the wide blue eyes in
her perfect oval of a face, only determination.

N

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

31

“Isobel,” she said calmly, never taking her eyes

off me for a second, “call the police.” My eyes
shifted slightly to the right and I saw a striking
dark-haired woman hovering in the doorway, her
hands over her mouth. Her dark eyes were
frightened, but she moved quickly to follow the
blonde‟s order.

“Sarah?” I croaked, my memory suddenly

kicking into gear. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but
the gun didn‟t waver. “Sarah. It‟s Miles.” Sarah
Collier and I had been in college together. She was
the brilliant type and had agreed to help me with a
class we‟d taken together the semester before I‟d
dropped out. She and I had also taken advantage
of each other‟s company to provide a convenient
shield from the prying eyes and imaginations of
the aggressively straight majority on campus. We
had made a handsome couple and if either of us
had been hetero, we might have developed a
relationship. As it turned out, I left school under a
cloud—make that a shitstorm—and Sarah had
gone on to graduate with honors and a full
scholarship to complete her graduate studies at
Columbia University. I had occasionally thought
of Sarah and wondered where she was. Now I
knew.

“Miles Diamond? What class did we take

together?” She was obviously still suspicious.

“Hillerman‟s History of Western Philosophy.

Derek Adams

32

Tom Seegar must have dropped his pencil ten
thousand times so he could bend down and try to
look up your skirt. One day you were so fed up
that you strapped a dildo to your thigh, and when
he did the pencil-drop routine, you flashed him a
crotch shot he‟ll never forget. Hillerman had to
dismiss class early because of the uproar.”

“Holy shit, she‟s got a fucking dick,” Sarah

growled, doing a fair imitation of Seegar. “You
must be Miles, because no one else in the world
knows the truth behind that little story.” Sarah
lowered the gun and stood looking at me, hands
on hips.

“Sarah, what is it?” The dark-haired woman

had taken a tentative step back into the room and
was looking at me in astonishment. “You know
this perverted person?”

“Isobel, I‟d like you to meet an old school chum

of mine. Miles Diamond, Isobel Valois.”

“Delighted,” I mumbled, cupping my hands

over my crotch. “I don‟t usually like to drop in on
old friends looking like this,” I offered feebly, by
way of explaining my nakedness. “I‟ve had a
rough morning.”

“No doubt,” Sarah deadpanned. “Just out

showing off your body to the inhabitants, or does
this betoken some precipitate departure from the
arms of illicit bliss?”

“Pardon?” Sarah could be a little too literary at

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

33

times.

“Get caught dipping your wick in a forbidden

hole?”

“Something like that. You wouldn‟t have a

spare robe, would you?” Isobel‟s eyes were boring
into me, making me extremely uncomfortable.

“Why does he look like that?” she asked, her

hand fluttering to Sarah‟s shoulder, obviously still
poised to run at the first sign of trouble.

“He‟s a man, dear,” Sarah drawled. “They all

look like that, more or less. Actually, he looks
better than most. It‟s one of the main reasons I‟m a
lesbian.”

“Very funny, Sarah,” I groused, not too pleased

by her flight into humor at my expense. “Could I
bother you for a shower?” My coating of flour and
sweat was starting to dry, pulling uncomfortably
at my body hair when I moved.

“I mean the farine,” Isobel persisted.
“Oh, the flour. Good question. Why exactly are

you coated with flour this morning, Miles? Is this
a new fetish that I‟m not aware of?”

“I got into a little scrape at a bakery. It wasn‟t

my fault.”

“He must have been rather upset,” Sarah

ventured, a bemused look on her face.

“She,” I corrected.
“She?” Sarah‟s eyebrows arched in disbelief.

“You haven‟t gone straight on us, have you?”

Derek Adams

34

“The wife. The baker was quite pleased. At least

until his wife returned unexpectedly.”

“It‟s a relief to know that some things in my life

are constant. You‟re obviously still up to your old
tricks. Remember Dennis Payton?”

