Skin

by Christian Baines

  Kyle laughed. “Kind of a skeptic, ain’t you?”

  “I’ve had about as much religion as I can stand. But Aunt Desiree? Like I said… Anyway, I do think a person can make themselves believe just about anything, and yeah, maybe that can manifest as something real. So, I can’t exactly say no, it’s all bullshit. I mean the fancy, theatrical stuff—”

  “More theatrical than skulls and snakes? Like what?”

  “Like, actual spells. Just some good old fashioned New Orleans bunk. Gives the tourists some of that good old local lore they came to hear. Like some crazy ass story about this fella who Laveau got so worked up one Saint John’s that he just vanished or burned up or something. Some say he was taken by the spirits. But even Aunt Desiree thought he’d just gotten whacked out on whatever juice they passed around at those rituals, got too near the Bayou and drowned himself. Weren’t no way they were going to try to pin it on Laveau, but as luck would have it, at some point during the celebrations, a stranger had happened upon their Saint John’s Eve. Now, I’m sure you can imagine what happens when a large crowd of suspicious folks notice somebody’s missing, and some outsider just happens to appear. They had that poor bastard strung up and swinging in Jackson Square not three days later, denying to his last breath that he even knew the guy who’d disappeared.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Relax,” Antoine laughed. “Like I said, this is just the colorful shit folks make up. I’ll take you to one of the real shops in the Quarter if you want, where the locals get their supplies. Not one of the tourist traps, though they can be kind of fun too, just for a look.”

  “Supplies? Wait, you mean people still do that shit?”

  “Of course.”

  Kyle shuffled his feet, downing some more of his drink. “I don’t know. Still kind of freaky, ain’t it?”

  “Voodoo’s just another religion. Believers turn to it, pray to its spirits, make offerings, ask for blessings, just like any other. Remember, lots of Catholic influence. Relax, Shreveport. Ain’t nobody gonna hex you with it. Hell, on the contrary. Most of the spirits are protectors. They can get pretty damn nasty if you try to use them in anger or against somebody. That’s what Aunt Desiree told me anyhow. Something to do with every spirit knowing the heart of the one who calls upon its magick, and if you abuse their gift or hurt an innocent with it? They got a way of making that magick go awry. Of making their displeasure known in the nastiest way possible. So, don’t go thinking you’re gonna go pick up a Voodoo doll to get back at your daddy or nothing. But hell, we can go today if you’re curious.”

  Kyle shivered, finishing off his drink and tucking the empty bottle into the pocket of his shorts. “I’ll think about it.”

  Antoine laughed at him again. “Think all you want, Shreveport. I don’t think they’re going anywhere. And neither are you, right?”

  Their eyes met once more, the space between them closing before Kyle even realized he was moving.

  “Right,” he said with a grin, accepting Antoine’s kiss. “No hurry at all.”

  MARC

  Marc double-checked the apartment number on his phone before ringing the ancient, rust-covered buzzer. The listed names were so faded, he wondered if any of their owners could still be alive, much less still in residence. Not so much as a faint buzz acknowledged his attempt, so he tried again. Nothing. The guy had said two, right? He checked one more time. He had it right. Apartment three at two o’clock.

  Of course, it had all been too good to be true. The job. The offer of a place to live from one of the strippers, right in the Quarter with cheap rent. He had no idea if the guy was even home, or if the offer was the product of booze or drugs or who knew what else. Did he even have the guy’s real address? Sure, that’d be fuckin’ funny. Send him to some stranger’s house. Maybe even to bother the guy’s ex. Hi-fucking-larious.

  He heard the gate’s latch give way as he pushed it. Great security!

  Marc was halfway up the rotting wooden stairs before he could think about it. He could just make out the faded number three painted on the ugly green door. Well, the guy had warned him it was cheap. Judging by the voice he could hear inside, he had the right place. The door felt solid enough when he knocked.

  “Jesus! Hold on, will ya?”

  The door abruptly opened, wiping away his doubts. Marc saw the same man he’d seen at the bar. Long, sinewy body, pale skin highlighted with a number of colourful tattoos. The leopard down one arm, the snake down the other, and the grinning skull below his navel. But while the cocky, half-naked boy who’d drifted toward him from the bar had been all sex and charm, that same guy now stared him down with obvious annoyance.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  The voice hit him like a punch across the jaw.

