Krewe Daddy (2 page)

Many people said he had the dietary preferences of a toddler.
They are right.

He put the milk jug, now considerably emptier, back where it belonged and shut the door.

Sandwich in hand, Drew headed to his recliner. With his dinner balanced on his lap, he pulled back on the handle to raise his feet. Thank God the handle was on the right side, or he'd have to camp out on the couch.

He chewed his sandwich while flipping through television channels. The weather reports forecast another day of wilting humidity and near one hundred-degree temperatures for tomorrow.
Whatever
. Except for those four wicked years in Minnesota, he'd lived most of his life in Florida. High temps and humidity were something Drew was well acquainted with. He was so glad not to have to endure another frigid winter.

The summers were fabulous; fall was magnificent, but the rest of the year? If he could get used to sitting on an iceberg, bare-assed naked all winter, he might have enjoyed them.
Not a chance.

Before long, Kevin Marks would be calling him to schedule autumn and early winter photo shoots for the
Woodlands Collection
. Three years ago, nobody could have convinced Drew the venture would become such a success. But Kevin's career as a nature and outdoors photographer had blossomed with every photo he'd taken of his boyfriend, Teak, and of Drew. Royalties from the photo sales supplemented Drew's investments nicely. If demand stayed brisk, an early retirement would be possible, thanks to Kevin and his studio, Marks on Redding. Best of all, they had such a blast together that Drew rarely thought of the long hours during the photo shoots as work.

Drew bit off another piece of sandwich, and wondered where they'd go and what they'd wear this time. Kevin spared no expense on their wardrobe, which the models got to keep. Drew always felt guilty that he couldn't wear most of the clothing in New Orleans' subtropical climate.

After stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth, Drew wished he'd brought the chocolate milk with him. He rose, with a lot less discomfort. The pills sure had taken the edge off the pain.
Maybe I'll sleep better tonight, too.

Drew put his sandwich fixings away before taking a last, long drink of milk.

"I like chocolate milk." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shut off the kitchen light.

On his way to the bedroom, Drew made sure he'd locked the apartment door, and then checked the air conditioner setting. The full effect of the pain meds hit him hard. As though encased in cotton, his mind seemed to be buzzing like an electrical transformer. He performed an abbreviated version of his bedtime routine before climbing into bed.

After pulling the sheet over his bare body, he turned onto his right side. Doing so still hurt like a son of a bitch, but not enough to jar him into full wakefulness, like last night. He'd felt a hundred years old—an old man.

The thought triggered a memory of Luis' smiling face as he pulled Drew's lips to his. "Who are you calling Old Man?"

Even now, the sexy tone of Luis' voice made the corners of Drew's lips curl into a smile. He loved the low, husky tone that had always signaled Luis was turned on and ready for sex. He swore he could feel Luis' broad chest against his, the warmth of Luis'

breath, and that first sensation of pressure against his lips.

Drew fell asleep fantasizing about those days and nights in Luis' arms.

Luis Herrera leaned against the window frame while gazing at the City of New Orleans. His office on the twenty-seventh floor of Place Saint Charles gave him an eagle's view of the French Quarter. Traffic already clogged the city's streets. The daily exodus had begun as the workday wound down.

A wave of shimmering heat wafted heavenward from the rooftops below. Luis hated to think about going out to his car, which had been baking in the parking garage all day long. In these steam bath temps, he always needed extra shirts to change into during the day.

"Luis? Are you there, hun?"

Caprice's Deep South twang sounded like warm honey felt—sweet and soothing.

So, no matter how inappropriate being called
hun
might be, Luis never objected.

He pressed the reply button. "Yes, Caprice. What can I do for you besides say goodnight?"

"Ronnie is on line six for you."

Luis had been waiting for this call since yesterday.
It figures he'd wait until the last
five minutes of the day to get back to me.
"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow, Caprice. Have a great evening."

"Thanks. Don't forget, there's a staff meeting tomorrow morning at 7:30."

"Got it written down. I'll be here."

"Perfect, hun. Have a nice evening. Try to stay cool."

He let out a humorless laugh and punched line six. "Good afternoon, Ronnie. I was starting to think I'd have to hunt you down in person."