“Never mind that,” I winced. “That wasn‟t my

fault either. Now, can I get that shower?”

“Please.” Sarah nodded. “Isobel‟s brother stays

with us at times. I‟ll see if he‟s left any clothes here
that might fit you.”

I scrambled up off the floor and scurried past

the two women. Isobel kept her distance, watching
me over Sarah‟s shoulder. She said something in
French as I stepped into the bathroom and Sarah
laughed heartily. I started to ask what was so
funny, but thought better of it.

“Isobel‟s brother must be a midget.” I stepped

out of the bathroom a few minutes later, tugging
at the t-shirt Sarah had left for me. The trousers
were about ten inches short of covering my ankles
and the shirt left a six-inch swath of bare skin
around my midsection.

“Jean Claude isn‟t a midget, Miles,” Sarah

replied, offering me a cup of coffee. “He‟s actually
rather tall for a fifteen-year old. Next time I‟ll try
to have something lying around in your size.” We
settled into chairs around the dining room table.
The pants were so tight that my balls were
practically crammed up my asshole. I pulled at the

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

35

crotch without much effect.

“So, Miles, what brings you to Paris? Besides, of

course, the opportunity to diddle bakers and dash
naked around the streets of Paris? Is this a
vacation jaunt?”

“Hardly. I‟m working on a case.”
“A case?” Sarah‟s eyebrows arched.
“I‟m a detective.” I favored her with a stern

glance.

“Well, now, that explains everything. You were

staking out a bakery, cleverly disguised as a
powdered-sugar donut.” Isobel giggled into her
cup and I shot her a look. The giggle exploded into
a full-fledged laugh. It was contagious and we
were all gasping by the time we regained our
composure.

“I really am a detective and I really do have a

client. Just in the nick of time, too. I was on the
verge of changing careers before this came up. I‟m
beginning to think that perhaps it still might be a
good idea. I‟ve been tied up, knocked out,
bombed, shot at and chased off the roof of Notre
Dame.”

“That was you?” Sarah looked at me in genuine

surprise.

“You heard about that, huh?”
“My dear, you‟re the talk of the town. Its been

in all the papers. The police are quite interested in
interviewing you about your exploits—not to

Derek Adams

36

mention the little matter of the dead man who
wasn‟t quite as resilient as you appear to be.
Please go on. I‟m fascinated.”

Sarah and I had been confidants in years past. I

trusted her and admired her powers of logic. It
was possible that she might even be able to shed
some new light on the subject. “I thought I was
dealing with a simple kidnapping at first, but now
I‟m not so sure.” I downed my coffee, refilled the
cup, then continued. “A guy comes into my office
out of the blue, looking for his twin brother—his
officially dead twin brother. The dead twin turns
out to be very much alive and has actually fallen
into the hands of folks who deal in the flesh trade.
The trail leads from Seattle to Amsterdam, then
peters out here in Paris. Our last hope appears to
be a house in the city owned by someone named
Fahd.”

“Fahd!” Sarah set down her cup with a clatter

and leaned forward, looking at me intently.
“Youssef ben Fahd?” I nodded. “Well, this is
interesting.”

“You know him?”
“I profiled him in Paris Match last year. He‟s a

wealthy

Moroccan

businessman.

Very

progressive. He was in the government until his
efforts at reform stepped on too many powerful
toes. He moved here to Paris about three years ago
I believe. He still has influence at home, but he‟s

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

37

keeping a low profile until the Moroccan political
climate changes.”

“Then he‟s not likely to be involved in anything

as shady as white slavery.”

“Not a chance!” She shook her head decisively.
“Well, whoever kidnapped my client‟s brother

had Fahd‟s name and address on him when he
was shot. Maybe I‟m barking up the wrong tree.” I
slumped back dejectedly, my last lead apparently
going up in smoke.

