Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve Chapter 12 Not Yet

"Him who?" Whittaker asked. "Who is it?"

"TODD!" I cried out. "That lying sack of shit."

"Todd?" Jensen asked. "Who's Todd?"

"Steve's study partner for English. He said he didn't know where Steve was at."

"Well, maybe he doesn't," Jensen said. "Just because he's a Facebook friend with that Simba guy. That doesn't mean he knows Steve."

"That's too big of a coincidence. I know he knows something. We have to find him." I stated.

"Do you know where he would be this time of day?" Whittaker asked.

"No. I'll have to wait until English class tomorrow." Then I added, "Will you guys come with me?"

"What time?" Jensen asked.

"Ten, in the Humanities building, room 145."

"I can't. I have choir."

"I'll be there." Whittaker said. "I'll meet you out front at a quarter to ten."

I smiled appreciatively. We finished eating and bussed our trays, and then I headed back to the dorm to do some studying. I was hopeful I would be able to concentrate. When I arrived, I got a lump in my throat as I sat at my desk and looked at Steve's empty bed and desk. As much as I tried, I couldn't stay focused. The fact that it was hot in the room didn't help. Usually the dorm manager kept the heat down low and froze us but for some reason, he had it way warm. I won- dered if he was entertaining a naked visitor. He was a senior with a steady squeeze. I stripped to my boxers and tried again to study. After reading the same paragraph for the third time and still not having any idea what it said, I gave up and slammed the book shut. I crawled up onto my bed and let my mind drift to Steve. I missed him terribly.

I lay there dreaming about holding him in my arms and feeling his strong hands caressing my naked body. I became aware that my right hand had found my erection poking out of my fly and I was absentmindedly stroking it. This realization only made me miss Steve all the more. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to be filled. I thought about what I might use. I looked around rejecting one thing after another. The best candidate in my room was my hairbrush, but the handle was much shorter than what I really wanted or needed. An idea came but I dismissed it at first. I got the lotion out and greased up the brush handle. Still, I knew it would not be satisfy- ing and would probably only frustrate me more. Finally, I gave up and pulled a pair of shorts on. I propped my door open with a shoe so I wouldn't get locked out like happened in Yellowstone. I hurried down to the common bathroom and opened the cleaning closet. I pulled out the broom and dustpan. I carried it quickly back to my room and shut my door, kicking the shoe aside.

I pulled off my shorts and boxers and then extracted the clipped-on dustpan off the broom han- dle and tossed it aside. I clambered up onto the bed and greased up the broom handle as well as my anxious ass. I lay on my back and lifted my knees. I reached around and pressed the slickened broom handle to my hungry hole. I pushed it in and slid it up slowly until I found the magic spot. Once it was in place, I pulled my pillow down my back to just above my butt cheeks to maintain the perfect angle. I dropped my head back on my bed and closed my eyes. I gripped the broom between my feet and worked it in and out, up and down, to stimulate my sensitive butt button and satisfy my voracious urge to be filled. With my right hand I began stroking my engorged penis and let my mind wander.

I was transported back in time to that most extraordinary evening back home at the ranch house. I remembered lying beneath the heavy quilt and staring nervously and full of anticipation into the face of my amazing friend and about to become lover. Steve's caring expression and look of sincere love radiated, even in the dim lamplight. I remembered the sensations as he pressed, for the first time, his powerful, hot staff against my clenched hole. I could smell him and see our steamy breath in my mind's eye. I pressed the broomstick firmly up against my prostate as I relived the moment he penetrated me and took my freely surrendered virginity. I felt tears trickling from the corners of my eyes and gliding slowly down my temples as I recalled the eu- phoric experience of that moment when Steve buried himself completely within my body. I clenched down on the broom handle the same way I had done on Steve's much thicker penis back on that fateful night. At this point, I so wanted to cum and I began stroking my penis rapidly while wiggling up and down against the broomstick in order to stimulate me from within. I was just falling into a satisfying rhythm when I was startled by a rapping on the door.

