Color Him Gay: The Further Adventures of the Man from C. A. M. P. (5 page)

Jackie boarded the PSA jet with minutes to spare. The plane was not crowded and he took a window seat, sliding his briefcase underneath.

A minute later an attractive blond entered the plane also, starting down the aisle. Jackie gave the newcomer an admiring once over. He was in his mid-twenties and the possessor of the babyish type prettiness that helped one to look young for a few years and then, sometimes it seemed almost overnight, began treacherously adding to one's years instead. In his teens, his soft, fleshy body, not so much plump as the type described as “cuddly,” and his cute round face had no doubt given him a beauty not possessed by his more gangly contemporaries. He had passed his peak and in a few years the soft curves would turn to fat. At thirty he would be unattractive. For the moment, however, there was enough left of the youthful cherub to make him appealing.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, pausing near Jackie.

“Not at all,” Jackie assured him. Fortunately, he added silently. There was nothing like an attractive companion to make a trip more pleasant.

The blond fastened his belt as the plane prepared to take off. They roared down the runway and were soon climbing upward, the California coast and the ocean dividing the scenery between them.

“You from San Francisco?” his companion asked when they were at last able to undo the seat belts.

“No, New York,” Jackie answered, sticking to his assumed role. “I'm Jackie Garden.”

“Bruce,” his new friend introduced himself. “Bruce Hamilton.”

They ordered cocktails from the stewardess. Jackie welcomed the opportunity to talk. In the first place he was always grateful for the company of an attractive male. After all, he might have spare time while in San Francisco. In the second place it was a good opportunity to spread the word of his arrival, hopefully so that it would reach the right ears. If B.U.T.C.H. was operating out of San Francisco and looking for rich, vulnerable people to blackmail, the details he was providing to his companion should be of interest to them.

“Tell me,” Bruce asked at one point, in a low voice, “are you gay?”

Jackie started as though embarrassed and frightened by the remark and glanced nervously around, but there was no one close enough to hear. “I don't think I want to discuss that here,” he whispered. “It's a dangerous question for one in my position.”

“Don't tell me you work for the government or something?” Bruce asked him, surprised and a little amused by the tone of secrecy.

“No, nothing like that. But mother…well, you have no idea to what lengths she would go to avoid scandal. That's why I'm here, you see. I don't dare, well, let my hair down back home. So once or twice a year I get out of town and have a little fun. But even so I have to be very careful.”

“Seems to me like a lonely way to live,” Bruce decided. “I can't imagine how you'd manage to have any fun.”

Jackie shrugged and sighed sadly. “If I'm lucky, I meet some nice young man and spend my time with him. I'm afraid I wasn't lucky enough to meet anyone is Los Angeles.”

“Where are you staying in San Francisco?”

“At the Essex,” Jackie said. He wondered briefly if he had a nibble. Bruce, however, did not seem eager to take advantage of any opportunities the conversation afforded.

“Maybe we can get together for a drink while you're in town,” Bruce suggested in the offhand way that suggested they would probably not see one another again.

* * * *

The flight was not a long one. Less than an hour after takeoff they were landing in San Francisco. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?” Bruce offered.

Jackie was tempted, for personal reasons. He would like to have cultivated a brief friendship with the curvy blond, but it seemed unlikely that Bruce would be any help to his work and that was his first consideration.

“No thanks, I'll just hop into a cab,” he answered. “But I'll look forward to that call.”

He found a cab and was driven into town to the expensive and long established Essex House, just right for the conservative sort of visitor.

He had some time yet before dinner. After dinner he would have to start making himself discreetly conspicuous. If C.A.M.P. had planted their rumors successfully, there were already whispers around town about the fabulously wealthy gentleman who was visiting. With luck he would not have to work too hard to make contact. The interested parties would do that for him.

He had time before dinner to see a little of the city, one of his favorite places. The air was brisk, the city alive with activity. The colorful cable cars, clanging and clattering, made their way laboriously up Powell Street, straining themselves as they climbed the steep hills. There was a vague scent of the ocean everywhere. Smartly dressed women and groups of sailors elbowed one another on the sidewalks.

Jackie allowed himself to ramble for an hour, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city. Then, glancing at his watch, he hailed a cab and gave the address of one of the more discreet restaurants in the city that catered to the gay set.

