Mahu Vice Read online

  I felt the man’s hot breath against my butt, then his tongue, poking and probing me. “Yes, fuck him with your tongue. He likes being fucked.”

  He kept up a steady flow of instructions to the unknown man behind me, the soundtrack to his personal porn flick. The guy sure knew how to use his tongue. He licked the tender spot between my ass and my balls, he tongue-fucked me, then when my ass was loose and juicy he finger-fucked me, first with one, then two, then three fingers.

  I was moaning with desire by the time Mr. Hu told the guy behind me to fuck my ass. “He has a very large dick, Kimo,” Mr. Hu said. “I hope it is not painful.”

  “No, you hope it is painful. You hope he splits my ass in two and fucks me so hard I can’t sit down for a week.”

  “You know me so well. And I know you, too. I know that what you think of me is what you want for yourself.”

  I heard the telltale tear of a condom package, the squirt of a lube bottle that sounded like a fart. The guy was hung like a donkey, or so it seemed. Even with generous amounts of spit and lube, he could barely wedge the rubber-covered head of his dick in my ass. He stood behind me, grabbing my shoulders and trying to piston in and out of me, and the blindfold magnified the sensations. I began crying and moaning, begging him to give up. “You’re killing me. Mr. Hu, please, please, make him stop.”

  “I can’t do that, Kimo,” Mr. Hu said gently. “Once something is begun it must be finished.”

  I thought I heard his pants unzip and his breathing quicken. Finally, donkey dick pushed one more time up my ass and whimpered, and I realized it was the first time I’d heard his voice—the soundtrack had been exclusively Mr. Hu’s.

  “You may finish the detective off,” Mr. Hu said, and a warm hand encircled my dick. It took just a few strokes and I was creaming—but without pleasure, just a release from pain.

  Mr. Hu unsnapped the handcuffs, and as I rubbed my wrists he said, “You may remove your blindfold, Kimo.” The guy behind me moved away, and it was all I could do not to slump against the wall. I untied the silk and turned around, expecting donkey dick to be butt ugly.

  But he wasn’t. He was incredibly handsome, with sandy blond hair and one of the best bodies I’d ever seen, the kind that took hours in the gym to sculpt. Bulging biceps, a six-pack at the waist, thick thighs. He could have stepped out of the pages of a gay porn magazine.

  “This is Lucas. I paid him $250 to fuck your ass. I hope you enjoyed it.”

  I shifted on my feet. My ass hurt, felt distended and uncomfortably liquid. “I hope you enjoyed watching it.”

  Lucas pulled the soggy condom off his dick and took a washcloth from Mr. Hu to clean up. My dick had deflated, and though on an average day I could have stared at Lucas for hours, jerking myself over and over again, all I wanted to do was put my clothes on and get out of that place.

  By the time I got home I knew there was something wrong. My ass was bleeding and the pain was worse than anything I’d experienced before. I called Gunter’s cell phone and dragged him away from a hot boy at the Rod and Reel Club. He made me pull my pants down and bend over, and as soon as I did, he said, “This is beyond anything I can do for you, pal. You’re going to the ER.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way. Give me your keys. I’m driving.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I know a very discreet ER on the road to Kailua. Nobody’s going to know anything.”

  He picked up my keys and jingled them in his hand. “But you are going to tell me every detail.”

  Of course I didn’t. I told him Mr. Hu had used a huge dildo on me. It seemed better than telling the truth, that a gay prostitute with a donkey dick had fucked me into oblivion while Mr. Hu watched and jerked himself off. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell Gunter the truth; but then when he told Harry and my brothers I was glad I’d made up the story.

  Looking at the photo of Lucas, I could see the effects the drugs had on him, in the paleness of his face, the way he looked a little skinnier than his frame should have allowed. I worried once more that this investigation was coming uncomfortably close to my personal life.

  WHERE ALL ROADS LEAD

  “You recognize this guy?” Ray asked.

  I nodded. “He was a hustler. I heard him called Lucas. He’s the one who gave my name to Vice.”

