Millstone & Roche, Chapter Seven
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All Rights Reserved © 2020, Rick Haydn Horst Formerly known as Rick Heathen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Thank you for delving into this work; I hope you enjoy it.
Hanging the Chimney Hook: a Millstone & Roche Investigation, By Rick Haydn Horst
Chapter Seven
The elevator doors opened into the changing area of the locker room.
Albert had a hard time tearing his eyes away from my dick. "As a club, many of the guys go by a nickname, and I'm thinking you should go by Horse."
"Wow! You mean someone hasn't already snagged that overly used cliché?"
"It's only a cliché if the guy hasn't the credentials to back it up," he said, "and you have enough horse meat to reconsider ever visiting China."
"China?"
"I hear they eat a lot of horse meat there."
I just laughed and shook my head. "Listen, I don't mind the inevitable horse references, but I'd rather no one call me Horse; Millstone will do fine." The new name I acquired had begun growing on me, so having another one on top of it sounded like a bad idea. "So, what's your nickname?"
Just then, we heard a deep gruff voice, "Hey, Trouble!"
A remarkably fit, tan-skinned man strode into the locker room carrying a shower bag. He looked a bit over 50 years old with thick, dark, shoulder-length hair and a beard. He wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and one green armband.
"Who's your friends?"
"Fellas, this is Zeus," said Albert. "He's the head of a law firm here in Franklin. Zeus, this is Millstone, my first cousin once removed, and his partner Max. They're Franklin's new private dicks."
I shook his hand. "Nice nickname."
"Oh no, that's my real name," he said. "So, you're a couple of private dicks." He looked downward. "and what fine dicks you have too. Yes, indeed. Good to meet you. You two should watch out for Trouble over here; he's nothing but. And speaking of trouble, Trouble, I think you're in some with Henry; he wants to talk to you."
"It's not trouble; I know what he wants, but thanks for letting me know."
Zeus put the bag into his locker. "Well, gentlemen, it's past my bedtime. Have a good night." He left in the elevator.
Once Zeus had gone, Max asked Albert, "Your nickname is Trouble?"
"Yeah, I moved into the Minotaur when I first arrived in Franklin, and I had sex with one of the guys here before I started work at the police department. Come to find out, it was Edgerton. They've called me Trouble ever since."
"And the department was okay with that?" I asked.
"What happens in the club stays in the club," he said. "We're both adults, so we never let it affect our working relationship."
The interior of the building looked like two gigantic warehouses put together in almost an L shape. One side had the biggest gym I had ever seen, a sitting area, and an enormous locker room with 150 half-sized lockers, a changing area, a twenty-man hot tub, a dry sauna of substantial size, and a twenty-man gang shower with five columns and four shower heads on each. The other side of the L had the saltwater pool, which had an arched ceiling with lots of metal bracing. For the tenants, the facility had individual mailboxes, and the laundry room gave us a welcome convenience.
The building had ten living spaces on each of five floors, so that meant a potential minimum of 50 residents and a maximum of 100, but the club had several hundred members. We decided not to disturb the beefy guy getting blown in the shower, but we met five residents working out. Strangely, the facility was largely empty of people.
"Is it usually this quiet at night?" asked Max.
"It's after hours," said Albert, "so regular members have gone, and most tenants go out on Saturday nights."
We rinsed off in the shower before going to the pool, and the look on Max's face told me he felt at home. The place had everything we needed and more. The more being all the eye-candy and the masculine, testosterone-laden atmosphere. It would ensure that I fed Max more than ever, and he knew that. Max began kissing me beneath the spray and fondling my junk, which had thickened and grown a couple of inches, jutting straight out from my body. Albert squatted to give it a good look at eye level.
"My god, cousin, that must weigh five pounds." He stood and asked me, "Why couldn't that come from our side of the family?"
"Given what you and Thomas do for a living," I said, "your side of the family must have gotten the heightened sense of justice."
The last person I expected to see entered the shower. Wade Edgerton, wearing nothing but two green armbands, had a hairless, tight-looking body and a wide uncut cock. He greeted us like we had been friends for years, and he hadn't suspended Albert earlier in the day. I thought his presence would make things incredibly awkward, but it felt like we spoke to his identical twin, who happened to have a drastically different demeanor from his brother's; it was the same man, however. He asked us if we thought about moving in, and when we told him yes, he thought that was great. I could only think to myself, "Who is this guy?"