He ate alone although he was aware that he attracted a certain amount of attention. The mere arrival of a stranger in these places was always of some interest, particularly a nice-looking one whose clothes and demeanor suggested money and breeding. To his disappointment, however, there was no direct attempt to establish contact.

He left the restaurant and went on to the next place on his list, a rather smart lounge with soft lighting and deep carpet on the floor. The evening crowds were already beginning to gather. Hopefully he would do better here. Although neither of them gave any sign of recognition to one another, the bartender was an agent of C.A.M.P., primarily working to provide information. By now he would have let discreet hints drop to the regular patrons about Jackie's visit.

He seemed doomed to disappointment here, as well. He was cruised several times, but nothing appeared to be of any real significance. Jackie started a second drink and was on the verge of deciding to move on to the next bar when a familiar voice greeted him from over his shoulder.

“Well, I see you're out looking for a little fun,” Bruce said.

Jackie turned around, pleased to be remembered. “Looking,” he agreed. “But not succeeding.”

“Well, no wonder, you pick the stuffiest places,” Bruce kidded him. “I rarely come here myself. It's usually dull.”

“What brings you here tonight?” Jackie asked, genuinely pleased. If the rest of the evening proved as unsuccessful as the first part of it had done, he might do well to work on the blond after all.

Bruce shrugged and gave him a coy grin. “Maybe it's Fate,” he suggested. “Come on, why don't you let me give you the tour? I can show you some of the really fun places.”

Jackie hesitated. His rule was always business before pleasure, but so far he hadn't managed to do any business. And, he reminded himself, he might do even better in the “fun” places.”

“You've got yourself an escort,” he said, polishing off his drink. “But only if I can pick up the tab.”

“Don't be silly,” Bruce said, but Jackie was adamant.

“I insist,” he said. He produced a twenty with a flourish that was not wasted on the others around them and put it on the bar. “For my drink,” he told the bartender. “And keep the change.”

* * * *

The evening went by quickly in a profusion of bars, drinks and music. Bruce proved a knowledgeable and charming guide and if Jackie seemed to be making no progress he was at least making his presence in the city known, and having a ball while he was at it.

Bruce introduced him to friends in each bar and Jackie made a point of flashing money, buying rounds of drinks for everyone and other such ruses.

“You've got yourself a real find there,” one of Bruce's friends, a rather rough-looking piece of trade, commented at one point. “Better hang on to him.”

Although he pretended not to hear the remark, Jackie wondered if the friend, a ruthlessly handsome young man named Fred, might not be the contact he was seeking. He did not, however, have an opportunity to play up to Fred, as a few minutes later Bruce was ready to move on.

“Getting tired yet?” Bruce asked when they were outside on the sidewalk.

“Just getting warmed up,” Jackie insisted. “Where to next?”

Bruce rolled his eyes thoughtfully for a minute. “How about dancing our cares away?” he suggested.

“Sounds great,” Jackie agreed eagerly, “Know anyplace where we can?” Even in a city as liberal as San Francisco, it was still illegal for two men to dance together. There were inevitably clubs where that happened, but they were secretive and known only to insiders.

“Coming right up,” Bruce answered. “It's just around the corner; we can walk to this one.”

Jackie wondered, as they approached the spot, if Bruce was maybe pulling his leg. There was no evidence of any sort of a bar, only a neighborhood theater that was already closed for the evening. Next door to it a flight of steep stairs went up to what, according to the sign outside, was a health club.

“This is the place,” Bruce informed him, indicating the stairs.

“I thought you said dancing,” Jackie said, although he followed Bruce upward. “If you want to wrestle why not go to my hotel?”

“You'll see,” Bruce said back over his shoulder with a grin.

From the moment they entered the door upstairs it was obvious that Bruce had made no mistake. The health club sign was only a fake, for this was a gay bar and a rather lively one. They entered first into a crowded room filled with small tables and a bar where customers crowded together. Beyond that room were more tables grouped around a vast dance floor that was filled with young men dancing together.

“I'll be damned,” Jackie said, staring about in amazement as they took a table. This was a new one on him and he had thought he knew the city well.

“It's new,” Bruce explained when they had ordered drinks. “Only been here a few weeks. Would you like to dance?”

Jackie felt a pang of guilt. The music blaring over the speakers was the latest hit record of Dingo Stark. Remembering Stark, he could not help feeling depressed that he had made no more progress than he had. But he was here and it would not do to let his facade slip.