  “Anything in the folder?”

  I looked. Steve Hart hadn’t found much. He didn’t have an ID on the victim—but then he hadn’t had the inside information I had. And I could empathize with him; I had two dead Chinese girls on my sheet who didn’t have names, either.

  The autopsy results showed that Lucas had died from a single bullet to the head, in the same way that Norma Ching and the two Chinese girls had been killed. Tox screens revealed that he was an ice user, high at the time of death. He had also tested positive for syphilis.

  “Shit,” I said. That was all I needed. I remembered that Lucas had used a condom that night, but he’d also tongue-fucked me and jerked me off. Had he had syphilis then? I’d had enough experience with STDs thanks to Mike and the gonorrhea he had passed me. I didn’t need syphilis on top of it.

  “What’s the matter?” Ray asked.

  I didn’t want to tell him. But I’d already lied too much, to myself, my family, and friends. “This is not a story I want to tell in the middle of the station,” I said. “Come on, let’s take a ride.”

  Ray shrugged and said, “Sure.” We didn’t talk much as I drove us up toward Black Point. We rolled up all the flaps to enjoying the fresh air from some trade winds blowing in off the ocean with the promise of a bright, sunny winter.

  “Fancy neighborhood,” Ray said, as we started up the street where Mr. Hu’s mansion was located.

  “All lava underneath here,” I said. “Hence the name. They say when King Kamehameha arrived from the big island, his war canoes stretched all the way from here to Hawai’i Kai.”

  “The homicide department doesn’t work out for you, you could always get a gig as a tour guide.”

  “You like this neighborhood? ’Cause I’m happy to let you out.”

  “No, no, continue the tour,” he said, holding up his hand.

  Whenever my personal life spilled over into my job, I got irritable. I’d been cautioned by Lieutenant Sampson about finding the appropriate balance between my work and my sex life, and I could see another warning on the horizon.

  “Neighborhood first developed in the 1930s,” I said, trying for a lighter tone. “Some of the most expensive houses on the island. We’re talking ten to fifteen million bucks.”

  I pulled up in front of Mr. Hu’s house and shut the Jeep off. The wrought-iron gates were closed and the place looked deserted, but the grass grows so fast in the islands that it could have just been a couple of weeks since the lawn service had been by.

  “This is where you came to meet Mr. Hu?” Ray asked.

  “I want to say, I appreciate how cool you are,” I said, looking not at Ray but out the window. “Most guys, they’d freak out at some of the stuff I’ve told you.”

  “I ever tell you about this human sexuality course I took in college?”

  I looked over at him. “Nope.”

  “Very interesting. I mean, I took it in part because of that cousin I told you about, Joey, the gay one. I wanted to understand what was up with him. But I got into it. I was thinking maybe of majoring in sociology then. You know, save the world from all its problems.”

  “I can see that in you.” Ray cared about people, especially those in trouble, victims, even bad guys who’d been turned bad by circumstance.

  “We read all this graphic stuff,” Ray said. “Some of the guys were grossed out. I think a couple of my buddies signed up because they thought we’d be studying the Kama Sutra or something, learning exotic sexual positions. But between the course, and my cousin, and some of the other shit I’ve seen, the bottom line is, you can tell me anything. I’m not going to get grossed out, I’m not going to tell the rest of the squad, and it’s not
going to change my opinion of you.”

  “I appreciate that, partner.” Looking up at the shuttered mansion, I told him about the night Lucas fucked me so badly Gunter had to take me to the ER.

  Ray squirmed a little in his seat, but I could see he was trying not to show it. “So Steve Hart’s John Doe was your donkey dick?”

  “Think so. Course, I could always ask Doc Takayama for corroboration.”

  Ray laughed. “I want to be there for that.”

  Back at the station, we kept pulling at the threads of the investigation, hoping some new clue would unravel. Just before the end of our shift, Brian Izumigawa called. “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  “I’m scared, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat,” he said. “I picked up the phone a dozen times to call you but I was afraid of what you’d say. Please, tell me you have some good news. I can’t take much more of this.”

