Walk On The Street

by Tyrone Slothrop

  

Chapter 1: Internal Affairs

"So you seem to be clear on this one Musgrove. What are you gonna do now? Take some time, hit the beach? Go to Disneyworld? I hear gay days are coming up." Roberts made his usual attempt at humor and was as funny as always, which is to say, not at all.

Gerry knew he was finished as a cop. Once you did anything for Internal Affairs you either went upstairs with a promotion or your life was hell. He was very certain he was not going upstairs.

"You always know when those events are Roberts, you must be on the friggin mailing list. How much do you have to pay for a good number? Those guys are much more practiced than your wife but they have their standards." Gerry said.

He got up to leave, remembering to grab his purse. Roberts grabbed the sleeve of his dress.

Gerry looked at him coldly. "Either back it up or lose it asshole. Now, before I put you on the critical list in self defense, right on camera. " Gerry's head motioned to the video camera mounted in the ceiling corner.

Roberts backed off, his mouth shut but his eyes shouting volumes. Gerry left, his heels clicking on the industrial strength composite flooring.

 

Chapter 2: Storybook Childhood

Gerry always assumed his Dad was named John. With Mom engaging in her part time work after her shift at the Greek restaurant in midtown, it was a valid assumption. She was as selective as she could be, keeping her independent business off the street, away from the eyes and fingers of the pimps. She was careful to keep the volume of trade low enough to avoid too much visibility, settling for a few regulars.

He remembered growing up in a small house in suburban Nassau County, just he and Mom. She had a job as a cook and worked odd shifts, women cooks usually getting the worst hours by the tradition of unsympathetic bosses in the restaurant business.

Gerry never knew when Mom slept, since she was always awake during his daylight hours. He knew the neighborhood women shunned her, and had been taunted by the other kids as 'the whore's kid'.

Gerry grew a thick skin and learned to inflict pain when he had to, when it became inevitable that he could not avoid some jerk. He was a little bigger than average and was respected as 'that tough city kid'.

When he was thirteen, something happened to their financial situation. Gerry did not realize that his Mom depended on a monthly check to cover the house payment from somebody. For reasons Mom would not reveal, they had to abandon their home and move back to 'my old stomping grounds' as she put it.

SoHo was a shock to Gerry's system. It was one thing to be the tough city kid out on Long Island, but he was back on the bottom of the food chain in Manhattan. Mom sublet a studio from Joey and Sasha, who owned a brownstone. Gerry knew Mom and those two went way back, to Mom's days in the city, before Gerry was born.

So Gerry toughed up on the streets and then found he was still no match for Sister Mary Catherine. Mike Tyson was also no match for Sister Mary Catherine, if he bit her ear, she would bite his face clean off. Somehow, Mom was able to afford to keep him in the parochial school system. Gerry knew it was better than the public schools but there were days when he wished Mom wouldn't work so hard for it. Especially when he was massaging his sore knuckles from the steel ruler.

So Gerry met all the street people, the artists and lost kids, the hookers of all kinds, straight, gay, trans, the grifters and scam artists, the junkies and pimps along with the priest, rabbi and reverend, the cops and shopkeepers, the restaurant owners and social workers. He fond after a while you got an invisible pass where nobody bothered you because you were one of the neighborhood kids. It was an unwritten New York City tradition going back hundreds of years, fragile, broken at times but still strong in many areas. All groups need rules to operate, otherwise just walking down the street is too much work. Sergeant Mike from the precinct house looked in on Gerry whenever he drove down the street and spotted the boy. Gerry knew Sergeant Mike and Mom went way back and he was one of the reasons the local pimps like Parnello and Big Daddy left her alone.

When Mom was working her part time job, he stayed with Joey and Sasha. They were an education in themselves.

 

Chapter 3: Families Are Families

Mom's relationship to the two gay men was unclear and Gerry viewed it as her business. Joey was tall, thin old and with a sad look and Sasha was plump, fluttery and manic.

