Krewe Daddy

by Margie Church

  "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.

  Drew and Teak were standing in a brook that barely covered the rise of their hips. He wondered how they'd gotten through the shot without their erect cocks breaking the wa
ter's surface. Luis' inner jerk hoped they'd frozen their balls off in the mountain stream.

  He examined the rivulets of water creating a sexy path down Drew's lightly furred chest. Teak was leaning in for a kiss, and Drew's expression said he'd waited long enough.

  That was all Luis could take. He shut the catalog. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, as though doing so would blot out the erotic image he'd just seen. Seconds later, he curled his fingers around the glossy papers, crinkling them, destroying the perfect images Kevin Marks presented on the crisp pages. Grimacing, Luis cursed himself for his weakness, for needing to see Drew even if he appeared with Teak.

  He reopened the magazine to a solo picture of Drew. While smoothing the rumpled page, heaviness filled his heart.

  "Why couldn't I see what I was doing to us?" He let out a long sigh.

  He put the magazine in the back of the desk drawer with all the others he'd collected over the past few years. Grim reminders that second chances didn't always come around.

  Before he left for his dental appointment, Luis powered down his computer for the night and organized his desk. And seriously considered skipping the Novocain.

  Chapter Three

  Drew hunched over what seemed to be an endless amount of legal paperwork.

  When he'd come back to work after his altercation in the swamp, he'd learned Mateo Sandalio was the crazed greaseball he'd tackled a few weeks earlier. Sandalio had remained on the New Orleans' police radar since his release from prison eighteen months ago. The felon had spent six years in jail for vehicle theft, a couple of aggravated assaults, and weapons charges. In his early thirties, Sandalio had already become a hardened criminal. When he wasn't helping his thug family traffic drugs, he was on the streets, throwing his weight around with the Retribution gang. Dumb luck had brought Drew face-to-face with him that day.

  According to the arrest report, Sandalio tested positive for cocaine, and police found seventeen grams in the truck.

  Enough to get him some more hard time, even without the other shiny new decorations on his rap sheet.

  Drew read through the list of charges one last time before signing and dating the document. The Sandalio family name, combined with Drew's assault, had turned this case into a high-profile event. Drew's grand jury appearance would be next week.

  He looked up in time to see his partner, Jordan Skeeps, walk into the office. Drew glanced at the clock on the wall. He hadn't realized the afternoon had gone by so fast.

  "Hey, Skeeps."

  "Are you back in the truck with me tomorrow?"

  "I see the doctor again after I leave here. I'm feeling pretty good. Hopefully, he'll let me off restricted duty."

  "I hope so, too." Skeeps looked over his shoulder. "No offense, but one more day with Wilson, and I might call in sick. He's driving me out of my ever-lovin' mind."

  Drew gave his partner a lopsided grin. "He whistles."

  "Never ends. And I can't pick out what song he's whistling." Annoyance was written all over Skeeps' face.

  Drew gave a humorless chuckle. "I know. I once made the mistake of asking just what the hell he was whistling. He took real offense. Gave me some cock-and-bull story about being a contest winner when he was a kid."

  "Fat fucking chance. He sounds like a rusty handsaw scraping on a tin can."

  Skeeps stuck his index finger in his right ear and wiggled it. "That tuneless wonder gets on my nerves in the worst damn way. Fake it. I don't care what you do, but I can't take another day of Whistler Wilson."

  Drew gave the thumbs-up signal. "I'll try to save you the rest of this week and next. Then you need to put in for some vacation or request a different partner the following week."

  Skeeps' eyebrows knit together. "Why?"

  "I'm going to Montana."

  "What?"

  Drew held up his hands and imitated a person taking a photo.

  Skeeps' jaw dropped. "You've gotta be shitting me. Lieutenant Fisk is still letting you take off?"

  Drew shrugged. "Sorry. I hadn't planned to get the tar beat out of me three weeks ago. I just hope Kevin doesn't want to take any pictures with my shirt off. I might still have some bruises."

  "I can't believe this."

  "I told you last month it was coming up. The dates were verified while I was on leave."

  Drew waited for a jab about his second occupation. Even though Skeeps knew Drew modeled, his partner still ribbed him about it every now and then. Sometimes when they were alone, he threw in an off-color remark about being gay, too. Drew took it in stride because he knew Skeeps respected him as an enforcement agent and a friend.

  He'd even complimented Drew on a few of the photos he'd seen.

  Skeeps let out a frustrated growl. "One problem at a time. I'll talk to Lieutenant Fisk."