  “Uh…I’m Marc, remember? You said to come by, check out the room?”

  The guy’s face didn’t budge. Even the damn cigarette that hung from his lips didn’t move, until finally… “Oh yeah! Shit, man. Marc! Right. I’m sorry. Gimme five minutes.”

  Marc nodded, stepping inside. The apartment’s interior matched the broken gate well enough. Four empty bottles of cheap whiskey sat on an equally cheap-looking kitchen table draped in a faded Confederate flag. A half full ashtray, into which his prospective roomie dropped his cigarette, clung for dear life to the table’s corner. The room was otherwise pretty bare, with the exception of an average-sized TV and gaming console on a low coffee table against the wall. He couldn’t make out what the console was, but the coffee table looked even nearer death than its taller, Confederacy-sworn colleague. Crumpled clothes covered one side of a thick mattress on the opposite wall, while a couple of thrown-back sheets draped the other. But that was it, give or take. It made enough sense to Marc, if the guy had just come by the place through a friend.

  “Yeah, you hear me now?” The guy continued his phone conversation, holding up two fingers to signal he wouldn’t be long. “Okay, good. So, you can hear this. Fuck you, asshole, and fuck that gook you—no, no, you fuckin’ listen to me now…”

  Marc tried to ignore most of the conversation as he wandered the room, trying to get a better fix on the stark apartment and its occupant. The kitchen was tiny, with an ancient looking fridge, a few beer cans, and three more empty bottles. Shit. Was the guy collecting or what? What he could see of the bathroom was just as pokey.

  Wait. Where was the other room?

  “No, no, no, no. Fuck that shit! Fourteen hundred, Lou. No, you lousy prick, it always was fourteen hundred. You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m still lettin’ you have that. I don’t fuckin’ care. Shake it out of his scrawny ass if you got to!”

  Marc opened his mouth, only to shut it again when Ash gestured at him to wait.

  “No, shut your goddamn mouth and listen,” he said. “You think I’m here handin’ out fuckin’ favors? Fourteen hundred. This week. Don’t care how. Else I’m gonna come shake that shit out of you. Oh yeah, that part you fuckin’ understand!”

  Marc winced as Ash tossed his phone down on the table with a loud clunk.

  “Sorry ‘bout that.” He crossed into the kitchen, pulled out another whiskey bottle and cracked it without offering Marc a sideways glance. “Not exactly a great first impression I know, but this guy…” He poured a glass, then held the bottle aloft, offering it to Marc.

  “Huh? Ah, yeah, sure.”

  “Hope you like it neat. Icebox is broke.”

  He felt the dancer’s cold fingers brush the back of his hand as he accepted the drink, more welcome than he wanted to admit. His palms were sweating.

  “Like I said, this guy... Some people just take advantage, you know?”

  Marc hoped a sip of whiskey would make the silence less awkward. The cheap shit felt like razors sliding down his throat.

  “So anyway, this is it. I guess you took a look around already?”

  “Yeah,” he finally got out. “Kind of. Umm—”

  “Water’s good,” the dancer continued, turning on the
kitchen faucet to prove his point. “I don’t cook or nothin’, so the stove’s all yours if you can get it goin’. Toilet’s backed up a couple of times, but I got some stuff for that.”

  Marc swallowed, lifting his glass again. The drink burned no less than it had the first time. He tried not to stare at the bed. Another glance at the Confederate flag showed up the big tear down its centre.

  “That’s the asshole’s,” Ash explained. “Can’t say why he left it. Fuckin’ idiot.”

  “It’s fine, I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “Where…where would I sleep, exactly?”

  “Huh? Oh…ah….” Ash flashed him the same grin that had sucked him in the night they’d met. “That’s why it’s only three fifty. Each, I mean. That’s cheap as hell for the Quarter, man.”

  “Yeah, but… Sorry, this was a bad idea.”

  “Awww, don’t you worry, handsome. I can keep my paws to myself.”

  Marc took another sip, almost finishing the drink. He didn’t care about the taste or the burn any more.

  “You got much stuff?”

  “No,” he admitted, thinking of his gym bag and five sets of clothes that hadn’t been washed in weeks.

  “Well, that’s good. Building ain’t exactly big on closet space.”

