Chrystal Chalice Ep. 02

Chrystal Chalice -- Who did the Malice -- Episode 2

A Short Story by Randy Gonzalez

***

While I stood there looking down at the body, my friend Kitty Kleft left her theater seat and joined me on stage. As usual, Kitty wore the tightest and shortest dress she could find. Her huge boobs bounced in unison with the precise rhythm only the finest implants could provide. For those who had never seen them in the flesh, the presence challenged the imagination. Having seen her naked on several occasions, I was very familiar with her body. At the same moment, she did not seem the least bit concerned about looking at dead body.

"Who did the malice?" I muttered with a speculative gaze. "The movie director has been shot and he is dead, very interesting." In the air, I caught scent of gunpowder, the smell of sex, and the grit of sweaty bodies pegging, fucking and smoking. "I mean why shoot this fuck. He was a terrible director. Arrogant, selfish and immature, but why shoot this asshole?"

"Wow, Chrissy," she muttered in a squeaky tone. "Is he dead?" She balanced precariously on amazingly thin spiked red heels. I nodded to her question. "That's awful, but go figure, you know. Guess you're right, who'd wanna shoot this guy," she let out a little gasp.

"Yep, he's dead alright," I pondered her question and made a mental note of that. I had already checked the vital signs of the deceased, as the police arrived. "Cops are here."

I glanced up the aisle of the famous adult theater here in the upscale suburb of Playa de Concha. Entering the scene at the Casa Del Cinema, an iconic 1950's styled landmark, was my favorite cop. The detective and I go back a ways. We were partners once, both on the job and off. He was good cop, a good lover and a great friend. I just had to move on with my life.

"Well, well, two of my favorite people," the detective said once on stage with us. His easygoing jovial manner, tainted with a strong flavor of cynicism, animated his style. "Ms. Kitty, always a pleasure." He greeted my gaze with a smile and a wink at Kitty. Smoothly, he added, "A special pleasure to see you detective. You're looking exquisite and fit, Chrystal."

"Likewise, Lieutenant," I said with a warm slant. "How's it hanging?"

"Hanging well, detective," he said back with a smirk. The tan trench coat looked good on him. Or for that matter, it looked good off of him, particularly if he were completely naked underneath. "Well, your diagnosis?" He stooped at the side of the body and waited for the paramedics to respond. In the meantime, "Sarge," he called off to one side below the stage. "Button this place up including the surrounding area. Post a unit outside Tony's office."

"You got the Tuna on lockdown?" I muttered to the Lieutenant. "Bet he likes that."

"Yep, that's where I sent him," Lt. Ash Graves responded. To the patrol sergeant, he added, "Sarge, separate these witnesses and put the crime scene people to work." He glanced at a technician standing on the other side of the body. With one hand raised, he sighed and said, "Give us a moment and you can start taking your photos." Over his shoulder, he noted the sub still cuffed and bound on the leather bench. He pointed a thumb in that direction. "Someone wanna release the leather man over there? Get him sequestered somewhere quiet."

"Two shots center mass and one to the head," the paramedic advised. "He's dead."

"Ok, standby for transport," the lieutenant said to her. "Thank you, appreciate your help." Behind the medic, he pointed to the crime scene photographer. "Shoot the pictures."

"Detective Chalice," Ash said with a long exhale. "Join me for stroll, please."

"Of course, Lieutenant, I'm all yours," I said with a sly smirk and the best Betty Boop impression of could muster. "Let's do it the hallway, or I mean, chat in the hallway."

"That might be considered a bribe, Detective," he replied swiftly.

"Uh huh, and?" I swiftly shot back. We entered an adjacent hallway. "I know you're gonna hit me with what I know so far. So, here it is. I'm working a missing person case for Kitty."

"Yes, I know that," Ash let me know quickly he was onto that. "Tell me something I don't know." He surveyed the death scene again. "What did you see?"

"Here's what I got, Lieutenant," I started and laid out the whole thing. From the missing Cucky, to the dead movie director. "Ash, you know I'd tell ya everything I know." I swallowed back some other things going on inside my head. "I won't fuck with ya, we go way back."

"Yeah, Chrystal, I got that," he said with a smile. "Well, Chalice, where's the malice."

"I'm working on a theory," I told him, rubbed his shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Catch me later, I'll give you an update. I'm headed out to the old mansion." I turned slightly and gave him a wink. "Wanna share an oyster pie at the marina?"