Joey had been an artist and decided owning art galleries was a better deal. Sasha tried to pass himself off as a Hungarian heir or heiress to royalty, depending on how he was dressed, but Joey explained that Sasha was a Jewish American Princess from Valley Stream and an heiress to a dry cleaning chain. Sasha pouted for at least two minutes at that. The two had been together for twenty years at least.

Being in charge of Carolyn's (Mom's) son brought out the parental instincts in both of them. They listened to Gerry's issues and insecurities, his wins and losses with care and just enough attentiveness.

Joey taught Gerry about money, something he swore the school system totally ignored, which cost him untold millions when he was young.

Sasha made sure he was presentable and attempted to give him friendly advice on catching girls. For some reason, Sasha was well versed in this lore.

Sergeant Mike stopped over at either the studio apartment or Joey's loft, depending where Gerry was. He listened to Gerry's troubles and triumphs at least once a week. Mom's trade seemed to haunt Mike Kelly deeply whenever Gerry got near it in conversation. Gerry liked and respected Mike so he steered away from the topic.

Gerry's outdoor family was the hookers who kept an eye on him wherever he went. He knew them all, and had intervened a few times when a john got out of hand or he found one of the girls passed out from an overdose. Parnello had tried to pay him for getting rid of an abusive john, but Gerry refused, saying he was a friend of Thelma and she had covered him plenty of times. He gained street cred with that one. Parnello showed him his 9mm and said if he ever needed a brother, give him a call.

 

Chapter 4: Crowd Scene

High School graduation was an event Gerry would never forget. Having your mother arrested during the proceedings tends to be something a young man would tend to think about.

He saw the two plainclothes guys hustle her into an unmarked car while he was walking off the stage. Sasha , like an idiot, had tried to stop them and had been thrown to the ground by one of the cops while the other one flashed a badge at the crowd. Joey picked Sasha up and held him. Gerry had never seen Sasha in a men's suit before and felt honored. He had hoped Sasha would wear one of his less flamboyant black dresses. He did see he was wearing open toed sandals, though, and his hair was far from what you would call butch.

Gerry was pissed about the bust but not exceptionally worried. Mom had been shaken down for money before. Either she handled it or Sergeant Mike got involved. There were rules to this stuff. Doing it at graduation was breaking a rule. He wished Mike Kelly had been there, but knew his wife was very sick.

The Monsignor had rushed up to Gerry and told him he was outraged at the behavior of the police, and he was calling the commissioner about it.

"Carolyn is part of our flock, son, and while we both know she has her faults, she doesn't deserve this." The tall Irish Monsignor held Gerry's hand and forearm in a solid shake. Gerry knew those cops were going to get some serious shit. New York City had its ways and the connection between the church and the cops went way back. He felt a little better.

 

Chapter 5: Revelations By The Book

Joey was the one who had to tell Gerry. Sasha tried to be there but Joey had asked him to calm down and left him on the couch.

"Gerry, she's gone. You mother is dead. So is Michael Kelly. I can't think of any other way to say it."

Gerry looked up and out the skylight of the loft. He saw a pair of seagulls winging in the afternoon light.

After some time, Gerry was ready for the story. His mother had resisted arrest, attempted to stab an officer with a knife and was shot in self defense during a prostitution ring conspiracy arrest. That was the official report. Sergeant Mike Kelly was killed by a drive by shooting at his wife's funeral two hours later.

Gerry was in shock. He knew the cop story was bullshit but the one person he could go to for help with it was also gone.

The Monsignor came and gave his condolences. All the street folks , both Parnello and Big Daddy in a rare appearance together, Joey and Sasha's friends and about eight or nine cops stopped by. The Greek who ran the restaurant was in tears, and his extended family brought mountains of food.

The rabbi, the parish priest and the reverend all came. Sister Mary Catherine showed up and actually hugged Gerry, tears streaming down her face.

Somehow he got through Mom's funeral, with Joey and Sasha acting as bookends to keep him propped up. He demanded that Sasha wear Mom's favorite one of his outfits, the one she liked to borrow for dressy occasions. Joey approved and Sasha got his emotions in check long enough to be dazzling.

