The Chosen by Sharon Sala Page B

corner, naked and playing with his own erection.
    Jay stared at it for what seemed like forever, before he remembered he was the father and Andrew was the son.
    â€œAndrew! Andrew! Stop that this instant!” he demanded. “It’s a sin to do that…and what have you done with your clothes?”
    Andy was locked into the pleasure of what he was doing and paid no attention to Jay.
    When he started to moan, Jay slammed some food down on the table and left.
    James wouldn’t even look at him as Jay left the food and water. Jay started to bless the man and his food, then stomped out in disgust.
    Jay ran all the way back to the cab. His neck was already bruising, and his broken finger was throbbing. But he had to clean his house before he could rest this night.
    He opened the overhead door and quickly drove away.

Five
    B art Scofield’s body was discovered at daybreak in a Dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant by two men from the city sanitation department. Bart would never have imagined such an ignominious end, to be found lying on top of half-eaten egg rolls and discarded cellophane noodles. But there he was, blessedly past pain, leaving the mystery of his disappearance and murder to those who knew it best.
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    In another part of town, January stood in a patch of moonlight, an ivory goddess waiting for her own mythological god to claim her. Ben watched her, speechless at the sight. Then she was suddenly lying beneath him with her legs wrapped around his waist and her fingernails digging into the muscles in his back as he drove himself deep into her heat.
    Her breath was warm and shaky near his ear, and she was begging him for things he’d never done to another woman before.
    He rocked back on his knees, then lifted her to him. They rejoined with her sitting up, impaled by his erection.
    She locked her hands behind his neck and leaned back just enough to shift the pressure point. As she did, she groaned.
    Ben wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a possibility that he might die from the pleasure.
    â€œBen, oh, Benjamin…love me.”
    â€œI already do,” he whispered.
    â€œThen show me how much,” she begged.
    He grabbed her by the waist and—
    The phone rang. It was a rude awakening from the most crucial dream he’d ever had in his life. Angry and frustrated by the loss of a climax, even though it would have been a solitary one, he reluctantly answered.
    â€œHello?”
    It was Don Borger, his captain.
    â€œWe got a fresh one in the alley behind the China Wok. Meeks is on his way to pick you up. Work this one close. I’m getting a lot of flak on it.”
    â€œHow come? Who is it?”
    â€œBart Scofield, the mayor’s best friend and one of the golden boys of Media Marketing, Inc.”
    â€œWe’re on it,” Ben said.
    â€œKeep me informed,” Borger said.
    â€œYes, sir,” Ben said, and hung up.
    He dressed without paying much attention to details, then poured himself a cup of coffee to go.
    Meeks honked at him from the street. It was his signal that his day had begun.
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    Considering the place where the body had been dumped, it was difficult for the crime scene investigators to decide what was evidence and what was pure garbage. They couldn’t ignore the bit of spring roll in Bart Scofield’s ear any more than they could overlook the obvious bondage marks on his wrists. At first glance, the only two things they were sure of were that Scofield was dead and the Dumpster was not the scene of the crime.
    Fran Morrow, from the crime lab, was in the Dumpster when Rick and Ben arrived on the scene. Not only was she masked and gloved, but she had pulled a pair of dark green coveralls on over her clothes and traded her regular street shoes for calf-high rubber boots.
    â€œHey, Fran, what can you tell me?” Meeks asked, as he sauntered up to the Dumpster.
    â€œAmericans waste their food,” she muttered, then bagged and