Six Degrees of Lust (32 page)

place.

Remy started making obscene kissing noises. “Give us a kiss,

big boy.”

Mac shook his head and just laughed while they made their

way down Bourbon Street looking for a place Remy assured him

they had to visit, even though Mac was feeling pretty partied out

and only wanted to go back to their hotel. He was about to say

so when his friend came to a screeching halt and turned to him.

“This is the place I was lookin’ for. Let’s go in for one more

drink.”

“Don’t you think we’ve had enough?”

“No. You wouldn’t be all tense if we’d had enough…and

neither would I.” He took a deep breath. “I say we need some

more. You’ve been all depressed and shit since we left your folks’

pad yesterday, cher.”

“Drinkin’ ain’t gonna change that.”

“But I’ve always heard this joint is awesome,” his friend

insisted. “Come on, just one drink, I promise.”

Mac didn’t really pay much attention to the place as they went

in. Like every other club on Bourbon Street and in the French

Quarter, it was open in the front bar area, then became more

226 Taylor V. Donovan

secluded toward the back. Remy grabbed Mac’s hand and dragged

him straight to the neon lit bar.

He passed on yet another shot and ordered a beer instead.

That was when he noticed the TV screens framing the bar. Took

him all of ten seconds to realize that what he thought was a racy

video was in fact a live feed from the dance floor. The crowd, all

sizes, shapes, races, and exclusively male, was definitely having

fun.

Slowly he put his beer down on the bar and shook his head

when the bartender asked him if something was wrong. Every

muscle in his body froze. The guy was about as big as Mac, and

he was wearing a skin tight, bright blue T-shirt with the name of

the club across the front that couldn’t have screamed “Queer”

any louder.

Was this Remy’s way of saying he knew about Mac? Had he

somehow figured it out? Had he listened in on the conversation

with his family?

Mac discarded the beer and ordered a shot. The moment

he downed it, he slammed the glass down on the bar and asked

the bartender—Neal, super friendly dude willing to give Mac

anything special he wanted—to pour him another. He didn’t

give a shit as to what “special” meant in that case. He wasn’t

interested, whether it was a drink, drugs, or kinky sex.

He stepped away from the bar and looked around for his

friend, only to find him dancing a few feet away with a beautiful

dark skinned boy trying his best to get his hands on Remy’s dress

slacks clad ass.

What. In. The. World.

Mac waited for it, but his friend never asked the guy to stop.

At the end of the song Remy just kissed the guy on the cheek,

thanked him for the dance, and then looked around, probably for

the next partner.

Before that happened, Mac walked over to him and grabbed

him by the arm.

“You wanna tell me why we’re here?” he yelled over the ear

six DegRees of Lust
227

splitting music.

“Told ya it’s supposed to be awesome, and I kinda agree.”

“It’s a gay club!”

“And you’re pointin’ out the obvious why?” his friend drawled,

so close to his ear he touched it with his lips. Mac held his breath.

“It doesn’t bother ya, does it?” Was that a trick question? “’Cause

it ain’t botherin’ me!”

“Why would it?” he finally said. “We’re constantly surrounded

by gays at work too. I just figured you’d go for a titty bar in your

free time.”

“Think I’ve been to one too many of those lately back home.

Plus, this is N’awlins cher. We can have fun wherever we want

to.”

“I’d like to know why you would choose to do it here.”

“’Cause it’s fun?” Remy laughed a little, but he looked like he

might cry. “Laissez le bon temp rouler.”

Mac didn’t bother to ask anything else. Remy was in his own

world, too busy being friendly and charming and even flirting

with every guy who stopped to talk to him to notice how badly

Mac wanted out of there.

He was now convinced Remy knew he was a closet gay, and

he needed to figure out how his friend felt about it, as well as why

Remy, a very straight man who dated a new woman just about

every week, would want to stay there and not only get hit on by

guys, but dance with them as well.

Mac knew his friend experienced that kind of male attention

on a daily basis. Gay or straight, you were bound the get hit on

if you were a good looking man working at The Heat Wave, and

Remy always handled it smoothly and gracefully, often times

flirting back because that’s how he was wired. He’d smile and

charm the pants off of everyone and anyone and then move on.

But that was at work, and there was no reason why he had to

put up with it when he was on vacation. So why was he? What the

hell did it mean? Was it a gesture of solidarity? His way of telling

228 Taylor V. Donovan

Mac he was okay with it?

Jesus. They needed to talk.

An hour later, after turning down no telling how many offers

of dancing and other sweat inducing activities that would have

been most pleasurable were Mac the kind of guy who enjoyed

quick romps in back alleys, he decided it was time they left,

whether Remy was ready or not.

Thank goodness, he was.

They were almost to the door when a thin and very pretty guy

with blond hair and a light amount of makeup came up to his

friend. Remy seemed to be transfixed by him, and Mac watched

him smile at the other man and just stand there when the blond

laid a hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper something in

his ear. Remy smiled, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He

honestly looked like he wanted to kiss the guy, but then backed

off and caressed his jaw instead, a look of sadness shadowing his

own face when he shook his head in kind rejection and sent the

boy away with nothing but a pat on his smooth cheek.

The world was going crazy.

Either that or Mac was drunker than he thought.

Neither one said much on their way to the hotel, but the

silence was amicable, allowing Mac to breathe a little easier and

his mind to analyze the past hour’s events.

