Sex Fiend: Tales of Flaming Mame
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by Eleanor Tremaine
Category: Erotica/Bisexual Erotica
Description: Sexy, Sassy, Even a Bit Funny! Here is Flaming Mame, the most famous all-nude dancer of San Francisco's glittering night life, in all her glory and vulnerability. If any girl can get into mischief at the drop of a hat or trouser, it's Mame. When Mame learns there is an escaped sex fiend loose in the city, she can't tell which of her lovers it might be! The true culprit will only be revealed when she bursts into a room in pasties and a g-string to point out the fugitive to the law. Then Flaming Mame's memory inspires a morose young man into a series of sexcapades that leave him a lot more satisfied with the world. Only Eleanor Tremaine, author of The Erotic Adventures of Calamity Jane, could have created a heroine as memorable and sexy as Flaming Mame.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: October 2008
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [111 KB]
Reading time: 60-84 min.
MAME AND THE SEX FIEND
Flaming Mame, the most famous all-nude dancer of San Francisco's glittering night life was enjoying a glass of her favorite Merlot with her aging husband, Doctor Cornelius Kuwak. He was known familiarly as Corny. The good doctor, whose degree was awarded over the internet by the Zimbabwe College of New Age Therapies, would have enjoyed the relaxed hour with his wife were it not for the presence of Chip Prykingham at the table with them.
Chip preferred a nice chilled glass of Sauvignon blanc, which Mame always kept for him in the refrigerator.
The room in which the three were sitting was the apartment's livingroom, which served also as Dr. Kuwak's office.
To Kuwak, Chip was an unwelcome guest. However, Flaming Mame enthusiastically enjoyed the buff young man's attentions.
In the doctor's opinion her enjoyment seemed excessive.
To entertain his wife, Corny was reading the Chronicle aloud.
Adjusting his glasses with one hand while holding the newspaper at arm's length, he read the lead article in a loud, penetrating voice:
"'Mad sex fiend escapes from Colma!' What's a Colma?"
"I don't know," Chip volunteered.
Mame knew much about many things and explained.
"The Horney (pronounced Horn-ay) Prison for the Criminally Sexually Disturbed is down the Peninsula in the city of Colma. I know all about it because the first thing the inmates do when they're released from the prison is come to the club to see me wiggling my ass and jiggling my tits up on stage. We get a lot of business from the Colma parolees."
The husband and boyfriend (yes, if you haven't already figured it out, Chip was Mame's boy-toy) were, as always, amazed at Flaming Mame's knowledge and wisdom.
Mame asked her husband what the paper had to say about the fiend.
The good doctor cleared his throat and explained.
"Ahem. Name--Randy Glasscock."
Chip wittily commented that a glass cock would be a problem. "When he comes, it just might shatter."
Mame slapped Chip on the shoulder, gasped a harsh laugh, and said, "Naughty, naughty."
Chip laughed along with her.
Kuwak glared and went on reading aloud.
"It says here that the sex fiend is pansexual."
"Does that mean he fucks pans?" Mame asked.
"Naw," Chip explained. "I read about pansexuals in a dirty book once. It means the dude will fuck, or suck, or both fuck and suck, anyone and anything, anywhere."
"Like what?" Mame asked.
"You know, Mame. Like he'll do it with women, men, boys, girls, cats, and, I don't know. Just about anyone or anything. Maybe you're right. Even pots and pans."
"You mean like you," Mame squealed.
"No, not like me," Chip corrected. "I have never yet fucked a pot. Well, maybe a pan once, but definitely never a pot."
The couple thought that was so hilarious they nearly cracked up.
Doc Kuwak was not amused.
"If the dude gets to the zoo, he'll have one hell of a time," Chip laughed.
"Particularly if he tries to fuck one of the elephants up the ass," Mame screamed.
"He could get lost up in the elephant's asshole," Chip chortled.
"Man!" Mame commented. "He'd be a real fun guy to have at a party. Wouldn't he?"
Kuwak rustled the paper and began reading aloud again.
"It says here that this Glasscock fellow is heading here, to San Francisco."