“Just exactly who got kidnapped?” Sarah‟s

journalistic instinct was showing. I could see the
wheels turning behind her beautiful face. “This
has all the makings of a delicious exclusive for
me.”

“You have to promise to keep quiet till I get this

mess solved,” I insisted. “If too much information
gets out, whoever kidnapped the guy is fully
capable of killing him and burying the evidence.”

“Of course,” she snorted. “Spill it.”
“Daniel Travis. He‟s a very…”
“Dan! Good God!”
“You know him then?” This was better than I

had dared to hope.

“He‟s Youssef‟s lover. They met shortly after

Dan came here to go to school. I can‟t believe
this.”

“Believe it. His twin brother, David, came to me

just a few days ago. Life has been a bit tenuous

Derek Adams

38

since we met.”

“Something‟s wrong with that one,” Sarah

opined, tapping her lacquered nails on the edge of
the table.

“You know him too?”
“I met him once at Fahd‟s house when I was

working on the article. I didn‟t like him. He and
his brother look alike, but the similarity ends
there. David plays Hyde to Dan‟s Jekyll. You say
he came to you. Why?”

“He told me he didn‟t believe his brother was

dead and that he had to find him. Said he wanted
to assure discretion so he stayed away from
detective agencies in San Francisco. He gave me a
big enough retainer to ease any qualms I might
otherwise have felt about his story.” I filled Sarah
in on the details as Travis had related them to me.
After I finished, she sat silently for a long time.

“Youssef will move heaven and earth to get

Dan back. I‟m absolutely sure about that. I got to
know both of them rather well while I was doing
the piece on Youssef. They adore each other. This
is terrible.” She sighed gloomily, pushing her hair
back with a graceful gesture. “You say the house is
empty?”

“We‟ve been watching it around the clock for

five days now. Not a sign of life in the place.”

“I wonder where Ahmed is keeping himself.”
“Who?”

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

39

“Youssef‟s nephew. He‟s the young man‟s

guardian, but he has difficulty controlling him.”

“Problem child, huh?”
“You could say that. He‟s nineteen, handsome

and rich as Midas. Terrorists assassinated his
parents a few years ago. Youssef took him in and
tries to ride herd on him—not always successfully,
I might add. Poor kid was severely traumatized by
his parents‟ death so his uncle has been lenient.
Probably too lenient. He comes and goes as he
pleases, deaf to all of his uncle‟s pleas to be
careful. He appears to take great joy in eluding his
body-guards.”

“You sure know a great deal about this Fahd

and his family.”

“I‟m very thorough, my dear.”
“She is brilliant,” Isobel said fiercely. “She has a

trunk full of awards which she won‟t let me
display.”

“Thanks, darling.” Sarah smiled as she stroked

Isobel‟s arm.

“You‟re very welcome.” Isobel beamed at her

lover.

“Isobel is my most avid fan,” Sarah said,

turning back to me.

“I‟m impressed.”
“Don‟t be.” She shrugged dismissively. “Most

awards are merely scraps of paper handed out by
fools to placate people they are afraid of. All I ask

Derek Adams

40

is editorial control and payment upon completion
of an assignment. They can keep their damned
prizes.”

“I really should go,” I said, rising from the

table, tugging ineffectually at the t-shirt. “Thanks
again for the clothes.”

“You‟re welcome. I‟m sure Jean Claude won‟t

miss them. He‟s probably already outgrown them.
Can I drop you at your hotel?”

“If it‟s no trouble,” I replied, relieved that I

wouldn‟t have to take the Metro in this getup.

“No trouble at all. I have to go to my office and

I always take my car. I love driving here. It keeps
you on your toes.”

Sarah maneuvered through the heavy traffic

with hair-raising expertise, dropping me at the
door to my hotel in record time. “Keep in touch,
Miles,” she demanded, pressing her business card
into my hand as I leaned through the window to
thank her. “If you hear anything, let me know.
Remember, you owe me.”