Michael Kelly's funeral was grand New York City pageantry. Thirty year veterans get a hell of a turnout, especially when gunned down. The Mayor was there and it seemed everybody who ever wore a cop uniform in the last hundred years was there. All the respectable crooks and politicians were there too, in a separate section. Bagpipes played. Joey, Gerry and Sasha arrived, hoping to pay their respects as part of the crowd when a Police Captain came up and politely asked them to follow him.

Gerry was astounded when they were brought up front to a roped off section.

"I am Billy Boyle, and Mike was my closest friend, my partner. At the request of the Kelly family, Mr. Musgrove. Mike wanted you here." Captain Boyle nodded to the two occupants of the family row and smartly turned and left.

The two occupants were a very old Irishman holding onto a walker and the most beautiful girl Gerry had ever seen. She had reddish highlights in her long brown hair which highlighted her beautiful face. Striking features, not pretty but breathtaking, piercing black eyes and a trim but well muscled body, judging from her arms and hands. Her coffee and cream colored complexion was unique to her , it seemed, or it looked unique on her. Gerry's eyes were fixated.

She turned to him. "Thank you for coming, Gerry, and you must be Joey and Sasha. I am Brigit Kelly, Michael's daughter. This is Uncle Seamus, Michael's uncle. I am going to tell you something you should know before the service starts but I will not explain until we are alone afterwards. You are here because Michael was you father. I am your sister. We will talk later, please. I know it's a lot, but you had to know before they bury him. It was his wish."

Gerry nodded. Even Sasha was speechless. The pipes began to play.

 

Chapter 6: Revenge Over Ice

After the service, Billy Boyle, now in plainclothes, Brigit Kelly, having dropped Uncle Seamus off at his nursing facility are sitting around the table in Joey's loft. Sasha is fussing, serving coffee and some kind of snacks, dressed conservatively for Sasha. Joey is looking worried, but he always looks worried. Gerry is recovering from the multiple shocks of the last few days.

"So, Brigit, you are Mike's daughter from before he got married and your mother was a .." Gerry began, trying to sum up.

"She was a prostitute on Mike's beat, just like your mother was. Mike always watched out for the girls and he had a fondness for some of them." Brigit broke in to help Gerry with the words. She continued. "He married Virginia before he knew I existed. My mom died delivering me and her friends called Mike. He came in and took me home. Ginny adopted me and they raised me. I only found out about you in a letter Mike wrote to me that Billy delivered to me after he died. "

Billy spoke, his voice even with just a touch of brogue. "Gerry, when little Briggie here was seven or so, Ginny and Mike had a hell of a row. Ginny couldn't have kids of her own and Mike was consumed with work and it all just blew up. I was riding in a car with him then. Mike stomped out, got stinking drunk for the first time in years and ended up with your Mom, who thought he walked on water. She coaxed him back to Ginny after two days, but not before you were started.

"Your Mom insisted Mike go back to his family and Mike wanted to do the right thing, but he knew Ginny would break down if she knew about you. She was already sick back then. So he got some cash and set your Mom up out on Long Island, keeping tabs on you as best he could. When Ginny got real bad, he needed the money for treatments the insurance wouldn't cover. I was with him then, the choices were crushing the man. Your Mom told him to forget it and save Ginny. So she came back here and did the best she could for you." Billy looked at Gerry, waiting for a reaction.

"So Mike was my Dad. Well it's better than my assumptions were. It'll be a while for me to think about this." Gerry was outwardly calm. Joey and Sasha knew better, but they kept quiet. Everybody got silent.

"So who killed Mom? And Mike? What do you know?" Gerry asked, staring at Billy Boyle.

"We know who and why. But we need some help to get them.And it will take a while." Brigit said.

"'Revenge is a dish best served cold' Gerry lad. Will you help us?" Billy asked.