"Didn't I tell you?" Mame inserted. "All those sex fiend maniacs head up here to Frisco to my club to see me..."
"Wiggle your bare ass and jiggle your tits," Chip enthused.
Doc Kuwak soldiered on, attempting, in vain, to keep above the vulgar fray.
"And listen to this," he went on. "It says here there's a thousand dollar reward for information leading to his capture and return to the Horney Prison in Colma."
That stopped the ribald interruptions of Flaming Mame and her playmate.
"A thousand bucks," Chip whistled. "Could we ever party with that kind of change."
"Maybe we could catch him ourselves," Mame told the two men.
"I told you all those sex fiends head for Frisco to see me do my exotic dancing. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he found out I live in this dump and he came right here?
"Chip, you and I could keep him entertained while Corny calls the cops.
"Then we'd get the thousand bucks and have ourselves a ball."
Her two men agreed that would be fine. But the doctor thought it unlikely.
"What does the fiend look like?' Mame asked.
Kuwak consulted his newspaper.
"It says here he is forty-five years old and has brown hair and brown eyes."
Mame and Chip repeated "Brown hair and brown eyes."
"He has a normal looking nose and mouth and is missing a lower left molar."
"That's an important clue," Chip informed them.
"He is five foot ten, wears a black T-shirt, and white boxer shorts with patterns of little red hearts."
"Like your boxer shorts, Chip," Mame observed.
Kuwak chose to ignore her observation.
"And, finally," he continued reading. "It says here he has a brown wart on his penis and his right testicle hangs lower than his left."
"Just the opposite of you, Chip," Mame squealed.
"What do you mean? I don't have a wart on my dick," Chip remonstrated.
"That's what I say," Mame explained. "The opposite of you."
That left the matter moot as to which of Chip's balls hung lower than the other.
It is to be assumed that neither of them yet knew for sure.
From the discussion, the doctor was becoming more and more convinced that there might just be something intimate going on between his wife and the handsome young man who kept dropping by the apartment uninvited.
* * * *
Since the discussion seemed to have drifted from the sensational news about the sex fiend's escape from the Horney Prison for the Criminally Sexually Disturbed to focus on Chip Prykingham's cock and balls, Mame's libido had quickened considerably.
"Oh, Corny," she cooed. "I believe I hear Baby crying."
She looked studiously at her wristwatch.
"Goodness, Honey," she exclaimed. "It's ten minutes past Baby's bottle time. No wonder he's crying. Hurry back to the nursery and give Baby his bottle. And don't come back in here again for at least a half an hour."
Doctor K. protested that he had not heard any complaint from Baby. But when Mame grew insistent, he retreated to the nursery with as much dignity as his henpecked state would allow.
When the door had closed behind the departed doctor, Chip asked, "Did you really hear our baby crying?"
"What do you mean 'our baby?" Mame asked archly. "Corny thinks Baby is his."
The conspiratorial laughter that ensued said it all.
"Will the old fool really stay back there for a half-hour?" Chip asked.
"He'd damned well better," Mame declared, in her own sweet decisive way.
"Now get out of those clothes, Sweetie," she ordered. "I've got a raging thirst for cum. And guess who's going to get milked?"
* * * *
The couple shed their clothes. Chip lay down on the sofa that had supported the couple's lovemaking for some three years now.
Mame leaned over her lover's supine, aroused body to suck up her favorite protein snack while getting an expert breast massage by San Francisco's most accomplished breast masseur.
As she went down on the young man, Mame made a significant observation. His left ball hung decisively lower than his right.
She felt reassured that her boyfriend was not a mad sex fiend.
* * * *
While Flaming Mame was enjoying her mid-morning snack that had been percolating in her lover's balls, her husband was not giving Baby his bottle.
The little darling, far from craving his bottle, was deep in a sweet, pleasant nap.
* * * *
This situation gave Doctor Cornelius Kuwak, D.N.A.T. (Doctor of New Age Therapies), a chance to instigate his revenge on that rascal Chip Prykingham. He wasn't positive that he was being cuckolded by the jerk. But his suspicions were rife.