  “We’re working on chasing down Mr. Hu.” Listening to a victim without getting upset yourself is a skill that takes a long time to master. I was still working on it, especially when a case like this hit so close to home, but I focused on keeping my voice quiet to calm Brian down. “He’s in the middle of something much bigger than your blackmail, and if he hasn’t contacted you about the money again, it’s because he’s got a lot on his plate right now. Just hold on.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  We talked for a while longer, edging around the question of whether he should just give up and tell his wife. “Brian, you’re the only one who can make that decision,” I said. “But if I were you, I’d hold off for a few days, at least. Let me see what I can do with Mr. Hu. If we can remove the immediate threat, you’ll have a clearer head to think through what’s best.”

  I had been dragged out of the closet myself, without the chance to present my own case to my family and friends, and it was a terrible experience. If I could, I wanted to help Brian avoid that kind of pain—for himself, his wife, and everyone around him.

  When we wrapped up the call he was feeling less anxious, and I left for the Gay Teen Center and the relaunch of my self-defense/self-empowerment group. When I’d run the group in the past, several of the kids had been occasional prostitutes, hanging around places like Ala Moana Beach Park, and I hoped that one of them might know something about Lucas.

  PREMIUM MEMBERS

  I was sitting on the wooden floor of the church social hall when a tough girl named Pua, which is Hawaiian for flower, led the first couple of kids in. I jumped up and greeted her with a big hug. Hanging a little behind her was chubby Frankie, with sleek black hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore mascara around his eyes, which made him look like a raccoon, and I hugged him, too.

  “Like old times,” I said. “All we need is Jimmy and Lolo.” I hadn’t expected Jimmy Ah Wong, now that he was comfortably settled at UH, but I wondered about Lolo, a tough boy who used to hang out with Frankie and Pua.

  “Lolo’s dead,” Pua said. She reached over and squeezed Frankie’s hand. “He got into ice about a year ago, and then he OD’d.”

  “What a shame. Poor guy.”

  About a dozen kids showed up, and I had everybody lie down on the floor on their backs. I led them through some relaxation exercises and then a couple of yoga postures, to get them in touch with their bodies and into a good space mentally. Then I got Frankie to help me demonstrate a couple of self-defense moves, and after that we sat around in a circle and talked.

  “Where have you been?” Frankie asked me. “We missed you a lot.”

  “I’m sorry. I went through some tough times and I just didn’t feel like being out among people.” Kids have built-in shit detectors, and I could see that neither Frankie nor Pua was buying that. It was to be my day for confessions. “You guys remember the fireman I was dating for a while?”

  Frankie nodded. “He was hot!”

  Pua laughed and punched him.

  “Yeah, he was. He was also deep in the closet, and you know being in the closet can make you do dumb things. He cheated on me and we broke up, and I was in a pretty bad place for a while.” I smiled at them. “But I’m back, and I’m sorry that I bailed on you guys. I want you to know that I’ll try not to do that again, and any time any of you have a problem, I hope you’ll come and talk to me.”

  As Pua and Frankie were getting ready to leave, I said, “Hey, guys, can I ask you something about a case?”

  “Sure, Kimo,” Frankie said.

  “Frankie thinks he might want to be a policeman,” Pua said.

  “That’s great. We need more gay cops. You’ve got to finish high school first, though.”

  “I’m a senior. Me and Pua, both. Sometimes it’s tough, but I’m not letting anybody keep me from getting educated.”

  “Good for you.” I hesitated, hating to bring up bad memories, especially when Frankie was so proud of his achievements, but I had to ask. “Listen, I know you and Lolo used to hang out at Ala Moana Beach Park, and I’m looking for information on a guy who hung there, too.” I pulled out the picture of Lucas.

  He looked peaceful, though clearly dead. There was no blood or gore, but there’d been some settling of those handsome features. The cosmetologist at the morgue had done a nice job with him, trimming and styling his hair. If you tried, you could imagine he was just asleep—but you had to try pretty hard.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Lucas,” Frankie said, nearly spitting the name. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away.