Wade smiled and laughed as he rinsed off before having a swim. "I can tell you're both a bit confused. Trouble and I are best friends, and we have an unusual arrangement, one that I'm willing to extend to the two of you. The ground floor of this building is our neutral space, our jobs, the problems of the outside world, any conflicts we've had, and any animosity between us doesn't exist here. We're just friends. Wade turned off the shower, grabbed Al's erection, and began jacking him.
Albert pushed down on Wade's shoulder. "And as I said, what happens at the club, stays at the club."
Wade squatted and began sucking Albert's cock, who held his head as he slathered his uncut dong in spit.
"I like it here," Max whispered to me, and I kissed him as he jacked my dong.
"I was hoping you'd come down for a swim tonight," Albert told Wade and gazed over at my fully erected cock as Max jacked me. "Holy shit, Millstone." He smiled at me as Wade blew him.
Max wouldn't miss a chance for me to feed him dessert. He brought his mouth to my cock that hovered well above my navel as I watched Albert get blown by his boss. We both came in less than three minutes.
Wade stood and said, "Delicious as always."
"Thanks," said Albert, "I needed that. I know you don't like to cum before you swim. Just come by later, and I'll take care of you."
Wade's fat cock was stiff as a poker, but unlike mine, his angled straight down. He gave us the typical swimmers joke that it was his rudder to help him swim on course. Mine remained standing for a few minutes after having cum, and as everyone does, they both marveled at it. Wade commented that I must have a strong and tight suspensory ligament. I had always carried my erections up my torso behind my shirts in the past. Having kept the weight off the ligament must have prevented it from stretching over the years.
"I didn't expect to see you here, Millstone," Wade said.
"It's just a family get-together," I said.
Wade looked me up and down for a moment, then turned to Max, "I have a policy about keeping business off the first floor. Would you mind if I spoke to Millstone upstairs alone? I promise to keep my hands to myself."
"It's alright with me if he's willing," said Max.
Of course, I was willing. That's one thing Max accepted. People like Edgerton, the Sawyer brothers, and I never go off duty, not really.
The detective and I stood in the elevator on the way to his quarters on the fourth floor, and I said to him, "Thank you for asking Max; I appreciate it."
"No problem. You are one hell of a lucky man. I could tell by Max's clothing that he's well built, but I had no idea that he would look like that. Can he take that thing of yours?" His eyes gestured to my slowly softening appendage."
I nodded. "Yep, all the way."
"Jesus... So, have I shocked you by sucking-off Trouble?"
"Nothing in Franklin shocks me anymore." The doors to the elevator opened, and I followed him to the first apartment on the left. "I turned off my ability for shock the first day here. What's this about?"
He unlocked his door, and we entered his place. It looked like Albert's, except that his sitting furniture consisted of two identical overstuffed sofas facing one another with a coffee table between them, and he hadn't had a wine cellar.
"You're welcome to get comfortable," he said, "but this won't take long." I decided not to sit, and we stood a few feet apart. Neither one of us seemed the least bit uncomfortable, and when he began, he sounded more like his work-self. "You and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, which is a shame because those first impressions can be difficult to overcome. I didn't know you, and I've never liked anyone questioning my judgment, least of all a stranger. I think we both know that the majority of what appear to be suicides are just that, and it's easy to let that statistical bias get in the way. Long story short, you were right; Tommy Two-Weeks's case has unanswered questions.
"I want no friction between us. Franklin isn't New York, it's not Jersey, and it's not Los Angeles. We do things differently here; all our communities stick together, and when something happens to one of us, it affects us all. Your predecessor, Mr. Nevil, was a sympathetic outsider, but, as a part of this community, you have an investment that he lacked. I would like to know that I can call on you on occasion because you can call on me."
I asked, "So...how was Thomas Sawyer when you spoke with him?"
His brows drew together, and he made a sharp point at me, saying, "That's really annoying...and precisely why I would call on you. He's fine."
"What did he tell you?"