One of his patients was Lieutenant Montague Grosmont of the San Francisco Police Department. The doc had cured the officer of a host of psychosomatic diseases.
The policeman was just the person to unwittingly punish that Chip fellow for whatever mischief he was up to with Mame.
Doctor Kuwak dialed the number.
"Hello?! Police Department? Is Lieutenant Grosmont in? ... Wonderful. May I speak to him? ... Yes. Tell him it's Doctor Kuwak. Yes, I'll wait ... Oh hello, Lieutenant. I was hoping I could reach you. How are your bowels? ... Yes, I knew that coffee and carrot juice enema I gave you would do the trick ... Yes. Listen, Lieutenant. I have a tip for you. I happen to know that there is going to be a very evil criminal coming here to eighty-seven Baroush Street, Apartment Seven at five o'clock this afternoon. Yes. The criminal is an admirer of my wife's dancing and he admitted to being a true malefactor. So she lured him here. Yes. If you could send a policeman here at five, the evil doer can be apprehended.... Description? Certainly. He can be recognized by the perpetual idiotic expression on his face ... Yes. We'll keep him here until your agent arrives ... Yes, I would suggest you gaze at that crystal I sold you for about an hour before you go to sleep. It should take care of that flatulence of yours. And didn't I sell you a box of motherwort? You might brew it for yourself instead of coffee tomorrow morning. It usually takes the wind out of one's sails, so to speak ... Yes, you too, Lieutenant. Goodbye."
* * * *
There. The trap was set. A police officer would arrive at the apartment at five o'clock. That damned Chip would be there. The lawman would arrest him, and haul him away. That would be sweet revenge indeed.
Kuwak had further indignities to heap on the lad's head after this first arrest. He delighted in thinking up pranks that would hopefully eventually drive the pest away from eighty-seven Baroush Street and Flaming Mame's charms.
* * * *
By a marvel of synchronicity, at the exact moment Chip was providing Mame with her protein shake and Corny was hanging up the phone, Randolph Cockburn, a bartender from the Rivoli Bar, was strolling past the building at 87 Baroush Street.
Randolph had become increasingly concerned of late that his left ball had been hanging noticeably lower than his right.
He had been meaning to see a doctor about the alarming condition but had not yet made an appointment.
Glancing at the callbox on the building he was passing, he noticed that a Doctor Kuwak was listed as having his clinic at Unit Seven.
"How fortuitous," Randolph muttered to himself. "Perhaps I can get a ball check, and, if necessary, a nut-adjustment here."
The entry door to the building's lobby being somewhat ajar, the concerned barkeep entered the lobby and easily found the door to Unit Number Seven.
Doctor Kuwak had placed a sign on the door inviting any possible patients to enter.
So enter he did.
* * * *
As Randolph entered the doctor's reception room, which, as we know, served also as the family livingroom, a naked young man was getting up from the couch, wiping off his prick with a handkerchief.
A stunning redhead arose nearly simultaneously. She was wiping off her lips with a Kleenex.
"Hello," the redhead greeted the intruder with a wide, somewhat surprised smile.
"Hello," Randolph replied.
Not knowing what else to do, he returned the smile. It, too, expressed surprise at encountering a nude couple who seemed to have just terminated an intimate encounter of some kind.
After what could be termed a 'pregnant pause,' Chip blurted out, "Hey, Asshole. How come you busted in on us like that, unexpected like?"
Randolph explained that the sign on the door seemed to invite entrance.
"Oh, yeah?" Chip retorted. "So what the Hell do you want?"
This was not the sort of reception the barkeeper was accustomed to in a doctor's office. But, in his business, he was used to accommodating to the vagaries of his customers and was seldom fazed by the responses of others.
"I came here for a consultation with the doctor," he replied.
"Oh," was Chip's monosyllabic response.
"What is the nature of your physical problem?" Mame asked with a professional tone.
She found the buff intruder quite attractive.
"I seem to be afflicted with testicular canting," Randolph explained.
Randolph was not, you see, your run-of-the-mill dispensers of spirits. He was a bartender at the Pacific Union Club on Nob Hill. His customers were nearly all wealthy, well-educated gentlemen. And it behooved him to respond to his customers in a somewhat erudite fashion.
