Billi Jean

by Running Scared

  “I’m just looking for a good time before we go back undercover.”

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Carlie, honey, we broke up. You didn’t want me then, but now you do? Look, I’m a good detective, but I need a few clues. What’s changed?”

  “I can admit my mistakes,” she purred. “Letting you go was my biggest. You’re a great catch and a compassionate lover.”

  “I see. Why do you really want me there?”

  So she could rip out his heart and stomp it into the floor? Or maybe sleep with a co-worker and then laugh because he’d taken offence? Yeah, he felt sorry that she was lonely, but not that he’d walked away. A man could only take so much emotional abuse.

  “I’m making martinis and thought you could share the drinks with me. I’ve been lonely without you.”

  “Really?”

  “I want to reconnect with you. We had such great times together and I miss the way you made me scream. No one has ever been able to match you—not even Troy.”

  Drew rolled his eyes again. He’d made her scream all right. She’d screamed from when he’d walked in the door until the minute he’d walked back out. Her language made the most vulgar individuals look tame by comparison. She could just stick with the other officer—he’d had enough.

  “Well… Think about it.” She blew a kiss into the phone.

  Drew groaned. “Much as I like your company, I’ll pass.”

  “But—”

  He cut off any further argument when he snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “I know I have to work with her, but I really need to block her personal calls.”

  Drew took a breath of fresh air. As he burst through the parking garage door, three rows of vehicles ranging from family to sleek sports cars belonging to his co-workers welcomed him like silent sentries. Silence was exactly what he desired after the irritating call from Carlie.

  The early September evening was cool and almost abrasive on his skin. The setting sun gave the chrome on the bike an orange glow. He sat astride the leather seat and gripped the handlebars. Being on the bike made him feel powerful and sexy. Drew needed to feel manly and desired. Jude. She brought out his virility. He revved the engine. She stirred him, and yet she was the one woman he couldn’t pursue. The situation reminded him of something his buddy Ned used to say.

  What kind of fool messes up a good thing?

  A man with a dick for brains.

  Drew laughed without humour at the pun and took in the sights of the main drag to clear his mind. He wasn’t afraid of women—quite the opposite. He liked most women. But the right woman, the one who turned his world inside out, didn’t seem to exist.

  Was there any woman who could love him without screwing him over? He’d had Nat, Wren, and Carlie… None of those women had flipped the switch. They had labelled him a failure and a cold-hearted man. After so much rejection, he’d begun to believe he would end up alone, like his father.

  He tried to dislodge the depressive thoughts in his head. Forget women and relationships—look at the scenery and blend into the job.

  Drew considered the buildings and neighbourhoods of his home town. Closed restaurants, lumbering factory buildings and abandoned furniture stores littered the area. He shook his head. The big box retail shops had moved out to the more prosperous edge of town, leaving the main city to decay. What had been a booming urban area thirty years prior was now a sad, empty and dilapidated shell of its former self. Green space was at a severe premium.

  Economic healing? Not here… Concrete and crime were everywhere. All of which he remembered clearly from his beat cop days.

  Drew’s humour masked his unhappiness. Just like his birthplace, he felt like a broken-down shell of his younger self. Used and abused.

  He remembered when Carrington Falls had been a thriving area for oil and steel. Now it looked like a sad excuse for a ghost town with all the buildings boarded up or turned into seedy bars and strip clubs. It was cold and distant, just like his heart. So much for being a warm place to raise a family, like it used to be. Not anymore. He couldn’t make himself feel what wasn’t there.

  Drew swung his long legs off the bike and turned to the setting sun. The slight warmth heated his face. Determination coiled around his brain as he locked the bike in the storage unit and strode towards the Nissan across the parking lot. For Randy and the other fallen officers, he’d nail the murderer and shut down the drug ring. “I am Ramon Decker and I’m here for the job of bouncer.”

  With renewed spirit, Drew became Ramon and drove the battered black car to the strip club. He was a regular customer and tonight he’d become a part of the inner group. Time for sex with no strings or feelings—just cold distant sex and hot chicks willing to shake it. Time to kiss up to the bad guy so I can stick his ass in jail.