"Enough. Thomas and I have some history, but don't think his high opinion of you automatically puts you in my good books; only people who earn it go there. However, if Thomas says I should give you the opportunity, I'm willing to extend an olive branch and give you the chance. I've never known anyone to impress Thomas Sawyer professionally, not even his own brother, whom he loves dearly. He thinks you're worth it, so don't let him down."
"I'm okay with you, detective," I told him. "If you need me, you can contact me any time. And you'll know where I live once Max and I get settled here. You didn't want to put Al on suspension, did you?"
"Technically, I didn't do it, and Hell no. He's one of our best officers; just don't tell him I said that. He got himself into trouble, and I admit, I was pissed, but not for the reason he thinks. I trust him, but once the higher-ups knew about his on-duty conduct, they expected me to write him up, and he put me in the position of having to do it. They put him on suspension. He had himself this close to being offered the exam to make detective, but now they'll pass him over, and that pisses me off more than anything. He should have come to me and made his case. I'm not unreasonable."
"Am I no longer off this case, even though I wasn't really on it, and I'm not an actual policeman?"
"That was before I spoke with Thomas. I would appreciate it if you would assist and consult when asked, on a trial basis, of course, and I wouldn't expect any pro bono work from you. For now, whatever you find out, just let us know."
We returned to the ground floor to find Max and Albert talking at the pool edge with their legs in the water. When I came up behind Max, I tipped his head back, kissed him tenderly, and then pushed him into the pool. As we splashed about and talked, Wade swam back-and-forth in the lane at the far end, and every so many laps, he took a rest. As we left, he said goodbye to us and dove back in to continue his swim. He had an impressive amount of endurance.
After rinsing the salt water from our skin, we returned to Albert's living quarters and found a few papers pinned to the door. They were the membership and lease application papers that Albert had asked for.
"You intended for us to move in here all along," I said.
"I haven't set you up, I promise, but I hoped you would want to. Thomas lives in Dallas, and I miss having family close by."
Even though we were both naked, and I knew I wasn't his real cousin, I gave Albert a hug anyway. I hadn't given him one of those pat-on-the-back hugs, or with an arm between us out of fear of having intimate contact with someone of the same sex, I gave him a real hug, the kind of hug I knew he needed. It was then that I decided to consider it true, to take onto myself that familial obligation with a deep level of love and concern that one has for a close family member. I already felt that he had that for me.
If I had gone to Franklin alone and with some other name, I would have had an entirely different experience, perhaps one that I couldn't tolerate. I couldn't exactly call my previous life great...but this... I owed Thomas Sawyer a debt that I would gladly have carried if he wouldn't have wiped it clean, but that's what family does.
We filled out the paperwork at Albert's dining table before we left. He said he would make sure that Henry received them.
I knew that Monday would keep us busy with business matters, so, on Sunday, apart from having a couple of meals out that day, we mostly stayed home and had an enormous amount of sex. I don't remember a time that day where we weren't touching somehow, except in the shower. We laid in bed together, and we sat on the couch in one another's arms. We held hands in the car and had our legs intertwined beneath the table at the restaurants. As the day progressed, I realized that I had needed that element of intimacy in my life all along, and I could not get enough of Max or his presence in my life.
Between our sessions, we discussed what we should name our business since we couldn't take care of the legal work the next day without giving it a name. I would normally have called it my last name with "investigations" tacked onto the end, but as Max and I would have a partnership, I wanted to include him. Naturally, as Max stays perpetually horny (one of the many attributes that I love about him), he wanted to call it something more fun, provocative, and memorable. He gave me the silly-sounding Horse & Bear Private Investigations as an example, and his reasoning was simple; we lived in Franklin. He had a point there, but I wanted people to take us seriously. So, since Max couldn't think of anything better, I insisted that we call it the classier sounding Millstone & Roche Investigations, LLC. However, after blowing my fourth load of the day inside Max's ass, I made a deal with him. Since I picked the name, and he had the artistic flair between the two of us, he could invent the logo--subject to my approval, to which he agreed. Little did I know, he already had something in mind. Once we settled that, I worked on filling him with that fifth load that he asked for.
Monday turned into one long slog, spent on paperwork, errands, money matters, purchasing supplies, and hunting for a business location. We would have to give a special thanks to Winter for the use of the roadster; it was a time saver.