"Oh, yeah?" Chip growled. "And just what the fuck do you mean by that? I can guess what 'testicular' probably means. What's that 'canting' crap?"
Randolph was usually able to adjust his speech pattern to fit the level of the odd guest who might appear at the bar of the Pacific Union club.
"It means one of my balls is hanging too low."
Both Flaming Mame and Chip caught the impact at once.
They whispered simultaneously to each other, "My God. It's the mad sex fiend of Colma."
Visions of claiming the thousand dollar bounty danced a mean tango in their greedy little heads.
Randolph was having a very difficult time keeping his eyes from focusing back and forth from Mame's splendid tits to her welcoming beaver when she addressed him.
And when answering Chip, his attention kept centering on his damp dong.
Since it was Mame who addressed him next, his gaze seesawed between boobs and snatch. He just couldn't seem to control his visual peregrinations.
"The doctor will be returning here to his clinic in about twenty minutes," Mame said in her professional tone. "You will need to disrobe so he can perform his examination."
It seemed that 'disrobing' was de rigueur at the clinic. And since the nurse-receptionist and the male patient were in nature's garb, Randolph commenced to take off his clothes.
As he did so, Mame and Chip were in muted conversation.
"I think he must be the maniac. Don't you?"
"Let's see. The fiend is forty-five years old and has brown hair and brown eyes."
"This dude looks closer to thirty, and he's kinda blond. But I think his eyes are brown."
"Maybe sex fiends look younger than they are."
"And probably dye their hair."
"Yeah. So far he fits the bill."
"The sex nut has a normal nose and mouth."
"And is missing a lower left molar."
"Hey, you!" Chip yelled. "You have any dental problems?"
"I'm not here for a dental check," Randolph replied. "It's my balls I'm concerned about."
"Oh, yeah," was all Chip could answer to that.
"The loony is five foot ten and wears black T-shirts."
"Where's a yardstick? I'll try to measure him."
"Over there next to the desk."
So, as Randolph was busy removing his shirt, Chip sneaked up behind him, holding the yardstick.
Randolph felt that someone was behind him and spun around.
"Did you want something back there?" he asked.
He suspected that the young man must be gay or something. Yet, the scene he came upon when he entered the clinic seemed to disprove that idea.
"Oh, no," Chip replied. "The nurse just asked me to bring her this stick."
He tried to look into Randolph's mouth in search of the missing molar. When Randolph gave him a quizzical look, he turned tail and carried the fucking stick over to Nurse Mame.
Randolph removed his shirt, revealing a white T-shirt.
"White T-shirt," Mame observed.
"Probably a disguise."
"I'll bet. These crackpots are a wily bunch."
* * * *
When the intruder removed his trousers, his boxer shorts failed to be decorated with red hearts.
That was a disappointment to the observing couple.
As last, Randolph was as bare-assed as the couple.
Now it was time to get down to the true test of whether Mame and Chip had truly cornered the mad fugitive.
"Hey, Dude," Chip called out in a hale-fellow-well-met timbre. "How they hanging?"
If he were not at a medical clinic, Randolph might have answered in a jovial, even an inviting manner.
But considering where he was, and that the others in the room were of different genders, he answered noncommittally.
* * * *
This was getting the couple nowhere.
In as nurse-ly a fashion as she could, Mame picked up pen and paper from the desk.
"Now, Sir. Before doctor comes back, may I have your name and profession?"
"Randolph Cockburn. Bartender."
An alias, the couple concluded. Close to Glasscock. But with a fiendishly clever twist. A canny criminal, indeed.
"You say you believe you may have testicular canting. Which ball is canting which way?"
Randolph was flummoxed. The situation had become unnerving. He truly could no longer recall which ball it was that had caused his concern.
"I don't remember," he admitted.
"Let me check that out so I can tell the doctor," Mame offered.
She approached him and took his dick in hand to lift it and check his balls.
"What happened to your brown wart?" she asked, remembering that was one of the more obvious identifying marks of the mad psychopath.