I froze and listened to be sure I'd actually heard a knock. It came again and I swore under my breath. It was a strong and determined knock. "Whittaker? Is that you?" I called out.

"No," an unfamiliar voice replied. "I'm looking for Steve Fahrenheit. Open up."

My heart skipped several beats. I sat up slightly and extracted the broomstick out of my back- side, albeit a little too quickly and it hurt some. I was pulling my boxers on when the knock came again more forcefully than before. "Open up, Steve. I need to talk to you now."

"Steve's not here," I called.

"Where is he? Who are you?" the voice asked me.

"Steve's gone. Who are YOU?" I asked back through the door.

"Open up," the gravelly voice insisted.

I felt compelled to comply and cracked the door and peeked out. I found a short, stalky man in his forties with greying temples and broad shoulders. He wore an ill-fitting, blue suit with a grey tie pulled loose beneath a pronounced Adam's apple. His head was like a large block perched precariously on his stout neck. He sported a crew cut and had dull brown eyes.

"Where is he?" the man asked.

"Who wants to know?" I asked in return.

"I'll ask the questions, son."

"Ask all you want. If you don't tell me who you are, I'm not answering them."

"Are you his roommate?" the man asked.

"Like I said, unless you tell me who you are and why you want to know this stuff, I'm done talking to you." I pulled my face out of the doorway and went to close it. The man stuck his thick soled, black shoe between the frame and the door.

"Thanks for the invitation, I'd love to step inside." He leaned his large frame against the door and pressed his way into the room, knocking me off balance. I sprawled backwards and fell flat on my ass. He shut the door behind himself and reached a hand down to help me up. As he did, the flap of his suit coat fell open and revealed a handgun inside a shoulder holster. I felt a wave of panicked nausea swell up into my throat. I took his hand and he hoisted me off the floor.

"If you don't get out of my room, I'm gonna start screaming for help."

This amused the man and glancing around the room, his gaze settled on the broom and lotion bottle on my bed. "What you gonna scream? Rape?" He chuckled. He pulled a worn black bill- fold from his jacket and flashed a silver shield at me. He held it eye level for me to read along as he announced that he was a parole officer. "I'm Steve's parole officer to be precise. Now help us both out and tell me where he is."

"Gone," I answered with trepidation. My mind was struggling to process that bit of unexpected information. "He's gone."

"I can see that," The officer said while he helped himself to a search of Steve's side of the room. He flung open the empty closet doors and pulled the barren drawers open and shut. "Where's he gone to?"

"I don't know. I wish I did." I had now grasped the idea that Steve was somehow in trouble with the law and this was someone who might be able to help find him. "He just disappeared after we had a little argument."

"Hmm. Argument over what?" he asked.

"Just something dumb."

"Sex?" he blatantly asked. "Were you two porking each other?"

"Porking?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know," he took his right pointer finger and imitated the fucking motion by driving it in and out of his left fist, "Porking."

"Oh. Umm. Why do you want to know if ..."

He cut me off. "So you were. Was your argument about that?"

"No. I mean, not ..." I was so flustered I could hardly finish a sentence.

"Sit." He pulled a chair out and I sat down. He sat in the other desk chair and slid up knee to knee. "He violated a term of his parole and I need to get in touch with him and sort it out before he ends up at risk of going back to jail. If you care about him, you need to help me out here."

I swallowed hard and ran a hand through my hair. The words, "back to jail" echoed through my brain. That meant Steve had been in jail if he was at risk of going back. "Okay. Steve and I be- came friends and then we became lovers over Christmas break. We've been 'porking', as you put it, since then. We love each other. At least, I love him. For Valentine's Day, I planned this nice evening out at Plonk, a local bar, er ... and restaurant. I surprised him with a used laptop I got from my brother. He got upset and said he couldn't accept it but wouldn't tell me why. Then I got upset and so he said he would accept the gift after all. Then I told him that I'd set up a Fa- cebook page for him and instead of him being appreciative, he got upset again and insisted we come straight home so he could delete it. He was really worried over it but still refused to tell me why."