At noon, since we live in such a modern, computerized world, Henry confirmed my expectations of our having passed the background checks. So, we leased space 56 across from Albert, and we could consider ourselves residents of the Minotaur. This added even more errands to our day. Albert had such enthusiasm for our move, he volunteered to help us and borrowed a small van to make it happen. Fortunately, we hadn't acquired many possessions. The largest was the king-sized bed. It only took 90 minutes to move us, but it required all three of us to wrestle the bed out of the bedroom and haul it up the staircase to our new abode on the fifth floor. Once we completed everything by 8:00 that evening, we showered downstairs and collapsed into each other's arms on a half-made bed.
The next morning, I awakened at 5:15. Max lay on his back, something that I discovered he tended to do during the night. I thought I would start a tradition, so I got under the covers and licked at him for fifteen minutes until the alarm sounded. When it did, I took him into my mouth and began to blow him. Neither one of us cared that the alarm continued beeping; I was busy with something far more important. As I sucked and slurped, his hand went to my head beneath the covers, and he pulled my mouth from him.
I emerged from the covers and turned off the alarm. "Is something wrong?"
He kissed me. "I would rather cum in the shower after we work out in the mornings."
"Ooh, my first public blow job. Alright, I'm up for that, Honey Bear; if that's what you prefer."
After we arose from bed, I stood at the sink while Max sat to use the toilet located on the other side of a knee wall. I looked over at him and smiled.
"Is the romance now officially gone from our relationship?" he asked.
I said to him, "You will always be the sexiest fucker to ever grace porcelain on either side of the Mississippi."
He laughed. "I see. So, we never had romance in the first place. Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm not so sure about that, but if we haven't, I think we have something better."
"And that is..."
"Well, let me ask you a question," I said. "Do you like what we have?"
"I love it, even with me on a toilet less than a yard from you."
"I feel the same. I think you and I have our own brand of romance. Something with more of the things that we deem important, more passion, more openness, more honesty, and less of all the things that wouldn't matter to you and me. I think romance is what you make of it. We don't have to live a stereotype or anything. If I brought you chocolates, you wouldn't eat them, and you're not someone who wants flowers. You'd be happier with the weightlifting gloves I found for us yesterday."
"True, and I'll use the hell out of those gloves. Will we have more intimate dinners?"
"If you want that, you and I could have a lot of those. We just need to find restaurants that do that sort of thing, or we could try having something here for a change now that we have a dining table."
"I thought our morning meals together at the bar in the kitchen were intimate and kind of romantic."
"See? You and I have our own brand of romance."
Max then flushed the toilet with perfect comical timing.
The gym had quite a few guys there, including Albert and Wade, but with a gym that large, it hadn't seemed too crowded. We began our new daily regimen of a rigorous workout, and I looked forward to blowing my Golden Bear in the shower.
I had no idea what a sexually liberated free-for-all living there would be, but not everyone wore green armbands. Like ourselves, we saw committed couples there too. There were men coming and going, as well as cumming and going, the whole time we showered. We exercised wearing clothing, but in the shower, my cock got too much attention, and many of the guys greeted us, asking us our names. They asked me how big I was and other usual questions of curiosity. I knew when we moved in, I would have to endure that until I became old hat. Some of the men acted more reserved and took my size as no big deal; I appreciated those fellas. We saw a relatively even mixture of men from various ethnicities and seeing everyone together like that was a beautiful thing.
Once we finished our actual shower, I started kissing Max with his back to the spray, and I jacked on his cock, which had already become erect. With my dick only partially erect, I couldn't squat too far; otherwise, it would lie on the floor. I sucked Max into my mouth, and I enjoyed knowing that only I had the privilege of blowing my beautiful Golden Bear. He held my head as I caressed him with my lips and gave him the most pleasure I could. He hadn't lasted long; I think he really enjoyed getting blown by me in public. When he came, I took it into my mouth and held it there. I stood, we kissed, and I shared it with him. He loved every moment of it, and I was entirely erect by then.
