I didn’t plan to become a stripper who performs live sex shows.  But that’s what happened. It’s what I do, and I’m good at it.  I was going to go on and do something with my life. I was going to be something more than just a piece of ass. But that’s not how it worked it out.  


Men don’t control me. Not anymore. Not until my best friend left and hecame into my life.


I don’t want lose myself and drown in another man. But I’m afraid it’s already too late.


**This book is intended for mature audiences only due to graphic depictions of sex and bad language.**








“I let you walk away, Julia. I let you go, but I can still take you back if I want.”


Four months ago I ran away. I left him behind. The man who stalked me, took control of my body, and claimed he loved me.


Now he’s returned. Like dripping razor blades, he has slashed his way back into my life. But everything is different. 


He doesn’t want me anymore.


I expected him to come back, to be sorry. I even planned to forgive him. I should have known that he would discard me like everyone else in my life. But I’m going to change that.


My billionaire stalker has come to say goodbye…only this time I plan to keep him.







At eleven p.m. I stood center stage, my turquoise, jeweled outfit
glittering against my tan skin. Men and women alike stared hungrily at me
only feet away from the elevated stage. I knew what they were seeing. I’d
been in this business long enough to know what image I portrayed. I was the
mythical mermaid, with aqua hair. My body was perfect. No one could deny
that. I was curvy, not some stick figure like a lot of the girls who took
their clothes off for money. My thighs were thick, but toned. My stomach
was flat, an aqua blue ring hung from my belly button matching my waist
length hair. A half sleeve of tattoos covered my left arm, the bright
colors swirling around my bicep. The top I wore pushed the thick globes of
my fake breasts together. My permanently hard nipples pressed at the
bejeweled fabric. Glittering strands hung down from beneath my top and
brushed against the exposed flesh of my stomach. The skirt I wore was knee
length, and glittered as brightly as my top, concealing the sparkling
g-string beneath.I’d stood here before a crowd of hungry patrons hundreds of times, but I
knew it would never get old. Victor’s face niggled at my brain.
Disappointment in missing my best friend swamped me, but I didn’t let it
consume me. I pushed it aside. I was the Jewel of the sea; losing my
Poseidon wouldn’t change anything. I would get through this dance with the
so-called Ripper and call Luke Masterson tomorrow, the owner of Rapture.
The millionaire would have a few choice words for Jimmy.

The electronica pop music kicked in and I jerked my hips to the side in a
quick motion, before bringing them full circle and running my hands through
my hair. It hung loose down my back and brushed against the top of my
skirt. The crowd hooted in front of me, and a man yelled out something lewd
that I ignored. The thrum of the beat picked up and I turned my body around
in a fluid movement giving the crowd a view of my thick backside covered in
the tight skirt. Groans from the crowd followed. I shook my ass, holding my
arms above my head. The music built in cadence picking up with each second,
spiraling through me like an orgasm.

*Yes!* Pink and blue hues of florescent light flickered across my skin. The
cheers from the crowd started to fade away as I let *instinct *take over.
At least that’s what I called it. There was something about music that just
sucked me in, pulled me down into its suffocating depths and made me its
own, where I focused on nothing but that hot pulsing beat as it shattered
around me.

When the tempo dropped my body did as well as I bent at the knees, my back
arching like I was going under a limbo bar on the lowest level. I tilted my
head back knowing full well I was giving the crowd an enticing view of my
cleavage. Touching my hand to my mouth, I blew them a kiss from my
bubblegum pink lips.

On the next thunder of music I was standing up writhing my body away from
the crowd to the massive clear bowl at center stage. It was about six
months into my gig dancing at Rapture that someone came up with the glass
bowl idea. I was Rapture’s Jewel of the sea, so naturally I should writhe
in a giant glittering bowl of baby oil.

I climbed to the top of the clear steps and walked into the bowl. My feet
sank into the oil. The silky touch of the liquid comforted me. I twirled
around the pole in the center just as more oil fell from a spout above, to
shower my chest and below in its glistening substance. The actual container
only had a few inches of oil in the bottom. It would be half-way full by
the time I finished. I shed my skirt slowly, letting it slide off my
slickening thighs. The spout coated me in the warm oil and I gave myself
over, letting the music own my body. The thick beat thrummed through my
veins. It engulfed me completely, like meeting a long lost lover after
years apart, ravaging me from the inside out until I was nothing but slick
writhing cells.

I didn’t come back to myself until the music started to ebb, signaling the
end of my dance. This was usually when Victor came out to join me, entering
from stage left. He would be shirtless, wearing pants that matched my
outfit with a gold pitchfork in his hand, like Poseidon the Greek god of
the sea. The idea behind the whole scene was that I was some precious jewel
Poseidon had discovered on the bed of the ocean floor, and now he had come
to ravish me. Tonight I didn’t know what to expect.


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Megan D. Martin is a multi-published author, mother, student and editor. In her spare time she enjoys decorating her house with strange things that do not match, playing her old school Nintendo Entertainment System, and buying fish for her many fish tanks


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