Appearances, copyright 2006, by Etienne. All rights reserved.

-20-

Back to Boston

When I arrived that evening, Charles was waiting for me at the gate. As I had only a carry-on bag, we were quickly on the way home. He was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

“You look like the cat that just ate the canary.”

“I’m just glad to see you.”

“Perhaps, but there is more to it than that, I think.”

“Too true. Tell you about it in the car.”

In the car, he said "This the longest we have been separated."

"I know."

"It felt really strange to come home to an empty house, notwithstanding that for the three years prior to our meeting I had done precisely that on a daily basis."

"Well, I'm back, now. I shouldn't have to go to Boston again before our Labor Day trip."

"How was your trip?"

"Very encouraging. Preliminary reports are that we can have a winner with either of several scenarios."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Sure. The first alternative is to create several large lofts on each floor, lofts being something of a novelty in Boston. Second, we could cut the building up into condominium flats. Third, we could do the same but with smaller rental units."

"Are you leaning in any particular direction?"

"We will have to talk about it, as it should be a joint decision."

"I am content to defer to your superior experience in such matters. However, one thought has occurred to me."

"What?"

"If we go the Condominium route, one of the things that most annoys condominium owners is the monthly maintenance fees for the common areas, which have a way of escalating."

"I know."

"Well, we could consider making the ground floor into a series of retail spaces for lease. They could be part of the common areas owned by the Condominium Association, and might one day generate enough income that the monthly maintenance fees could be greatly reduced, or perhaps even eliminated."

"I never thought of that. Has anyone done it before?"

"I've no idea," he said, "but it wouldn't surprise me. The sales price per unit would have to be higher, but the advantages more than compensate."

"I will certainly look into it. What made you come up with that idea, anyway?"

"I know the area fairly well, both from my time in Boston and from subsequent visits, and got to thinking. If gentrification is going to take place, the residents have to have a place to shop. The Quincy Market area is just down the street, of course, but except for the vegetable stalls, it is mostly for tourists. The shops in the North End are somewhat cut off from easy access by the expressway. Walking to them would be kind of round about."

“Now, tell me what you were grinning about at the gate.”

“Just thinking about a case I won today.”

Our discussion of the pubic hair defense carried us all the way home, where we went straight to bed. I was worn out from the trip, and I could see that Charles was tired, as well. Well, not too tired.

A couple of days later, Charles came home from work a bit earlier than usual and surprised me in the bathroom as I was standing naked in front of the mirror with one hand across my crotch.

“Hi,” he said, “whatever are you up to?”

“Oh, I was just wondering what I would look like with no pubic hair.”

“Ooh goody,” he said, “that sounds kind of kinky, lets get some clippers and find out.”

“Well,” I replied, “I will, if you will.”

“Deal.”

He practically tore his clothes off and threw them in a corner of the bathroom. Then he produced a set of electric clippers. “Hop up and sit on the counter so I can have better access.”

I did as he asked, and he began to trim all of my pubic area down to a nub. Having finished, he handed me the clippers and eased up onto the counter himself. I proceeded to trim him just as he had done me.

By this time we were both hard as rocks.

Then he took a can of shaving gel and a razor and set them on the counter. Wetting a washcloth with warm water, he proceeded to moisten my entire crotch, after which he spread the shaving gel and started to work. In short order, I was bald as a newborn.

“Bend over,” he then said.

“Why?”

“Got to shave your butt as well.”

“Okay,” I said, and complied with his request.

When he had finished shaving me, he handed me the wash cloth, razor and gel. “Your turn.”

I repeated the process, doing to him as he had done me. When I was through, he turned on the shower and we got in it and rinsed off thoroughly. We exited the shower, dried each other off, and stood side by side in front of the mirror.

“Wow,” I said.

“Wow indeed.”

We were both still rock hard. Freed of the distraction of pubic hair, our erections looked amazing.

Charles took me by the hand, led me to the bedroom, and pulled me down onto the bed.

“That was just about the sexiest thing I have ever done,” he said.

“Too right,” I replied. “I had no idea it would be such a sensual experience.”

He turned around, assumed a sixty nine position, and started by licking my now perfectly smooth groin. I returned the favor, licking my way around the base of his dick, and then taking his smooth balls into my mouth, one at a time.