 

Chapter 7: Death And Rebirth

Gerry struggled with his hair style. Sasha was driving him harder than the nuns at school ever had, harder than his instructors at the state academy on the obstacle course, harder than his law instructors.

"Sasha, give me a break! I'll get it!" Gerry pleaded.

"Oh all right, sweetie. It's just that it needs to be second nature. You do look lovely, though." Sasha giggled.

Gerry looked at the hair he was combing out from the rollers. He had not had it cut since he had been recruited into this effort and that was twelve months ago. Plus Sasha had fortunately talked him into wearing it a bit longer in high school, so it was just to his shoulders when wet now. Of course, given the style, it floated fully an inch or so higher than that.

"Now you look fabulous, Jessie. I like your new name, it's so androgynous." Sasha said.

Gerry looked himself over. Makeup obvious but very subdued, hair very femme, silk blousy shirt and a knee length skirt, sheer hose and open toe sandals. The perfect metrosexual. He smelled just a little bit like lime and his nails had a faintly coral tint.

"I still think you need a camisole, try it on for me." Sasha said, his finger to his lips in study.

"The one that snaps at the crotch or the one with the slip?" Gerry asked.

 

The plan was simple and partially undefined, more of an idea really.

So far, what they knew had happened was this: One of Carolyn's regulars, a Fred Mergovinian, was going into a new business and wanted Carolyn to help him start it up. He was going to revamp the burgeoning prostitution business for young single women professionals and he had a solid business plan. Gerry's Mom was enthused, seeing it as a way to stop turning tricks and get into management.

The day before Gerry's graduation she was with Mergovianian and just as she was leaving she saw him bundled into a car by two guys she thought were cops. Later, her street contacts let her know he was found dead under the West Side Highway. She called Mike and let him know the story.

Mike, in the middle of arranging his wife's funeral, made a few calls about the arrest. He was gunned down within twenty four hours.

Billy had talked for a while then. "I was one of the people he called. I know who else he called and they were all within the department. They are tied to the ones who ordered his death and your mother's but we have absolutely no proof. The only two witnesses are dead and your mother's death was ruled justifiable self defense. Which means we have someone at a high level in the force behind this. The two detectives who arrested your mother have quietly disappeared, early retirement, and I doubt we will ever see them again.

"Michael was a bit more than a desk sergeant. He was attached to the commissioner's office but only three people knew that and I trust the other two. We want to get these guys but we need to get someone inside, someone who is not connected to any law enforcement agency. The people we are going after have contacts every place we would probably borrow an undercover man from. So here is what we want you to do…"

 

Gerry was to leave for six months, and news would filter back that he had died from suicide. He was prominent given his place at the funeral and would not be unnoticed by the people involved. They would stop worrying about hi if he were dead.

He really was going to the state police academy under another name for a cram course in being a cop. The commissioner would swear him in with sealed records and he would not exist except in the commissioner's files. The city academy was off limits. Too many cross connections.

When he returned, it would be as Jessie, no last name, one of thousands of young men who came to New York City to get a life and escape one. He would rent the studio from Joey and Sasha. He knew the prostitution game at the street level better than most people who were not already part of it, and he was the perfect age to get into the trade. His mission was to get inside the new upscale male prostitute business and get a link to the highest level he could. He would only report to Billy, who would take what he found and find a way to flush out the cops involved.

 

Chapter 8: One of the Girls

Joey and Sasha welcomed Gerry home once he was safe inside the studio. He arrived late at night and Sasha had the mission of making Jessie different enough looking and acting from Gerry so that the neighborhood would not catch on.

One advantage of living in a cross section like Soho, you acquired contacts in a lot of different places. Joey had put out feelers on the new male for hire business as a potential investor and was explaining it to Jessie while Sasha worked him over. Jessie was going to have jet black hair and much finer eyebrows. He was still recovering from all the ways he had lost body hair. The waxing was a killer.