It happened that Randolph had had a wart removed from the back of his right hand some years previous. So he replied:
"I had it taken off."
Mame reached down to take his balls into her hands to determine which hung lower.
He refused to have any further pre-testing done on his genitals.
Not with the other man in he room watching and getting a hardon at the spectacle.
"Leave him to me," Chip whispered to his squeeze. "This is getting us nowhere."
Flaming Mame agreed.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I'll go back into the bedroom and call the cops."
* * * *
Mame told the patient, "I'll go see if doctor is ready to see you now."
And off she traipsed through the door to the bedroom and nursery.
* * * *
Chip was sure he had the criminal in tow.
Now, with Mame off calling the cops, he just had to keep the nut occupied.
* * * *
Randolph came to the conclusion he had chosen the wrong clinic to get his balls adjusted. He started to put his clothes back on.
Chip became alarmed. He couldn't allow the foul fiend to escape just when the police were probably on their way.
He could just envision the thousand dollar reward flying out the door with the criminal's departure.
"Wait," he implored. "What are you doing?"
"I've had it with all this waiting for the doctor and the weird way you and the nurse have been acting. I'm going to go get a second opinion."
"You can't do that," Chip replied logically. "You can't get a second opinion until you've gotten a first one."
Randolph had to admit that his naked neighbor had something there.
And, sizing Chip up, he had to agree that the dude really was kind of cute.
Chip's brain went into overdrive thinking up ways to detain the killer.
And, to tell the truth, he did find a certain attraction to the guy that seemed to originate somewhere in his nuts.
An idea flashed within his mind.
One possible way to keep the attractive guy there, in his stunning nudity, would be to win his confidence.
If he could make Randolph believe that he, himself, was a criminal, perhaps he could keep him talking about his crimes until the arrival of the cops.
"Please don't go," he urged, not able to avert his eyes from the splendid dong the guy had hanging there.
"We are very much alike, you know."
Randolph struggled with the implications. But, even stealing a glance at Chip's equipment, he did not wish to acknowledge to himself what his feelings were.
"I don't think so," he replied.
"I see what your assumptions are about me. But you are mistaken."
Chip got the point and took a direct tack.
"I don't think so," he advanced. "You see, I am a criminal."
That caught the bartender by surprise. All he could find as an appropriate response was "Huh?"
Chip had hoped for a more encouraging response. But he felt he was on a roll and soldiered on.
"Yes, Randolph." Get on a first name basis. "I'm as great a criminal as you. Even more so. You know who . killed?"
Randolph couldn't help but be intrigued by the direction Chip's conversation had taken. But, at the same time, he was alarmed.
"I couldn't begin to guess who you killed. Who?"
Or should that be whom" No matter. This isn't the Pacific Union barroom.
"I'll tell you who." Whom? "Daddy, Mommy, Brother Freddie, Sister Sally, and the landlady."
Randolph was now clearly alarmed. It seemed he was left alone with a mass murderer.
He recalled seeing a news story in the morning Chronicle about a serial killer on the loose.
Alarming as that was, it gave a kind of romantic mystique to the attractive criminal. He couldn't resist sneaking another peek at the man's groin. Hmmm.
Chip was aware of the interest shown on his companion's face. Nor did he miss the stealthy glance at his own equipment. He hoped the serial rapist missed his own return glance.
The guy was cute. But, even so, one does not wish to be raped.
Chip pressed on.
"In short, I love crime. All my friends are scurvy lowlifes.'
I would think so, if you live in a prison for the criminally insane.
* * * *
Chip decided on making a preemptive move.
"And so, my comrade in crime, allow me to embrace you."
Randolph concluded that his companion took him to be a foul murderer as well.
The only way to save his life was to make the young man think he was an even viler blackguard.
So he returned the embrace.
The hug turned out to be fully frontal. Their pricks collided and each man sprang back.
Neither wanted the encounter to lead anywhere.
Particularly with Mame and the Doc in the next room. Who knew when one of them might pop into the livingroom/clinic unexpectedly.
Now into the swing as to how to save his skin, and possibly his ass as well, Randolph took the lead.
"You have done well ... Chip? It is Chip, isn't it?"