"Holy shit. You created the Facebook page? Not Steve?"

"Yeah."

"So what about his disappearance?" the officer asked.

"Well, I was upset so I left with another guy here in the dorm to go play pool while he deleted the Facebook. Steve never met up with us and when we came back here, he was gone. He left this note." I handed the note to the officer.

"So he never told you about his crime or parole?"

"No. I can't even imagine Steve doing anything illegal. What did he do?"

"The housing department didn't have you sign a waiver to be his roommate?" he asked in disbe- lief.

"Not that I know of. My mom arranged the housing. She never said anything. She met Steve during Christmas break and liked him. Tell me what he did."

"Probably best you not know. Any clues at all about where he might be?"

I thought about the thumb drive and I thought about Todd. I felt a hot flush as I lied, "No. None."

He stared at me a full minute without speaking and I could feel the needle of the imaginary pol- ygraph pegged on the "LIAR, LIAR Pants on FIRE!" side of the scale.

"Well, if you think of anything, here's my card. You can get back to raping yourself now. Sorry I interrupted your fun." He left and as he did, I heard him grumble to the effect that "Arthur's gonna ride my ass until I fix this."

I'd lost all interest in being porked by a broomstick at this point and I quickly wiped the end of the handle clean. I dressed and returned the broom and dustpan to the cleaning closet. Then I hurried to the other end of the hall and knocked on Jensen and Whittaker's door. Jensen opened it and seeing the state I was in, asked, "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to Whittaker. I just found out something very important about Steve. Is he here?"

"Yeah. Hey Whittaker," Jensen called out as he opened the door. Whittaker pulled his earbuds out and wheeled around.

"Hey, Shane. What's up?"

"I just got a visit from someone."

"Who?

"You'll never believe it. I can't believe it," I said.

"Who? The tooth fairy? I didn't even know you lost a tooth. By the way, do gay guys get more than a dollar under their pillow from the tooth fairy? You know, fairy favoritism? Like maybe a dildo or some lube, maybe a condom or two?" He started laughing at his imagined cleverness.

"No. Not the tooth fairy, jerk. A parole officer. Steve's parole officer."

"What? Steve is on parole? For what?" He stopped laughing and walked over to me.

"I don't know. The guy wouldn't tell me. He asked if I had any information that would help find him. I thought about the drive and Todd, but I decided to hold off mentioning it until we can find out for sure if there's anything useful from either one."

"You lied to a cop?" Jensen asked almost horrified.

"Not a cop, a parole officer and I didn't lie, I just withheld full disclosure for the time being. At least until I know if it has any value."

"Wow. What do you think Steve could be in trouble for?" Jensen asked. "What if he killed some- body? Or committed armed robbery or something?"

"Don't be stupid," Whittaker chastised him, "If he'd murdered someone he wouldn't be on parole. It was probably something stupid like petty theft. I mean, Steve hardly seems like the hard core criminal type."

"I have no idea," I answered. "I can't believe Steve would do anything that wrong to get into trouble like that. Maybe he just got caught up in something stupid like you said."

"Yeah, I'm sure it must be," Whittaker agreed. "I hope so."

"Do you think Calvin could find it out?" I asked.

"Maybe. I'll text him." Whittaker pounded out a text and moments later got a reply: 'Probably, but it'll cost you...' Immediately, Whittaker trailed off and he blushed.

"Cost? Cost what?" I asked. Whittaker didn't answer but showed me his phone for me to read. Stupidly, I blurted it out loud. It read: 'Probably, but it will cost you a large deposit into my sperm bank.' I suppressed a grin.

"Why would Calvin say something like that?" Jensen asked.

Whittaker opened his mouth but nothing came out. I rescued him. "He figured out that Steve and I were gay lovers, so he's kind of an asshole and started teasing me that I needed to make a deposit in his sperm bank if he helped me find him."

"Oh," Jensen said. "Yeah, he is kind of gross like that." Whittaker flashed me an appreciative smile.