“Sure, I'd love to,” he said, forcing a smile to his lips again.

They moved together to the already crowded dance floor. Bruce began to move at once, twisting and writhing in time to the music.

“Do you do the Dog?” he asked Jackie.

“Of course,” Jackie assured him, and began to perform the dance in question. The Dog, in his opinion, was rather close to simulating the real thing. It had been banned, he knew, in many of the more conservative discotheques, particularly those catering to the teenage crowds. Its blatant gestures and movements, however, were those with which Jackie was quite familiar. His hips jerked back and forth in time to the heavy beat of Dingo's song. Bruce bent and crouched and leaning over him Jackie went through all the same motions he would have used in bed. To a bystander, even one a few feet away, it could only have looked as though the two were making love.

“Hey, you're a great dancer,” Bruce said admiringly.

“I studied under Villanova,” Jackie told him without conceit. He did not add that a shelf in his apartment displayed numerous dancing trophies he had won. There was virtually no dance that he had not mastered. He had once stepped in, unannounced, for the lead dancer in Swan Lake. It wasn't only classical ballet, however, that he had mastered. He could do all the popular dances as well, from the Watusi to the Frog—and the Dog.

The record ended and they returned to their table where their drinks were waiting for them. “You know,” Bruce said, pulling his chair close, “when I met you on the plane, I figured you for the very dull type. But you're great fun.”

“I can be even more entertaining,” Jackie told him suggestively. He took advantage of the dim lights to lay one hand on Bruce's thick leg. There was no protest and he got a little bolder, inching his fingers upward. He reached the warm area of the thighs, tingling with excitement as his fingers crept up and up, finally finding their goal. Bruce was big and Jackie's hand rubbed affectionately creating a familiar response.

“Hey, I won't be able to walk out of here,” Bruce warned him. “Better wait until later.”

“I'm ready for you now,” Jackie told him hoarsely. It was nearly time for the bars to be closing so he would not be wasting his working hours by indulging in a little fun. “My hotel isn't far.”

Bruce shook his head. “Hotels can be risky,” he said. “What's wrong with my place?”

“Not a thing,” Jackie said. He left a ten on the table to pay for the drinks and a minute later they were on their way out of the bar, Bruce walking rather stiffly and holding his hand in front of his trousers to conceal the results of Jackie's efforts.

Bruce's apartment was not far. If Jackie had retained any doubts about Bruce's sincerity they had been dispelled by Bruce's remarks about the hotel. He was obviously being thoughtful in pointing out the risk of going back to the hotel and that was an unlikely gesture from a blackmailer.

The apartment was small, and rather plain, bearing the recognizable stamp of a place that was rented furnished. “It's not much,” Bruce said as they entered. “But I'm only using it temporarily.”

“And then?” Jackie prompted.

Bruce shrugged. “Who knows? I'm not the sort to be tied down for long.”

A man after my own heart, Jackie decided, but left the statement unsaid.

“Want a drink?” Bruce asked, pausing in the middle of the room.

“I don't need it,” Jackie assured him, stepping closer. He was eager for another try at the exciting flesh he had fondled earlier.

“You know,” Bruce said when the kiss had ended, “I didn't think you'd be the amorous type either.”

“Still waters run deep,” Jackie reminded him, nibbling at one pink ear. The zipper of Bruce's trousers was no match for his experienced fingers. And he felt even better without all that cloth in the way.

“Okay, you win,” Bruce said with a low chuckle. “The bedroom's this way.”

In the bedroom Jackie did not wait for the disrobing process. He kissed Bruce again, hungrily. “I want you,” he whispered, stroking and fondling his companion to increased excitement.

Bruce smiled and slid from the embrace, dropping across the bed. Jackie joined him, fumbling with the trousers again. Bruce raised his hips in response to the tugging hands and Jackie pulled the trousers down over his hips to below his knees. His eyes feasted on the harvest of loveliness framed by the blue of the bedspread.

“Beautiful,” he whispered without exaggeration. It was like a scene from a Renaissance painting: the delicate pink-and-white skin, full-blown loveliness, the graceful curve of the hips. He lowered his face, kissing the yielding softness of the stomach, his mouth finding its way lower. Bruce trembled as the eager lips reached their goal, the darting tongue sending ripples of excitement through him. Jackie's kisses were everywhere, teasing, exciting, urging, until the blond young man was panting with lust, his body ripe for taking.