"What's happening out there is a market of very well off young women, lawyers, doctors, stock brokers and bankers who want sex and fantasy, and are willing to pay for it. But it has to be serviced very differently than the traditional 'escort services' have been prepared to do." Joey said.

Sasha was still fussing over Jessie's eyeshadow.

Joey continued. "The hot ticket now is the extreme 'metrosexual' a straight but very fem guy, who is nonthreatening, sexually submissive and can function as a girlfriend, hairdresser, masseuse, and still have a body which gets her going. Gay guys tried it but they were read too easily, and actually they were too good at the fashion stuff. The women really like a straight guy who while he looks fem, is not quite as good as they are. Plus, they really want to avoid AIDS, and we gays have that stigma, safe sex or not. Bi people they tried are usually too sexually aggressive, at least so far.

"For women to hire a whore, they need assurance they will be safe. What guy who has a higher maintenance hairstyle than they do will assault them? It's all in projected image.

"So imagine an estrogen and Viagra cocktail. Soft, and when she puts her hand up your skirt, you can deliver the goods, with her in total control."

Jessie/Gerry asked. "But I've seen the trans guys, I'm nowhere near their ability to pass. Too many muscles, to thick a waist."

"You are missing the point. They want a hot male body, just softened up. It's not a typical crossdresser thing, it's a little different. They want you to be a little clumsy and they sure don't want you looking better than they do. There's some 'taming the wild male' thing going on, a little power and humiliation. The girls got game and they want their toys. They just want some safe toys, but ones that are in working order. Women thrive on contradiction in desires, it's their lifeblood." Joey went on.

"It sure is sweetheart, we all love a little sexual contradiction." Sasha chimed in. Sasha conveniently claimed the prerogatives of either sex whenever it suited him.

"So to get into the trade, I need an introduction." Jessie said.

 

Chapter 9: Brother In Deed

"I do not believe it! Look at you!" Parnello was truly amazed at Gerry's image as Jessie.

Gerry had decided to bring Parnello into the scheme, at least a little way. He knew they were going after Carolyn and Mike's killers and Parnello liked Carolyn and respected Mike, who had viewed Parnello as a stabilizing influence on the street.

"I know a guy who knows a guy, actually a woman who pays a fee for young boys like you. She runs a 'finishing school' down in the financial district. Most of the customers come from there. Let me make a few calls. You be ready, brother. I'll back your play." Parnello extended a hand. Gerry took it.

He left, laughing heartily.

"Can you trust him Jessie?" Joey asked, worried as usual.

"Gerry can trust him. Mike trusted him." Jessie said.

Over the next four weeks Sasha drove Jessie hard. He could walk all day in heels, shop for clothing, accessorize, never forget his purse, do basic hair styling, handle skin care and makeup and became totally comfortable in skirts.

Skirts for men had popped up on the horizon several times over the last twenty years and never really caught on. The trend was back for another go. A number of Japanese cities were taken with the style and they were appearing a bit in Scandinavian countries. Seeing one on the streets of New York, though, turned no heads at all. New Yorkers prided themselves on being able to see anything and remain unfazed.

Jessie had a monthly conference call with Billy Boyle and Brigit, who was an assistant DA. She was attached to this effort as legal counsel. Her boss had no idea what she was doing and had been informed to not ask.

Parnello came back two weeks later.

"You have an interview. If you work out, I get a finders fee. We haggled over you for an hour. Just one thing I can tell you. They'll ask you in every way possible if you'll do guys. If you even give them a hint, you get thrown into the regular street work. They are being real selective for this program. Word of mouth is everything and they want good word out there. "

 

Chapter 10: Working The Silk Trade

Jessie was given a dirty look by the doorman, but Ms Morgenstern had buzzed him up. He checked his appearance in the mirror in the elevator, and freshened his lipstick. They loved that for some reason. His client had asked for the breast option, which was rare, and he hated the prosthesis glue, it made his skin rough when he took them off. She wanted the big size, too so he was decked out with DD boobs nearly falling out of his top. At least his skirt was just above the knee and she didn't want the 'fuckme' pumps.