"So, tomorrow at ten we'll talk to Todd. Maybe he'll know something. You're still coming, right?" I asked Whittaker.

"Yup. I said I would. I won't leave you hanging, dude. I'm really dying to know what's going on now. This is like being Sherlock Holmes. In fact, I might just pop over and see if Calvin can find out what Steve did to be on parole right now."

"Cool. Let me know if he finds anything out," I said, hopeful.

"I will for sure," Whittaker agreed.

"Want me to come with you?" Jensen asked.

"Umm, well ... I guess, umm ..." Whittaker stammered.

"I thought you said you had a big test coming up, Jensen. Shouldn't you be studying for that?" I asked.

"Oh, I guess."

"Don't put off 'til tomorrow what you can do today, right Whittaker?" I asked.

"Right!" he agreed.

"All right. But let me know what you find out too. I'm really curious," Jensen agreed. Whittaker gave me a sly wink.

It was about two hours later that Whittaker sent both me and Jensen a text, "No luck. Records are sealed because he was a minor. Even Calvin can't break in." I sighed, rolled over and went to sleep. The next morning, I got up and dressed for running. Whittaker wasn't outside my door like usual. I sent him a text. No answer. I called him. No answer. I left and ran alone. It wasn't as fun alone, but it was still good for me. I thought all about how I was going to approach Todd later on that morning. At breakfast, Whittaker came dragging in and sat by me after he got his cup of coffee.

"Not eating?" I asked.

Whittaker shook his head. "Not hungry. I pulled an all-nighter."

"Oh. That sucks. What are you studying for?" I asked with a mouthful of runny scrambled eggs.

"Not an all-night study session, an all-night ass fucking marathon with Calvin. He's insatiable. I thought Jensen was a horny bastard. Oh my God! Calvin is the Honorary Mayor of Horneyville. He's got a lifetime of sexual frustration he's trying to catch up on, I swear. My poor one eyed monster is a little sore, I'll be honest." I chuckled at Whittaker as he rubbed his crotch.

"Computer geek versus King Dong," I joked. "Computer geek wins!" He smiled at me.

"King Dong," he repeated, "I like that. I think I might adopt that."

"You're still coming to meet up with Todd, right?"

"I'll be there. Sorry that we couldn't find anything out about the parole. That's harder to get than Obama's birth certificate."

"Thanks for trying."

"My pleasure. Actually, it really was my pleasure up 'til about midnight at least. After that, it got a little painful." He rubbed his crotch and snickered. "He talked me into letting him use that super long dildo thing he ordered off the net on me. Holy shit!"

I laughed as I got the image. "No way! You let him put it up your ass? Really?"

"Yeah, but I'll deny it if you ever repeat that to anyone. Oh my god, now I know how it feels for you and the girls I've fucked. No wonder the chicks can't take the whole thing. I swear, it still kinda feels like it's up there. Am I walking funny, by the way?"

I laughed even harder. "No, not that I can tell. Not any funnier than you usually walk, at least. Soooooo, did you like it?"

He didn't answer right away. He just sort of pondered the question and swayed back and forth for a minute before saying, "I guess it was all right. I think I prefer to be on top though. It's better to give than to receive, you know."

"Would you let me do it to you?" I asked with a little wink.

"Serious? You want to?" Whittaker asked.

"No. That was just a hypothetical. If I did want to, but I don't, would you let me?"

"Probably. Hypothetically speaking. With you, yes."

"Did you let Calvin?"

"You ask too many questions." He took a long draught on his coffee.

"You did let him! I can see it in your eyes. Did you like it?" I pressed.

"Dude. Let's be done with this convo, okay?"

"Just curious. I'm just wondering if maybe sexing with me brought you over the rainbow." I smiled.

"No man. Don't flatter yourself. I'm not gay. Calvin and I just have this sex buddy thing going on. A little convenient bromance, you know?"

"Okay. That's cool. See you later in the English building."

"Yeah, I'll be there. Later," he said as we bumped knuckles.

"Yeah, later King Dong." He laughed out loud and waved me off.