  He walked along the crumbling black asphalt of the parking lot, past the cool red brick façade and neon signs shouting Girls, Girls, Girls, and XXX Shows, into the foyer of the Silver Steel. Here’s to the next benchmark in my life.

  * * * *

  Jude Nelson stood at the back of the dressing room and stretched in front of the mirror. Nude except for the flesh-coloured thong, she proceeded to examine every inch of her body to see what she could manipulate on stage to be sexier. In her opinion, she saw a plain woman with average looks.

  Jude knew she wasn’t exactly the ideal specimen for an exotic dancer. Diminutive at a mere five feet two inches, she sported size C breasts and curvy hips. Far from fat, she saw herself as voluptuous in a smaller package.

  She squared her shoulders and pouted her lips. “I have confidence. Dancing tonight will put me ahead three more tuition payments and maybe I’ll get to see the hunk.”

  Jude tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe a high ponytail with lots of curls. That might look extra hot,” she murmured to herself. She turned her head to examine her hair at another angle and frowned. What about a sleek look?

  She frowned again. Without the right sexy look, the night would be long and especially rough for a Friday. Rough nights equalled paltry tips and unpaid bills. Jude wouldn’t starve, but the poverty level beckoned. She needed a good night.

  “Stop staring at yourself and get dressed,” Renee Walker shouted, startling Jude. “You’re being vain. You go on in half an hour. I want you to surf the crowd once you’re done. You need to circulate more, so I can get my money’s worth out of you. It’s Thursday, so be on the point. You’ll appreciate the tips.”

  Jude arched her brow at the self-appointed housemother and former dancer.

  Vain? She described it as ‘attempting to be sexier than humanly possible’…definitely not vain. If Renee thought her actions to be vain, then she was sorely mistaken.

  Fine. I’ll prove you wrong. I am sexy.

  Jude knew full well that Renee wasn’t the gentlest of women. With a flame-red teased wig, dark brown eyebrows, heavily painted-on eyeliner and thin wrinkled lips, she wasn’t in her prime any longer. Her wide hips and perpetual grimace did nothing to improve her approachability. She’d been batted around by life and wasn’t afraid to slap back at anyone who got in her way. Many times she’d kicked at anyone who’d dared just to look at her wrong. It was a means of protection so she’d never get hurt. Her temper was notorious…with Jude as her usual target.

  Today was no exception.

  “You don’t really bring in the customers like you should.” She swatted Jude’s ass with an echoing crack. “You only have a few assets, so try to work them hard. Use the pasties tonight. Anything has to help your looks—God knows I can’t.”

  Jude nodded and turned to the dressing table to apply the heavy stage makeup. She didn’t want to wear the pasties or step in front of that crowd. She’d prefer to wear a turtleneck and jeans, or at least her art smock, and be comfortable. She wanted respect as a true artist, not a working girl who took her clothes off for money.

  But that was fodder for another day. Tonight she would shine. She had no other choice
. Jude stepped into the tearaway dress and fumbled with the zipper.

  Just then, Andie showed up to help. She tugged at the bodice of the gown Jude wore and spat out a string of indiscernible curse words. “Why don’t you go without a bodice for once? I’m having a hell of a time getting you into this one.” Andie spoke close to Jude’s ear. “Don’t drink your bottled water. Tiny slipped you something.”

  Jude frowned at her reflection. “I’m fine. I think this outfit will become my speciality. You know, pop out and break out?” She dropped her head. “Thanks.”

  Outwardly, Jude reeked of confidence. She had to. Any show of fear and the clientele would know it. If the dancer displayed anything less than full confidence, her tips drastically declined.

  Jude couldn’t afford it. The need to keep a roof over her head trumped her self-esteem. She had art supplies to purchase and a degree to finish. Do whatever you need to survive and rise above—that was her motto.