"Hmm, a tempting offer for the catch of the day," he said sensuously.

"Maybe a kielbasa in a bun?" I smirked wickedly.

"You're amazing, detective; we'll what pops up the rest of the day. I'll think about that, my dear, stay safe out there," Ash replied with an easy smile that animated his face and softened his toughness. "Evil is afoot and you might need backup."

"Always do, likewise, keep your gun handy," I teased back at him.

"Chrystal," he was about to warn me, "keep me posted on whatever you find." Ash winked and I knew it was time to go. "Make sure the sarge gets a statement."

"You betcha, who's got your back, my friend." I saw my assistant coming through the old world styled double doors of the theater. He stopped and nodded, I smiled at Ash. "Later, copper. Looks like my able bodied assistant just arrived in the nick of time."

"An able body," Ash said with a sly glance. "Yep, I can see that. Don't hurt too badly."

"Nope, breaking him in gently, one stretch at a time," I told him.

"Boss, here's the update on the old Drago mansion," Woody greeted me nervously. He wanted to be helpful. With a quick gaze around the stage area. "Geez, they must like you around here, the cops guarding the scene waved me through. You got fans everywhere."

"Well, it develops over time. But, getting through the perimeter, Ash did that. He tries to anticipate everything and stay one step ahead of me in particular. Good work, baby, love how fast you come...up with things," I taunted him and he swallowed. "Let's go."

"You driving?" Woody looked stumped. I nodded. "Oh boy," he sighed.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I got your ass safely in my hands," I teased him again. I thought to myself, nothing like a young one to break in and train properly. "Brace yourself."

Men, I pondered, most are just unevolved self-centered assholes. They're still in high school pretending they're cool. Immature, self-absorbed and mostly selfish. Yet, there are always exceptions to every theory or viewpoint. Like Ash for example, a true gentleman. And then, there are young men like Woody, who are actually trying to grow up. They work hard at trying to do the right thing, responsible, independent, capable and strong. Nonetheless, they treat woman fairly and on an equitable basis as them. Plus, they have an open mind about fucking. In fact, there's a special maturity that simmers in the sensual realm of bisexuality, without judgement or bias. No fear in their masculinity, or threat to their ego, they can be good friends and a good fuck.

"Uh, yes, well, by the way, chief," Woody stuttered as I floored the accelerator. Skidding out of the parking lot, leaving rubber behind, the cops waved. "Got written permission to enter the premises. Kitty signed off earlier as co-owner," he breathed with a long sigh.

"Nice touch, Woody," I complimented. "Glad you thought about that earlier, especially after trying your best to fuck her brains." I gave him a nod and grin of approval.

"Uh, yes, that was really wild, sorry, I know right there in the office and all," he said bashfully. "But, she's really something. I mean wow, what a woman, damn, takes charge."

"Aw, a good fucking in the office isn't such a bad thing," I started, reached over and grabbed his thigh. "People get so uptight about such things. No sweat and no regret, my young partner." With a squeeze, I went on, "I wouldn't consider this sexual harassment on the job," I joked and he laughed. "And, we should make a movie with you sometime. I think Kitty is right about that. A little training, some breaking in, you'd be good. I think Kitty would be a good co-star."

"Ok, I'm not opposed to that," he said with a bashful slant and a hesitant grin. "Glad you're not upset about doing Ms. Kitty on the conference room table."

"No worries, baby, you're doing fine," I reassured. "I should've taken some picture, but I was caught up in the moment. You got some good rhythm. In this climate of bullshit news media complaints about this one grabbed that one, and that one groped this one, it was refreshing to see that table used for a good purpose. Besides, Kitty and the Cucky have their own production company. Plus, they sell a line of adult toys, lingerie and movies online."

"So, I was being product tested?" Woody surmised with a wide-eyed look. "You think she was trying me out, like an interview and a screen test? Wow, that's cool."

"I wouldn't be surprised," I replied and raced down the road to the mansion. But, I really needed to add one more thing about his physical potential. "Woody, you got great possibilities in the adult entertainment business. And, right here in geri-land, where product testing goes on every day, especially with dick stiffening successes, Woody my boy, you'll be a star."

"Wow, that's something, okay, I'll give it a try," Woody answered with a smile.

