"Evan's Heaven" - Excerpt

by Nicki Bennett

I expected to feel out of place the minute I stepped into the salon, and I wasn't disappointed.  The obviously high-maintenance female behind the counter looked at me like I was something particularly nasty that had just crawled out from under her refrigerator.

"Can I help you?" she drawled, obviously wanting nothing more than to help me right out the door.  I'd be there before it could hit me in the ass, too, if I didn't have to be here.

"I have an appointment," I told her, probably not sounding any more pleased about it than she did.  "Name's MacAlester Kerr."

I still thought it was a stupid idea, but Mark had insisted.  He wanted some barefoot shots for the picnic scene, which was more than fine with me.  But he wanted my feet to look more "polished" than their current natural state.  I didn't see why the makeup people on set couldn't do whatever was needed.  But when your director tells you he's booked you an appointment for a pedicure, there's not much you can do but go along.  Even if it means spending the afternoon pissing off the help at a place called "Evan's Heaven Salon and Day Spa".

The receptionist frowned (creating some wrinkles she'd probably be horrified by if she only knew) and began clicking away at her keyboard.  I took the opportunity to look around in amusement.  The salon obviously catered to a top-tier clientele.  Fine marble, expensive woods, and silky fabrics created an elegant atmosphere.  Soft "lite" jazz (the kind that always set my teeth on edge) played quietly in the background.  The customers waiting in the plushly upholstered lounge, sipping flutes of wine or imported sparkling water, were all highly made-up, expensively dressed women.  I couldn't blame the receptionist too much for her attitude – my flannel shirt and jeans were glaringly out of place amid all this sybaritism.  Hell, I was probably the only male in the place.

Or… not.  The young man who stepped through the cut-glass doors from the salon's inner sanctum was definitely at home in the spa's refined aura.  In his pink silk shirt and charcoal pinstriped slacks, he could have stepped straight from a photo shoot for GQ.  He was tall and slender, with an angel's face and a barely-restrained mop of dark ebony curls that obviously benefited from plenty of the salon's "product".  The receptionist was ridiculously happy to see him, leaning toward him to whisper urgently with just enough twitches of her head towards me to make it clear who she was talking about.

The young Adonis turned his attention to me with a dazzling smile.  "Mr. Kerr?  Would you follow me, please?"  Since he was heading into the salon and not out to the street, I nodded and trailed behind him, silently enjoying the view of his trim hips swinging perkily in front of me.

He led me into a private room that was, if possible, even more luxurious than the reception area.  Closing the door behind us, he offered me his hand.  "Welcome, Mr. Kerr.  I'm Evan York."

"As in 'Evan's Heaven'?" I asked.  "I must have really scared your receptionist if she had to call the owner on me."

Evan chuckled.  "I just bought the spa a few weeks ago, and we don't have much male clientele yet.  She'll get used to it."

I realized Evan was still holding out his hand to me, and offered my own in return.  Something quivered in my stomach at the feel of his soft fingers sliding over my calloused palm.

"A pedicure, eh?  Sure I can't talk you into a manicure too, Mr. Kerr?" he asked, turning my hand over and running his fingers lightly over my knuckles.

The quivering turned into full-fledged tremors.  My cock decided to stand up for a closer look at what was going on.  Down, boy, I told myself.  This is his job; just because he's the most stunning thing you've seen in a month of Sundays doesn't mean he's coming on to you.  Hell, he works surrounded by beautiful women.  Why on earth would you think he's attracted to men

"Just a pedicure, thanks," I growled, the tone coming out much harsher than I intended.  "And please, call me Mac," I added in a softer tone of voice.  He glanced at me curiously at first, then flashed his alluring smile again.

"Fine, let's get started then, Mac," he said, nodding toward something that looked suspiciously like a throne against the opposite wall.  I must have looked totally lost, because his smile faded slightly.

"Have you had a pedicure before?" he asked.

"You're my first – I mean, no, this is my first one," I stammered.  Get a grip, Kerr, I told myself sternly.

The smile was back.  "A pedicure virgin?  I promise not to do anything you don't like," he teased.  Our eyes met and held for a moment.  I recognized the look in those rich chocolate depths.  Damn!  Maybe he was coming on to me after all.

Taking pity on my ignorance, Evan gestured toward the chair.  "This is the pedicure station," he explained.  "We'll start with a foot soak to relax you and soften your skin, followed by moisturizing, trimming, exfoliation, and a massage."  He leaned over the chair and turned on a faucet, testing the water temperature as it began filling the basin at the foot of the "throne".  I took the opportunity to once again admire the trim ass bent before me.

Once he was satisfied with the water temperature, Evan selected a bottle from a shelf above the chair and poured a capful into the basin.  A tangy scent wafted up in the steam rising from the bowl.

"Grapefruit, mint and eucalyptus," he told me.  "It's my own blend.  I prefer it to the floral scents we offer for the ladies.

"If you'll take off your shoes and have a seat…."  Evan hesitated, glancing at my slim-legged jeans with concern.  "You'll never be able to roll those up enough to keep them out of the water," he observed.  His eyes glittered wickedly.  "Perhaps you should just slip them off."

Fuck – he was definitely coming on to me.  The way my cock was dancing against my zipper, it thought Evan had made an excellent suggestion.

If I'd known I was going to be dropping trou, maybe I would have worn some boxers underneath them.

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