  Inwardly, she was a pile of cowardly mush. Unlike many of her fellow dancers, Jude never got a rush or an orgasm from dancing. She tried her best to block out what she did and any sensation she gleaned from it, to be a robot.

  Jude sighed and glanced at her helper. At twenty-nine, Andie Martin personified the American girl—long legs, natural blonde hair, and a smile that lit the darkest room. Her green eyes sparkled with a lethal combination of sexuality and mischief. Good thing Jude didn’t have a man—he’d drop her for Andie in a hot minute. At least she and the willowy model-type were friends.

  “There… I got you in it. Now go out there and pop out of it,” Andie puffed. “Knock ‘em dead, kiddo.”

  Jude peeked down at her squashed breasts and sighed again. The fiery red antebellum outfit with the Velcro tear-away skirt wasn’t her shtick, but it was a crowd-pleaser so she’d caved to Renee’s earlier request.

  “Okay, I’ll give it more than my best shot,” she replied and winked at Andie. “Time to dazzle.” What a lie! Dancing merely paid the bills. That’s all she’d let it be—a quick blip on the radar to reaching her dreams. Personal feelings didn’t matter if she could keep the tuition up to date.

  She turned her back on the double row of makeup tables, dirty maroon carpet and crusty, faux-wood panelled walls, held her head high and stepped up the ramp to the stage.

  Be a machine. Wasn’t that what Jolene said? Then no one gets hurt… Parents won’t pass judgement or set unrealistic standards. Friends won’t run because of less than stellar living conditions. Men won’t know the truth because they can’t get close enough to find out. Strippers were the lowest life form, weren’t they?

  Rise above. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.

  Jude swallowed hard and summoned her courage. She had to become Judy Blue Eyes.

  I am beautiful.

  As soon as Jude got into position, butterflies flooded her stomach. The red patent-leather stilettos nearly gave out beneath her. It happened every time she prepared to dance because it was the only time she couldn’t hide her emotions—hide her fear. She could do this.

  Jude resorted to her tried and true pep talk while she adjusted her dress.

  Think about class. This is one step closer to the studio degree. It’s one step closer to becoming a professional artist. No matter what they say, I am beautiful.

  The curtain opened and Jude began her dance. She marched out on to the empty stage where she began to shimmy on the pole as though she liked what she was doing. Her stomach roiled. Her cool expression and tight smile masked her embarrassment.

  Tables surrounded the stage in the cavernous but dimly lit room. The DJ stood in a booth to the right of the stage, supplying the music to the dancers and serving as a last-defence bouncer in the event of trouble.

  Jude normally chose slow, sexually charged blues songs with a lot of bass because she could better time her movements to the beat. Tonight she was trying a country hit she’d recently heard. The DJ added a thumping techno bass line. The song then became easy to lose herself in and let go. Her hands roamed her body, while her hips shifted to the seductive rhythm. At least her own actions made her feel something.

  Jude noticed the men bunch against the stage. They seemed drawn to her movements. The more she touched her breasts and moved her ass in time to the sexy beat, the better her tips became. What would this feel like with a man? Instinct dictated that it would sparkle. When she ripped away the full skirt, the crowd went wild.

  “I won’t expect a tomorrow when we have no guaranteed today,” the singer sang. “I’ll love you like there’s no tomorrow and hide within your fire.”

  Jude agreed. Her heart still ached—she longed for a tomorrow and a man whose fire was worthy of hiding in. There, she could belong and feel safe—a place to call home and arms open only for her. Did that exist?

  She doubted it.

  Maybe someday.

  Order your copy here

  About the Author

  Billi Jean has been writing since high school when she couldn’t wait for Robert Jordon to write his Wheel of Time series faster. She writes from home in a little two hundred year old farm house in Western Massachusetts where she shares her space with her active children, an old dog, and two lazy cats.

  Email: billi.jean_author@yahoo.com

  Billi Jean loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Take a look at our exciting range of literagasmic™

  erotic romance titles and discover pure quality

  at Total-E-Bound.

  Table of Contents

  Title page