Speaking of DJ Queasy Li, check me out on youtube...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tEJ9R6-Cfk

Speaking of DJ Queasy Li, check me out on youtube...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tEJ9R6-Cfk

Sneak Peak of my www.channillo.com webseries "Worth The Fight" -- go to the website to subscribe

I'm finally ready to update my webseries after a 2 month hiatus.  I've just been really busy with pre-production of Must Be Nice: 2 and DJ-ing, but to all those patiently waiting for me to update "Worth The Fight" I appreciate ya...keep reading....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

13: Trey Goes to Mexico (Part One)
Series Info | Table of Contents

            In the beginning of my professional mixed martial arts career with the National Fighting Federation, I had some preconceived notions aboutcombat sports.  I had grown up competing in countless youth martial artstournaments and many wrestling matches in high school and colleges.  I trained hard to be in peak physical condition and an efficient tacticioninst.  My dedication and work ethic was unmatched.  That’s how I attained such a high level of success whenever I competed.  I intended to apply that dedication and work ethic to MMA, and I knew I’d have to take my training to a whole new level to compete at a high level with the world class athletes in the NFF.  My assumptions were only partially accurate.  Physical prowess and conditioning along with crafty tactics in the ring were only part of the equation.  CEO Paige Jefferies had a vision for the NFF and involved more than recruiting the most talented fighters in the world.  She wanted to find those special fighters she could mold into the type of stars that would appeal to the fans all across the world to help build the NFF as a global brand.  To her, charisma, charm, and speechcraft were just as important as fighting expertise because she wanted fighters on her roster that people would pay good money to see, and she knew people would be drawn to fighters more so by their personality and magnetism rather than their skills in the caged ring and ability to pound another human being unmercifully.
            Paige saw something in me.  She saw a lot of potential in me as a fighter, but also saw a lot of potential in me to be the kind of star that could be the face of the NFF.  Maybe it was my dashing good looks, or my gift of gab, or my amiable back story of being a young prodigal martial artist with an obscure film credit to my name.  I don’t know.  I’m just glad she wanted to give me a chance.  I learned a lot of life lessons and a lot about myself thanks to her.  Paige wasn’t the only one who had a big influence on me as a professional fighter.  About a month after my first match with the NFF, she revealed to me that I was on her radar as a possible recruit before she even found out I was dating the daughter of one of her main financial investors.  Lubie Marshall and JP, two of the NFF’s top fight promoters had shown her that viral video of that epic brawl at the pool hall on Halloween of 2001.
            On October 20, 2004 she scheduled a sit down with herself, Lubie, JP, and myself at the Manhattan headquarters of the NFF.  They wanted to talk to me about promoting my next fight.  Like Paige told me before, as long as I performed well in my first few fights, I’d be in line for a title bout with Orlando “The Tornado” Fernando, the pride of Mexico.  Lubie and JP thought it would be a good idea to have Orlando ringside at my next bout to get a good look at me up close and personal.  I didn’t have a problem with that.  I was just ready to find out who my next opponent would be so I could engross myself in training for the match.  The decision on who my next opponent would be was still a few weeks away.  At the end of my meeting with Lubie, JP, and Paige, I looked at them and said, "Hey, isn't Orlando Fernando's next match in Tulum this weekend?  Why don't I go down there and get a good look at him up close and personal first?"

This is the last sneak preview of my #bromancenovel that will be available until well into the Autumn of 2016, so enjoy. Fetishes Fantasies Fatalities

Chapter 2

          Rhonda sat in a chair behind a computer monitor in the managers’ office at the Massage Soleil Spa at the St. Johns Town Center in Jacksonville, Florida.  Gary leaned over her shoulder to get a good look at the surveillance footage they were reviewing to try and find clues about Blake Adams’ disappearance and murder.  Gary took in a deep breath to enjoy how pleasant and fragrant Rhonda’s skin smelled.  As a country boy, he recognized the scent immediately.  It was sunflowers.  Issy Myake was Rhonda favorite perfume, and Gary loved the way Chinese clothing designer’s signature floral fragrance smelled on her.  He resisted the urge to drift off into a daydream where he could fantasize about making sweet love to Rhonda after a picnic in a flowery meadow on a warm spring day.  They had a job to do.  Gary tried hard to stay focused on the task at hand.  It didn’t take long for them to find surveillance footage from the day Blake arrived in Jacksonville and came to the spa for at the St. Johns Town Center for a nice morning massage.

            “That looks like him walking in the front entrance right there,” Gary pointed at the screen.

            “Yes, that’s him for sure,” Rhonda said, “and it looks like he’s talking to someone.”

            “Look there,” Gary pointed again.  “He’s wearing a blue tooth ear piece.  He’s probably talking to someone on the phone.  Try to turn up the audio on this footage, Banks.”

            “Let me see.  Here we go right here,” Rhonda said as she turned up the volume all the way. 

            “Ugh dammit,” Gary grunted.  “I can’t quite make out what he’s saying.  Can you?”

            “No, I can’t hear either, Black, unfortunately,” Rhonda stated.  “The best we can do is save this video on a flash drive and send it to the field office here in town to see if they can enhance the audio.”

            “If my memory serves me correct, the FBI field office in Jacksonville ain’t that far from here of J. Turner Butler Blvd,” Gary recalled.  “Let’s go ahead and keep watching to see what else we may be able to find out about his visit to this place.”

            “Good idea,” Rhonda agreed.  “Hmmm.  I’m not noticing anything out of the ordinary so far.”

            “Neither am I,” Gary said.  “Looks like he’s alone.  There he is walking up to the counter to confirm his appointment.”

            “And here comes the masseuse to escort him back to the private room to get his massage,” Rhonda noted.

            “Yup, and there are no cameras in the private massage rooms,” Gary pointed out.

            Rhonda sighed and said, “Yeah.  Let’s just fast forward to when he’s leaving to see if there’s anything else useful on this footage.”

            “There he is again leaving.  Looks like he’s still alone.  That’s all we got, huh?” Gary asked his partner.

            “Yes, our best bet is to save this footage to send to the techs in the lab to see if they can clean up the audio.” Rhonda said. 

            “We should also ask Jerry which one of his employees gave Blake his massage that day,” Gary suggested.”

