Strip Tease

Strip Tease

Karen
Erickson

* * * * *

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Covering yet again for her twin sister
Ginger is the last thing Janelle wants to do. She’s trying to shed
her former exotic dancer career, not maintain it. Discovering the
guy she’s dancing for is an undercover cop on the hunt for her
troubled sister scares her. This is the last thing she wants to
deal with.

Nathan Banks is desperate to find Ginger for
one reason only—he wants to nab her boyfriend, reputed drug lord
and cold blooded murderer Billy Diaz. Hell bent on revenge after
Diaz killed his partner, Nate doesn’t expect the beautiful blonde
who tricked him to be much help. But he needs Janelle to find
Ginger…

The smoldering attraction between them is
undeniable. Fighting it is futile. As they go on the search for
Ginger, they become closer to each other—and to danger.

All rights reserved. No part of this
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any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior
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quotations for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned,
uploaded or distributed via the Internet, without the publisher's
permission and is a violation of International copyright law and
subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.

Strip Tease (Protect and Defend Book
1.5)

Copyright © 2012 by Karen Erickson

Smashwords Edition

Cover Artist – Steena Holmes

This ebook is a work of fiction. The names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's
imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume
any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their
content.

Published in the United States of
America

First electronic publication: May 2012 by
Karen Erickson.

www.karenerickson.com

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for respecting the author's work.

Janelle Pearson scurried into the elevator
of one of Beverly Hills’s finest hotels, turning to watch the
mirrored doors slide shut. Her reflection staring back at her, she
smoothed her hair back with steady fingers. Traced her index finger
along her bottom lip, making sure her red lip gloss was in
place.

She didn’t want to do this. Yet again her
sister called, begging her to bail her out. And yet again, she
couldn’t tell Ginger no. She never told her no, she was always
there to protect her younger-by-four-minutes twin.

Glancing down, she studied the nondescript
khaki trench coat she wore, thankful for its complete coverage.
Purchased over three years ago from a discount store, she
remembered wishing it was a Burberry trench. But a poor girl
couldn’t afford to fork over eight hundred dollars for a freaking
coat. So she made do.

She always made do.

Though discreet, the coat contrasted oddly
with the four-inch, black patent leather stilettos she wore,
accented with frilly white lace-trimmed socks. Man, she hoped no
one would join her in the elevator. If they did, she really hoped
they wouldn’t notice the shoes. They’d give her away for sure.

Glancing at her phone, she sighed and
shuffled her feet, her instep aching already. Nearly fifteen
minutes past when the job started, and she hated being late. Other
girls were participating tonight, so it took a lot of the pressure
off. But still. Being late was so unprofessional.

Janelle grimaced. Now that was a laugh. Her
sister was the most unprofessional person she’d ever met. Right up
there with their mother, who never could keep a job for long.

The elevator stopped at the eighth floor and
she held her breath, waiting to see who joined her. The doors slid
open, revealing no one waiting on the other side and she exhaled
loudly. Dealing with the odd glances, the subtle lift of noses when
strangers saw her in costume hurt, made her feel cheap.

And she hated feeling cheap.

Yes, this definitely needed to be the last
night she performed in Ginger’s place. She’d already told herself
this a thousand times before. But her sister always called at the
last minute, always when Janelle felt broke, which was most of the
time. Ginger would beg for her help, tell Janelle how much she
needed her and Janelle always caved.

Determination filling her, Janelle pressed
her lips together and shook her head, the ends of her hair from her
high ponytail brushing against her neck. Becoming her own person
and standing up for herself would be the best thing, she knew this.
Lots of people started over at twenty-five. An entire personality
change wouldn’t be difficult, would it?

Whether it was difficult or not, she was
doing it. Miss-I’ll-bail-you-out-no-matter-what-Janelle was no
more. Successful-woman-on-her-own-Janelle needed to emerge and
blossom. Thrive. Survive.

The doors slid open at the penthouse floor
and she exited the elevator, heading straight for the double doors
marked Penthouse One. The muffled bass tones of a hip hop song
sounded from within, accompanied by lots of deep male voices
shouting appreciative cat calls.

Sounded like the party was in full
swing.

Janelle rapped on the door. Slipping her
hands in her pockets, she waited, tapping her foot to the music,
nerves bouncing in her stomach. She was always nervous at first. It
never really stopped, and she hadn’t done this in a long time.

The door flew open, the music smacking her
like a wall of sound and she took a step back, startled.

A man with a silly grin on his face and a
beer bottle in his hand opened the door wider. “Hey, we’ve got
ourselves another babe!”