"Hello, Kitten. My you are a big one. Come on in." Ms. Morgentstern, call her Babs, was tall and thin. She was modestly endowed in the breast area and seemed to struggle with the concept of style. Jessie knew she was a defense lawyer and a very wealthy one.

Jessie entered, smiling and focused on sending the submissive signals he had learned at the 'finishing school'. He wondered what Babs really wanted. One of the ways he entertained himself was determining what the evening would entail. He found that women were much more creative with their whores.

The engagements only ended in actual sex about half the time. There was usually foreplay, and a lot of talking. Sometimes they just wanted to take the lead in a date situation. Jessie had entire responses down for appearing demure and shocked at the hand running up his skirt, unhooking his stockings, and beyond.

One time he was challenged to an arm wrestling contest. He made sure he lost at least half the time, and made her work for it.

He did a lot of shampoo and massage work. One time he was taken shopping. She had him try on clothes and critique hers own selections..

And yes, he had sex. He was very good at it, generating climaxes in a calculated manner, always leaving them wanting more.

Jessie began to understand part of his Mom's life. She viewed it as a skill, bringing pleasure, which is why she was able to stand it, and why she was particular about her clients.

He began to understand his regulars. He had played a lot of roles, from the humbled boyfriend to re-enacting every date in their past. He was big sister, little brother, girlfriend and mysterious man.

Jessie grew to genuinely like some of his clients. They shared their vulnerabilities and secrets, and jut wanted him to listen. Some he steered back to relationships they could repair. One even asked him to be a bridesmaid at a simple civil marriage at city hall. Jessie loved the gown.

Fortunately, New Yorkers could care less how he dressed on the street as long as he didn't block traffic, the only true offense in the city. Guys with fabulous hair and skirts just blended into the flow of life. Nobody gave a damn.

 

Chapter 11: Boring From Within

The woman in the front office of the 'personal services' business was good. She understood what a valuable commodity a performing talent like Jessie was. To do this well, the guy needed smarts, sensitivity and the ability to adapt to people as well as technical sexual skills. Some customers wanted some more traditional bondage and dominance and she kept her boys away from those. She had other assets, more experienced ones who could handle the rougher stuff. Jessie was under orders to walk out if it got to be more than the image of service they were selling. Billie LaCotta, the manager, knew the value of maintaining an air of exclusivity. If word got out that customers could be turned down for misbehavior, it built the image of quality and safety which attracted those new customers who might be hesitant to use the service. She knew an expanding market was more than worth a few refunds chasing a market with lots of competition. If only her partners understood that.

Jessie was now one of four or five stars in the stable of thirty guys. Billie found him a great apartment on the east side and took the rent out of his take. He knew she was making a slice on the deal, but he played along. Billie began asking Jessie to help out the other guys and work on the schedules. After a while, he asked her for some compensation for being Senior Whore as he put it. Billie laughed, but worked something out.

Jessie had been in the life for almost a year now. He felt a bit jaded, but had a regular customer base and was used on some exotic specials for out of town guests. He hated those, they were highly unpredictable.

It ended on one of those.

 

One South American woman had begun to demand some very arcane services regarding excretory functions. He had refused. She upped the offer. Her bodyguard began to intervene and Jessie had defended himself, breaking the guard's arm and jaw. He grabbed his clothes and left an agitated customer screaming in Portuguese down the hotel hallway. He was stopped by hotel security before he could exit the lobby.

 

Chapter 12: A Thread Off The Knot

The police station had a separate lockup for the sexually unconventional, not official, but practical beyond belief. Less lawsuits, less abuse, less temptation to push for sexual favors. Given his skirt and profession, Jessie found himself in with the other male prostitutes. He felt his outfit was pretty conservative in comparison to the other boys.

"Jessie! Still not sucking any?" "It's the "Personal Services" girls, girls!" "We have royalty among us!" "Your first bust, sweetheart?"