I stopped licking just long enough to moisten my index finger, then I resumed licking my way around his dick while inserting my finger into his anus. He followed suit. We found each other’s prostate glands at about the same time and the result was electrifying. Without warning, I began to massage his prostate while simultaneously taking his erection in my mouth up to the hilt. He immediately followed my lead, and in no time at all we were erupting into each others mouth almost simultaneously.

After a time, our erections subsided and we reversed position and began to kiss deeply. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, we had each saved a fair amount of semen to swap during that kiss.

Eventually we stopped, and came up for air, lying back, side by side on the pillows.

“Does it get any better than this?” he wondered aloud.

“I can’t imagine how,” I replied.

---

The days began to truly fly by, with little or no progress having been made on the investigation. I could sense Charles' growing frustration at the lack of progress, and tried to hide my own disappointment from him as best I could. By the end of July, I had finished the final draft of my manuscript, and sent it on its way to Boston, where William or Henry would see it safely to New York.

Having finished that project, I began to focus my attention upon the building in Boston, finally deciding that Charles' idea was absolutely perfect for both the building and the location. The Architects in Boston agreed, and the cousins said that obtaining the necessary Zoning variances should not be a problem. I took the final estimates and projections to Randolph, and he gave them his blessing a couple of days later.

I decided that all systems were go, and having received a commitment from my usual bankers for financing both the purchase price and the renovations, I set up a closing for the Friday before Labor Day.

Charles came home from work that Thursday, and surprised me in the midst of packing for both of us. "I really appreciate this, babe, he said. It has been a jungle of a day."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not much to tell, really. Anytime I plan to take off for even a day, I have to pay a certain price in extra work for a day or two before I leave.”

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be, it is simply part of the job. By the way, as far as your case goes, I am as ready for trial as I will ever be, absent the elusive Ruby."

"What do you suppose has become of her?"

"Evidently she has gone to ground somewhere. Richard and his people have found a long list of people who recognize the sketch many of whom can even identify her by name. None of them, however, have been able to tell us either her last name, her address, or even her occupation. Even the Wackenhut and Pinkerton organizations have come up empty handed in other cities."

He had undressed and changed into shorts and tee shirt, as he talked.

"It sounds as if she has found someone to shelter her somewhere," I added, "or as you put it, she has 'gone to ground.'"

"I'm afraid so. Sorry."

"Don't be, it’s not your fault. Besides, anything can happen between now and January. Take a look at your suitcase, will you, and tell me if I have forgotten anything."

He examined the contents briefly, "Looks ok to me. Do you mind if we take time to go get some steam and swim a few laps? I've got to get the kinks out."

I didn't mind at all, and an hour and a half later we were back home, having stopped on the way for a carry out supper. We finished our meal and went up to dress for travel. Richard was not due to take us to the airport until nine o'clock, which gave us ample time for a romantic interlude. We were waiting in the study when Richard arrived to perform chauffeur duty.

When we were on the Interstate, Richard spoke up. "I don't want to get your hopes up, guys, but we may have our first positive lead on our missing witness."

"Details, please," Charles asked.

"As you know, none of our numerous witnesses claim to have seen her after the weekend of the murder."

"We know," replied Charles.

"Late this afternoon, one of my grunts talked to somebody who just might have seen her a week or two after the murder. I am really short on particulars at the moment, but have got three people working on it. Perhaps by the time you two get back from bean town there will be more to tell."

"That is the first encouraging thing we have heard in two months," said Charles, "Keep on it."

"You betcha."

I decided to switch topics. "How are you and Bruce getting along these days?" I knew they had been seeing a great deal of each other.

"Hard to say. He is getting awfully possessive."

"You don't seem to mind too much," added Charles.

"I don't know. It must be the over thirty syndrome at work."

Richard delivered us to a vacant spot directly in front of the door leading to the Delta ticket counter. We checked in and hurried to the gate area to wait. Hurry up and wait seems to be a recurring theme in flying. Both of us were carrying books with us, and we sat quietly reading until our flight was called.

On the plane, as we settled back with drinks, Charles looked at me "I wish we hadn't taken first class, this trip."

"Why?"