Remy jumped in the shower first and Mac got the coffeemaker

going while he waited for his turn. From the time they’d become

friends several years ago Mac always admired Remy’s ability to be

completely comfortable around gay men. Granted you couldn’t

work for Braxton Sinclair if you weren’t. After all, not only was

their boss and friend gay, but he also owned and operated some

of the hottest gay spots in the state. “’Phobes need not apply”

was his motto for all three of his establishments, and he would

have never appointed Remy executive chef of Utopia had the

straight guy shown any signs of intolerance.

Still, his friend’s attitude boggled Mac’s mind at times, as Remy

flirted with guys the same way he did women, and his repertoire

six DegRees of Lust
229

of sexual quotes, one liners, and innuendo was as deep as the

Mississippi and used liberally on either sex. So yeah, they were

around gay men on a daily basis, but they had never purposely

sought out a gay club to just hang out and have drinks in.

Other than whatever had been bothering Remy recently, he

thought there was nothing he didn’t know about his friend, but

now he was seriously stumped. Should he ask the guy or just

leave it alone?

“Bathroom’s all yours, cher.” Mac put his coffee down and

turned around to see Remy walk out of the bathroom, skin still

moist, white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Mac grabbed a few things from his duffle bag and headed to

the shower. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Nah. I’m gonna get dressed and have some of that coffee,

wait for you to take a shower so that we can let it all out.”

“Okay… I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Not going anywhere,” he assured Mac, even though he

looked like he dreaded the conversation with his entire being.

True to his word, Mac took the fastest shower ever, not

wanting to give Remy the time to change his mind. Not giving

himself time to back out of coming clean with his friend. He

toweled his blond hair but didn’t bother much with the rest. Tiny

beads of water were still dripping down his chest and back when

he put some pajama bottoms on before opening the bathroom

door.

The TV was on but the room was empty. He was about to call

for his friend when he noticed the door to their small balcony

was open and the red tip of a cigarette suspended in the air. He

draped the towel around his neck and held the ends with one

hand while he used the other to try and comb his spiky hair.

Then he took one last sip from his coffee and walked towards

the balcony, tripping a little over his own feet when he realized

Remy’s gaze was fixed on his torso. Mac slid one hand over his

pecs and abs self consciously, and damned if his friend didn’t

follow his every move with an intensity that had Mac blushing

230 Taylor V. Donovan

like a five-year-old girl.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not joining him outside but leaning

against the door frame instead, pretending he was unaware of the

way Remy was checking him out.

“I’m fine.” After one more appraising glance that Mac was

positive ended with Remy’s eyes on his package, the Cajun boy

put out his cigarette and leaned back on his chair.

“Want me to get you more coffee or somethin’?” he asked,

trying to buy some time and see if things would return to normal.

Any second now, please.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that?” Remy said, totally

ignoring Mac’s offer and making things even weirder.

“What?” he whispered, feeling like he had gone down the

rabbit hole, unsure of what to say or do.

“I mean, look at ya. So tall and big… and all those muscles…

You look like you can ride a body hard and put it away wet. The

face is definitely icing on the cake. Gorgeous eyes… gorgeous

smi—”

“What are you doing?” Mac interrupted him as soon as he

was able to find his voice, only then realizing he’d been opening

and closing his mouth like a damn hooked fish.

“I see how people look at you, ya know. Most of them would

give up their first born for a chance to be with ya. I know some

of our clients would eat you up alive. I mean, what gay guy in his

right mind wouldn’t get hard by just looking at you?”

“Man, what—?”

“I’ve been watchin’ you closely for months, Macky boy.”

“Of course you look at me,” Mac said with a nervous chuckle,

crossing his arms over his massive chest, wishing he’d taken the

time to put a t-shirt on. “We’re friends. We spend a lot of time

together.”

“I meant watchin’.” Remy clarified, his gaze now on what Mac

figured was his mouth. “I’ve been checking you out. I know the

shape of your ass and could probably take a rather accurate guess

six DegRees of Lust
231

at the size of your dick.”

“Oooookaaaayyyy.”

Mac took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands

before straightening his shoulders and meeting his friend’s eyes

dead on for the first time since getting out there. His heart was

beating fast and his skin was flushed. He felt embarrassed and

exposed and so confused he could probably jump off of their

damn tenth floor balcony. He had no idea where the hell Remy

was going with all this and rather than ask, he decided he’d try to

find the answer in the depths of his best friend’s eyes.

Thank goodness Remy wasn’t looking away, and Mac could

see that his friend’s words didn’t match his expression… or his

tone of voice, for that matter. His eyes were full of curiosity and

confusion, as if something didn’t make sense. His voice was even

and a tad analytical. He might have mentioned Mac’s dick but he

sounded like he was stating a fact, and it finally dawned on him

that there was neither attraction nor anything remotely sexual in

the way Remy was looking at or talking to him. And so Mac was

able to breathe once again.

“You ever have the urge to kiss another man?” Remy put his

arms behind his head and the position made his well defined

biceps bulge up.

He was no slacker, often going to the gym with Mac. As a

result the boy was built. And yeah, Mac noticed and damn well

enjoyed the view. After all he was only human. Problem was his

friend never missed a beat and the mischievous glint in his eyes

told Mac he got busted admiring the goods.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Mac grunted.

“Ever have the urge to kiss another man?”

This time around Remy’s voice was dripping with sensuality,

taking Mac by surprise. He saw the other man lick his lips and felt

his foot rub his own leg up and down, morphing into a seductive