The regular boys on the street were a bit jealous of the ones from 'Personal Services', but they really served different customer bases and lived in different worlds. Jessie knew a few of them. Parnello had sent out some legend on Jessie with the other pimps, letting them know he was under Parnello's wing.

Jessie settled in, talking hair and clothes with the guys until he was taken into an interrogation room. The cop sitting in there was bored stiff and scribbling on a form. He pointed to the chair, indicating that Jessie was to sit down. Jessie sat and waited, crossing his legs properly. He wished he was wearing a skirt with a longer hemline, this one showed his butt cheeks if he moved at all.

"I'm Detective Baker. It says here you were turning a trick with some foreign woman's personal assistant and you attacked him. Given he is twice your size and she was carrying a whip, I might be persuaded to think this may not be true. Talk to me."

Jessie knew he was to shut up and say nothing. He had triggered an "I'm being arrested" text message on his Blackberry" to Billie. He hoped she had something in motion.

"I'm waiting for my lawyer, Detective. I have nothing to say." Jessie said.

"Figured that. Wait here." Detective Baker got up to leave. Before he could clear the door, two more plainclothes cops rolled in.

"Get out Baker, were taking this one. Go back to processing the faggots in the tank." Asshole Cop One said. He was not big but Jessie measured him as very mean.

"Blackwell and Stump, the boys from Special Ops. I'm surprised to see you slumming." Baker said.

Blackwell, the mean cop, got very mad at Baker, probably for saying their names. "Get out, now, asshole. And shut the fuck up."

Stump was big but not too bright. He grabbed Jessie out of the chair and began pushing him.

"Stump, cut it out. He's useless with bruises. Okay, girly, lets go. You're ours for now." Blackwell said, in a cold monotone.

They signed Jessie out, got his purse and sweater and marched him out to their unmarked car. It stank of cigars and sweat. He was thrown in the back, the part without door handles.

Jessie realized Billie didn't need to call lawyers, she called the cops. Her cops.

There was a man in his apartment. One of the faces he had memorized. A police Captain on Billy Boyle's list.

"Ah yes, Jessie, isn't it? I've been looking at your closet. You have much better taste than my wife does. You been such a good earner up until now. Why can't you just keep the customer happy? She is very important to some importing we are planning on." The Captain said.

Jessie started to reply. The cop held up his hand.

"I don't care what a whore's got to say. Just do what you're supposed to do and fuck her. If she wants you to do anything, you do it. If she had not demanded you come back to face her, you'd be in a bathhouse tonight as an auction item. Christ, you must think you're Queen of the May. Clean yourself up and get back over there in two hours. I'll be in the lobby to apologize personally. And you will then do whatever she wants. Nod if you agree."

Jessie nodded.

"Don't assume Billie will protect you. She does what we tell her to do. Be there and wear something nice."

The cop left.

Jessie decided this was a payoff. He assumed the phones were checked in this place, but he had another Blackberry, identical in appearance to the one they had given him. He fired off the events and the incredible good opportunity to bust a major player. One thing about busting cops, legally it was easier than a civilian. He hoped Billy and Brigit could get the wheels in motion fast enough.

 

Chapter 13: Takedown.

A little black dress worked for Jessie. He fixed his hair, freshened his makeup and changed his stockings. He was forbidden to wear pantyhose by Billie. Not sexy enough. So he almost always wore a garter belt.

He took a cab over to the hotel. The hotel security apparently were clued in because they escorted him to the elevator. When it opened, he saw the Captain, along with Blackwell. Jessie got in.

Nothing was said until they arrived at the penthouse.

"Don't fuck it up, girly." Blackwell said, implying a great deal of threat in just his tone.

The Captain preceded Jessie into the suite. The woman was there, now calm enough to speak English. Jessie was told to kneel on the floor and hold his face down. He heard a whip strike twice and saw chunks of the floor on either side of him gouged out. There were steel barbs on the leather end and it was obvious the woman was an accomplished practitioner.