"Because the seats are too far apart. If we were in the economy section, we could turn out the lights, and I could casually slump over with my head on your shoulder, pretending to be asleep, and no one would think anything of it."

"I hadn't thought of that."

Soon enough, we both dropped off, once again not waking until preparations for landing were well under way. We were met at Logan by both William and Henry, who greeted us warmly.

Charles made an apology for the hour "We really should have gone to a hotel, it is most uncivil of us to drag you guys out at this hour."

"Nonsense," replied William, "we would have been insulted if you had not chosen to stay with us. Besides, we can all sleep late tomorrow if we like, the closing is not until eleven and Henry and I have no pressing appointments."

While we were waiting for our luggage, we made tentative plans for a morning run, Charles having discovered that the cousins were avid runners. Our bags arrived on the carousel at last, and the cousins led us to the car, a large Mercedes sedan. Traffic, at this hour, was extremely light, and we were on Charles Street in short order and at their door a couple of minutes later, after the usual roundabout trip, Brimmer Street being one-way toward Beacon.

Henry got out of the car with us, and as soon as we had collected our bags from the trunk, William drove down the street to the Brimmer Street Garage, where the car would be put away for the night. Their townhouse was about twenty-five feet wide and five stories tall, counting the ground floor. As with most such buildings, the front steps went up to what would be called the first floor, but was in reality the second floor.

Henry unlocked the front door, then hurried to disarm their alarm system. He led us up to a guest suite located on the top story of the house. As I had stayed with them before, and was therefore familiar with the layout, he said good night and left us without taking the time to show us around our quarters. I showed Charles quickly around our suite of rooms, which consisted of a small sitting room, a large bedroom dominated by a four-poster bed, and a very modern bathroom. He took out a travel alarm and set it for seven, then we undressed for bed and were quickly sound asleep.

The alarm sounded much too soon, but we got up and shaved, then put on our running gear and went downstairs. Our hosts, also attired in running attire, were waiting for us over coffee in a small breakfast nook on the first floor. Since they had already finished their coffee, we declined a cup before we ran. Henry had determined last night that we usually ran five or six miles, and now asked if Charles had a particular route in mind.

"No. You two lead, and we will follow wherever you take us."

They led us down Brimmer to Beacon Street, where we turned right and ran a block or so to a side street. Turning right again soon led us to a pedestrian bridge over an expressway. Coming down off the bridge, we were soon running through a park, which paralleled the Charles River. We continued through the park until the cousins determined that we had gone far enough, at which point they made a u-turn, and we retraced our steps back to Brimmer Street and their house.

Upstairs, in the shower, Charles said "Those two guys set a fast pace, considering that their legs are shorter than ours."

"They are also three or four years younger than we are," I answered.

Groomed and dressed for the closing, we met our hosts downstairs for a light breakfast, and by ten-thirty were walking to their offices, briefcases in hand. The closing came off without a hitch, which was no surprise given that all the fine points had been agreed to in advance. B & D Properties, Inc., was now the owner of one slightly run-down former factory.

After the other parties to the closing had departed, we had a brief meeting with our hosts, who wanted to know our plans for the weekend.

"This afternoon, we have meetings with the Architect and a couple of contractors, and tomorrow, Charles is going to show me the Freedom Trail. I've never seen Cape Cod or P-town, and we had talked about going to an early service Sunday morning, and then renting a car and making the drive."

Charles quickly added, "not knowing what your schedules were like, we have kept the evenings free, and we would be more than happy to have you join us tomorrow or Sunday, or both." Before they could reply, he added "As far as evenings go, I think Philip would get a kick out of Durgin Park."

The four of us decided not to firm up our dinner plans until after our hosts were home from their office, and Charles and I agreed to be back from our meetings no later than six. Henry gave us a key to the front door of their house, and the code to disarm the security system, and we went to our various meetings.

Charles and I were waiting for the cousins in their living room, when they arrived home about five fifteen. William immediately asked "How did your meetings go?"

"With the Architect, just fine. With the Contractors, less so. We were not impressed with any of them, although they came highly recommended, and have been sitting here trying to come up with a game plan."

"And have you?"

"We have some ideas, but nothing definite. I was hoping that the two of you might have some recommendations."