With the help of Bruce's trembling hands Jackie shed his own clothes, not taking the time to remove such trivialities as T-shirt and socks. His slacks and shorts about his ankles, he fell backward over the bed as Bruce returned the homage Jackie had paid his body.

He was good, Jackie discovered, quite good, and wonderful to be with. With all of the dancing and running about he still had a scent of cleanliness and soap, as though he had just emerged from a shower. His skin, like pink velvet, was a delight to stroke and fondle. Gentle wisps of blond hair fell across Jackie's naked thighs. With a moan of pleasure Jackie turned, locking their bodies together. He devoured the quivering body hungrily.

In unison they lunged and thrust, their tempo racing madly as they abandoned themselves to their orgy of lust. Jackie's hands clung to the tender softness of the full cheeks, pinning Bruce to him until he felt the final swelling and then the shuddering paroxysm of release. Seconds later he too yielded up the fruits of his passion in a long, shattering peak.

Limp and breathless, they fell apart, lying in silence as they savored the lingering sweetness. “Still think I'm not the amorous type?” Jackie asked finally, reaching out to stroke the naked body with affection.

“Like a mink,” Bruce said with a sigh.

Jackie pulled himself to a sitting position and began to rearrange his clothes. “It's late, he said. “I'd better be getting back to my hotel.”

“Stick around,” Bruce suggested, grabbing him playfully. “It only takes me a minute or two to get my breath again.”

“You mean you're one of those all-night-long types?” Jackie asked, continuing with his clothes anyway.

“It's always better the second time,” Bruce said with a pout.

And besides, Jackie thought, your friend might not have gotten all the pictures he needed. He had not overlooked the slightly open door to the closet nor had his ears missed the click of the camera. He understood now the reason for suggesting this place instead of the hotel. At the hotel they would have been alone. Here, Bruce's friend, whoever was in the closet, was waiting with a camera. It had been a successful evening after all, in every way. Now all he had to do was wait for them to make the next move.

Bruce seemed to give up his persuasion and in fact grew somewhat thoughtful as he waited for Jackie to dress. “I'll see you to the door,” he said finally, pulling up his own trousers.

“It's not necessary,” Jackie assured him.

“But nice,” Bruce insisted. At the door they kissed, a long, torrid embrace that almost made Jackie change his mind about staying.

“You know,” Bruce said, looking into Jackie's eyes with a peculiar sadness. “I like you.”

“I should hope,” Jackie answered with a grin. “You wouldn't do this sort of thing with people you didn't like, would you?” He made it sound like an innocent jest, but the remark struck home. Bruce scowled and almost said something before he caught himself.

“Of course not,” he said, returning the grin with one of his own that would not have fooled anyone.

Outside, Jackie started off down the street. He walked until he was sure he was out of sight from the apartment building before sprinting across the street and doubling back, staying to the shadows. When he was across the street from Bruce's apartment he took up a post where he would not be seen and waited.

He did not have long to wait. Ten minutes later Fred, the rough trade type he had met earlier, emerged from the building, a camera case over his arm.

So that was it. Bruce had used the guided tour as an excuse to put him on display and get Fred's approval or disapproval. Some sort of signal had been given, telling Bruce to proceed, and the rest had been easy.

Fred climbed into a Jaguar XKE parked at the curb and a minute later roared away. Jackie waited until the taillights were out of sight before stepping to the sidewalk and starting off again for the hotel. He smiled to himself as he walked, thinking of the blond he had held in his arms a short while before.

Not a bad way, he decided to work on a case.

* * * *

He did not have long to wait. The first thing Jackie saw when he awoke in his hotel room the following morning was the envelope that had been pushed under the door.

They were crude pictures, badly lighted and hastily developed, but they were sufficient for their purpose. He was easily recognizable in all of them and so were the activities in which he was engaged. None of them that had been sent, however, showed Bruce's face. No doubt they had destroyed any from which he could be identified—or maybe they kept them as a weapon against Bruce, insurance that he would never defect.

Studying Bruce's body as it was in the pictures and remembering it as it had been in his arms, Jackie felt a moment of sadness. He had actually liked the blond and had genuinely enjoyed their evening together. It was sad that the evil fingers of B.U.T.C.H. should be able to taint so many lives. How many other young men would be brought into their web unless he could somehow destroy the organization, strike at its very roots?

