I am so very pleased to be a part of the Angels of Anarchy network, one bringing you awesome works like Mariel Cove and Rook. My first work with this awesome group is called NeXt. Let’s take a look at the tagline as listed on Amazon.
In the near future, when augmenting your body is a delicious taboo, Illumine Robotics is a name you can trust and Doctor Helena Lazarov has plans to change the human race. But with an Entrobot in every home, evolution occurs in minutes instead of millennia. So when a beat cop, a pastor, a doctor, a hacker and a stripper all wake up changed forever, they have no idea what to expect next.
What I can tell you that this piece of all about the future and what happens when a group of what seems like very normal individuals are encouraged to explore their “gifts”. My character? Well, she’s a card carrying stripper/dancer with a past you just might not believe. Fueled by rage based on a horror she was forced to endure in her early life – you only begin to realize her very special skills in the middle of the first season. Here is a taste of my Natasha, one hell of an ass kicking mama who will give you reason to believe in…
An infusion of blue lights scattered across the stage, filtering down and over the first row of tables. Men seeking a taste of kink, a fantasy fulfilled, sat forward in their seats, salivating over her every move. Natasha Walker, ‘Legs’ to the few she deemed worthy, strutted across the neon lit walkway, her larger than life figure commanding attention. There was no doubt every red-blooded male wanted her, craved her attention. They would also pay anything she demanded for a night alone, the sexual acts unbridled in nature. What the players didn’t know was that she refused to succumb to any sordid encounter with rednecks. Her tastes were completely separated from the men flocking a strip joint. Only customers of stature managed to snag time alone with her, and for a hefty price.
The snap of her wrist brought the whip to the floor and there wasn’t a person in the club who didn’t turn in her direction. Every dance move controlled, she undulated as she twirled, allowing their hunger to heighten. To them she was the only woman in the room, the one who mattered, and the patrons were sucking up drinks in practiced form – just like good little boys. As the most sought after dancer at Club Blue Tease, she was given carte blanche with regards to stage time, as long as the customers continued to return in droves.
“Come on, baby. Show your tits.”
“Take it all off.”
“Shake that ass.” The bald headed man grabbed her ankle as he growled and licked his chops.
Natasha shook her head toward the burly bouncer as he pushed his way through a group of men, a look of rage on his face. “No touching, boys.” She loathed the bobble-headed men who attempted to paw her every night, but the money was too good to pass up. After all, she had expensive needs. Flashing a killer smile she issued a swift kick, the power of her thigh muscles pummeling the man across the closet table.
Every guy in close proximity jumped.
There would be no other incident. She smiled in delight.
“Fuck!” The squeal was one of anguish as well as surprise. Only when he tumbled over a bank of chairs, his body slamming into the floor, did she return to her dance, wrapping her hand around the thick steel pole. Gyrating to the heady metal beat, she swung around the pole, the momentum keeping her aloft for several rounds. Her body easing to the floor, she let go and hunkered down on all fours, crawling toward the edge of the stage as she licked her lips. Swooshing the whip on the floor, the shimmering lights followed her every move, highlighting the touch of danger she offered.
When she was a foot from the edge she stopped and drew up on her knees. She slapped the whip again before wrapping the leather around her neck. Eye contact was important and every time she gazed at first one then another with lust on her mind, they tossed money onto the dance floor. So many of the customers were such pansy-asses.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a well-dressed man sitting in the warm glow of the stage. His white suit stood out in the myriad of tourists and roughnecks perusing the French Quarter for a good time. While his face was shadowed, she knew exactly what he was thinking, could sense his desire. He wanted noting more than to use her. She chuckled and scanned the area behind him. Interesting. Personal bodyguards. He was a man of importance and he wanted her. Dream on, baby.
She heard the cue in the song and unsnapped the front clasp of her lace bra, every move teasing as she rose to her feet. The climax of the last bridge rushed to an angry arc of drums, the intensity sweeping through the club as she dropped the lingerie. Her long hair covered her breasts as she took two steps back. The final chorus taking over, she twirled around the outskirts of the stage, finally dropping down onto one knee.
Darkness swept through the club seconds before a round of applause broke the silence. Natasha panted as echoes bounced in her ears. She closed her eyes as a blast of fear oozed down her spine. Suddenly she was drawn into an unseen conversation, a moment of someone’s past. This had been happening more often lately, the scattered telepathy keeping her awake at night. Unable to catch but a few words and phrases, she was frozen in her position as she tried to make sense of what she was capturing.
A single set of hands, clapping in a beat of their own caught her attention. The spell broken, she lifted her head just as the lights rose to their normal level. The mysterious man was standing at the edge of the stage, his ice blue eyes boring into hers. Mesmerized, she was suddenly unable to tell what he was thinking.
“Very well done. Your prowess on stage is almost equal to your beauty. I have a feeling you have other even more powerful attributes.” His voice was sensuous, the tone without inflection.
His chiseled features, shoulder length raven hair and sculpted body screamed of seduction. Sniffing, the scent of his exotic cologne as well as the cut of his high dollar suit spoke of wealth. Damn it. She was unable to gather a single additional thought, but her gut told her he was hiding behind a mask.
“I would like to make you a business proposition.”
Suddenly enraged at her useless ability she snarled and jerked to her feet. “Thank you, but I’m not for sale.” Whatever this man wanted from her she refused to indulge. Turning away before he had a chance to utter another word, she was backstage before her boss grabbed her attention.
“Little rough on the clients tonight, aren’t you?”
“Riker, I don’t need any shit. I’ve worked for seven days straight and I’m going home to a hot bath and a hard fuck.” Her look icy, she thrust open the dressing room door.
“Balls to the walls as always,” Riker chortled as he followed her inside.
She offered him a glaring look as she stood in front of the mirror, then eyed her reflection. Her tired eyes reminded her she was getting too old for this crap. At least she continued to be a hot number. Her hourglass figure was still in shape from the dancing, her long legs strong. Thank God for small favors. Jerking a robe from the rack she suddenly felt very naked in just her thong. “What do you want, Riker?”
“Who says I want anything?”
“Cut the bull and out with it. Who is he?”
Riker shook his head. “You got chutzpa, girl. He is Sebastian Cavanaugh.”
Hope you have enjoyed and get out and buy several copies!