            “Of course,” Rhonda agreed.  “Masseuses are a lot like barbers or hairdressers sometimes.  Their clients will confide in them.  We need to find out what, if anything, Blake talked about that day while he got his massage.”

            Jerry had decided to take a quick smoke break to calm his nerves after he gave the FBI access to the company’s surveillance footage.  He had really dodged a bullet on that one, and it really was a close call for him.  He planted his secret cameras so long ago and hoped he would be able to avoid detection for a long time.  The risk of jail time or losing his job did not override his overwhelming obsession with being a peeping Tom.  He sat in his car and sparked up a Marlboro Ultra Light cigarette.  Jerry took a long drag and exhaled the smoke slowly.  Then he reached back to his back seat to retrieve his laptop.  He powered it on.  Special Agent Banks and  Special Agent Black had no idea that one of Jerry’s secret cameras was planted in the very room that Blake got his massage in on that fateful day when he came to Massage Soleil Spa.  Now Jerry was himself curious to see what might have happened in that room that day, so he perused his video files to find the secret footage from that room on that particular day.  The microphones on Jerry’s planted cameras were more advanced than those on the regular surveillance cameras throughout the spa, so he could not only watch what was happening, but he could hear very clearly what was being discussed.  Jerry watched Blake undress before Tim, one of his best employees, entered the room to commence with the massage.  Jerry didn’t really see or hear anything in the video that was out of the ordinary.  Tim was polite and cordial with Blake, just like he was with all of his clients.  Blake engaged Tim with typical small talk.  Blake told Tim he had just arrived in town to watch the football game and that he had managed to sneak in an early morning workout at a local Planet Fitness gym because he had a membership there.  Then he a had a minor fender bender in the drive-thru at Chic-Fil-A with some women who as on her cell phone and not paying attention.  Most of the videos Jerry secretly filmed were mundane like this one, and they were too boring to keep a grip on his short attention span.  However, Jerry was not an idiot.  It suddenly dawned on him that Special Agent Banks and Special Agent Black may want to interview Tim about his interactions with Blake that morning.  Jerry quickly closed his laptop and put it back on his back seat.  He hastened back inside in time to meet Rhonda and Gary who were waiting for him at the front desk.

            Just as Jerry predicted, Rhonda asked him, “Mr. Curry can you tell us which one of your employees gave Blake his massage?”

            Because of his secret footage Jerry already knew who it was, but to cover his ass he said, “I’ll need to check our records from that day to tell you who gave Blake Adams his massage.”  Jerry walked behind the counter and retrieved a large notebook.  He quickly flipped through the pages and then pointed at one randomly and said, “Aha!  Here it is.  Looks like Tim serviced Blake that day.  He is working here today.  Would you like to speak with him?”

            “Yes, please,” Gary requested.

            “That won’t be a problem at all.  You’ll just have to wait for a moment because Tim is with a client right now.”

            “That’s fine,” Rhonda stated.  “We don’t mind waiting.”

            “While we’re waiting would you kind if we ask you a few questions?” Gary asked.

            Jerry gulped and said, “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

            “So were you at work on September 7^th, the day Blake came to get a massage?” Gary questioned.

            “I believe so, yes,” Jerry answered.  “I work every Sunday.”

            “Well, did you see Blake Adams on that day as you recall?” Gary asked.

“Typically I’m in the office filling out paperwork.  My assistant manager Kenny Garretson mans the front counter when I cannot,” Jerry explained.

            “Well, okay,” Rhonda said.  “May we speak with Mr. Garretson?”

            “Kenny is actually off today, but I can give you his card, and you can call him on his cell phone,” Jerry said as reached under the counter again and gave the FBI agents Kenny’s business card.

            “Yes, we appreciate this,” Rhonda thanked Jerry.

            “It’s no problem at all really.  Tim will be with his client for a little while longer.  Would you two like to have a quick complimentary massage on the house from a couple of my top masseuses while you wait to pass the time,” Jerry asked them.

            “Oh, I don’t know,” Rhonda said reluctantly.

            “Come on, Banks,” Gary tried to convince his partner.  “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.  I body slammed a perp a couple weeks ago and have had this kink in my neck I can’t get rid of ever since that happened.  A free massage may really hit the spot.”

            “Well, alright,” Rhonda conceded.  “If you insist, as long as our boss doesn’t find out about this, we should be fine.”

            “Good.  Take these robes and go help yourselves to our dressing rooms to change.  I’ll summon a couple of my employees who have some downtime right now and make sure they treat you right,” Jerry said.

            Jerry could hardly contain his giddiness as he handed Special Agent Banks and Special Agent Black their robes.  He had one thing on his mind.  He wanted to find a couple of his employees to cater to the FBI agents while he scurried back to his car to watch a live feed from the cameras he had secretly planted in the spa’s locker rooms.  Jerry imagined what Rhonda and Gary would look like naked when they first walked in.  Now he had an opportunity to find out, and he was stoked about it.  So while Jerry got his perv on in his car with his laptop watching the FBI agents change in the locker rooms via his hidden cameras, Tim was catering to Cynthia, one of his best regular clients, with a sensual massage.  Cynthia moaned lightly while Tim’s strong hands and grip rubbed her tensions away.  She had a lot on her mind, but this massage was a nice escape from some of those stressors that recently started recurring in her normally carefree life.  It wasn’t just the fender bender she had with Ben earlier.  That unlucky occurrence was considered by her to be a blessing in disguise and a curse since it led to a chance encounter with a handsome young man she was so attracted to that it rekindled certain hazardous yearnings she hadn’t felt in a long time.  Cynthia spent a long time coping with those temptations during the Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings she used to go to all those years ago where she met Jerry.