When it came time to confront Todd, I started to get nervous. Whittaker showed up as promised fifteen minutes early. He suggested that he stand back and observe and if he needed to get in- volved, he'd step in, so it would be a little less threatening to Todd. I agreed.

Just as Whittaker stepped away, the two girls from Steve's study group walked up. I stopped them. "Excuse me, I'm a friend of Steve's. We met in the library."

The two stopped and crossed their arms, clutching their notebooks against their ample chests. The blond one spoke, "Oh hi. Where is Steve at?"

"I was hoping you might be able to help me find out. He just kind of disappeared," I said.

They both looked at each other and then back at me with puzzled concern. "Weird. He never said anything. He just stopped showing up to class."

"Well, if he contacts you about finishing your project, will you call me?" I asked.

They looked even more puzzled. "The project's finished," they chimed.

"Really? But Todd said ..." I changed direction. "Did he seem like extra good friends with Todd? Like when you went over to Todd's house to study, did he seem like he was used to being there a lot?"

They both shook their heads in wonderment at that. The blond spoke again, "We never went over to Todd's house to study. We did it all here in the library."

"Wha ... Oh. Oh okay. Well if you do see him, will you call me? Here's my number."

"Sure. Hope you find him." They walked into class and I fell against the beige brick wall.

"He lied to me. He blatantly lied to me," I muttered in sad disbelief.

About two minutes before his English class was about to start, Todd showed up. "Hey Todd!" I called out.

"What do you want now?" he grumbled. "I have to get to class."

"I want you to tell me the truth. I want to know where Steve is and I want to know why you lied to me before."

"I didn't lie and I don't know," he spat.

"Bullshit! I know you're Facebook friends with some guy named Simba, who also responded to Steve's Facebook page. What's the connection?" He squirmed.

"How do you know about Simba?" Todd asked.

"From Steve's Facebook page that I set up for him. I gave him a computer and made a Face- book for him. He was upset about it and wanted to delete it. While he was supposedly doing that, he disappeared. Then I see this Simba guy was the only one to respond to him and then in looking at Simba's page I see you there. So what's the truth? What's going on and where is Ste- ve? Is he in trouble?"

"Fuck! You created a Facebook with Steve's name on it? You stupid asshole."

"You're the asshole. You're a lying asshole and I want to know what's going on!" I demanded.

"Shut the fuck up. Keep your voice down. Look, if Steve took off on you, it's because he wanted to, okay. He was probably tired of your little dick and big attitude. So just leave it alone and fuck off, okay. It's none of your damned business."

His words pierced my heart. If he was right, I was being a fool. A big fool. If Steve had just been using me for a good time fuck until he was ready to move on, I was being a super-size fool. "Are you and Steve having sex? Is he at your house? Are you his new lover?" I demanded.

Todd laughed scornfully. "You dumb bitch. No. We fucked each other a few times, in the past. That's over and it never had any meaning. I'm done talking to you. Leave me alone and just for- get about Steve. You're better off." He gave me a shove and spun to leave, only to find himself nose to sternum with Whittaker.

"We're not leaving you alone and we're not forgetting about Steve. You're going to tell us what you know. Now!" Whittaker gripped Todd around the neck with his large hand and pushed him around the corner and out of sight. He tightened his grip and Todd dropped to his knees. His eyes were bugging out. So were mine.

Todd gripped Whittaker's forearm but was powerless to break the grasp. He nodded as best he could and Whittaker relaxed his grip. "Okay, okay," Todd whispered hoarsely. His face was beet red.

"So spill it."

"Steve and I were both in the boy's home together. The same guy is paying for both of us to go to school here. Steve's on probation for something that happened back at the boy's home. I think maybe he was hacking or something because he's not allowed to use a computer or even have a cell phone with internet. He's on some kind of list and he can't have a cell phone or any internet usage, so when he needs to call his probation officer or our contact about school stuff, Steve meets up with me and uses my phone. That's all I know."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"A couple days ago. He had two large suitcases with him."