Chip nodded to attest that was his name.
Randolph pressed on.
"Your crimes are, indeed, heinous. But I have committed so many murders I can hardly count them all."
"I know," Chip encouraged. "You're famous for them."
"I was already a killer when I was still in diapers," Randolph expounded. "I got pissed off at my wet-nurse. She was paying more attention to her boyfriend than to me. So I bit her tit off. Killed her on the spot."
"Stupendous!" Chip cheered.
Encouraged, Randolph upped the ante.
"And I killed her boyfriend as well."
"You bit off his tit?" Chip wondered.
"Of course not," Randolph scoffed. "He died of a broken heart."
"You were an admirable monster," Chip enthused.
Randolph was now inspired. He was off and running.
"Actually, my career began even before that."
"Even before I was born, I had criminal tendencies."
"And early bloomer, so to speak."
"Yes," Randolph expanded. "We were twins, my brother and me. And I thought things were too tight and chummy. I shouted. 'I need more room in this womb!'"
"I see. More womb room. So what did you do?"
"Bang! I blew the bastard's brains out."
"What a guy!" Chip admired.
Randolph grew conspiratorial.
"So, here we are. Perhaps we could join forces. What did you come to this clinic for? To commit a crime?"
Chip loved the idea.
"Yes," he said. "To murder Doctor Kuwak."
"Should we do him together?"
"Why do you want to rub out old Kuwak?"
"Because I'm in love with his wife," Chip said, thinking that actually there might be some merit in the idea of knocking the old fart off..
Randolph was surprised at Chip's answer.
"You are? I thought you swung ... Never mind."
"Swung?!" Chip responded.
Perhaps my glances at the guy's cock did not pass unnoticed.
They stared at each other's crotches.
Each, somehow, got to recalling the previous discussion about testicular canting.
Conversation came to a dead halt.
* * * *
The telephone rang. The young men were startled by the noise.
The call was from the deputy who had come to the address, sent by Lieutenant Grosmont.
The call was made from the callbox at the building's front door.
Doctor Kuwak told the caller to come right up. That he himself would let him into the apartment.
* * * *
Doctor Kuwak entered the livingroom/clinic.
The two young men attempted to cover their rising dicks with their hands as the doctor hustled by.
From the hallway Kuwak, Chip, and Randolph heard a voice out in the hallway.
"Open up. In the name of the law!"
Considering their recent conversation the two young men were alarmed.
The police! I'm outta here!
Chip ran into a closet on the north side of the room. Randolph ran to the closet on the south side.
There was a second warning from out in the hallway.
"Open, I say! Or I'll break down the door."
Kuwak, annoyed, responded peevishly.
"Hold your horses. I'm coming. I'm coming."
He opened the door.
The man who had been demanding entrance outside entered.
He was wearing a white apron over his suit and was carrying a bunch of menus.
He laid a hand on Kuwak's shoulder.
"You are under arrest," he proclaimed. "Anything you say may be held against you. And all that rot."
Corny looked the aproned man up and down.
"You've got to be kidding. Who the Hell are you?"
"Me?" the man replied. "I'm Hal Goldwasser. Owner of Goldwasser's Delicatessen down on Geary. Here, take a menu."
He thrust a menu into Kuwak's hand.
"Best pastrami sandwiches west of New York. Guaranteed."
Kuwak asked, "What's with all this 'You're under arrest' crap, then?"
"Lieutenant Grosmont, he was down at the deli. Chomping on one of our chopped liver sandwiches. They're terrific, too. Nice dill pickle. Great coffee.
"So he says to me, 'Hal. I've gotta finish this sandwich. I deputize you to go up to eighty-seven Baroush Street, Number seven. You can recognize the criminal I want you to arrest by the perpetual idiotic expression on his face.'
"So, the lieutenant's one of our regulars. And here I am. And you fit the description to a T. Let's go to the station!"
"Wait just a minute here. In the first place, your sandwiches are giving Lieutenant Grosmont flatulence. How am I supposed to cure him if you're serving him chopped liver and dill pickles?"
That really ticked Hal off royally.