            Now Cynthia’s eyes were closed.  She squirmed a little as sensations of pleasure started to surge through her body.  Cynthia was getting aroused and Tim could sense that as he rubbed his hands all over her supple body during the massage.  Her smooth skin and body was completely exposed to him other than a small white towel that was placed across her plump rump.  Tim placed his hands firmly at the small off Cynthia’s back and squeezed near her spine.  Cynthia let out another soft moan.  Tim cleared his throat and slid his hands slowly down lower to the backs of her hips at the top of her buttocks.  Cynthia moaned again.  Tim wanted to be cautious, but this was not his first rodeo.  Things could get hot and heavy during massages sometimes, and Tim was not ashamed at all of the fact that situations like this often led to some pretty passionate, lustful, and intimate no-strings-attached encounters in the massage room with some of his more free-willed and promiscuous female clients.  Tim knew he had to be cautious.  Discretion was always the key in situations like this.  Typically he tried to avoid situations like this and would opt to just keep his own arousal in check long enough to complete the massage.  Then he would give his client a card and suggest coming to their home where he could give them a private massage without the risk of losing his job if things got a little to risqué.  This time, however, he wasn’t sure if he could resist.  Cynthia was an older woman, but her body was immaculate.  Her breast were so ample as they spilled over the edge of the massage table.  She was in great shape.  He wanted to explore every curve and treat her body like a wonder land.  Cynthia was not resisting at all as things progressively got more provocative during the massage.  The moaning.  The squirming.  Cynthia’s breathing became labored, and Tim’s did too.  They both were mutually approaching that pinnacle of arousal that was near the point of no return.  Tim made his mind up.  It was now or never.  He leaned down and kissed the nape of Cynthia’s neck softly.

            “Yes, Timothy, yes” Cynthia whispered seductively. “Just like that.”

            Cynthia pulled off her towel to expose her nude body to Tim.  It was quiet a view from behind.  That was the green light Tim needed.  He didn’t waste any time, and removed his pants and shirt so they were both now nude.  He intended on giving Cynthia what she wanted and all she could handle.  First he just slid his left index finger inside of Cynthia before he slowly slid all of himself inside of her.  The love making started off slowly and sensually.  Then it started to intensify as the two of them fell deeper into the thralls of passion.  It was difficult for both of them to remain quite enough as not to alert anyone else inside the Massage Soleil Spa.  They were being naughty, but it felt so good.  The speed of Tim’s pelvic thrusts increased as he approached his climax.  He could tell Cynthia had climaxed a couple of times already.  He wanted her to orgasm one more time before he himself did, and one long moan that came from Cynthia right before Tim came was a hint that he had succeeded.

            “Aaaaaaah,” Tim exhaled a long sigh.

            “That was absolutely wonderful, Timothy,” Cynthia complimented.

            “Wooo, that was fun,” Tim said.

            Cynthia stood up and draped herself in her robe.  She handed Tim a crisp one hundred dollar bill as a tip before she left the room to go to the locker room and change back into her clothes.  Tim grinned as he slid back into his own clothes and put the money in his pocket.  He noticed that Cynthia had also included one of her business cards inside the folded bill.  The large tip made Tim feel a little like a gigolo, but he felt neither ashamed nor degraded by this.  He was quite content with how that intimate encounter with an affluent older woman went.  He’d always joke with his friends at the bar about how he needed a sugar momma.  Now he might have found one and that tickled him to death.  After performing the routine sanitation tasks in the massage room, Tim made his way back to the front counter where Rhonda and Gary were waiting for him.

            They flashed their badges, and Rhonda said, “I’m Special Agent Banks, and this is Special Agent Black.  We are with the FBI.”

            “Oh shit,” Tim let that obscenity slip.

            “Don’t be alarmed, we just need to ask you a few questions about a client you saw last Sunday morning,” Gary said.

            “Oh okay,” Tim was relieved.  “Who might that be?”

            “Do you recognize this man?” Rhonda showed Tim a picture of Blake Adams on her cell phone.

            “Yeah, that guy,” Tim remembered.  “I remember giving him a massage Sunday morning.  He was into politics or something as I recall.”

            “That’s right,” Gary said.  “He’s Blake Adams, the son of Senator Bill Adams from Miami, and he’s been murdered.”

            “Holy shit,” Tim cursed again.  “I definitely didn’t kill him.”

            “We know that.  You are not a suspect,” Rhonda assured him.  “However, this spa was one of the first places he came the day before he disappeared.  We are trying to retrace his steps to find some clues about his disappearance and murder.”

            “Right, how can I help?” Tim asked.

            “Did Blake talk to you at all about what he had planned while he was in town, or anyone he was going to visit during his time in Jacksonville?” Gary questioned.

            “Let me think,” Tim paused.  “He said something about skybox seats for the Jaguars game.”

            “We already know about that.  Did he talk to you about anything else?” Rhonda asked.

            “Ah, hmmm….,” Tim thought hard.  “He said something about a minor a fender bender he got into while he was in the Chic-Fil-A drive-thru for breakfast before he came here. Some lady was on her cell phone and rode right into the back of him while he was waiting in the drive-thru line”

            “That’s good info,” Gary said.  “Now, did he say anything about that incident?”

            “Yes, as a matter of fact he did,” Tim said.  “He said the lady that crashed into him was very polite, very well spoken, but insisted that they not call to report the minor accident for some reason.  She pulled some cash out of her purse to pay for the damage, but Blake refused and instead suggested maybe she could just buy him lunch later, and just call it even at that.  He said they set up a lunch date at a restaurant at the beach.”

            “Where were they supposed to meet? Which restaurant? Do you remember?” Gary asked.

            “I don’t really remember.  All I know is he said something about wanting to get some seafood somewhere at a restaurant at the beach,” Tim told them.

            “Did he give you a description of this woman? What kind of car was she driving?” Rhonda asked.

            “He said she was obviously well off and fairly attractive and in good shape for an older lady.  He called her a cougar,” Tim told the FBI agents.  “I don’t really remember what else he said about her, but he did say she was very flirtatious and felt that they hit it off which is why they had planned to meet each other for lunch later.”

            “Is that all?” Rhonda inquired.

            “Yeah, that’s all I can remember. I’m so sorry,” Tim apologized.

            “Don’t be sorry, you did fine, and we appreciate your assistance,” Rhonda said.

            “Yeah, my partner is right.  Thanks, buddy,” Gary said.  “Take my card and call me if you remember anything else.  What you told us so far will definitely be of great help in this investigation.”

            “No problem,” Tim said.

            Rhonda and Gary left spa and made their way to their Crown Victoria.  They both were jotting down details in their notebooks while they were talking to Tim about the case.  Now was when they took the time to just sit in the parking lot and compare their notes.

