Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
- One.
- Two.
- Three.
- Four.
- Five.
- Six.
- Seven.
- Eight.
- Nine.
- Ten.
- Eleven.
Epilogue
Acknowlegdments
DROWNING IN RAPTURE
Rapture Trilogy, Book One
Megan D. Martin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Drowning in Rapture, Rapture Book One
Copyright © 2014 Megan D. Martin
Edited by Kenya Wright & Rosa Sophia
Cover by Najla Qamber Designs
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
http://www.MeganDMartin.blogspot.com
First Printing, 2014
For Colton/Coltan/Coltiana/Koletan/Luhtrelle/Felicia,
(I couldn’t write this dedication without listing all of your names. Bahaha) I could never begin to express how much your crazy-ass friendship means to me. You helped me through some of the hardest times in my life, and for that I will be eternally grateful. If I’m ever down, you help pick me up. Thank you for all of your support and for all the nights we raided my closet and played dress-up (as adults, lol). To many more years of friendship! BYE FELICIA.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
-T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
One.
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” I studied Victor’s handsome face.
“Aw, come on, Jewel, we’ve already talked about this.” My best friend shoved the last of his shirts into one of his many suitcases.
“I know, but still…what am I going to do without you?”
Victor turned to look at me, his chiseled body flexing in the morning sun. It was just after eight o’clock in our high-rise Dallas loft, the earliest I had been up in at least two years.
“You know this is for the best.” He smiled, but his eyes looked sad. His black hair fell across his face shadowing it.
Victor and I had been best friends since we first met at Rapture, an exclusive strip club in downtown Dallas, Texas. I’d gotten a job there just after turning twenty-one, when my dad kicked me out of the house for fucking my ex boyfriend’s best friend on the lawn while I was drunk…in the middle of the day. Revenge was a card that had screwed me in more ways than one. I’d gotten it against Kevin, my ex-boyfriend, but I’d also lost everything I’d had to my name. Naturally, I had no choice but to turn to stripping. I blamed my dad for the job decision, after all, he was the one who paid for my boob job just after high school. What else was I supposed to do with my life? I wasn’t good at anything but shaking my ass and fucking.
“Are you worried about the Rapture X party?” Victor asked. “’Cause Jimmy said he was going to put you with Shawn. I know he will take care of you.”
Rapture X?
Shit. I’d forgotten all about that. It was those exclusive parties that made it possible for Victor and I to afford our high-rise loft in the city. Victor and I had hit it off right away at work. We did one strip show together on a Saturday night, which is what started it all. People went nuts over the two of us together. Women and men alike requested us as a pair, claiming the sexual tension between us was “so fucking hot” some even swore they came in their pants at the sight of our bodies writhing together.
After we’d sold out for the fourth weekend in a row, Jimmy, Rapture’s General Manager, upped the already startlingly high cover charges and people lined up outside, desperate to get in. They came from hours away to see us, to watch Victor fuck me with his eyes and clutch my sweating body with his massive hands. We’d climb the pole in center stage, and I’d grind my body against his while he held me in mid-air. There was nothing we couldn’t do together. That was just how it worked. I’d never trusted anyone so completely in my life.
Two months into our sell-outs a private business owner propositioned Jimmy to have us dance at his private party. The money was huge, ten grand a piece, just for the night! Only he didn’t just want us to dance, he wanted us to fuck.
“Hey babe, you got everything?”
I glanced over and met Chris’s dark brown eyes. He tucked his shirt into low-slung blue jeans. Him and Victor had been a couple for over seven years.
“Yeah, almost,” Victor replied.
When Jimmy approached the two of us about being the centerpiece of the party, I’d scoffed at him. I was a stripper, not a prostitute. I didn’t fuck for money, especially not a gay man. At that point Victor and I were already best friends. He was hot, sure, but I had never considered fucking him. He had a boyfriend, a hot one at that, but crazily enough those were far from my biggest worries. I was more afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get off with me since I was a girl. I didn’t want to be in the middle of a crowd getting the shit fucked out of me by someone who didn’t like it. I knew I made him hard, I danced naked with him enough times to know he wasn’t immune to a thick ass and fake tits.
As it turned out, Victor wanted to do it, and Chris didn’t mind it either. They’d been saving to move to New York for years. Chris wanted to pursue his dream of being on Broadway only after he paid off his extreme credit card debt. Ten grand to fuck me was something neither man wanted to pass up on. Needless to say I’d agreed. The party had been a huge success, so successful that Rapture started putting on the parties every month up on the exclusive VIP floor. And for the last two years Victor had been fucking the shit out of every orifice I had once a month in front of a crowd of rich, ravenous people.
“But I’m going to miss you guys.”
Chris came and wrapped his arms around me. He wasn’t stacked with muscle like Victor, nor was he as tall, but his shoulder-length blond hair and dazzling smile made him one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.
“It’s not too late to come with us.” He brushed a lock of my aqua-blue hair out of my face. I’d been dying my white-blond hair the light blue color since I’d started at the club. I’d wanted to stop, as I’d only done it for fun, but the patrons preferred it. They said it gave me an ethereal mermaid-like quality.
“You know I can’t.”
“Come on, Jewel, your grandma can take care of herself!” Chris whined.
“Obviously she can’t.” I rolled my eyes. “If she could I would’ve already been on the plane!”
Chris bit his lip, sadness engulfing his features. “I know, baby girl.” He wrapped his arms around my slender form. Tears sprung into my eyes. No, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry! I widened my eyes, knowing if I blinked the tears would come pouring out. I caught Victor’s gaze, surprised to see his green eyes sparkling, jeweled with tears. He turned away from us and jerked his designer shirt over his head.