  “Hey, look, Kellan?”

  “Ash, man. Ash. Kellan dances on the bar. We’ve all got another name for that. You got me?”

  “Sure, I got you. Ash, man, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  Ash frowned, downing the rest of his drink and setting the glass down on the table with another loud clunk. “What the hell’s wrong? Told you it was cheap. And hey, this ain’t permanent or nothin’. Hell, if things work out, we could even get ourselves a whole new place. What do you say?”

  “It’s not the place.”

  “So? What’s…” He trailed off, the cocky smile returning to his lips as he pushed his shoulders back, flexing his modest pectorals. “Hey listen, stud.” He flopped a colourfully tattooed arm around Marc’s shoulder before Marc could move. “You know when I said I’d give you that dance for free, that was just business, right?”

  “Dance?” A shell-shocked moment later, Marc remembered.

  “Hell, I was just bein’ flirty. That’s the job, man. It don’t mean nothin’.”

  “So…you’re what? Gay? Bi?”

  The stale scent of cigarettes and whiskey on the guy’s breath shouldn’t have turned him on this much.

  “Gay for pay, baby,” said Ash, taking back his arm and sauntering over to the pile of clothes. He plucked out a bright red tank top and slipped it over his head. Against his blonde hair and the dark blues and greens of his snake tattoo…damn. “Yourself?”

  “Same,” Marc lied, hoping the guy didn’t notice his boner.

  “Because that don’t bother me or nothin’, just so we’re clear.”

  “No, I mean ah…we’re clear. It’s cool.”

  “Awesome,” the dancer extended his hand, squeezing Marc’s before bringing them both up to his chest. “You’re a fuckin’ life saver, man. Hey, I gotta head out. Bring the money by the bar tonight, all right? It’s three fifty. I’ll set you up with some keys, then just bring your stuff over whenever.”

  “Umm, Ash?”

  “Hey, gives me some time to clean up a bit, maybe see if I can get that stove workin’.”

  Marc stared at the open door and the grinning young blond jock propping it open. His new roomie.

  What the hell had he just signed on for?

  * * *

  Marc hadn’t exactly been ready to take Ash’s word for granted. Still, the keys were waiting for him at the bar that night. Three hundred and fifty dollars later plus another five dollars to the door, he’d had them in hand, along with another drink, courtesy of his new roomie, and a gym bag stuffed with whatever he’d managed to cram in before getting on the bus. He couldn’t say why he’d chosen to stay and watch the show, or to watch Ash, not that the guy had made much effort to talk to him. He’d told himself he had to watch the dancers, learn how they moved, and more importantly, how they worked the clientele. But even if that had been true, his eyes were fixed on Ash, save a few glances at the muscular Latino guy, which he could only put down to natural male reflex.

  He could have picked a worse role model. Ash looked like he was genuinely having fun up on the bar, hoovering up tens and twenties from admirers once he stepped down to the bar floor. After watching Ash for about half an hour, Marc noticed something else. The guy was hard. Or maybe he was just…No! Hell no! Ash had been walking around, boned up under his shorts for any starving daddy with enough cash to see. Gay for pay? Hell, Marc wasn’t sure he could pull off that trick, and he was the genuine article. Still, the few times Ash had come over to him, saying hi, offering to take his bag out back, and especially nuzzling his neck, a stunt he guessed was intended to shake loose a few more tips, his manhood hadn’t exactly ignored the call. Just like it wasn’t now they were in bed.

  He’d been laying there for over an hour, listening to his roommate’s unconscious breath, watching his body gently rise and fall, still damp and acrid with sweat. Ash hadn’t warned him he slept naked. A couple of thin sheets were all that concealed what Ash had been teasing all night. Marc felt his stomach tense as Ash rolled onto his back. He inhaled another wave of the scent as his sleeping bedmate tossed an arm up above his head and was still once more. He gently bit his bottom lip as his gaze worked its way down Ash’s reclining arm to his pit and over his gently defined chest, pale blue in the light that came through the shutters. Swallowing, Marc reached down and squeezed the tip of his own dick. He would have taken care of things right now if he’d been sure it wouldn’t wake Ash. Sure, that would have gone well. Especially now he’d claimed to be straight.