The group of men within the suite cheered at
his words. Straightening her shoulders, she put on her best game
face and strode inside.

There had to be at least thirty of them
crammed into the suite. The music pounded so loud it hurt her ears,
and the booze was freely flowing. Empty beer bottles littered the
floor and half-full bottles of various hard liquors were scattered
along any available table top surface.

Janelle wrinkled her nose. What a bunch of
slobs.

“Hey baby, you’re overdressed!” This came
from a drunken reveler sitting on an overstuffed loveseat, a beer
clutched in his meaty hand. One of the three girls already at the
party was gyrating on his knee, her lithe tan body clad in a baby
blue mesh thong—and nothing else.

“Come on, Ginger, you’re late. Help us out.
These guys are ready to party.” The half naked woman waved a hand
about the room, thrusting her ass into the man’s face. He groaned
appreciatively, slapping one bared cheek.

“Sorry I’m late.” Janelle glanced around.
Where were the other girls?

“Join us, sweetheart,” the man murmured,
both hands now firmly planted on the woman’s butt cheeks. “Tanya’s
lonely.”

Tanya smiled appreciatively and gave him an
extra wiggle.

Janelle took a step back. “Sorry, I don’t
think so.” Yeah okay, she took off her top and danced in a thong,
though she hadn’t done so in forever. But no way was she interested
in any girl-on-girl action.

“Prude,” he muttered, turning Tania around
and bringing her close so he could kiss her smooth belly.

Rolling her eyes, Janelle meandered through
the messy suite, slowly unknotting the belt at her waist. She hoped
for extra good tips tonight, needing the money and wanting proper
compensation for helping out Ginger. Stripping was a part of her
old life. Something Janelle had done years ago, when she was young
and stupid, believing she lacked the skills to get a normal
job.

Since she’d determined tonight was the last
time she did this, she needed to go for it. Go out with a bang. And
a big fat tip would be a great way to end this part of her life for
good.

“Okay boys, whose feeling neglected
tonight?” Janelle shed her coat, laying it carefully on the floor
behind a couch that butted up against the wall. Hopefully no one
would spill beer on it.

Lots of whistles and “hey baby’s” rang
through the air. Her costume was what Ginger called ‘the
schoolgirl’. White button up shirt with most of the buttons undone,
the ends of the shirt knotted below her breasts. A black satin and
lace bra peeked out of the open neckline, and she wore a short,
pleated black, green and blue plaid skirt. Plus the Mary Jane’s and
lace trimmed socks.

Innocence and sin, just the thing to drive
men wild. Ginger always said the outfit was a surefire way to get
the party started.

“Anyone need a little pick me up tonight?”
She sauntered around in a circle, surrounded by a gathering group
of men, her gaze lingering on each one’s eager face. They all
looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties. The majority
of them handsome, dressed well, expensive watches around their
wrists, some with shiny gold bands on their fingers.

Figured. Married men looking to cut loose
and get wild without their wives around. She could understand a
little fun, but this party looked like more than that.

It looked like a lot of trouble.

Thirty minutes. Smile and shake your money
maker for thirty minutes and then get the hell out of here.

The men whooped and hollered all together,
and she realized they were shouting one name in particular. Cupping
her hand around her ear, she cocked her head, making them
laugh.

“Talking about someone in particular, boys?”
Janelle nibbled on her index finger, batting her eyelashes and she
heard a collective groan.

Wanting to find the one she could make the
most uncomfortable was her plan. The too eager ones had roving
eyes, wandering hands and boners in their pants. No thanks.

But there was always one guy who didn’t want
to be there, who was uncomfortable with an exotic dancer grinding
on him, too fearful his girlfriend/wife/whatever would smell
perfume on his clothes when he came home.

Those were the ones she liked to torment.
His friends always gave her extra tips for the unwanted attention.
Put on a little show for the guy who didn’t want one, make his
buddies laugh, and she walked out with no grubby handprints on her
skirt and at least an extra fifty, sometimes more in her pocket.
Perfect.

“Well? Who can give me a lesson tonight?”
She fingered her collar, bit her lower lip and swung back and
forth, her skirt flaring out around her thighs.

The men waved their arms and pointed their
fingers all in the same general direction. One of them, a tall
skinny dude with the largest Adam’s apple she’d ever seen,
approached her, tucking a twenty in her cleavage.

She repressed a shiver when the guy slowly
backed away from her, a suggestive smile curling his lips. How she
hated it when they touched her. This
definitely
had to be
her last night. Next time Ginger called with that certain tone in
her voice, she was hanging up.