            “So, what’s our next step, Banks?” Gary asked.

            “Well, obviously the woman that Blake met in the drive-thru after that fender bender is a person of interest,” Rhonda stated. “We should continue working to reconstruct the timeline that led up to his disappearance.  The only thing we knew before was that he came to town to watch a football game and then went to Daytona to party afterward.  Then he disappeared and turned up dead in a field in Middleburg which was obviously just a dump site.  All we have confirmed other than that so far is that he landed in Jacksonville, went to breakfast, then got a massage before meeting this mystery woman for lunch at the beach.”

            “And we haven’t gotten any leads yet on Blake’s missing vehicle, have we?” Gary asked.

            “None at all actually.  It can be anywhere from here to Middleburg or even Daytona,” Rhonda said.

            “We need to track that car down.  I get the feeling that if we find the car we may be able to find the scene of the crime where he was murdered,” Gary said.

            “So our first step will be figuring out where he went to get lunch.”

            “Gosh, that ain’t gonna be easy either.  There’s gotta be at least two dozen seafood restaurants in the vicinity of Jax Beach.”

            “That means we have got quite a bit off footwork and pavement pounding to do then, don’t we, Black?”

            “Yup, it sure does look that way, partner.  Let’s try to knock out half of them today.  Then we can get a room and tackle the other half tomorrow.”

            “That’s sounds like a good idea.”

            Gary grinned and crossed his fingers the way he always did in this type of situation.  Gary and Rhonda worked a lot together alone on the road all over the country.  They stayed often in hotels on the road when working on big case. They typically would get one room with double beds, but sometimes those rooms would be booked, and they’d have to get a single king.  It felt so good to him to sleep next to her, and every once in a while when Rhonda was deep in R.E.M. sleep and dreaming hard she would snuggle close to Gary so he could nestle her and hold her gently, but he made sure not to ever cross a line or do anything appropriate.  His crush on her was awkward enough already as is.  He didn’t want to ruin their relationship by being all handsy and weird.  Still, one day he hoped he’d have the guts to tell her how he really felt about her, to tell her how much he yearned for her, but for now, he had to be content with the fantasies in his own head.

            Meanwhile, in the upscale Summer Brook subdivision on the East Arlington side of town, Ben was wrapping up some work for one of his favorite and most regular clients that often contracted him to repair the plumbing in her extravagant two-story house on the quiet cul-de-sac off Tropic Drive.  The client was a tiny and charming elderly woman named Carolyn.  Her house was huge, eight bedrooms and 3 and a half bathrooms.  Carolyn didn’t work, but rather she rented out all the spare rooms to mostly displaced folks or people in need of transitional or temporary housing.  She noticed an uptake in prospective tenants during a recession of course.  Carolyn was a classically trained dancer, was well-traveled, and had a knack for interior design.  The layout of her large house was beautifully ordained, and the furnishings of the house really impressed Ben.  Carolyn’s exuberance and undying optimism was a breath of fresh air for Ben, who was so often engrossed in taxing conflicts and baby momma drama.  Ben loved his daughter Destiny.  However, he was convinced the mother of his daughter and ex-girlfriend Crystal was the spawn of Satan.  If Crystal was the devil incarnate sent to be the bane of his existence, then Carolyn was like a fairy godmother to Ben.  Even when business was slow for Ben, he could count on Carolyn to hire him for even some minor jobs here and there to help him make ends meet.  And if the straits were dire, she’d even lend him money as an advance on future jobs.  He was so grateful for her and tried to give her hefty discounts on his work when he could, but she was resolute and always wanted to pay full price.  Carolyn stepped out to grocery shop when Ben started his work that day, but returned shortly before he completed the repairs.

            “Oh, hello, Ben,” Carolyn greeted him warmly as she popped her head into the one of the downstairs bathrooms to check on him.  “It looks like you’re almost done in there.  You really are talented at what you do, and your work is always top notch.  I also really like how you clean up and make sure everything is nice and tidy when you’re finished.  Let me tell you some of the other contractors I hire or so messy, and so brash, no manners at all.”

            “It’s not a problem, Carolyn,” Ben said.  “I always clean up after myself and treat my clients with the utmost respect.  It’s how my Dad did it, and it’s how he taught me to do it.”

            “I haven’t seen you in a little while.  Tell me how things have been going with you.”

            “Oh, I can’t complain.  I’m maintaining.”

            “And how is your little girl, your daughter?  Destiny is her name, right?”

            “Oh, she’s great, growing faster than all get out.  I wanted to see her today before I got here, but…”

            “Her mother?  She still giving you trouble?”

            “Yeah, she seems to love to find new ways to be a pain in my ass, excuse my language.”

            “Well, I pray for you and your family every day, Ben.  You’re a good and descent young man and deserve the best in life.  Things will work out for you I’m sure.  With your work ethic and devotion to leading a good life, God will bless you I’m sure.”

            “Thank you, Carolyn.  Well, I’m all done here.  You shouldn’t have any more problems with the toilet.  Just make sure your tenants aren’t flushing tampons or cigarette butts, or anything else crazy down the toilet and it will work fine.”

            “Great, let me just grab some cash out of my purse so I can pay you.  How much do I owe you for your work today, Ben?”

            “Uhhh, this really wasn’t a major job.  I didn’t spend much time on parts, and it didn’t take me long to do what I had to do…”

            “Don’t give me that.  You’re a trained and skilled professional in a trade that isn’t easy to master.  How does five hundred dollars sound?”

            Ben cleared his throat.  Then, he just reluctantly nodded in agreement.  Even if he named a price he would have typically quoted a job like this, which would have been around three hundred dollars or so, Carolyn would have had that five hundred dollar figure in her head and demanded he take that much for the cost of his labor and parts.  He really needed the money too.  Since he didn’t report that accident he got into earlier, he would have to come out of pocket to make the repairs to his bumper.  That reminded him.  He needed to call Cynthia about working out their little agreement to resolve that issue.  He usually didn’t like trading services in barter-like situations, but in this case, it was in his best interest to avoid a hike in his car insurance premiums.  He pulled out his cell phone and searched for the card that Cynthia handed to him earlier after the little wreck they had just outside of his baby momma’s driveway.