“I‟ll remember. Thanks again.”
The desk clerk looked at me over the top of his

glasses when I asked for the key, but made no
remark about my appearance. Rudy wasn‟t nearly
so reticent. I‟d just put the key into the lock when
the door to his room flew open. “Great outfit,
Miles,” he quipped, a broad grin creeping across
his face. “Glad to see you‟re finally taking an

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

41

interest in your appearance. Pedal pushers and a
middy top. You look very smart.”

“Go fuck yourself, Rudy. I‟ve had a trying day.”
“What the hell happened to your clothes?”

Jackson barked, sticking his head around the
doorframe. “You look ridiculous.”

“I‟m sure this has something to do with sex, am

I correct?” Rudy‟s smirk was maddening.

“What the hell are you two doing back here at

the same time?” I was determined to change the
subject. “Isn‟t someone supposed to be minding
the store?”

“We have a man on it in our absence,” Rudy

announced casually. “We decided we deserved
the afternoon off.”

“Oh, you did, did you? How nice. And what if

Fahd‟s nephew returns while the two of you are
here playing house?”

“Nephew?”
I said nothing, figuring he could chew on that

bit of information for a few minutes while I
changed my clothes. When I peeled out of my
pants, my cock and balls sighed in relief. I pulled
on the trousers draped over the chair under the
window, then chose a t-shirt from the selection we
had recently purchased. The French sure as hell
knew how to tailor clothes, I thought, glancing at
myself in the mirror above the chest of drawers
across the room. Very nice. Very nice, indeed.

Derek Adams

42

“Nephew?” Rudy echoed, a dogged expression

on his face. “What‟s this about a nephew?”

“I have been gathering information.”
“Yeah, I‟ll bet. Not to mention a new wardrobe.

So, what did you find out?” I filled them in briefly,
leaving out the part about the gun, the baker and
the flour. No use handing Rudy more ammunition
than he already had at his disposal.

“Interesting. I‟m sure if anything happens while

we‟re gone, our man will call. I left the number of
the hotel, along with enough cash to ensure total
and complete recall of details.”

“Is this anyone we know?”
“The news vendor at the entrance to the

courtyard. I‟ve been getting acquainted with him
during the course of the past few days. He was in
the Resistance during the war.”

“Great. I‟m glad to hear that. I hope it won‟t be

too much trouble for you to check in with him
from time to time. As long as it doesn‟t interfere
with your home life or your tours of the city, that
is.” My tone was venomous, but Rudy appeared to
be immune. Instead of looking sheepish, he turned
the conversation back my way almost at once.

“I dropped by the bakery shortly after you left

us this morning.” I‟d made the mistake of telling
them about the place after my tumble from the
roof of the cathedral. I should have known better,
but my traumatic experience had left me

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

43

understandably rattled. “It was closed.”

“Oh?” I did my best to appear uninterested.
“Yes. Evidently your baker friend had an

accident and was rushed to hospital.” I looked up
in alarm, but Rudy motioned for me to be quiet.
“He‟s all right. I understand he ran into a rolling
pin, powered by his dear wife.”

“That‟s terrible.” I studied the toes of my shoes

intently, wishing he‟d just shut up.

“And that‟s not all.”
“I‟ll bet,” I muttered.
“There was quite a crowd around the place. It

seems that a naked man went streaking along the
street this morning, white as a ghost. You
wouldn‟t know anything about that, would you
Miles?” I refused to rise to the bait. Let him guess.
“I found your clothes in the alley, Miles. You
might as well „fess up.”

“I was following my heart, Rudy.” Damn, he‟d

cornered me once again.

“I‟d aim a bit lower if I were telling the tale,” he

shot back, chuckling wickedly. “You really are
something else.”

“Thanks, I‟m sure. Now why don‟t you get out

and let me relax for a few hours? There must be a
tower you could find to climb somewhere. Maybe
you could ring a few bells or count the pigeons.”