"Where is he?" Whittaker asked with a little squeeze.

"Don't know. I really ..." Whittaker put the death grip back on and then loosened back up. Todd continued with tears dripping from the corner of his eyes. "Honest. I don't know."

"Did he call Simba?" Whittaker questioned. Todd nodded affirmatively.

"Is he with him then?"

"No. No way," Todd said.

"Who is this Simba dude?"

"I don't know," Todd eked out under Whittaker's continued grip. "We just call him. He's our con- tact for money and things. That's all."

"Bullshit, you're on his Facebook, so you must know him."

"No. I don't. Honest. There's no pics of him on his page anywhere. He's like incognito." Todd was almost pleading.

"So where is Steve at?"

"I DONT KNOW!"

"Guess!" Whittaker demanded.

"With some friend from school or the boy's home probably. I don't know." Whittaker let go.

"If he contacts you, you're gonna call us, right?" Whittaker said sternly. "If you don't and I find out, I'll put some serious hurt on you and you'll think this was just a little party game. Under- stand?" Todd nodded agreement emphatically. Speaking to me, Whittaker said, "Let's go. That's all he knows."

"Just a minute," I said to Whittaker. Then I asked Todd, "The guy paying for your college, is he named Uncle Arty?" Todd's face immediately shot up and he stared in my eyes. His mouth dropped. "So it is. Who is he?" Todd shook his head in refusal to say.

Whittaker groaned at his pointless refusal and reached for his neck again, "NO! He's Arthur Downey. He helps out the boy's home with donations and stuff. He likes to be anonymous. If you say I told you who he is, I'll deny it. Don't go messing with him. You'll regret it."

We left Todd cowering in the alcove and headed back to the dorms. On the sidewalk outside the Humanities building I grabbed Whittaker's arm, "Dude, where did you learn the Jedi grip of death?"

"Hah," Whittaker snorted, "One of the things my mom did to keep me out of her hair was enroll me in a Tai Kwon Do class every day after school. I had a really cool instructor who took a liking to me and he taught me all kinds of awesome stuff he probably shouldn't have. He was a special forces vet."

"Damn, Todd like had a meltdown and totally spilled his guts when you put that grip on him. Thanks."

"No prob, dude. Whatever it takes to find our friend."

When we got to the dorms, I told Whittaker that I was heading to my dorm room. "I need some time to think, I'd like to be alone for a bit."

"Sure, I understand," Whittaker said. "Call me if you need me. I need to crash for a bit anyway. I'm exhausted from not getting any sleep last night." I smiled and went into my room and fell on my bed. All of this new information just swirled around in my brain but I couldn't make any sense of it. Before long, I fell asleep and my dreams were of wild apes chasing me through a park. I was naked and screaming for help but no one paid any attention to me. I was sweating and thrashing in my bed.

I woke up just as a large gorilla wrapped his hand around my neck and started to squeeze it. "AHH!" I cried out and sat up. I was panting and sweating and my heart was racing ferociously. When I got control of myself, I grabbed my phone and saw I had a bunch of messages from Whittaker. Before I could look at any of them, there was another fist pounding on the door. That must have been what woke me in the first place. I pocketed my phone and went to the door. I expected it to be the parole officer again. But when I opened the door, I was surprised to find a guy in a brown overcoat and an angry expression on his dark scowling face.

"Where's Steve?" he gruffly demanded.

"He's not here."

"I fucking know that. Where is he?" he snarled.

"Who are you?" I asked rubbing my eyes.

"None of your fucking business who I am. Steve has something of mine and I want it back. Where is he?"

"I don't know. What does he have of yours?" I asked, thinking I already knew.

"None of your fucking business."

"Well he's gone. He moved out." I opened the door wide and pulled a couple drawers open. He took everything with him and he didn't tell me where he was going. I'm trying to find him too."

The man studied me for a minute and then growled, "If you find him, text me. It's important."

"Sure." I took the paper from him and stuffed it in my pocket. He glared at me one last time and turned on his heels and walked off. I waited for him to disappear down the stairs and immediately headed over to Whittaker's room.