FFF Bromance Novel Chapter 2 PREVIEW!!!

Chapter 2

          Rhonda sat in a chair behind a computer monitor in managers’ office at the Massage Soleil Spa.  Gary leaned over her shoulder to get a good look at the surveillance footage they were reviewing to try and find clues about Blake Adams’ disappearance and murder.  Gary took in a deep breath to enjoy how pleasant and fragrant Rhonda’s skin smell.  As a country boy, he recognized the scent immediately.  It was sunflowers.  Issy Myake was Rhonda favorite perfume, and Gary loved the way it smelled on her.  He resisted the urge to drift off into a daydream where he would fantasize about making sweet love to Rhonda after a picnic in a flowery meadow on a warm spring day.  They had a job to do.  Gary tried hard to stay focused on the task at hand.  It didn’t take long for them to find surveillance footage from the day Blake arrived in Jacksonville and came to the spa for at the St. Johns Town Center for a nice morning massage.

            “That looks like him walking in the front entrance right there,” Gary pointed at the screen.

            “Yes, that’s him for sure,” Rhonda said, “and it looks like he’s talking to someone.”

            “Look there,” Gary pointed again.  “He’s got a blue tooth ear piece.  He’s probably talking to someone on the phone.  Try to turn up the audio on this footage, Banks.”

            “Let me see.  Here we go right here,” Rhonda said as she turned up the volume all the way. 

            “Ugh dammit,” Gary grunted.  “I can’t quite make out what he’s saying.  Can you?”

            “No, I can’t hear either, Black, unfortunately,” Rhonda stated.  “The best we can do is save this video on a flash drive and send it to the field office here in town to see if they can enhance the audio.”

            “If my memory serves me correct, the FBI field office in Jacksonville ain’t that far from here of J. Turner Butler Blvd,” Gary recalled.  “Let’s go ahead and keep watching to see what else we may be able to find out about his visit to this place.”

            “Good idea,” Rhonda agreed.  “Hmmm.  I’m not noticing anything out of the ordinary so far.”

            “Neither am I,” Gary said.  “Looks like he’s alone.  There he is walking up to the counter to confirm his appointment.”

            “And here comes the masseuse to escort him back to the private room to get his massage,” Rhonda noted.

            “Yup, and there are no cameras in the private massage rooms,” Gary pointed out.

            Rhonda sighed and said, “Yeah.  Let’s just fast forward to when he’s leaving to see if there’s anything else useful on this footage.”

            “There he is again leaving.  Looks like he’s still alone.  That’s all we got, huh?” Gary asked his partner.

            “Yes, our best bet is to save this footage to send to the techs in the lab to see if they can clean up the audio.” Rhonda said. 

            “We should also ask Jerry which one of his employees gave Blake his massage that day,” Gary suggested.”

            “Of course,” Rhonda agreed.  “Masseuses are a lot like barbers or hairdressers sometimes.  Their clients will confide in them.  We need to find out what, if anything, Blake talked about that day while he got his massage.”

            Jerry had decided to take quick smoke break to calm his nerves after he gave the FBI access to the company’s surveillance footage.  He had really dodged a bullet on that one, and it really was a close call for him.  He planted his secret cameras so long ago and hoped he would be able to avoid detection for a long time.  The risk of jail time or losing his job did not override his overwhelming obsession with being a peeping Tom.  He sat in his car and sparked up a Marlboro Ultra Light cigarette.  Jerry took a long drag and exhaled the smoke slowly.  Then he reached in his back seat to retrieve his laptop.  He powered it on.  Special Agent Banks and  Special Agent Black had no idea that one of Jerry’s secret camera’s was planted in the very room that Blake got his massage in that fateful day when he came to Massage Soleil Spa.  Now Jerry was himself curious to see what may have happened in that room that day, so he perused his video files to find the secret footage from that room that day.

            

Fantasies Fetishes Fatalities-- Chapter 1 is finally done

             Fetishes

Fantasies

Fatalities

By Patrick D. Peay

Chapter 1

                     

As a ten year veteran of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Gary Black was accustomed to, but not desensitized by the amount of death he was exposed to in the field as a special agent.  There he stood on the edge of a grassy marsh in Middleburg, Florida.  The weather was muggy, but not near the unbearable extremes one can come to experience at the end of a summer in North Florida.  Yet another corpse was sprawled out before Gary and his partner Rhonda Banks.  The decomposition of the dead body was obviously advanced by the humidity of the First Coast Region.  Rhonda surveyed the scene with a stern look of concentration on a face filled with such delicate and attractive features while Gary stood in silence for a moment.  He found himself drifting off into a daydream themed with an all too familiar forbidden fantasy. 

Gary worked closely and in conjunction with Rhonda for the past six years.  All the while, he tried his best to conceal his secret admiration for her.  What started as an innocent crush turned into a lurid obsession and even he was ashamed to admit that to himself, so he kept these desires for her pent up inside him as best he could.  Everything about Rhonda was so alluring and attractive to Gary.  She was brilliant, beautiful, and something about her attitude and the way she carried herself was irresistible to Gary.  He wondered if she ever noticed his longing stares.  He had the impression that Rhonda could be a subtle seductress if she wanted to be.  That desire to throw caution to the wind and conventional wisdom always festered inside Gary.  Everyone knows how complicated feelings like this could complicate work relationships.  Still, sometimes Gary wanted to hold Rhonda.  He wanted to caress her.  He wanted to sensually kiss her and explore her whole body with his tongue.  He typically didn’t see Rhonda out of her stark professional attire, but Gary imagined she would look absolutely stunning in lacey lingerie.

Rhonda was keenly focused during the initial phases of a any investigation.  Gary was in a tantric trance.  Even at this early stage of investigation, Rhonda could sense that this current case would be of the atypical variety.  Rhonda’s sudden and curt remark snapped Gary out of his mesmeric daze.

“This is a new one for me, a dead and ball-gagged gimp in a swamp,” Rhonda said. 

“Damn, Agent Banks, it smells like day-old cabbage stewed with rancid road kill out here,” Gary remarked.

            “I won’t even ask how you know what that smells like, Agent Black,” Rhonda commented.

