Whispers In The Dark MobiPocket

By Tony-Paul de Vissage

Kim Crosley just had to know who owned the Chrysler Touring car stopping at his street corner every night. Burgling the gent’s house seemed the best way to do it…until he gets caught.

Christopher “Kit” Laurence is a retired soccer champ, a near-recluse since a sports injury ended his career. Discovering a rent boy going through his belongings brings an intriguing disruption into his life as well as a relationship he isn’t certain he wants.

Though Kit gladly helps Kim extract himself from street life, the young hustler wants more. He’s determined to get beyond the wall Kit has built around himself. It’s a struggle of wills and attraction with each man’s own personal demons getting in the way. And then there are those mysterious “trips” Kit makes, gone for days with no explanation…

M/M Gay Contemporary Romance

Sensuality rating: 4

Cover Art by Bev Haynes

This book is available in the following formats:
PDF / ePUB / MobiPocket / POD print

Also available as a Trilogy Set containing Whispers In The Dark, Confessions In The Dark, and Lovers In The Dark
PDF / ePUB / MobiPocket / POD print
DigiTill Downloads


Chapter 1


The black car came around the corner just as I emerged from the alley. As Angel instructed, I always waited a few minutes, giving the john time to put a little distance between us. Let him get about eight steps ahead before you move. So I did. I always tried to follow orders. It was best all around. Saved unpleasantness later.

I stopped just outside the alley entrance, rubbing my left mandible. My jaw muscles were still aching. He’d been built like a retired footballer, heavyset and thick…everywhere. He was already gone, back to the main thoroughfare and his life, wherever that was. I, however, was stuck here. For a moment I wished I could follow the man, but my life was on that street corner and I had to get back to work no matter my personal preferences.

That was when I saw the car. It was definitely something commanding attention. A 1930 Chrysler Royal Touring saloon, big and black, bulky as a Sherman tank and about as out of place on a London street as anything could be. It looked like something from a 1930’s American gangster film, a car Al Capone or someone of that ilk would ride in. The car itself appeared in pristine condition, as I imagined it did when it came off the assembly line eighty-three years before. The chrome was immaculate, the wax job reflecting the streetlamps like a mirror. It was as conspicuous as Hell and obviously whoever owned it didn’t care he was announcing his appearance as loud as if he had a brass band marching in front of him. It was past midnight so perhaps he thought that late at night no one would notice.

He was certainly wrong there.

There was another reason I noticed the car. This was the seventh time in as many nights it had been here. Not that we didn’t have returnees. All of us had regulars, but not in seven consecutive days. I was curious to see the insatiable gent riding in the back of that car, someone obviously so wealthy he had a chauffeur driving a classic antique auto, someone picking up rent boys and carrying them away for several hours each night. Also someone who didn’t give a damn.

The car came closer, slowing to a crawl. The engine purred, so the original one had been replaced with something much more modern and powerful. I stopped near the streetlamp, my usual spot. It slid to a running stop at the kerb.

For me?

I took a step forwards. The car moved on. I watched to see who was the lucky one tonight. The car braked halfway down the block. In front of Raven.


    The streetlamp highlighted his pretty painted face as the window on the driver’s side rolled down. Raven sauntered over. He put a hand onto the sill, leaning down to peer inside, speaking to whomever was driving.

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