Max turned me to the side to give our audience the best angle and sucked me. Every man in that shower watched us, and some guys entered the shower just to see a Golden Bear throat his Stallion's cock. He held my dong at the base and shoved its length down his gullet repeatedly. He knew he had gotten me so hot that I could cum too quickly, so he pulled my nuts to make it last a bit longer. He throated me to the base a few times, even though he found it uncomfortable, just to play-up to the audience. I watched their eyes as they watched us, and I found myself enjoying it in a way that I wouldn't have before. And like when I knew that Taylor the tailor watched us, the sensation radiated from deep inside me, and I felt as though Max tried to pull me through my own cock. Once again, I had become the rigid pipe, the conduit, readying to pour myself into my beautiful Golden Bear, feeding him the only thing he had ever really asked of me. Giving in to the pleasure, my pelvis out, my head back, and my arms hanging limp behind me, the instant Max let go of my nuts, I shot my load into his mouth until my nuts began aching, and then I shot some more. My consciousness winked out for a moment as though Max was draining the life from my body in a pleasure so intense that my brain struggled to stay conscious. I started to collapse to the floor, but two of the men there caught me, and when I regained my footing, Max held onto me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded.
No one spoke a single word, their eyes glued to us as Max led me from the shower, and we passed Albert and Edgerton on the way. I nodded to them both, their faces like the others, the epitome of awe.
Max sat me onto a bench and got a towel, so I could dry off. With his towel bunched in his hands, he squatted at my feet. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I nodded. "I feel great, but I'm really hungry though." I stood and began drying off. I turned around and behind us I saw many of the guys from the shower watching us."
I asked them, "Haven't all of you jobs to get to?"
When they began to disperse, Albert came forward.
I smiled. "Hey cousin, we're about to go up and have breakfast. Would you like to join us?"
"I know that neither one of you could see yourselves back there, so I'm just going to say it. That was the most astonishing thing that any of us have ever had the pleasure to witness. Those guys are going to jack-off to memories of that for some time to come, and probably, so will I. I hope that's not creepy."
Max asked him, "Don't you think that's a little over the top, Al?"
"Not at all. And not only that but once the word gets out, you might be surprised at how something as unrelated as this will boost your business."
My brows drew together. "What? Why?"
"Because this is Franklin.
"You said what happens in the club stays in the club," said Max.
"Yeah, but some things are just too compelling, and trust me, that display will be on the list. I will have to take a raincheck on breakfast this morning, but I definitely want to do that with you guys soon."
As we ate our eggs and oatmeal, I contacted Winter about exploring the mansion. We made plans to meet Grey at the front door at 9:30 that morning.
Grey stood on the pea gravel out front of the home looking dapper, wearing a slim-fit, cream linen suit. He swung the oversized keys, attached to a brass loop the size of his hand, around his pointer finger.
After our initial greetings, I said, "Nice suit."
"Thanks," he said as he unlocked the door, "The temperature will climb quite high today, and already it's muggy; I try to dress for the weather."
The door opened to the great hall, which had twenty-foot ceilings and led to several rooms on the ground floor. All the solid surfaces caused our steps and voices to echo with no rugs, carpeting, or soft furniture to absorb the sound. We saw many tables of various sizes and shapes in the rooms on the ground floor, including an enormous dining table and all its chairs, but little else. They had covered portions of the plaster walls in what looked like three-dimensional images in a gothic motif.
"As you can see," said Grey, "they've given it a meticulous restoration. Sadly, since the move required the dismantlement of the house, we could save none of the original trompe-l'œil, but we had the remaining bits photographed, and because this is Franklin, we hired many of our artists to painstakingly recreate them upon the plaster."
"Tromp what?" asked Max,
"Trompe-l'œil is French," he said. "It means to deceive the eye, and the house contains a lot of it. The artists completed the paintwork in the great hall and a few of the other rooms on this floor, but they will continue to work elsewhere in the house for years to come."
"Will the city leave it sparse like this?" I asked.
"Oddly enough, the Thornbriers left the estate's furnishings, and we managed to save a lot of it, including what you see here. As time goes on, the salvageable pieces will return to their original locations. We have a contract with a number of experts to restore them, but that takes time."
Max asked, "Why would they leave all that?"
I took him by the hand. "The longer you stick with me, you'll discover that people do weird shit that makes no sense."
"I worked the emergency room for a while," he said. "Trust me, I know that people do shit that makes no sense, but this is just a waste."