"What are you? Some kind of a wiseguy? Are you saying my chopped liver makes the lieutenant fart? I told you. Anything you say gets held against you. I hold that against you big time.
"Hah! Come along!"
Doctor Kuwak wasn't through yet.
"And what's more, you ignoramus. I don't even fit the description of the suspect."
Hal had an answer to that.
"Have you ever looked in the mirror, Man? If I've ever seen a stupid look...!"
"Look who's talking," Hal answered. "But all that aside, the man you are looking for is hiding in that closet, there!"
He pointed to the north closet.
Hal marched stolidly to the indicated closet door, stating, "I'd better check this out."
He knocked on the door and demanded, "Open! In the name of the law!"
Chip opened the door a crack and peeked out.
"Not here, Sir," he said. "He's in that closet over there."
He stuck a hand out and pointed across the room.
While the hand was out, Hal slipped a menu into it.
"Have a menu. You'll love our sandwiches."
"Thank you," Chip responded as he pulled the menu into the closet and slammed the door.
* * * *
Hal marched across the room to the other closet door in as arrogant a manner as he thought fit his official status as a deputy something-or-other.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Open! In the name of the law."
Randolph opened the door a crack and peered out with one eye.
"Not here, Sir," he said. "He's over there."
With that his hand crept out and a finger pointed across the room.
Hal grew irritated.
"That's nuts!" he scoffed. "I've already been over there. I'm sick and tired of getting the run-around. Come out of the closet. Both of you."
Chip and Randolph stepped sheepishly into the room.
Randolph pointed at Chip.
"It's high time he came out of the closet."
"Oh, yeah?" Skip retorted. "Look who's talking."
As Hal saw the two nudies emerge into the room he was astounded.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Two fancy boys in their birthday suits. It's not a crime. But it isn't very decent, either."
* * * *
Mame burst into the room, wearing pasties and a g-string.
"What the fuck is all this racket out here," she stormed. "Can't a lady get a little peace and quiet to practice her new routine for tonight's show?"
Hal had been a bit taken aback by the two he classified as 'fancy boys.'
But Flaming Mame's emergence with only tiny pieces of cloth covering her nipples and snatch fairly took his breath away.
Chip appealed to his girlfriend.
"Help, Flame. This ... delicatessen owner ... wants to arrest me," he responded immediately.
"No, no, no, Officer," Flame responded. "Or whatever the fuck you are."
Hal pulled himself up to full stature.
"Deputy, Ma'am. Just the facts, please."
Mame pointed at Chip.
"He's not the mad sex fiend. He is!"
And she pointed at Randolph.
Randolph protested, "Me!?"
"All right, Bozo," Hal said. "Who do you say you are?"
Randolph hastily told him, "My name is Randolph Cockburn. And I am a bartender at the Pacific Union Club."
"No he isn't," Chip burst in. "He is Randy Glasscock the sex criminal. And I can prove it. His right ball hangs lower than his left. And he had a brown wart removed from his dick."
Hal addressed Randolph in his most official tone.
"All right, you," he said. "Lift your prick so I can check how your balls hang."
Hal, Mame, Chip, and Kuwak closed in to observe how the so-called bartender's balls hung.
"Innocent," Hal declared to the disappointment of the other onlookers.
"And besides," Hal continued, addressing Randolph, who lowered his dong to cover the balls that had been so keenly scrutinized.
"You can't be the mad sex fiend. Before I left the deli, Lieutenant Grosmont told me they'd caught that nut already. The fiend is safely behind bars."
Before leaving, Hal left each of the people in the group a coupon for ten per cent off any sandwich over two dollars.
* * * *
Each of the two young men were now aware that the other was not a criminal. But each was also quite aware that the other certainly was cute.
* * * *
Chip sidled up to Randolph.
"Say, Buddy. Would you like to come over to my pad and see my etchings?"
The two exited the apartment holding hands.
* * * *
Doctor Kuwak was quite sure that he had gotten rid of that nuisance, Chip, after all.
And Flaming Mame was resigned to having to find a new boyfriend.
There was that hunk in the front row at last night's performance.
A big spender. I wonder...