Chapter 4

Warning: There are some graphic sexual scenes in this chapter involving two male characters that may offend some readers. Do not read any farther if you are offended by this type of material.

The green parent was housed in a building with garish neon signs out front that advertised female impersonators and openly declared that couples were welcome. Since it was early in the afternoon, there was nobody in the bar except for the man working behind the bar and what appeared to be a female impersonator on the stage, dressed like Mae West.

The bartender nodded at the two detectives as they approached the bar. "Sorry, fellas," he said with a drawl "We're not open for business yet. Come back at 4."

"We're here to ask you a couple of questions," Hutch said, pulling his ID out of his pocket and flipping it over to show the man his badge. Starsky pulled a small snapshot of John Blaine out of his pocket and showed it to the man behind the bar.

"Do you remember seeing this man in here Tuesday evening?" Starsky asked gruffly.

"Hey, man…I don't know. It gets pretty crazy in here, ya know?" The man said with a disinterested shrug of his shoulders. "I can't remember every John that comes in here."

"Take another look." Hutch said sharply. "The man is dead and we want to know if he was in here before he ended up dead!"

The man sighed heavily and took a closer look at Blaine's picture. "Maybe…yeah, I think he was in here. Quiet…kept to himself. Didn't bother nobody…not like the jerks that come in here slumming."

"Do you remember if he left with anybody that night? A young man…early to mid-thirties, black hair…first name Nick." Hutch asked, irritated with the bartender's nonchalant attitude.

"Yeah…" The bartender said slowly "Nick. Nick Hunter. He was in here that night too but I couldn't tell you if they hooked up or not. I didn't see them leave." He looked at the woman/man on the stage and called, "Hey, Sugar. You know Nick Hunter better than I do. Did you see if he left with anybody Tuesday night?"

The man posing as a woman gracefully stepped off the stage and walked over to Starsky and Hutch with an exaggerated sway of his hips. Staying in character, he cooed to Hutch, "Well, hello there…big boy….why don't you come up to my place sometime?"

"Look…uh…" Hutch stammered self-consciously.

"Sugar." The blond said with a toss of his hair. "The name is Sugar." He reached out and tugged at a strand of Hutch's hair. "What a delightful color. I think I'll dye mine that shade…"

"It's natural!" Hutch said in an offended tone, jerking his head away from Sugar's touch.

"What a coincidence," The female impersonator said as he reached up to snatch his wig off his head, as his voice deepened dramatically "So is mine." He smirked at the expression on Hutch's face as he assumed a seductive pose with one hand on his hip.

"Sugar," Starsky said, hiding a faint smile at his partner's discomfort. "Do you know Nick Hunter?"

"Slightly," Sugar said, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Pretty boy. Works the streets…" he cocked his head to one side as he examined Starsky's face thoughtfully, "Looks a bit like you, as a matter of fact."

"Did you see Nick Hunter in here Tuesday night?" Hutch asked, showing Sugar the picture of John Blaine. "Maybe with this man?"

"Honey, I was on stage. I wasn't checking out the crowd." Sugar said "I do two shows a night with a half break in between."

Hutch sighed and decided to try another approach. "Do you know where we can find Nick Hunter? We just need to ask him a couple of questions."

Before Sugar could answer, Hutch saw his head jerk to one side, his eyes focused over Starsky's left shoulder. Glancing in that direction, Hutch saw a young man that matched Nick Hunter's description standing in the entranceway. When he saw Starsky and Hutch, he bolted. The two detectives immediately took off after their primary suspect. They burst through the doorway in time to see their prey ducking down a nearby alley.

They gave chase, skirting discarded trash and broken bottles, while still keeping their fleeing suspect in sight. With a concentrated effort, Starsky sped ahead of Hutch and caught up with the suspect, bringing him down with a flying tackle. Starsky wrestled the other man over the hood of nearby car and twisted his arms behind his back, snapping on the cuffs as Hutch skidded to a halt beside him. Breathlessly, he began to recite the Miranda rights, while Hutch searched the young man's pockets for weapons. He pulled a large wad of bills from their suspect's pocket and showed it to Starsky.

"Where'd you get the money, punk?" Starsky growled, as he used the man's cuffed arms to pull him to a standing position. Hunter stumbled, off balance, hitting his hip on the edge of the car.

"Hey, since when is it a crime to have money?" Nick Hunter said sarcastically, glaring at the two detectives belligerently.

"Since you were seen Tuesday night at the Saint Francis Hotel with a man who ended dead before he ended up dead." Hutch growled. "Why'd you run? Unless you have something to hide."

"Hey!" Nick said in a panicked voice "I didn't do nothing! Yeah, I'll admit I took the mark's wallet after he passed out…but you gotta believe me, the dude was alive when I left!"
"If I were you, Nicky boy," Hutch told him, as he took his arm to escort him back to the car. "I'd call a good lawyer 'cause you're going to need one."

Ignoring his protests, they led their prisoner back to the car to take him downtown so he could be booked on charges of robbery and suspicion of first degree murder. Nick continued to proclaim his innocence all the way to headquarters, continuing to insist that John was passed out but still alive when Nick left the room. He sounded so convincing that Starsky and Hutch almost believed him. After booking Nick and finishing their paperwork, it was time to call it a day.

Hutch suggested stopping at The Pits for a couple of beers and something to eat but Starsky begged off, claiming he was still recovering from his hangover. The partner's parted ways, going home to their own apartments for the evening. After a quick bite to eat, Starsky took a shower and turned in for the night. He fell into a deep, restless slumber, tossing and turning as he began to dream.