Ronnie's laughter had decidedly feminine textures. "Oh, you know how to ignite my favorite fantasies."

Luis pictured him shaking his blond head and doing full-body shivers.

"A krewe captain's life is so demanding. This was the first chance I had to return your call." Ronnie made a deep, dramatic-sounding sigh. "But, if you want to hunt me down, I'll be happy to hang up, and you can come right over. I'll leave the door unlocked." He emphasized the word
come
in the most provocative way.

Luis couldn't resist a smirk. Ronnie was an outrageous flirt. Whenever Luis gave any hint he was interested, Ronnie was ready in a heartbeat.

"Did you quit your evil day job so you can focus on parades all year?"

Ronnie giggled again. "Oh, hell no. Teaching at Loyola is great, but a boy's gotta have his fun."

Luis could almost hear his suggestive wink. Ronnie was a krewe captain for the Flamin' Dames. That group of crossdressers had slowly grown their ranks and financing over the past decade. Last year, they'd stepped into the big leagues of Mardi Gras by hiring Magik Studios to create their signature float. Magik was one of the top firms in the South for parade, sculpture, and prop design. Luis never took for granted how lucky he was to work for them.

"Have you reviewed the new designs I sent over with the rest of the krewe?"

"Yes, we met during lunch today. We love the idea of having Hermaphrodite's head turn so everyone can appreciate his beauty. The costume changes for us are going to be spectacular, too. I'm such a fan of silk and satin."

"The changes are a big investment, but it'll add great drama, especially with the winking eye and laughter. After this upgrade, I think you'd be set for a few years, except for maintenance."

"Maybe the Flamin' Dames will have its own parade someday."

Luis laughed. "That would be something. The gay presence in krewes is growing.

I don't think it's out of the question, but you know how the city is about adding parades."

"I tell you, if we had a gay mayor, or a few more gay city council members, we'd have them thinking our way in no time."

"And probably riding on your float, too. I can see the newspaper headlines now, Ronnie.
'Mayor, council members, fall for krewe in lingerie
'." Luis leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "Every gay person in America would be cheering."

Ronnie let out a dramatic moan. "From your lips. Oh, those beautiful full lips . . .

."

Luis' cock twitched. He hadn't had sex in a couple weeks, and Ronnie was such a willing partner.

"I'd love to have your mouth all over my body. Luis, why do you play so hard to get? Be my Krewe Daddy. We'll christen the new float with our own private celebration.

What do you say?"

Luis shifted in his seat. A Flamin' Dames party would be nothing short of an orgy. The idea pumped blood into his dick faster than air through a bike pump. "I suppose I'd be the main course?"

"Absolutely, but you'd enjoy every scrumptious serving. We have such talent in our krewe. Everyone knows who you are, and your reputation as a lover. Well, it takes my breath away just thinking about the last time."

Luis' ego inflated to monstrous proportions. He never tired of being a sought-after Daddy.
Maybe it was time to stop playing games with Ronnie and the Dames.
"I'll give it some serious thought."

"I'll make some plans. Maybe when we take care of the new costume fittings . . .

."

The idea of a striptease got Luis' full attention. His cock was demanding some attention, too.

"Was that a groan?"

Ronnie's coy tone did nothing to ease the tension in Luis' tight slacks. He glanced at his door, to be sure it was closed. "If you were here, you'd be on your knees . . .

between mine."

"Baby, you know how I like it. I've got a fabulous new garter belt and heels. Let's get together later tonight."

Luis rubbed the rise in his trousers. "I already have plans, or I'd meet you somewhere."

"Let's make it soon. It's been too long."

Luis was no dummy. He understood the risks of sleeping with clients. His only justification for his actions was that Ronnie seduced him first. Luis hadn't hinted or taken any initiative. But the night Ronnie grabbed him by the crotch and made his desires known was the last time Luis worried about consequences. Over the past year, several other members of the Flamin' Dames had approached him for sex. Some had been too irresistible to turn away. And he had a bad boy reputation to uphold.

"I'm leaving for a long weekend tomorrow night, so I'll have to check back with you about that date."