  He pointed at Drew, his finger damn close to jabbing him in the chest. "You make sure you're in my vehicle tomorrow or . . . ."

  "Or?" Grinning, Drew stretched out the word.

  "I might have the flu."

  Picking up his stack of paperwork for the D.A., Drew chuckled. "Believe me, I'm sick of restricted duty. I'd love to get back out there where I belong."

  "I heard the lieutenant warn you about the possibility of some Sandalio payback."

  Drew had thought about that, off and on, all week. Although threats were common, most of the time they didn't pan out. Thank God.

  "Watch my back, and it'll work out fine."

  "You watch your back, too. Those assholes shoot first and ask questions later.

  Don't take any chances—anywhere—until this thing is over."

  Drew nodded. "I won't." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better get to my doctor's appointment. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow."

  "If you aren't back on regular duty, call me tonight so I can practice being sick."

  He laughed at his partner's lame attempt at humor. "Will do."

  * * * * *

  Drew got a clean bill of health and, much to Skeeps' joy, went back to his regular work routine. Today, he sat in the hallway outside Courtroom 3B, waiting for the district attorney to summon him. Drew reviewed the events of that morning in as much detail as he could recall. No one could predict what the grand jury might want to know about that day. Hell, they might want to know whether I spotted rabbit turds next to Sandalio's tires.

  The door swung open. The D.A. stuck her head out into the hallway. "Agent Rothem, we're ready for you now."

  "Let's get this over with." Drew followed Sheila Parsons into the grand jury room.

  After being sworn in, Drew took his seat on the witness stand. He'd appeared before grand juries twice before and found the experience nerve-wracking.

  Attorney Parsons approached him. "Please state your name for the record."

  "Drew Rothem."

  "And your job title, please."

  "Senior Agent with the Region 8 Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, Enforcement."

  "How many years have you worked there, Agent Rothem?"

  "Two."

  "Tell the grand jury what happened the morning of August 6."

  "I was following up on a report of alligator poaching in the Barataria Preserve, south of the city."

  "You were alone?"

  "Yes, my partner was in court that morning, and we were shorthanded."

  "Please go on, Agent Rothem."

  "I noticed tire tracks leaving the gravel road and pulled off to investigate."

  "On foot?"

  "Yes, I walked in about fifty yards. When I got to the edge of the swamp, the defendant was standing behind his truck. I watched him take off his bloody gloves, and figured he probably had an alligator in there. I backtracked closer to my vehicle and called in the situation. When I returned, he was shutting his tailgate. I waited until he'd cleared the vehicle before announcing my presence."

  "You surprised him?"

  "Yes. I drew my weapon and came out from behind a tree. I told him to move away from the truck,
and put his hands where I could see them."

  "And did Mr. Sandalio cooperate with you, Agent Rothem?"

  "At first, yes. He put his hands above his head and walked toward me. His eyes were very red; he seemed incredibly anxious."

  "Couldn't that be because he'd possibly been caught with an alligator in the back of his truck?"

  "Certainly, but the way his body and eyes were moving made me think he was on drugs of some sort. He was very jittery."

  "What happened next?"

  "He turned around as I asked and put his hands behind his head. I dropped my Flex-Cuff."

  "The plastic handcuffs?"

  "Yes, and while I was reaching for a second one, he swung backward and elbowed me in the chest. My service weapon flew out of my hand." Drew related the rest of the ensuing fight for the jury. "Mr. Sandalio did his level best to put me out of commission. I believe he would have killed me, if my partner hadn't arrived at that moment."

  "Were you injured?"

  "Yes, I had a badly bruised left shoulder and injuries to my ribs from being thrown to the ground. I had some other cuts and bruises, too, but the ribs and shoulder kept me off work for two weeks."

  "Did Mr. Sandalio surrender on your partner's command?"

  "No. The defendant had his fist pulled back to hit me when Agent Skeeps Tasered him."

  * * * * *

  By the time Drew finished answering all their questions, the morning was shot.

  Drew left the grand jury room hoping the system would work, and today would be the last time he'd have to worry about the career criminal.

  Once he cleared the building, Drew turned on his cell phone. He retrieved a voice message from Kyle.

  "Hey, Drew, I hope we're still on for tonight. I'm looking forward to spending the night together. It's going to be a long, lonely week without you. Call me. Bye."

  He pressed the call back button while walking down the stairs to the parking lot.

  Kyle answered on the third ring. "Hi, Drew, how did court go?"

  "Fine. The guy deserves to be fire-roasted."