"Yes, Domina, he is very sorry for damaging your property. Yes, we are fixing Manuel. You may have him do whatever you want. We will charge you for any serious damage to the boy, though. I hope this was not an inconvenience. My regards to your husband." The Captain nodded to Blackwell and they turned to leave.

Domina walked up to Jessie and gently touched his head.

"Look at me, little boy. Will you obey me now?" Her eyes were alive with anticipated pain and pleasure. Jessie looked at the leather harness she wore. It was well worn.

"What is the Domina's pleasure?" Jessie asked meekly?

Domina ran her black polished fingertip over Jessie's exposed shoulders.

"I wish for you to show me you love me, little boy. Bite yourself and draw blood. I will soothe you through the hurt."

Jessie knew this was not going anywhere good. He saw Blackwell staring at him, grinning ear to ear. The Captain was grabbing his arm and attempting to hustle him out the door.

Jessie began to chew on his forearm and Domina stroked his rear end and crotch. As she began to exhale deeply he heard a crash through the door.

"Freeze! Police! Get down on the floor!" The shout was the best sound he had ever heard.

As Domina turned to look, Jessie twisted free and hit her squarely in the jaw. He heard something break.

"I love you this much, you bitch." He said.

Domina was tough. Broken jaw or no broken jaw she grabbed her whip and struck at one of the uniformed cops coming through the door. Jessie heard flesh tearing. Then he heard several shots from police Berettas. Domina achieved a degree of pain before she died.

Jessie got up and a plainclothes cop ran up to him.

"Roberts, Internal Affairs. You Musgrove?"

Jessie nodded and went away. Gerry continued the nod.

Roberts put his coat over Gerry and ushered him past Blackwell and the Captain face down on the floor, being cuffed and read their rights.

"The wire worked great. We got it all. Captain Boyle wants to see you now." Roberts said.

Gerry looked at Billy Boyle, who had a concerned look on his face.

"Billy, was it Blackwell?" Gerry asked, coldly.

Billy nodded. He waved the cops off the two cuffed cops on the floor.

Gerry leaned down and whispered in Blackwell's ear.

"I know a lot of people who have friends inside, asshole, and some of them owed favors to Mike. I recommend you do yourself before you go upstate. Fuck you."

Billy led Gerry away. There was no press.

 

Chapter 14: Moving On Up, To The East Side

Sasha had arranged a 'wake' for Gerry. Bigit , Billy Boyle, Parnello , and Billie LaCotta were there. Some more people would be coming later.

Billie had cut a deal and turned in two more high ranking cops. She got immunity with the agreement that she not manage Personal Services any more. The DA's office just did not want a former key witness with such a profile. She could stay in the background, but not out front.

The bust had made all the papers, and Gerry was infamous. He had testified, but appearing as Gerry. The Commissioner was sad to see him not pursue his police career, but knew his reputation would make it difficult. He was still "that guy who became a gay hooker", even though it was far from the truth.

Gerry knew he had been a straight hooker, and was pissed at the confusion. He got tired of comical and serious requests for blowjobs from his fellow cops.

Billy Boyle, like all seasoned cops, knew the new male sex trade would not go away, and wanted it kept decent and clean. It was his job to protect the city and by damn, if the city wanted guys in dresses as whores for women, then New York would have the finest. And in a city the size of New York, there was always a demand for anything.

Joey agreed to help get the new Personal Services running as a business partner, helped by their legal counsel, Brigit Kelly, just retired from the DA's office. Billie would have a background role, along with Parnello. They were already arranging for their new east side location.

Jessie appeared, in a little black dress, fishnet hose, four inch stilettos and a small hat with a black veil. His hair was still jet black and now several inches past his shoulders.

He raised his glass of Jameson and spoke. "Thank you for coming. We all knew Gerry and he was a fine lad. May he be in Heaven an hour before the Devil knows he's dead."

Brigit laughed and drained her glass. She smiled at Jessie, kissed him on the lips and said. "We never wanted this for you. We never meant for you to join the family business." It was the best Godfather imitation she could muster.

END

  

  

  

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