“We‟re going to tour Versailles and have a

picnic,” Jackson put in timidly. I hope he felt as

Derek Adams

44

guilty as he looked.

“Fine. If you happen to run into Marie

Antoinette, give her my best. I hope you get
carried off by army ants,” I called out after them.
They were definitely having too much fun for my
taste. I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes for
just a moment and immediately fell into a deep
sleep.

I woke up just as the sun was setting. I splashed

some water on my face, grabbed a jacket and
headed back to the Place des Vosges. If the
nephew had been out of town when all this broke
loose, it was just possible that he would come back
before he found out what was going down. I had
no doubt that he would do a disappearing act if
Fahd had been able to contact him, so the chances
were slim to none. Still, it gave me a reason to
park my ass on that bench for yet another endless
night.

I was surprised to find Jackson back at his post

when I arrived. He‟d seen nothing and wasn‟t too
optimistic regarding our prospects. “Rudy told me
the money‟s running low,” he sighed, shrugging
his heavy shoulders resignedly. “We may be
pissing up a rope on this one, buddy.”

“I‟ve spent a good part of my life doing just

that.” I chuckled grimly. “I really thought this
might be the break I needed.”

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

45

“Cheer up, Miles. It ain‟t over till it‟s over. You

gave me a break back in Seattle, so I‟m pulling
hard for you. Hang in there, man.”

I watched Jackson disappear through the gates,

then turned my attention back to the darkened
windows of number 37. All I got for my trouble
was a stiff neck from sitting in one position for so
long. A bell in a distant church tower tolled the
hour. Midnight. I got up to stretch and suddenly
became aware that someone was watching me.

I looked across the square and saw a guy

standing under a street lamp, smoking a cigarette.
I‟d seen him before during my all-night vigils, just
hanging around. Up till now, however, he hadn‟t
paid any attention to me. Now, he was focusing
on me so strongly that I could practically feel the
heat. He took a last drag on his smoke, crushed it
out beneath his heel and sauntered over in my
direction.

I liked the looks of him. He was tall and tight-

bodied with one of those faces that are so ugly
they‟re sexy. His big nose looked like it had been
broken a couple of times and he had a scar over
his left eye that cut right through his eyebrow. He
smiled when he approached and I noticed that he
had a chip out of one of his front teeth.

“You are American, no?” He stopped in front of

me and fished a cigarette out of a crumpled pack.
The strong smell of Gauloises filled the night air.

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46

“Yes, I‟m afraid so. You‟re French, right?” He

chuckled at that and sat down next to me.

“You are…how do you say it, a sexy fucker?”

He looked at me for confirmation.

“So are you,” I replied. It was true—there was

no beauty in his battered face, but he exuded an
animal attraction that already had my cock
stirring. “What‟s your name?”

“Pierre.”
“Miles. Pleased to meet you.” We shook hands

solemnly, then he leaned back and took a deep
drag on his cigarette.

“Would you like a smoke?” He fished the pack

out of his pocket and held it over to me.

“Thanks.” I took one, straightened it out and

leaned over toward the match he struck. I inhaled
and damn near choked to death. “These things are
strong!” I gasped, wheezing like an old man.

“Not so strong as you are,” Pierre replied,

slapping me on the back. “I have been watching
you for several nights. You are very beautiful. Is
that right?”

“Handsome is better when you‟re talking about

men. Thanks for the compliment.”

“I don‟t bullshit, man. I mean it.” He paused

briefly. “Why are you here every night? I see you
every time I come here. There are more interesting
places in Paris for you to go.”

“I‟ve been waiting for you,” I teased.

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47

“Zut alors!” He shook his head dismissively.

“No one waits for me. They wait for the beautiful
boys. I get into too many fights.” He gestured at
his face, then tossed the butt of his cigarette onto
the path.