There was a note with the pictures. It was brief and to the point. He was to deliver one hundred thousand dollars in cash, that same night. The money was to be in a paper bag. He would leave it in a trashcan just outside some certain public restrooms at Golden Gate Park.

Things were beginning to break at last. He had made contact with the ring of blackmailers. The rest he would have to play by instinct. One thing was certain, however, he would keep the appointment, with the money. Capturing them in the park would accomplish nothing. He would only be capturing one or two of the smaller people and the ring would still be in operation, free to do more harm to other innocent people. He had to let them lead him to their home base so that his blow, when he struck, would be a fatal one.

He went to the phone and placed a call to Los Angeles, to one of the numerous telephone numbers utilized by C.A.M.P. It would be simpler to contact the local office directly, but risky. He was supposed to be a stranger in town who knew no one and if his activities were being watched he did not want to make anyone suspicious of him. It was essential that they continue to think of him as a helpless victim.

Rich's voice was a welcome sound. It was a source of comfort to know that whatever he needed would be attended to quickly and efficiently.

“It's Jackie Garden,” he identified himself, using the phony name. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Rich answered in a voice that was deceptively polite and unfamiliar, as near strangers would be with one another.

“I only wanted to thank you for a lovely evening while in Los Angeles. I hope I'll see you again when I get into town. I may be stopping back that way in a few days.”

“Aren't things going well for you in San Francisco?” Rich asked. “It's really quite a lovely city.”

“Oh, I've found it quite exciting,” Jackie answered. “I've met some fascinating people and I have a number of things to do the next day or so.” The statement, innocent enough, would let Rich know that things were happening as he had hoped.

“Well, let me know if there's anything I can do for you. I have a few friends there, you know.”

“As a matter of fact there is something.” Jackie kept his tone conversational as he got around to his real reason for calling. “I had a slight accident with one of my jackets. I wonder if you can recommend a tailor who can repair it for me?”

“I know a fine one,” Rich assured him. “Why don't I send you to him?”

“That might be difficult. I can't very well go out with my jacket torn you know, and I wanted to wear it tonight, so it is a bit urgent. Do you suppose you could send him around to the hotel?”

“No problem,” Rich assured him. “He's an old friend of mine. I'll see that he's there in no time.”

Jackie hung up the phone, satisfied. He ordered breakfast sent up to his room and waited confidently for Rich's “tailor” to arrive.

The man was there within the hour. Jackie recognized him at once as an agent with whom he had worked before, although the gray-haired, withered figure looked like anything but an agent from C.A.M.P.

“My dear,” the man greeted him when they were alone in the room, “Why didn't you let me know you were in town? Is this a vacation, or are you working on something?”

“Working,” Jackie assured him. “And in need of a little assistance.”

“Well, pour your mother a cup of coffee,” his guest said, discarding his pose of a helpless old man and behaving like the flaming queen he was, “and tell me what I can do for you.”

Jackie explained as he poured the coffee from the pot that had been supplied by room service. “First thing, I'll need some cash, a hundred thousand dollars, to be specific.”

The gray eyebrows shot up. “Heavens, extravagant little thing, aren't you?”

“Charge it to our office, Rich will clear it. And I want a homing device planted in the money. I'll leave that up to you how you hide it. Then I'll need a car, one that will pick up the signals.”

“Anything else?”

Jackie considered the matter for a moment. He could be walking into a lion's den. It would be comforting to know that someone else was on hand to help out if the going got too rough. That could mean scaring off his enemies, however.

“I guess that's it,” he answered finally. “Can you get them to me here by this afternoon?”

“The garage man is an old friend. I'll talk to him. You call down this afternoon and say you'd like to rent a car. He'll see you get the right one.” He finished his coffee and left a few minutes later.

Jackie waited until the man had ample time to leave the building before he called room service to remove his tray. Then he dressed and went out himself. There was nothing more to be done until afternoon and he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to see a little more of the city.

He paused in the lobby, near a counter where fresh flowers were on display. With a grin he approached the woman there and ordered two dozen roses sent to Bruce at his apartment. He wrote the note himself, thanking Bruce for a lovely evening and expressing his wish that they might get together again. He sealed the note, leaving it to be sent with the flowers, and left the hotel whistling.