It was summer and he was fourteen. He had lived in Bay City for a little over a year and was spending a lot of time with John Blaine, who had taken a special interest in the troubled teenager at the request of his concerned aunt and uncle. Bit by bit, with patience and understanding, John had broken through the barriers that Starsky had built around himself. He was teaching the adolescent to box, not just the down and dirty street fighting that the brunet had learned on the rough New York streets, but real boxing. He might have been small for his age but Starsky was quick and agile.

He was also stubborn and refused to give up, even when he ended up with a bloody nose. John had smiled and took him into the bathroom where he had gently washed his face and stopped the bleeding. John's hands were kind and gentle, his eyes warm and caring, making Starsky feel safe and protected.

"Let's get your shirt back on and get you home before Rosie sends out a search party." John told him with a chuckle. He let his hands gently knead the muscles in Starsky's shoulders before handing the boy his shirt. The touch was gentle and intimate but Starsky wasn't alarmed. John was like a second father to him and he welcomed the older man's touch. It reminded him of his father's comforting touch. The boy still missed his father and the rest of his family terribly.

Abruptly the dream changed, skipping ahead to the summer Starsky turned fifteen. He whimpered softly in his sleep as his mind replayed an event from that summer.

John had taken him camping for the weekend. He owned a small cabin in the hills just outside the city. Although Starsky wasn't a big fan of the great outdoors, he didn't mind going to the cabin with John, especially when he let the teenager drive after they got out of the city limits. Another forbidden attraction to those weekend camping trips was the beer John always brought along. He always let Starsky have one or two, carefully monitoring how much he drank. It was just enough to give the adolescent a pleasant buzz and make him feel all grown up.

In the past year, Starsky had grown almost six inches and was already developing the lean, muscular build that he would carry into adulthood. His rugged good looks was already attracting the girls and, with his easy charm and sense of humor, he was becoming popular with his peers (at least with the female ones)

He felt comfortable talking to John about almost anything, including sex. The teenager was not a novice when it came to the opposite sex. He had kissed his first girl when he was ten and fumbled his way through his first sexual encounter just after he turned thirteen. John enjoyed giving him pointers on romancing a woman and gave him practical advise too, on the use of condoms and stressing the importance of avoiding an unwanted pregnancy.

That evening, after a playful wrestling match with John, Starsky had been embarrassed to find himself with an unexpected erection. John had smiled and assured him that his reaction was a normal response to their physical contact during the wrestling match. Still, Starsky had blushed and lowered his head in embarrassment.

He was startled when John knelt down in front of him and whispered, "It's okay, Davey…really it is. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Go ahead…play with it if you want to…I don't mind."

"I…I…c..an't…" Starsky stammered. He felt his face growing redder at John's suggestion. Even at his young age, Starsky wasn't vain or ashamed of his body and he'd jacked off in front of some of his friends in the past but this was different. John was an adult, an adult he respected and admired, a man he looked at as a surrogate father.

"Bull shit," John mocked him gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Go on…do it. I know you want to. I really don't mind."

Starsky hesitated but his cock seemed to have a mind of its own and John's words made it stand up and pay attention. The throbbing ache between his legs demanded to be satisfied. Self-consciously, Starsky lowered his hand and rubbed his palm against the bulge in his sweatpants, trying to soothe the sudden need that set his blood on fire. John smiled faintly and let his hand rest over top of David's as he repeated in an almost hypnotic voice, "Go on…do it."

To ease the teenager's embarrassment, he stood up and walked over to a nearby chair, sinking down into it with a sigh. That was when Starsky noticed that John hard-on of his own. He watched, both fascinated and embarrassed, as John slipped his hand down the front of his own sweatpants and began to fondle himself. Watching his mentor touch himself aroused Starsky even more, making his breath come in short, quick bursts.

Still, he hesitated. He had been taught that certain parts of his body were private and that certain acts were supposed to be done in private, not in front of an audience. He had also been warned, ever since he could remember, first by his mother and then by his Aunt Rose, never to let an adult touch him inappropriately or in any of his private places.

But, he reasoned with himself, John wasn't touching him. He was encouraging him to touch himself. Besides, John wasn't one of those perverts David used to see hanging out in dark alleys back home and he wasn't a stranger.

John seemed to forget that David was even there as he threw his head back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, moaning softly. David watched, fascinated, as John pulled his heavy erection out of his pants and began to stroke the thick, hard shaft.

Swallowing hard, David let his left hand slip underneath the waistband of his sweatpants to fondle his own aching cock. His own soft moans of pleasure filled the air as he began to stroke himself. Frustrated by the restriction of his clothing, he pulled his own cock out of his pants and began to jerk himself off.

Lost in his own pleasure, he soon forgot about John as he pumped his cock furiously. Finally, he felt the familiar tingling and tightening in his balls. He cried out in relief, his back arching slightly, as he exploded. He felt the warmth of his seed dripping over his fingers and onto his stomach. Panting heavily, he collapsed against the sofa and opened his eyes, to find John sitting in the chair, watching him with a satisfied smile on his face.

"See, nothing to it." John said softly with a chuckle. "Now, don't you feel better?" He stood up and left the room, going into the bedroom and closing the door. A few minutes later, Starsky heard the shower running. David cleaned off as best he could with a discarded napkin that was lying on the coffee table and sat back to wait for his turn in the shower.

Starsky awoke with a start, his heart pounding frantically, as the remnants of his dream faded away. He hadn't thought about that night in John's cabin for years. The next morning, they had both acted like it had never happened and Starsky didn't realize that an invisible barrier had been breeched that would lead to events that would scar him emotionally for life.

Afraid of the dreams returning if he went back to sleep, Starsky stumbled to his feet and made his way into the kitchen. He needed a drink. It was the only way to keep the memories at bay.