Jensen answered the door and I asked if Whittaker was there.

"No. He went over to talk to Calvin about Steve and the files on that thumb drive," Jensen ex- plained. "What did you find out from that Todd guy? Whittaker was too tired to tell me about it."

"It's too much to tell right now. Plus there's someone else looking for him. Come with me if you're interested, I'll fill you in on the way. I'm heading over to Calvin's."

"Well, umm, yeah, okay, I guess I can. Let me get a jacket."

"You don't have to come if you don't want," I said. I could tell from his reaction that he was just being polite about going with.

"I am kind of studying for a big test. So what's up with Steve?" he asked.

"He's ..." I caught myself. If Jensen wasn't going to help find him, then I didn't see a need to waste time explaining it all. "He's got others looking for him. See ya. Good luck on the test."

"Oh. Who?" I didn't answer, I just headed out the door and down the stairs. I ran all the way to Calvin's.

I pounded three times on the door before Calvin jerked the door open, scowling. "What the f..." He stopped mid-sentence and making eye contact said "Oh, it's you. You must be psychic or something. Whittaker was just about to text you again. I cracked it."

"The code?" I asked excited.

"No, a fucking coconut. Of course the code. But ..."

"But what?"

"But, you're not gonna like what I found. Come in." Calvin turned and walked off down the hall toward his computer room. He was wearing a pair of green socks and yellow silk boxers and nothing else.

"King, he's here. No need to text," Calvin said. It took me a minute before I realized he was call- ing Whittaker King. I guessed Whittaker had decided to start calling himself King Dong.

Whittaker put his cell down and twirled in the office chair to face me. He was stark naked and his long, dangling dick was a little shiny. Apparently, they'd already celebrated the cracking of the code before my arrival. Whittaker looked at me and grimaced. "Dude, you need to sit down."

I was getting nervous now. I sat down and asked, "What? What did you find?"

Calvin maneuvered the mouse and pulled up some files. "Your roomie is one sick bastard, it turns out. He's into child porn." I stared blankly at Calvin as he continued. "You're better off without him and if you do find him, you need to turn him over to the cops."

"No," I responded. "That can't be. You must be wrong. Steve would never."

"I'm telling you, he's taking nasty pics of little boys and peddling them all over the world. There's freaking big dollars involved too. The poor college student thing is one helluva cover. I'm guess- ing he's hiding from someone, so that's why he didn't want the Facebook page. Maybe he's hid- ing from the law."

"Look, there's no way he would do that. You're wrong."

"I get it. You slept with the creep so you don't want to believe he could be like that. But no wor- ries, King and I will let you hang with us and sex it up as a threesome. It'll rock, and you'll forget all about that perverted asshole. We'll let him join us, right King?"

"Jesus, Calvin," Whittaker said crossly, "Show a little sensitivity and shut the fuck up about that." Then turning to me, Whittaker said, "I'm sad about it too, but Calvin's right. That's what's on the drive. Check it out." Turning then to Calvin, Whittaker said, "Show him."

Calvin pointed to the screen. "Prepare to wanna puke." I read the screen and the letter was writ- ten in very bad English, placing an order for two hundred copies of sexy American boy videos. They were to be shipped to Bangkok. The next order was for three hundred copies going to Vietnam. There were dozens and dozens of orders and they were truly going all over the world. I sunk back in my chair and felt the uncomfortable churning in my stomach. "Brace yourself," Calvin said and clicked the mouse. He began scrolling through images of young naked boys engaging in various sexual acts in what appeared to be a motel room and some sort of basement sex chamber.

"Stop!" I cried out. "Turn it off!" I wanted to throw up, but couldn't.

"Sorry, Shane," Whittaker said, placing a hand on my slumped shoulder.

"No," I whispered. "No way. I don't believe it. Just because Steve had this disk, it doesn't mean he knows what's on it. Maybe he was holding it for someone. How would Steve have all those international contacts? It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Good point, I guess," Whittaker agreed.