            Gary and Rhonda worked closely as partners for six years.  Gary was strapping and brawny man with a thick southern drawl.  He was raised in Moultrie, a small rural town in Georgia.  His humble upbringing on a farm was a stark contrast to the way Rhonda was raised.  She got used to that ephemeral and transplanting lifestyle that came along with being in a military family.  She couldn’t count how many times she was uprooted and had to pack up to move when her father was transferred to another Naval Base.  More times than not, they were coastal cities, so Rhonda grew up loving the beach.  Still, the country boy Gary and the beach girl Rhonda, although an odd pairing, worked well as a cohesive investigational unit.  They got on each other’s nerves sometimes and clashed on occasion, but they truly trusted and respected one another.

            The crime scene in Middleburg was cordoned off.  It was a muddy and wooded area not far from the northern flowing St. John’s River south of Jacksonville off US Highway 17.  The Clay County Sherriff’s Office, the local authorities, alerted the FBI.  Gary and Rhonda weren’t too far away in Daytona Beach investigating a high profile missing person’s case, so they were immediately summoned to the crime scene.  A week prior, Blake Adams, the twenty six year old eldest son of a prominent United States Congressman named Bill Adams from Miami, vanished without a trace.  Blake had travelled to Jacksonville from his home in Miami to attend the first road game of the Miami Dolphins’ 2014 National Football League regular season versus the perennially lousy Jacksonville Jaguars at Ever Bank Stadium.  Blake’s father Bill happened to also be in town at the time accompanying his wife Linda Adams, a published and renowned self-help author that had a scheduled speaking arrangement at a women’s empowerment conference at the Morocco Shrine Auditorium off Jefferson Street in downtown Jacksonville.  Reportedly, Blake hade made his way to Daytona Beach south of Jacksonville after the football game to celebrate the Dolphins’ thrilling 26 to 20 overtime victory over the Jaguars. Bill travelled in a convoy with some of the Dolphins’ players he was acquainted with.  Blake was last seen leaving an upscale gentlemen’s club called Emperors’ off the strip in Daytona Beach with an unidentified woman.

            Back in Middleburg, Special Agent Banks and Special Agent Black surveyed the area with local cops and crime scene technicians.  They examined the dead body which was dressed up in a full-body leather BDSM gimp suit, complete with mask and ball-gag strapped in his mouth.  There wasn’t an apparent cause of death that they could see.  The ankles were bound with chains, and the wrists were handcuffed behind his back.  There was a not lot of blood, and it wasn’t immediately evident whether or not part of an attack occurred on the scene, or elsewhere, or if the man was assaulted violently, and dumped severely injured to expire alone in the swamp.

            “Can somebody please remove that ball-gag from his mouth and take off that mask?” Rhonda asked.

            One of the CSI’s obliged Rhonda’s request, then Gary said, “Holy honeycombs!  That’s our guy.  That’s definitely Blake Adams.”

            This is was no longer a missing person’s case for Rhonda and Gary.  It was a homicide, and a weird one at that.  The uniqueness of this murder was evident.

            “Who discovered the body?” Gary asked.

            One of the police officers answered, “A man was walking his dog on a nearby trail when his dog got loose from the leash and ran into the woods.  The man gave chase then stumbled across this.  He phoned us right away.”

            “Where is this man now?” Rhonda asked.

            “Right over there,” the cop pointed.

            “Officer, we are gonna need you to escort that man to the station to get a detailed statement from him,” Gary said.  “Have your people finish securing the scene and take as many pictures as possible.  Collect and document as much trace evidence as you can.  Then, carefully bag up the body, and take it to the coroner, so they can conduct a detailed medical examination and autopsy.”

            “Officer Williams,” Rhonda read the name above his badge.  “We appreciate the assistance and cooperation of the Clay County Sheriffs’ Office.  Now, my partner and I must go to Jacksonville to give the victim’s parents the bad news.  Try to keep the press suppressed, and don’t give any official statements to the media until tomorrow.  We may have to handle that.”

            Alerting the next of kin: this was always a difficult and uncomfortable undertaking.  Bill and Linda Adams were still checked in at the Hyatt Hotel on Market Street near the St. Johns River in downtown Jacksonville.  Needless to say, they were absolutely distraught and grief stricken when Special Agent Black and Special Agent Banks delivered the about their son’s peculiar and violent death in person.  Gary and Rhonda expressed their sympathies and assured the Adams family that the Federal Bureau of Investigations would find whoever was responsible for such horrible atrocities and use all the resources at their disposal to bring the perpetrator of such an awful and inexplicable crime to justice.  After delivering the devastatingly horrible bad news, Gary and Rhonda stood on the Riverwalk outside the Hyatt.  Gary could see the anguish in Rhonda’s face. He wanted to comfort and console her.

            “Ronnie, we are going to catch this guy,” Gary assured her.  “We always do.”

            “I know, Gary,” Rhonda replied.

            Then, Gary made a suggestion, “Let me tell you what I like to do once I get to the meat and potatoes of a big murder case like this one here.”

            Rhonda asked him, “What’s that, Gary?”

            He explained, “You already know my routine.  It’s kind of a superstition.  After I find a body and have to alert the next of kin, I like to go to a Burger King drive thru to get a spicy chicken sandwich with tomatoes and a nice milk shake to wash it down.  Tomatoes are brain food ya know.  I vacationed in Jacksonville with my brother once.  I’m going to take you to that Burger King at the St. John’s Town Center on the south side of town to have some lunch and milkshake with me, my treat.  After that we can go to Massage Soleil at the Town Center.  According to Blake Adam’s itinerary he got a massage there Sunday morning.  We need to question the staff and review their surveillance footage.”

            Rhonda just nodded.  She had learned long ago not to reject Gary’s insistences.  He was very persistent and persuasive person, and sometimes he knew what was best for Rhonda.  That’s why they worked so well together.  Besides his primal physical attraction to Rhonda, Gary cared deeply about her physical and mental well being.  He vowed to always have her back and protect her in the field.  He hated to see her stressed out by all the rigors they encountered with their ever growing caseloads, and Gary always did his best to do things with Rhonda to help her decompress.