Henry spoke up, then "We just might. Why don't we talk about it over dinner?"

They wanted to take us to a French restaurant on Newbury Street, and we agreed to be dressed and ready by seven, which would give us time for a nap. We went upstairs and lay down for a half hour or so, but never really got to sleep. At the appointed time, we were back downstairs, suited up and ready to go.

The walk to the restaurant required about ten minutes, during which time William again assumed the role of tour guide. At the restaurant, our conversation was confined to generalities until we had been served drinks and placed our orders.

Finally, Henry returned to the subject of contractors, by asking "What exactly did you not like about the contractors to whom you spoke?"

"Costs and attitude. The tentative costs we discussed seem way out of line, even given the fact that contractors up here are saddled with union contracts. As for attitude, they all seemed to give the impression that they would be doing us a favor - which does not compute, given the general slump in construction in this area."

William had a question of his own "What alternative ideas have you come up with?"

"Nothing concrete, other than having a reliable contractor from Atlanta take on the job."

"This would be a non-union outfit, I suppose?"

"Certainly."

"That might pose a few problems in this area. The unions have a stranglehold on the trades, and you have no idea how many delaying tactics they could impose on you."

"We thought that might be the case, hence our dilemma."

"We might know someone who can help," said Henry. "He usually handles much larger jobs, but with the slump in construction has begun to get into smaller projects, particularly renovations."

"Do you suppose we might see him tomorrow afternoon?"

"It is possible. He is a client of ours, and owes us a favor or two. While you two are doing the Freedom Trail tomorrow morning, we will see what we can set up. If he is not available Saturday afternoon, he might see you Sunday, although that might preclude your trip to P-town."

"I can live with that. There will be plenty of future opportunities to go to Cape Cod."

Charles, who had been listening quietly until now, asked me "Have you told them about the idea I came up with?"

"Yes, but only briefly. Why don't you run it by them in more detail?"

He explained at length his concept of shops on the ground floor which would be owned by the Condominium Association as a possible means of keeping monthly maintenance costs to a minimum. They were immediately receptive to the idea, adding that as far as they were aware, it would be a first for the area.

This conversation had occupied us through the soup and salad. Our entrees had just arrived, and we ate in relative silence for a while. Charles and the cousins agreed that I should be taken to Durgin Park for dinner on Saturday night, telling me only that it was an experience I would remember.

Leaving the restaurant, we strolled back to the townhouse where we changed into more casual attire and joined our hosts in their study for a nightcap. They declined an invitation to join us for an early morning run, saying that they wanted to sleep late. Charles gave them his cellular telephone number, saying that he would carry it with us on the Freedom Trail in the morning, in case they needed to reach us concerning the contractor. We were in bed asleep well before midnight.

Saturday morning, we were running around the Common by six o'clock, and by eight o'clock were at the Information Kiosk on Tremont Street near one of the corners of the Common, ready to begin our walk.

The Freedom Trail consists of a painted line on the sidewalk, or in some places a double row of bricks set into the sidewalk. It led us across the Common to the State House, then back to Tremont Street and to the Granary Burial Ground, where many famous figures from the Revolutionary era are buried.

The Trail continued past several historic sites, including the meeting house were the Boston Tea Party was planned, and Faneuil Hall and the Quincy Market, before it crossed into the North End, where it passed Paul Revere's House (the oldest house in the city). We walked right by the restaurant where we had dined on our previous trip, and then to the Old North Church with its quaint enclosed pews, finally crossing the Charles River.

From the bridge, we could see the U. S. Constitution where it lies docked at the Charlestown Navy Yard, and a few minutes later, we were waiting in line for a tour of that famous ship. After touring the ship, we lingered in the small maritime museum next door, and then followed the trail to its terminus, at Bunker Hill. There we climbed the steps up the Bunker Hill Monument (all 293 of them), enjoyed the view, and climbed back down again.

We sat down on a bench to rest for a minute. Charles said "We can walk a few blocks and catch the subway back, or we can retrace our steps across the bridge and walk by our new property and then to a subway stop nearby."

"By all means, let's go take another look at our building."

We followed the Freedom Trail back, eventually crossing the Charles River where we left the trail to go look over our building. From the building, we walked around the neighborhood becoming more and more convinced that we were right on target with our plans. As we approached the building again, Charles' cell phone rang.