"And why would he leave it behind if he was the one doing this?" I asked. "Listen, I was just coming over to tell you that this creepy guy came to the dorm room wanting Steve and saying he had something that belonged to him and he wanted it back. I bet he's behind this."

"Serious? Damn, this is getting crazy," Whittaker agreed. "Maybe he didn't know what was on it. Still, you said he was acting suspicious and he was hiding it, so he must have known there was something bad on it. He's probably not the ring leader, but he must be involved somehow. Think about it, why else would he have a parole officer looking for him just because he had a Face- book page?"

"Hah! I fucking told you," Calvin said. "He's hiding from the law. Your Facebook page must have tipped them off. He's a fucking kiddie porn pedo and we have to turn in these files as evidence."

"Hold on. We can't just go jumping to conclusions. He's innocent until proven guilty," I insisted. "We need to find him and I need to hear his side of all this."

Calvin rolled his eyes and shook his head. He got down right in my face and said, "Listen Shane. I know you don't want to believe your BF, who you let fuck your virgin ass, was a pedo, but the evidence is clear. Face it and get over him. The sooner the better. He had a fucked up childhood and he's probably damaged from it, but that's no excuse for this sick shit. The sooner we notify the cops and they catch him, the sooner it all gets better."

I let it sink in. "I don't know what he's on parole for. The officer wouldn't say. We can't just as- sume. Maybe it was hacking like Todd said."

"Shane," Whittaker said gently, "Calvin's right. We have to face the evidence here."

"I agree it looks bad, but before we notify the cops, please let me talk to Todd again tomorrow and try to find out what else he knows about where Steve is and what's going on with this other guy. I just think he knows more than he told us even with your death grip on him."

"DUDE!" Calvin stormed. I flinched.

Whittaker stood up and pulled Calvin into him. He leaned down and spoke softly in his ear. Still, I could hear, "Calvin, chill out. This is a lot of shit he just got dumped on him. Cut him a little slack, okay. We can wait one day." Calvin shrugged and walked out. Whittaker pulled me up and embraced me.

"Thanks," I said.

"I'm sorry, Shane. I really am. I'll be there for you again tomorrow when you confront Todd."

"Thanks, Whittaker. You're a good friend." I turned and walked down the hall, slumped, broken.

"You want me to get dressed and walk you back to the dorms?" Whittaker asked. "I'll stay with you if you need me to."

"Would you? I'd like that. I'm worried about that creepy guy coming back. He was scary."

He nodded and disappeared into Calvin's bedroom. He emerged shortly afterwards fully dressed. As we headed back across campus, Whittaker got a text from Jensen. Jensen said that some private investigator wanted to talk to Whittaker. I wondered if it was actually the parole officer again.

I trudged up the steps and down the hall to my dorm. I put the key into the lock and opened the door and gasped. The room was trashed. My closets and drawers were emptied and everything had been thrown into a heap on the floor. The beds were torn apart and the mattresses to both beds were also strewn on the floor. I waded in and Whittaker followed me. "What the hell's hap- pened here?" I cried out. I was stunned at the mess.

"I'm guessing someone's been looking for that thumb drive," Whittaker answered. "Do you think so?" I asked.

"What else?"

"Yeah. What else. This really is getting crazier by the minute. How did they get in?" I wondered out loud.

Whittaker helped me clean up and put everything back in place. Both my computer and the computer I'd given Steve were gone. "That asshole stole my computers." I dropped onto the chair and kicked the other one over with my foot in frustration and anger.

"Sorry, dude," Whittaker consoled. "Maybe it is time to involve the cops, you think?"

"Not yet. Not yet."

##

I'm sure some of you thought I had abandoned this story because it has been so long since a chapter has been posted. Let me assure you, I have not and will not do so. I will see it through to the end. I cannot promise how quickly more chapters will roll out because of the events in my personal life that have limited my writing time, however. I appreciate your patience and hope it does not diminish the enjoyment of the story for you. Comments are always welcome.

Sincerely, Hans h.schreiber@hushmail.com

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