“I said I was waiting for you,” I repeated,

cupping his chin in my hand and turning his head
toward me. “Kiss me.” His eyes widened in
surprise and disbelief. I wasn‟t one to keep him in
suspense, so I leaned toward him and brushed my
lips against his. The effect was electric. He put his
hands on my shoulders and his tongue flickered
out, tracing the contours of my lips. He tasted of
cigarettes and wine. I put my hand on the back of
his head, parted my lips and sucked his tongue
into my mouth. He whimpered softly, his kisses
becoming more urgent as we continued.

He put his hands on my chest, squeezing my

pecs, rubbing the balls of his thumbs against my
nipples. They popped up hard and tight beneath
the thin fabric of my shirt. He fumbled with the
buttons on my pants and dug his fingers into my
fly. I did the same for him, hauling his thick uncut
piece out and stroking it till it started to leak. The
smell of sex soon filled my nostrils, bringing out
the animal that always lurked just beneath the
surface.

“Let‟s fuck,” I mumbled, talking around his

probing tongue. We stood up and Pierre led me

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48

into a bank of shrubs growing around the base of
the huge equestrian statue dominating the square.
He had my pants down around my ankles in a
flash. Without missing a beat, he hit the ground on
his knees and deep-throated my dick in one
smooth, breathtaking move.

I kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and

groaned. The man‟s technique was enough to roll
my eyes back in my head. He lashed his tongue
against the head of my cock, the action shooting
sparks along the shaft to my balls and beyond.
After he had me gasping with this action, he deep-
throated me, slamming his forehead against my
belly, his throat muscles jacking me like a warm,
wet hand.

I leaned forward and slipped my hand into his

pants, my fingers following his crack all the way
down. When one of my unruly digits slipped into
his tight, hot manhole, he gripped my thighs
fiercely, and his cock-work became even more
inspirational. I finally managed to pull him back
to his feet and strip him out of his tight pants, so I
could feast my eyes on his butt.

He may not have had a handsome face, but his

ass was pure poetry. His cheeks were firm and
full, glowing white in the light from a distant
street lamp. He leaned forward, bracing his hands
on his knees. “Fuck me, man,” he growled,
looking over his shoulder at me. “Make it last all

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49

night long.”

I gripped my swollen cock around the base,

shucked the skin back and pressed the bare knob
against his ass hole. I steadied him with my free
hand while I sank into him slow and easy. Once I
got past the tight ring of muscle guarding his rear
entry, I slid it home like a knife cutting warm
butter. When my pubes were dusting his crack, I
stood still, savoring the throbbing heat of his guts.
He was panting raggedly, the muscles in his back
knotted.

I pulled him against me and stroked his chest

and belly to give him time to relax and get into it.
Within the space of about five minutes, his cock
was hard again and he rubbed up against me, his
butt muscles flexing.

“Ready?” I nibbled at his ear and flexed my

groin muscles to balloon my cockhead deep inside
of him. He grabbed one of my hands and started
sucking on my fingers, one after the other. He had
me so turned on by this point that each one felt
like a miniature cock. Sparks of lustful pleasure
shot down to the pit of my gut. I started to pump
deep thrusts that soon left him gasping and limp
in my arms. I reached down and cupped his balls
in my palm. I rubbed them up and down his
swollen dick. He drooled clear leak that streamed
down the veiny shaft and over my busy fingers,
making his cock slick as glass. Every time I

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50

thought I couldn‟t last another second, I‟d hold
him real tight, immobilizing him till I was back
under control. The bells tolled the half-hour, then
the hour and we just kept on fucking, teetering on
the edge, neither of us ready to fall over into bliss.

When I straightened my legs, his feet didn‟t

quite touch the ground. I‟d leave him hanging on
my spike for minutes at a time, rubbing the hard
ridge between his balls and the lips of his asshole
with my fingers barely touching the sensitive skin.
My other arm remained firmly around his chest,
supporting his weight. He had his hands planted
firmly on my ass, his head pressed against my
shoulder.

I bent my head, seeking his sensual lips again.