"I'll hold you to it. Every inch of you. You make my body quiver at the idea of being under your control." Ronnie sounded enraptured.

Luis checked his watch and wondered if he could squeeze in a hot hour with him between now and his dental appointment this evening. "Where are you?"

"On my way home, but I'm still in Kenner. Does this mean you'll meet me? I can be home in forty-five minutes, ready for you in an hour."

Rising from his chair, Luis looked out the window and then glanced at his watch again. "As much as I'd love to drill that hot, tight ass of yours tonight, I don't have enough time. If you were already home . . . ."

"Reschedule your appointment. I want to be your bitch tonight."

A surge of hot need zipped through Luis' groin, making him very tempted to take Ronnie up on his offer.

"I can't. I just can't tonight." A pent-up breath left Luis' lips in a huff. "Wish I could. You don't know how much, but I've had this appointment for weeks, and I need to be there."

"More than having my lips around that sweet dick of yours?"

Luis groaned. Leaning back against his desk, Luis glanced down at the tent action going in his crotch. He needed to wind up this conversation before he fell victim to Ronnie's persuasions and regretted it tomorrow.

"I'll call you when I get back. We can go to a club, have a few drinks, and then I fully expect you to demonstrate how much you want to be my bitch."

"I don't know if I can wait that long. I already have my dick out. It's so wet and hard."

Luis clenched his jaw. Ronnie sure knew how to work him. "What a waste of a good hard-on. Try not to get in an accident when you come all over yourself."

"I'm a safe driver even with one hand on the wheel, and you know I'll be thinking about you when all that cream spurts on my panties."

Perspiration formed on Luis' forehead. "Goddamn it, I want some of that ass tonight."

"Meet me. Fuck me instead."

"I can't. Let me call you next week, and we'll set up something."

"I'll hold you to it. I can't wait. Goodnight, Daddy."

Luis hung up and loosened his tie. Getting drilled for a crown tonight was a horseshit substitution for Ronnie's offer.

In an effort to take his mind off his throbbing dick, Luis looked at his mail. A glossy catalog slipped out of his fingers onto the floor. He retrieved the magazine, only to have Drew Rothem's face stare back at him. His breath left his lungs and didn't return for several, long seconds.

Luis' gaze traced every inch of Drew's photo, taken on a rocky, red- and mustard-colored outcropping in some sort of a canyon. Drew looked as though someone had called his name and momentarily distracted him. Hiking boots and shorts revealed his muscular legs. A tight-fitting, short-sleeved shirt amplified the bulging bicep on his right arm, which steadied a large, blaze-red backpack.
He looks healthy and
strong.

Luis couldn't believe he was looking at a
Marks on Redding Gallery
catalog. Two years ago, he'd discovered one lying on a chair at the airport. Bored out of his skull at the time, Luis had picked up the magazine, then had been stunned to see Drew as one of the models. The pictures of Drew with Teak disgusted Luis, yet he fed his masochistic anger by paying for a subscription. He'd laughed about Drew's ridiculous modeling career and hoped he'd fall flat on his ass. But failure hadn't come. Over time, Luis saw the catalogs as a very distant way to keep in touch with a man he once loved.

Still loved, truth be told. Drew seemed as out of reach as ever. Now, every six months, a catalog showed up in Luis' office as a painful reminder of the fabled one who got away.

He sat down and looked through the beautiful outdoor photographs, paying special attention to the
Woodlands Collection
section. The models were some of the hottest men Luis had ever seen. His former lover, Drew, was a regular. A small grain of pride tasted bittersweet.

Flipping the page, a close-up of Drew with Teak made Luis let out a long, slow whistle.

A brilliant sunset blazed in the background, and a light sheen of perspiration covered their faces. Damp hair clung to their foreheads. Teak's green eyes seemed to bore into Drew's, creating an entirely different heat than solar. Luis could only imagine what they'd been thinking about at that moment. Whenever he saw a photo of Teak, he had to admit Drew had damn good taste. The man could probably get any guy he wanted in the sack.

Luis didn't recognize many of the men on the next few pages, but the inside back cover made him groan out loud.