It was William calling to advise that the Contractor would see us at three o'clock at the new building. We had a key with us, and agreed to meet him there. As it was one o'clock, and we had not had lunch, Charles suggested that we walk over to Faneuil Hall and try one of the food stalls. It was only a few blocks away, and we spent some time deciding among the various offerings, finally electing to try a combination platter from a vendor that specialized in Greek cuisine, which turned out to be a delicious choice.

By three o'clock, we were back at the building waiting for the contractor, whose name was Sam Reynolds. Sam, it developed, was a forty-something bundle of energy and enthusiasm, and we liked him immediately. Perhaps more importantly, we felt immediately comfortable with him. The three of us made a thorough inspection of the premises, and Sam appeared to like both what he saw, and our ideas for the ultimate direction the renovations should take.

I looked a question mark at Charles, and seeing his nod of approval, asked Sam to contact the Architect for the preliminary sketches and provide us with an estimate as to time and possible costs as soon as he could. He agreed, and went on to another appointment, leaving us at the building. We secured the building and went directly to the nearest subway station for the ride back across town.

William and Henry were waiting for us in their study, clearly eager to learn what we thought of Sam. They seemed pleased when we informed them of our decision, and the four of us toasted the success of the project. After we had consumed a couple of drinks, we went up for a short nap before dinner.

By seven thirty, the four of us were at Faneuil Hall, waiting in line for a table at Durgin Park, which it developed was a famous Boston eatery which featured very good food and extremely casual service. After a wait of nearly forty-five minutes, we were led upstairs and seated at one of a row of long tables, each of which were designed to accommodate about a dozen guests. We were handed menus as we sat, and shortly a waiter came around and tossed a bundle of silverware on the table in front of each person seated.

This, it developed, was part of the 'casual' service, which at times extended to a brusqueness, which stopped just short of rudeness, on the part of the service personnel. Both the beef and seafood entrees were well prepared, and the portions more than generous. An hour or so later, we were walking around the Quincy Market area, complaining in a good-natured way about how much we had eaten.

Over dinner we had tried to persuade the cousins to come with us on our excursion to Cape Cod, but they declined on the grounds that four would be a crowd for this our first trip there together. We were unable to persuade them otherwise, and we returned to Brimmer Street and retired early.

Sunday morning, we were up early for a run around the Common before we attended an eight o'clock church service. After church, we went back to the house to change into clothes more appropriate for our drive, then we walked over to Copley Place, where we had reserved a rental car. It took us about an hour to reach Cape Cod, and the drive out the cape was all that I had hoped it would be, although the scenery did not begin to live up to my preconceived notions until just before we reached the point at which the road curved sharply North and aimed toward the tip of the Cape.

Provincetown was thronged with people, predominantly male, and mostly young to middle aged. We found, not without some difficulty, a parking spot, and spent two or three hours exploring the area and inspecting the numerous small shops. For lunch, we tried a seaside restaurant, where the view of the bay proved superior to both the food and the service. By three o'clock, we were in the car and on our way back to Boston.

We spent a quiet Sunday evening at home with our hosts. Monday morning, we all slept late, the four of us finally going out for a run around ten o'clock.

Later, we walked down Newbury Street and had lunch at the Magic Pan. As soon as we returned to the townhouse on Brimmer Street, it was time to prepare for our flight home. We had retained the rental car so that we could turn it in at the Airport and spare the cousins the bother of driving us there. By five o'clock, we were at the appropriate departure gate, waiting for our flight to be called.

Richard was waiting for us in Atlanta, and we both noticed that he appeared to be exhausted. Charles couldn't resist a jibe. "Bruce wearing you out, still?

"I wish," Richard replied, wearily, "it was that simple. Actually, I have been on the trail of Ruby almost all weekend."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet. We get the impression that she is right there, but always just a hair beyond our grasp."

"What are the chances of success in the near future?"

"Hard to say. I don't want to get your hopes up, on the other hand I don't want to paint too gloomy a picture, either."

Charles did not question him further, and we were driven home without pressing the matter. As soon as we were home, we went straight to bed. Travel is always so exhausting.