In minutes, having raced through the heavy winter season flocking traffic, we were at the front gates to the old estate. Every day it takes a certain amount of common sense skill to ensure social survival. So many idiots and so little time to take them out of the gene pool. As to driving, long time ago, or so it seems, I was a traffic cop. Most people just fucking robots, and stupid, waiting for somebody to tell them what to do. They can barely pull off a good hand job, or mount a ball gushing fuck. Yet, they keep trying and there are always exceptions.

Regardless of all that, the old haunted mansion had an ominous flare beginning at the front entrance. Dusty, gray shelled driveway, and rusted remnants, the faded coral colored columns resisted time and held up the massive black iron gates. Seemingly abandoned and desolate, the atmosphere gave me a surge of cactus pricking vigilance. Ornately fashioned across the top of both sections, the framework connected the initials, 'D-M'. From here, the long winding driveway of sandy faded crushed shells led down to the sea shore and the gloomy Drago Mansion.

As though the specter of count Dracula lurked on the premises, darkness seemed to engulf the surrounding property for several hundred acres. Prime real estate, the compound was extremely valuable, but possessed a demonic past that frightened the timid and the weak minded. As a result, most greedy and corrupt land speculators stirred clear. That was probably a good thing, depending on your perspective. Spooky and creepy to the say the least, the atmosphere seemed sensually intoxicating if you were inclined toward reality and not afraid of ghosts.

Added to the carnal flavor of the place, the historic debauchery remained legendary. The part that intrigued me was the mystique of intense sexuality. In its heyday, you can do just about anything you wanted here. At some of the parties, rumors maintained that some people did more than that. From swinger sex to BDSM proclivities, I witnessed more than a few things here. Mysteriously sensual for a moment, I recalled the fucking I did here years ago. Sometimes, I got fucked and sometimes, with a nice girthy strap on, I fucked some of the others. Fucking, sucking and everything imaginable went on, and no one seemed to complain.

We were parked in front of the huge fading mansion with it southern styled columns looming upward to the rooftop. It could have been a movie prop for an old south plantation. Fading to the dusty realms of history, the pale whiteness cracked and curled across the surface of the concrete walls. Standing in front of the massive black pine double doors of the entrance, underneath the portico, I could feel the primal energy. Three brown tiled steps led to the entry. When I looked at Woody, he appeared to have a worried expression on his face.

Particularly, he seemed to perk up, as he glanced at all the warning signs about no trespassing and punishments that would befall the foolish intruder. Maybe what got his attention were the iconic cautions about the evil that lived in the mansion. Hastily scribbled placards and red spray-painted graffiti warned the naïve and the foolish of the darkness within. Well, on that note, if you believe in the supernatural, as most people do, you would be well advised to leave. I believed in my gun and hand to hand tactics in dealing with the living. For this occasion, I brought my Smith 9mm that rested comfortably under my suit coat. Woody was a revolver guy.

"You okay?" I asked and wondered for a second if his dick shrank. Then again, was the atmosphere giving him a boner at the prospect of the darkness? "Woody, you getting a woody?" Instantly, we look at each other. He smiled. "You are getting stiff."

"Sorry, boss, it's a little weird, I'm getting turned on by the place," he admitted.

"Don't be sorry, my friend, a stiffy is a good thing," I admonished.

"I mean," he said with a cough and slight choke in his voice. "It's a turn on."

"Nice, I feel the same way, pal," I told him and reached for his crouch.

With a playful yank, I pulled him along with me. Slightly jolted by the surprise dick squeeze, he followed me up the three levels to the massive black doors. I paused for a moment, turned and caught his gawk, which was fixated on my ass. He reacted with a bashful slump from those broad shoulders down to his slim waist. My fingers rubbed his crotch and felt the swell of his big cock. Yep, I figured he could do well in the adult film business.

"Gulp," he muttered shyly. "Thank you, that feels wonderful, boss."

"Nor worries, it's okay. Stay with that feeling and think. Sex stimulates thinking. It is the only time the entire brain is fully integrated at the highest levels of cognition. Cerebral energy after an orgasm lights ups the senses. Uh huh," I told him with a sincere nod. "That's a fact. Now, consider this." I turned back to examine the realtor's lockbox on one of the doorknobs. "Here's the thing, why would someone invest in a medieval castle? And, we know the director, now dead and resting quietly at the morgue, the asshole, was connected to the Cuck."