  He brought the rest of his fingers around the shaft, squeezing harder, until a sharp intake of air escaped him. His heart leapt in his chest as he heard Ash’s quiet moan. He instantly let go of his cock, tensing every muscle, waiting for…what? What did he expect to happen? That Ash would freak out? Why should he? Marc was just another horny dude who needed to take care of himself from time to time. Why should their sharing a bed change that?

  He had just relaxed again when Ash’s other hand slipped under the sheet. He didn’t need much imagination to know its destination. Marc’s heart was slamming inside his chest again.

  Ash’s eyes were still closed, his breath steady as it had been for the past hour. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, his scent, the way the muscles of his stomach gently contracted and expanded with each breath. Nothing had changed. He was asleep. The guy was jerking off in his sleep.

  Marc swallowed, trying to relieve the dryness in his throat as he watched. He couldn’t remember ever watching another man’s body so closely, every faint twitch of every muscle as Ash pleasured himself. The sound of Ash’s breath deepening, a faint sigh escaping him as he paused his movement, then kept going. Marc’s fingers returned to his own cock, gently stroking in time with the man beside him. Back and forth, until the sheet slipped. And there was Ash’s perfectly hard cock, swelled in his hand, gently rocking back and forth as Marc watched.

  Had the sheet fallen on its own? Or had Ash pulled it down?

  The guy had been teasing Marc all night. Nuzzling him, putting his arm around him. Sure, he’d said he was straight. They both had. Then they’d both gone to bed naked with another guy. Now they both had hard-ons.

  Marc reached out, tentative and scared as he’d ever felt in his life, stopping so close to Ash’s stomach he could feel it brush the tips of his fingers each time the guy breathed in. Considering the sweat Ash had worked up, his skin felt surprisingly cool and dry now. But the movement didn’t slow. Didn’t change. Marc relaxed his fingers against Ash’s body, the feeling sending a jolt straight to his cock. Had he still been touching it, he might have come then and there. He slowly let his fingers drift down Ash’s side, finally resting his hand
on the guy’s leg. His heart leapt again as a sharp hiccup of breath interrupted Ash’s steady sleep, and the guy’s hand left his cock, flopping off the side of the mattress. But he remained asleep. Remained hard.

  Marc knew he should let go. That he should just go into the bathroom, jerk off, then come back to bed and pass out. But the heat of Ash’s balls felt too good against the back of his fingers. He hadn’t even realized he’d brought his hand up so high. Ash’s cock practically fell into his hand.

  Ash stirred again, emitting the same little moan Marc had heard before as Ash had begun jerking himself. He wanted this. It had been obvious from the moment they’d met. ‘I’d give you a dance for free?’ Just bein’ flirty, huh?

  Bullshit.

  Bullshit, because of the way Ash was moaning and thrusting his cock into Marc’s hand. Bullshit, because of the way the guy moved his leg so the inside of his thigh brushed against Marc’s bare skin. Bullshit because of the way he didn’t flinch when Marc spread a hand over his muscular stomach, happily continuing to receive Marc’s touch, then just as happily receiving Marc’s tongue.

  Inhaling Ash’s scent, welcoming the faintly sour taste of his skin, the heat of the cock head as it pushed along his tongue, leaving a trail of sweet precum in its wake…it only pushed Marc to go deeper, harder, taking Ash’s manhood down to its hilt as he spread his fingers across the smooth curves of the guy’s abs, his other hand gripping the inside of Ash’s thigh. Another faint groan escaped Ash as he brought up his hand to grab Marc’s wrist. Marc almost dropped Ash’s cock. He felt every muscle in his body tense, ready to be pushed away or worse. But Ash continued to sigh, pushing his cock deeper between Marc’s lips.

  “Don’t stop,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

  Marc didn’t, wrapping his tongue around Ash’s shaft once more and drawing deep, ignoring the ache in the base of his own erect cock as he focused on Ash. Ash moaned again, gripping Marc’s arm tighter. The sudden release of his thick stream caught Marc off guard. He jumped back as Ash’s body jerked several times, ejaculating over his stomach and chest. Feeling the heat of drops on his hand, Marc pulled Ash tighter into him again, licking the shaft clean. But it was too late. Cum now covered Ash’s taut body. Marc sat back, giving Ash some space as he took his own cock in hand and started to jerk off.