            The Massage Soleil spa was a great place to decompress and relieve stress.  Benjamin Hudson could have definitely used their services after nerve-racking day he was having.  He spent most of the morning arguing with Crystal who was the mother of his two year old daughter Destiny.  Things didn’t work out for Ben and Crystal as a couple and they had been separated for many months, but shared custody of their daughter.  Ben went to Crystal’s house to pick up his daughter, but Crystal informed him that their daughter was spending time with her grandmother for a few days.  Ben was upset and this led to a pretty heated argument.  Ben eventually stormed out of Crystal’s place before things escalated, but he was so distracted that he backed right into a passing and unsuspecting motorist as he reversed out of Crystal’s driveway.

            “Shit,” Ben cursed and punched his steering wheel.

            Behind the wheel of the car Ben backed into sat Cynthia Stone.  She was struck by Ben, literally and physically.  As Ben stepped out of his car to assess the damage and check to see if she was okay, Cynthia marveled at his toned physique and dashing good looks.  Handsome younger men like Ben always peaked her interest.  The minor collision was the least of Cynthia’s concerns.  After one look at Ben, the wheels in her head began to spin.  At her age of 45, the prospect of seducing a handsome and stylish younger man always aroused Cynthia. Her guess that Ben must be in his mid twenties was correct.  He had celebrated his 25^th birthday only two weeks prior.  Cynthia had immediately made up her mind and was intent on seducing Benjamin no matter what it took.  Unaware of this fact, Ben approached Cynthia’s driver side window and gave it a light rap with his knuckles.

            “I’m so sorry ma’am.  I totally spaced out and wasn’t paying attention.  Are you okay?” Ben asked after Cynthia rolled down her window.

            “Oh, it’s just a minor fender bender.  I’m all right, thank you,” Cynthia said as she stepped out of her car.

            “You shouldn’t thank me.  This is completely my fault.  I feel horrible,” Ben said.

            “Seriously, it’s okay.  There’s not much damage as far as I can tell,” Cynthia said.

            “Still, right about now is when we should exchange insurance information or something.  Maybe we should call the cops to make an accident report.” Ben explained.  “Lord knows I can’t really afford a hike in my premium, but I was in the wrong here.  I wanna do right by this whole unfortunate situation.  Hell, the old me would have just bolted on you honestly, but I’m not like that anymore.”

            “Well, I certainly appreciate your honesty.  Such upstanding character in young men is so rare these days,” Cynthia said.

            “So, my insurance card is in my glove box.  I’m just gonna grab it real quick,” Ben stated.

            “No.  Please, don’t bother,” Cynthia insisted.  “There’s no need to get insurance companies or the police involved.”

            “Well I don’t know any other way to resolve this.  I mean, you’re gonna need some bodywork at least, and those type of repairs aren’t cheap.  I’ve got decent collision coverage,” Ben said.

            “Oh, I’m not too worried about that.  I can send it to an old friend of mine who will fix it right up, no problem.  And he’ll give me a good deal.”Cynthia responded.

            “But it won’t be free, will it?” Ben asked.  “I still feel obliged to make sure you get reimbursed for the costs.  And where are my manners?  I’ve just crashed into your nice Lexus.  You are being so cool about this, and I haven’t even introduced myself.  My name is Ben, by the way.”

            “Oh, short for Benjamin.  I like that name,” Cynthia admitted to Ben.  “Benjamin was my second ex-husband’s name.  My name is Cynthia Stone.”

            “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Stone,” Ben shook her hand gently.

            “The pleasure is all mine, Benjamin,” Cynthia blushed, “and please call me Cynthia.”

            “Okay, Cynthia.  You seem intent on giving me a pass for smashing your ride, but I wanna take some responsibility in this matter,” Ben said.  “I’d fix it myself, but I’m just a lowly plumber by trade.  There aren’t any pipes or drains in cars I can fix.”

            “Ah, a plumber how interesting,” Cynthia said.

            “Not as interesting as you think,” Ben said.  “I learned the trade from my father and then took the family business over once he fell ill a year ago.  Cancer, but he’s doing better now.  The plumbing business though, isn’t as lucrative as I hoped it would be.”

            “Nonetheless, it’s good that you have a trade, and take it from me, running a small business is all about hills and valleys.  Things will get better for you soon I’m sure,” Cynthia said.

            “I hope so,” Ben said.  “You say you run a small business too?”  What is it that you do?”

            “Well, I own a couple of small novelty shops.  One is in Daytona and the other is in Savannah.  I’m thinking about expanding again and opening a third location in Jacksonville.  I’m actually on my way to check out a commercial lease property that’s near a place where I like to get a massage when I’m in Jacksonville,” Cynthia told Ben.

            “See Cynthia, now I feel worse,” Ben said.  “You were on your way to handle some important business until I backed into you.”

            “I told you already it’s no big deal, Benjamin.  I’m fine.  My car will be fine, but if you want to repay me some way for the damage, I may have an idea,” Cynthia said.

            “What might that be?” Ben questioned.

            “You say you’re a plumber, and I just happen to be having a problem with the some pipe leakage in the master bathroom at my home in Daytona,” Cynthia explained.

            “Ah, I think I see what you are getting at,” Ben understood.  “I can come down to Daytona and make those repairs for you, and we can call it even.  That sounds like a good idea to me, Cynthia.  I can live with that if you can.”

            “Most definitely.  Here, Benjamin, take one of my cards,” Cynthia handed it to Ben.  “At the moment, I must run along so I’m not late for my meeting with that landlord.  Give me a call in a couple of hours, and we can hash out the details.”

            “Cool,” Ben took Cynthia’s card as he returned to her Lexus and drove off with a flirtatious wave in parting.