"Um, before we talk about that," Woody stuttered. "Sorry boss, no sexual harassment intended when I stared at your very nice ass, ma'am. I mean you have a really great ass, with all due respect," he apologized with a head bow and sidetracked from my speculation about the case at hand. "Okay, I just needed to get that out. Sorry, uh the case, um, let me think a moment."

"Get the fuck out of here, Woodrow," I mockingly scolded in response to his apology. "Seriously? You know damn good and well I could give a hairy rat's ass about political correctness, gender bias, or any of that collective social bullshit. It's a waste of my fucking time, or time to fuck, you know what I mean? Geezus, I've dealt with that horseshit for decades. What the fuck, Woody? Ain't nothing changed from one generation to the next."

"Affirmative, ma'am, I agree," Woody groveled a little bit, but he was still hunk.

"Whisky, tango, foxtrot, W-T-F," I muttered under my breath. "A bunch cupcakes, sissies and snowflakes running around acting like victims, insulting the real victims."

"I know, but...," he came back with a hesitant slant. "Just don't want to offend."

"Give me a fucking break," I said and got in his face. "You're fucking a client on the conference room table, giving her one of the best orgasms she's had lately, and you're concerned about office etiquette or some nonsense about gender relations? Come on, Woody, let's get focused here, I'd say that was a bonus for doing a good job at entertaining a client."

"Well, it was certainly a boner." He smiled. "And, whew, that woman, she's is amazing. Wow, she really blew my mind. Then again, it could've been a job interview."

"There you go, I like that. Yeah, think about that. Kitty was fucking you for a potential role in an upcoming film by her hubby. Cucky Chucky is always looking for new talent and he pays his actors very well." I gave him a wink. "Okay, moving on," I added and turned back to face the entrance. Hands on hips, deeper in thought, I said, "I got this feeling everything we need to know starts here." I shook my head up and down a few times and sighed. "A gut feeling."

"Sounds reasonable, boss," Woody said but looked stumped.

"Just an intuitive sense," I began again. "That the clues begin with this very interesting old mansion. So, who'd buy this macabre piece of history. And, down the road a bit, there's the old train station now closed and for sale. Both places been abandoned for years. Second to that, I know the now deceased director was connected here in some way." I tossed Woody a seductive gaze. What'da ya think, Woody, my ace partner and confidant?"

"I'm with you, boss, this is the starting point," he replied with enthusiasm. "The place is still in transition from receivership, the real estate company and Cucky Chucky."

"We need to take a look as everyone's financials. I know the cops will. Ash doesn't miss much of anything." I worked the code on the lock box Woody got from the realtor. After retrieving the key, I unlocked the door and held my breath for a moment. "Let's see what's in here."

"Boss," Woody started to say. "I'm getting a feeling."

"Yep, me too. We need to go to the basement first," I said to him, while I did a three sixty in the ornate foyer that opened on the white and black marbled floor of main hall. A massive fireplace sat mute in front of us with a cold and quiet reception. "My god, I still smell the ghosts of sex that lingers in the air." I shook my head. "Wow, I'm sensing all the fucking."

"I thought it might be chilly in here," Woody guessed aloud. "With the winter season and all, plus the breeze off the gulf." He caught my glance. "Yeah, I know we're in Florida."

"However," I wanted to offer. "It is warm and the fireplace is old and cold, and the heating system is turned off. Okay, and why would that be?"

"I don't know yet," Woody said with a hint of speculation.

"In its day, this was the place to come, and cum they did," I explained with sly grin. "Every form of sex you can imagine and then some. It's a shrink's wet dream."

"They say Drago Malice was a kind of Marquis de Sade," Woody added.

"That's what they say," I said and smiled to give him credit for his research. "Uh huh, the reflection of the kinky stuffy. It explores the darkness within each of us."

"As a cop you know the darkness that lurks below the surface," Woody added.

"You betcha," I agreed and took his hand and led into the darkened recess under the white winding staircase. A heavy sliding black door beckoned us to enter. "This is part of the world that cops know, the alter egos of people, especially those who pretend they are something else."

"Most of us conceal the others living on the inside of us," Woody stuttered to hack out his learning curve. "I should become a cop, right, and understand the dark side?"

"Yeah, should." I reached for the huge brass door handle. "Yet, behind the mask, we all share a commonality of carnal yearnings for a deeper sense of who we are. Lifestyles tell us more about ourselves." I gave him a moment to wonder about that. "Cops understand things most people do not want to imagine because they are too afraid to face the reality."