"We asked the same question," said Grey, "and from what we know, buying and moving the estate from France was Lady Thornbrier's idea. So, not long after her death, her husband went a little crazy and made everyone leave the estate. Apparently, they took nothing with them because we found personal things like boxes of letters and the remnants of what would have been expensive furs and clothes in the wardrobes and everything. Afterward, Leopold had the place sealed up completely, and they never returned."
"Fascinating," said Max. "I see why Winter wanted to save this place so badly."
"From what Winter told us," I said, "a chimney hook is an actual object, but what is it, and where will it be hung?"
He led us into a living room where there stood a fireplace as tall as me.
"A chimney hook sounds unusual to us," he said, "but it's an ordinary object. Years ago, people cooked in their fireplaces. In France, the builders of a house would install a chimney hook last at a gathering called `Hanging the Chimney Hook,' attended by the builders and friends of the owner. They hang it inside the chimney and then prepare food from it for the guests, like a stew cooked in a big pot hanging over the fire. And while we have a genuine chimney hook for our ceremony, none of the fireplaces will ever have an actual fire in them, so we use it symbolically, and Auntie Winter has had the housewarming catered.
"All the Mansions on Blueberry Lane are, essentially, a special kind of museum owned by the City of Franklin, and venues that someone can rent for evening events like wedding receptions and the like. We're expecting the Goth community to rent this one a lot, and Auntie Winter says they've already started booking it. The first group will have a party here called `Eyes Wide Goth.' We've no need to guess what that will be."
Max said, "This place looks like one of those old castles that would have secret passages."
I laughed. "Yeah, right."
"It has one," said Grey, "that's where they found the skeleton."
With mouths agape, Max and I stared at Grey, not knowing whether to believe him.
I asked, "Are you serious?"
"Yes, I am. In the process of dismantling the structure, the engineers and crew discovered the secret passage, and inside it lay the skeleton of a man whom they now believed was named Marcus. Auntie Winter and I got to see it in situ. It was gruesome."
"How old was it?" asked Max.
"We heard that the investigators found a few coins in his pockets, the latest of which were the Indian Head one-cent coins from 1898."
"Where is this passage?" I asked.
"One end is here." He left the room for the staircase. Its skirt, where many people might keep storage or shelving under their stairs, had wood panels with intricate molding.
"The builders re-created the mechanism that opens the panel," he said.
He pushed down on a section of molding, and a door opened, hidden by the molding itself. The interior was mostly stone, and when we followed it, it led to a narrow stone staircase inside the walls, and we climbed it. Once we reached a landing, a similar door exited next to the fireplace of a large bedroom on the second story. It contained a four-poster bed with canopy, adapted to a queen-size mattress set.
"We saw the skeleton lying here on its side, partially on the landing and partially on the staircase. We saw that the crook of a fireplace poker had gotten stuck in its skull. It's believed his death had a connection to the death of Lady Thornbrier since this was their bedroom where she died."
Max asked, "Do they think that Leopold killed the man in the passage in his attempt to flee after the murder of his wife?"
"He couldn't have killed him here," I said. "The passage is too short and tight to swing the poker."
Grey smiled. "Evidence from many letters left in the house suggests that unknown to his wife, Leopold had a long-standing affair with a man known only as Marcus, who eventually posed as his personal valet. Investigators have suggested that she found them together here, an altercation occurred, Lady Thornbrier killed the lover with the fireplace poker, Leopold killed his wife, and then dragged his lover's body into the passage."
"I admit," said Max, "all that might make a man go a little insane."
I found the idea a little unbelievable. "How stout was this woman?"
"From the portraits left in the home, she was quite stout."
Once we familiarized ourselves with the other floors, we made our way back to the ground floor. Not including the servant's rooms in the attic, the house had fourteen guest rooms on two floors, and each upper floor had a bathroom. We simply had too much house to monitor. I wanted to request that Winter keep the gathering confined to the ground floor and drape a rope across the bottom of the staircase to prevent people from exploring, but that was impossible. The ground floor had no bathrooms. The only solution I could think of that would alleviate the problem was to follow James Malor around like a store detective would a potential thief. And I supposed, if no other option had presented itself until then, I would do just that.
Please send questions, comments, or complaints to Rick.Heathen@gmail.com. I would enjoy reading what you have to say.