            Ben smiled politely and waved back at Cynthia.  Then he looked down and read her card: 

DTRT Novelties

2323 Jordan Dr. Daytona Beach FL, 32116

(386) 555-0107

Cynthia Stone, Owner

            Jerry Curry was a real people watcher, in the most classical sense.  He was a textbook voyeur, and as a manager at the Massage Soleil Spa, Jerry couldn’t resist the temptation of installing a few well placed hidden cameras through-out the establishment to feed that urge in him and the arousal he got from watching people who didn’t know they were being watched.  He hid a several cameras in the women’s locker room of course.  He had a couple of them in two out their twelve massage rooms.  One camera was hidden near their indoor hot tub.  Another single camera was even in the men’s locker room.  Jerry was a pretty sick and twisted individual and quite  perverted for a 41 year old virgin who still lived at home with his mother.  Even he himself was uncertain how he could be diagnosed as a sex addict by a doctor of psychology even though he had never engaged in actual sexual intercourse.  Still, footage from all his hidden cameras in the Massage Soleil Spa at the Town Center in Jacksonville, Florida gave Jerry an endless supply of digital videos he downloaded in countless files on his laptop in order for him to masturbate while watching them alone in his mother’s basement every single night.  Neither anyone Jerry worked with nor any of the few people he hung out with socially had any idea about his obsession with video voyeurism.

            If being manager and a massage parlor was a video voyeur’s dream, then Jerry’s worst nightmare just walked right through the door and into Massage Soleil Spa that warm August afternoon.  Special Agent Gary Black and Special Agent Rhonda Banks arrived to investigate the murder of Blake Adams, the son of a Congressman from Miami who was reported to frequent that spa and had done so hours before his disappearance and subsequent murder.  The FBI agents were intent on unraveling this mystery by retracing Blake’s steps when he arrived in Jacksonville early on a Sunday morning to watch the Jaguars play his hometown Miami Dolphins.  According to his itinerary Massage Soleil Spa at the St. John’s Town Center was one of his first stops after he landed at Craig Airport in his private jet.

            Jerry immediately imagined how Gary and Rhonda would look naked when they walked in.  He did that with every individual who entered the spa.  A sly, sleezy, skeevy smirk ran across Jerry’s face, but that giddy feeling and secret naughtiness was replace by shart inducing panic when Gary and Rhonda showed him their FBI badges.  The resounding flatulence kind of caught Gary off guard.  Gary choked back a chuckle, but Rhonda was able to keep her composure as a  consummate  professional.

            “I’m Special Agent Banks and this is Special Agent Black. We are with the FBI.  Are you the manager on duty here?” Rhonda asked Jerry.

            Jerry’s innards clinched tightly as a he tried to squeeze and not unleash another nerve wracking gas release.  He nodded nervously and confessed, “Yes.”

            “We’re here investigating a missing person’s case.  That missing person has been murdered, so I guess we’re technically here investigating a murder, and this place was one of the last places our victim was last seen.  Can we have access to your company’s security surveillance footage from those cameras up there?” Gary asked as he pointed at some other the cameras that hung from the ceiling.

            “Oh, thank God,” Jerry said because he was relieved they only where there for the company’s security footage and not footage from the secret wireless cameras he had all over the place that feed footage right to his private laptop.  “I mean, oh God that’s horrible, and yes.  Yes.  It won’t be a problem at for you to review our security footage if it will help out with your investigation in any way. Just follow me back to the office and I’ll be able to give you access to whatever footage you need.”

            Jerry led Rhonda and Gary to the office.  He logged onto the computer and showed the FBI agents how to search through past dates of footage and how to scroll through the videos.  They thanked him kindly and then requested some privacy while they looked for what they needed.  It wasn’t a nervous fart that Jerry released this time, but instead it was a sigh of relief as he left them to their business knowing he had really dodged a bullet this time.  That was a close one.  That sly smirk ran across Jerry’s face again.  The FBI agents wanted privacy, but they didn’t know he had yet another hidden camera planted in the office near the computer.  This time that sly smirk grew to a beaming and toothy grin when Jerry noticed one of his most loyal customer entering Massage Soleil Spa.  Not only was Cynthia Stone a loyal customer, but she and Jerry had been acquainted on a very personal level for many, many years.  They met ten years ago at a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting near Deltona, Florida.  That’s around the time Cynthia first opened her original DTRT adult novelties store in Daytona Beach and right around the time Jerry first got into massage therapy as he started to try and cope with his perverse obsessions.

            “There’s girl,” Jerry smiled.

            “Oh, Jerome, it’s always so great to see you,” Cynthia said as she walked behind the counter to greet him with a warm embrace.

            “How have you been, Cynthia?”

            “Besides a minor fender bender this morrow, all has been well with me.  Thanks for asking Jerome?  Tell me all about how you have been doing lately.”

            “An accident you say.  Are you okay?”

            “Oh, don’t worry.  I am fine.  I’m fine Jerome.  I promise.  No major damage to my car nor any injuries I can feel.”

            “Good.  Everything had been great with me. I’m more worried about you though.  Even in a minor accident there can be lingering soft tissue damage.  Coming to get a massage is definitely a good idea.  You know what?  Today’s massage is on me.  Would you like to see your normal masseuse?  I’m sure Tim is around here somewhere and I don’t think he has any appointments booked this afternoon.”

            “That sounds like a splendid and spectacular idea.  I’ll go to the locker room to change.  Is my favorite massage room available and vacant now, Jerome?”

            “Absolutely, and if it isn’t, it will be for you, Cynthia.  And I’ll go make sure Tim knows you are here so he can get ready for you.”

            “Excellent.  That sound’s perfect.”

            Cynthia smile and clapped her ands lightly to express her glee as she retreated to the locker room to get ready for her massage.  Jerry went to the break room where he knew he would find Tim watching television, Sportscenter on ESPN to be exact.  That’s what Tim would do during downtime between his massages.  Timothy was that sports obsessed jock when he was in high school.  He played varsity football and was able a amass descent enough stats after starting for three years to earn full scholarship from Jacksonville University to play football.  That’s when a young black male like him became quite a party boy frequenting various frat parties.  He eventually earned his degree in physical therapy, but wasn’t extraordinary enough in his collegiate football career to seriously consider pursing playing football professionally after school was done.  He had actually accepted that fact after his sophomore year.  Still, he was grateful for the opportunity to earn his degree.  Nowadays, Tim was just a typical twenty four year old massage therapist.  He was still young.  He was still happy.  Tim was a bit of a misogynistic womanizer who enjoyed kinks and role play in the bed room, but that’s neither here nor there.  He was pleased to know his favorite client had arrived for a massage.  Cynthia always left Tim the best tips because he was so thorough.