  “Lucas is the guy who turned Lolo on to ice,” Pua said, putting her arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “He was a real bastard.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Somebody shot him about a month ago.”

  “He was older than us, like maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, but he liked hanging around with kids,” Pua said. “Like it made him feel superior to be able to lord things over us.”

  She squeezed Frankie’s shoulders, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “He always bragged about the guys he fucked,” she continued. “He’d talk about guys who were supposed to be important or powerful, like bank presidents and shit, and when we didn’t recognize their names he’d get all pissy.”

  I felt like I’d gotten a shot of adrenaline to the heart. Had Lucas bragged about me? I knew he’d given my name to Vice. What if he’d told other tricks?

  “I didn’t believe him most of the time,” Frankie said. “I mean, he had a huge dick, and I guess he was kind of cute. But towards the end, he was just this skanky ice whore. I didn’t see how any rich guy would want to fuck him.”

  “You don’t know anything more about him? Like where he lived, or other guys he hung around with?”

  Pua and Frankie looked at each other. Pua said, “Maybe Jimmy would know.”

  “Jimmy Ah Wong? I thought he wasn’t…you know…hanging around the park anymore.”

  Jimmy had been a hustler for a short while, after his dad found out he was gay and kicked him out of the house. But when I’d seen him at Aunt Mei-Mei’s house, he’d seemed happy, and I knew she paid his tuition and gave him spending money. “He’s not hustling,” Frankie said. “He’s, like, helping guys.”

  Pua said, “He belongs to this gay-straight alliance at UH. They collect condoms and safe sex literature up at the campus, and then they take it down to the park and hand it out. After Lolo died, Jimmy was trying to help Lucas.”

  I thanked them, told them I’d see them in two weeks, and started back to my apartment. I needed to get tested again—something I’d been putting off. I had always tried to be careful, but sometimes my guard slipped, especially when Mr. Hu was involved. Discovering that Lucas had syphilis gave me a new incentive.

  A flock of orange-billed myna birds startled me, swooping down from the trees and right over the heads of a clutch of Japanese tourists crossing Kuhio Avenue. Once again, my dick had gotten me into trouble. Was I ever going to learn from my mistakes? Had I gotten syphilis, or something else, from Lucas or one of the other
semi-anonymous tricks I’d fooled around with while Mike and I were apart? What if word got around the station that I had been involved with a dead ice whore?

  Cops and firemen love to give each other shit. I knew cops who teased other straight guys with jokes about ass-fucking and dick size. Just a few days ago I’d heard one cop ask another, “What island you from, brah? Ho-Molokai?”

  I was sure other cops talked stink about me behind my back. But I have a short temper and a strong right jab, so most guys knew not to go too far. I’d once kneed another cop in the groin when he suggested a gay man who had been beaten by a trick had been asking for it, and I’d head-butted a lard ass who told me I wasn’t fit to wear a badge because I sucked dick.

  Since I came out, I’ve worked hard to be just another cop, reining in any behavior that might seem flamboyant, laughing at the fag jokes, even teasing a few guys myself when I caught them in over-bright aloha shirts or very fresh haircuts. Most of the time, I felt like other cops were able to look beyond my sexual orientation and see me, Kimo.

  I admired Jimmy Ah Wong for turning his life around, and more for his outreach to the hustlers who congregated around Ala Moana Beach Park, gay and straight. He was going back to the place where he’d been at his lowest, and using his experience to help others.

  While I’d tried to do the same thing, I wasn’t always successful. But all you can do is keep trying, right? I called Jimmy’s cell phone and offered to buy him lunch the next day. “I’ve got a test tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “I’ve got to cram. Can we make it Friday?”

  “Sure. But while I have you on the phone—I understand you’ve been going down to Ala Moana Beach Park with kids from the GSA.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You ever run into a hustler named Lucas there?”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “He’s dead. I’m trying to track what he’s been up to. He ever say anything about who he worked for, how he got his clients, that sort of thing?”