How am I going to live without them?
“Hey, Jewel, here’s the new schedule.” Patricia dropped a sheet of white paper onto my cluttered vanity. I was in the back of Rapture getting ready for my eleven p.m. show. This was my first time to dance at the club since Victor and Chris had moved.
I’d spent the last four days in my loft feeling lonely. Aside from my gran, they were the only people I had in the world.
“New schedule? But I talked to Jimmy last week. I’m supposed to dance solo and then do a short with Cinna.”
Patricia shrugged. “I’m just his assistant, Jewel. I don’t make the schedule, I just deliver it.” She walked off before I could say anything else, disappearing into the throng of half-naked dancers walking back and forth from the many vanities, to the shower room, dressing room, and stage.
I glanced down at the paper, its yellow color standing out brightly against my dark, make-up strewn vanity.
11:00—Jewel, Underwater strip
11:10—Jewel & the Ripper
The Ripper? What the fuck is this? I frowned and stood up. Where the hell did Patricia go?
I was supposed to do my underwater strip show like always, but Cinna, another female stripper with bright red hair, was supposed to join me for my partner strip for the night. It had been the plan for the last two months since Victor alerted Jimmy he was leaving. I stood up, the sparkling blue beads that hung from my outfit clinking as I rushed along.
I hurried through the crowd of other dancers and backstage workers. Some said hello, others offered their apologies for Vic leaving. I merely nodded at them. I pushed open Jimmy’s office door, not bothering to knock.
“What the fu—oh, Jewel, it’s just you.” Jimmy glanced away from me and back down at the woman kneeling in front of him. I immediately recognized her as Matilda, one of the newer girls. The brown-haired stripper was topless with her mouth wrapped around Jimmy’s average-sized cock.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Hmm?” Jimmy held on to the side of his mahogany desk with fat fingers, each adorned with a thick expensive ring.
“This schedule!” I waved the paper in his face. I’m supposed to dance with Cinna after my underwater routine.
“Schedule changed, please…” He let out a groan as Matilda took his length to the back of her slender throat. “Leave.”
I narrowed my eyes at his bald head. He usually wore a fedora, but it lay on his desk. “Uh, no. This isn’t what we agreed on. Who the fuck is the Ripper?” I pushed my freshly curled hair over my shoulder and placed a hand on my hip.
“New guy.” Jimmy released his grip on the table and fisted Matilda’s hair, shoving her head down on his dick.
“Who in the hell would call themselves the Ripper?”
Jimmy didn’t respond, just kept pressing Matilda’s head down roughly. The girl gagged and Jimmy grunted, pushing her head down harder. “Fuck, yeah!” he moaned. His hips flexed forward.
He’s cumming. Thank the lord, maybe now I can get a straight answer from him.
Matilda swallowed and stood. Her mascara ran in rivulets down her face. Jimmy dropped a fifty on his desk after he shoved his limp cock in his pants. The girl snatched it up and darted from the office. Talk about being desperate for cash. I would rather be homeless eating dumpster food than sucking on Jimmy’s fifty-year-old cock.
“Now, what is it, Jewel? I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m a busy man.”
I frowned at him, knowing my blue eyes held animosity. “I’m supposed to dance with—”
“Cinna, right. But that changed. Cinna is on now, her usual time. I hired a new guy to dance with you. Sales dropped when the schedule posted with you and Cinna so I remedied that by hiring someone else.” He sat in his office chair and started typing on his computer.
“But I haven’t practiced with him or anything. I haven’t even seen the guy.” I knew I sounded whiney, but I didn’t care. Not at this point. Jimmy had been my manager for over two years. Getting thrown with some random guy was something that happened to the new dancers to see how they reacted under pressure. I was a veteran in this game. I didn’t have to be tested anymore. “Not to mention he sounds like a fucking serial killer,” I added.
Jimmy fixated his beady eyes on me with a bored expression. “The schedule stays. Sales bumped today alone when I advertised on the web that you were going to dance with our new mystery stripper the Ripper. We’re talking numbers nearly as good as you and Victor pulled in the beginning.
“Mystery dancer?”
“The customers are curious what the Jewel of the sea will do without her Poseidon.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming at him.
Jimmy eyed me, taking in my reaction. “We’re all wondering.”
Two.
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 completel
y, 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.
No way did I anticipate the lights of the stage shutting off, but they did. A loud booming sound thundered from the speakers. I jumped, and several people in the crowd screamed.
“Poseidon is gone,” Arnie, the club DJ, said over the loudspeaker. He had the perfect voice for a DJ, hell, for movies even. He could have narrated anything, especially a horror film, for how menacing his voice sounded now. “So who will save our Jewel of the sea?”
The crowd started to buzz. Some men yelled that they would, others said things I couldn’t understand. My heart pounded in my chest.
Why am I nervous? Cause you have no freakin’ clue what’s about to happen.
“No one. Jewel will have to save herself from”—Arnie gave a dramatic pause—“the Ripper!”
The hard riff of a guitar shuddered through the building. Hot hands gripped my slippery shoulders from behind just as the lights flickered back on. I jerked in surprise. When had someone come up on stage with me? A thrum of anticipation tore through me like the slice of a knife. Hues of red and dark blue light flickered across my skin. I turned my head just as the riff ended in the song and another sounded. Death metal? Really? I tried to catch a glimpse of the man behind me, but couldn’t.
Drowning in Rapture: Rapture, Book One Page 1