The contact intensified the sensations in my dick
by a factor of ten. I blew my breath into his lungs,
puffing his chest out tight. Then I sucked the air
out of him, keeping my mouth firmly over his. We
traded breath till I was dizzy, his asshole flexing
more urgently with every long, slow inhalation.
He finally crossed the line, his body spasming
against me.

“Now!” he howled, breaking the stillness of the

night. It only took one deep thrust to put me right
there with him. His jizz spouted in a high arc,
splashing on the glossy leaves of the bushes
surrounding us, frosting them with white. I blew
my wad deep in his ass. My body shook as the hot

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51

cum pumped out of me. After the last spasm
racked through me, all the strength flowed from
my legs and I slid slowly down against the cool
marble base of the statue that loomed above us.
Pierre nestled back against me, showing no
inclination to break the link between us.

I was gazing dreamily at the rooftops on the

horizon when a light blinked on in the Fahd
household. I stirred and Pierre lifted his head from
my chest and kissed my throat. “I think my
waiting is over,” I murmured.

“You were waiting for someone?” There was an

undercurrent of accusation in his tone.

“Not someone,” I corrected him. “Something.

I‟m working on a case. I hate to move, but I have
work to do.” His fingers tangled in my pubes and
it was all I could do to keep my concentration.
“We have time for that later,” I said ruefully as we
stood up and put our clothes back on. “Now, I
must work.”

“You need an assistant.” It was a statement.
“You could make a telephone call for me.”
“Anything you wish, Miles. I am at your

service.” I gave him a handful of change and
asked him to call the hotel and alert Rudy and
Jackson of my discovery. He loped across the
courtyard and I headed over to number 37. The
light on the second floor went out suddenly and I
picked up the pace. I sure as hell didn‟t want

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52

whoever was poking around the place to get away
from me after all this waiting.

I tried the front door. It was still locked. I

figured that a person who wanted to be
inconspicuous might use the service door at the
rear. From there it would be much easier to
disappear into the maze of streets in the
surrounding vicinity. With that in mind, I dashed
around to the back. As I ran along the shop-lined
arcade, I hoped the intruder wasn‟t in as much of
a hurry as I was.

I rounded the corner just as a door about fifty

yards down the street opened. A slender figure
crept out and peered intently up and down the
street. I ducked behind a car and crouched by the
rear fender, hoping he hadn‟t seen me. I was in
luck. The man shut the door behind him quietly
and stood there while he fumbled with a large
ring of keys. He was evidently no common
burglar, I noted, my hopes rising. He finally found
the proper keys and secured all three locks on the
heavy door. Then he picked up a small suitcase
and hurried off down the street, away from me.

I left my hiding place and followed, wishing

like hell that I had someone with me to watch the
other end of the street. I kicked an empty bottle
and sent it clattering noisily into the gutter. The
man in front of me looked around, saw me and
broke into a run. I dashed after him, but was a

The Case of the Missing Twin 3

53

good thirty yards behind him. He was rapidly
approaching an alley, which probably branched
off in a thousand directions.

He was within a few steps of his goal when

Pierre emerged from the shadows a few steps in
front of my man. “Pierre!” I shouted. “Stop him.”
Pierre turned and tackled the fugitive, bringing
him to the ground. He struggled briefly, but Pierre
pinned his arms to his sides and held him tight. I
raced up to them. “Good work, buddy,” I said,
panting triumphantly.

I looked down into the face of an angel. The

man Pierre had pinned was young. He had dark
hair and olive skin and his eyes were huge with
fear. I had the distinct feeling that this was Fahd‟s
nephew, Ahmed.

“Please don‟t kill me,” he whispered his voice

thick with panic. “Please.” Pierre released the
young man and he sat up. A tear glistened in his
eye, then rolled down his cheek, catching in the
silky black fuzz on his upper lip. He reached up
and grasped at my shirt, his knuckles grazing the
skin on my chest. “I‟ll do whatever you want, sir. I
don‟t want to die.”

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.