Smoldered Read online

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  Books by Rachel Blaufeld

  The Electric Tunnel Series

  Electrified

  Smoldered

  Tinged (Coming Spring/Summer 2015)

  Asher Peterson is a self-made man, owner of the Electric Tunnel, Sin City’s hottest adult entertainment spot. Brazen and formidable in designer T-shirts and motorcycle boots, he seems unflappable whether he’s making his rounds through the decadent decor of the Tunnel, or whipping through the desert heat on his bike. But inside he is a shattered man, desperate to understand what unconditional love from a woman feels like.

  Hiding the effects of his emotionally stunted youth behind a gritty persona, and keeping his fractured soul buried deep while seeking out his baser instincts, Asher is convinced he is man enough to leave the past in the past. The only clue to his broken soul is his deep-seated need to provide safety and a good life for emotionally damaged women within the glamorous walls of his strip club.

  Fooling himself that he deserves little in life, Asher keeps his big heart tightly guarded with everyone but Sienna Flower, his friend, business partner, and headliner. Until, that is, the night he runs into his childhood friend, Natalie Parker. While trolling a rival strip club, perusing their offerings for his own personal pleasure, he collides with his past. Coming face-to-face with a woman he only knew as a girl, he’s shaken when he finds the dark-haired beauty in a precarious position. Now all grown up, she’s a hardened soul who reminds him of where he came from, and stirs within him the need to protect yet another woman.

  Known as Nat to most everyone, Natalie is a single mom to Quinn. But when she’s under the bright spotlights in a thong, she’s known as Natasha or Nataleigh Dallas. A girl who once had everything going for her, she’s now a jaded stripper with only room for her son in her life, and has erected impenetrable barriers around her heart. The strength of those walls is challenged the night a man she has known since childhood steamrolls his way back into her life, flashing those smoky-gray eyes that have always melted her.

  A man she has loved from afar since she was a young girl, one who lights fire to her walls, burning deeper, setting everything ablaze––smoldering her.

  Asher and Natalie, two people who are equally tormented by their own demons, set out to rescue each other as part-time lovers in a torrid, desperate workplace affair. Thinking they can remain friends while keeping their hearts at a safe distance, they find themselves at odds when their situation morphs into a messy, tangled mess.

  Ripping free of each other proves impossible as they learn that the very web that connects them goes much deeper than they ever expected.

  Like many women of her generation, my grandmother didn’t go to college.

  Books were her windows and ladders not only to escape, but to see what was out there and to broaden her mind. Reading books gave her a better higher education than she could have ever received in a classroom. For my grandmother, the world was larger—long before the Internet—because she had a library.

  She was the first person to take me into the damp and dusty stacks of books in the children’s section of our public library, and we went weekly after that, long after I graduated from the children’s section to the adult. We enjoyed checking out books and reading them together, or reading them separately whether we sat next to each other or were far apart when I was in college. Sharing tales became a way of life for the two of us from the time I could say “book” until the day she passed.

  Not only an enlightened, well-read woman, my grandmother loved to retell stories, especially during car rides or over dinner. I know she would be proud that I am now weaving my own stories.

  This book is for her. Gritty or not, she would adore getting to know the characters, thinking about how their backgrounds and earlier actions relate to today, feeling for them and their broken lives, finding similarities in their lives and hers…and then she would spin their story in her own way and retell it with glee to her friends.

  For Beatrice.

  I miss you and your stories every single day.

  Natalie

  I WAS three and he was eight the day his mom dropped him at our neighbor’s house and never came back. Of course, I was too young at the time to remember that part of the story, but Mom talked about it. A lot.

  “Cards were always stacked against that Peterson boy,” she’d say. “Daddy gone, nowhere to be found, then his rotten momma up and left that sweet, innocent little boy. Hope he turns out all right, but sure looks like he’s gonna have a lot of uphill fighting to do.”

  Once my childhood memories actually started to stick with me, there wasn’t one without the “Peterson boy.” Asher and I lived next door to each other from the moment his momma left him, and together we caused a lot of trouble. Well, to be truthful, I’d watched while he’d done most of it. My mother wasn’t sure if our spending so much time together was for the best, but what other choice was there? Our little neighborhood was an extended family, all of us kids constantly being thrown together.

  Although I’d forever be “the little stinker” in his mind, for me he’d always be “the one.” He was the one I’d watched grow into a man while I was still considered a little girl, the guy of my dreams no matter how badly he behaved, the measuring stick against which every other man in my life would be judged.

  As a teenager I’d watched him from a distance every chance I got, keeping an eye on what the other girls had done to get his attention. When I tried a few of the moves myself, the stubborn man had just laughed at me.

  As a young woman, I settled with having him as just a friend, snug in my memories, until I couldn’t do it anymore. To protect my own heart, I stayed away from him, completely dropped off his radar. For the last five years I had left him alone, hadn’t kept in touch, even when I’d needed friends the most. Until, that is, when our paths crossed again on one awful, dreadful night.

  I’d known Asher Peterson and had loved him from afar nearly my whole life, yet since we’d last seen each other, he’d grown into a man—a beautiful man—with a larger-than-life personality. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit, he had me salivating the minute his face was once again in front of mine.

  Then he spoke to me, and it was all over.

  Funny What You Discover in the Back

  Asher

  Las Vegas, five years ago

  I BREATHED a sigh of relief. Coming to this strip club was exactly what I needed tonight. All it took was one lap through the Pink Leopard—or the Leop, as it was known—and I felt as if I’d been transported to one of my dirtier fantasies. By dirty, I meant the gritty, baser shit I tended to think about, but didn’t act on, at least not too frequently, anyway. I was no angel; had never claimed to be one. I’d had a lot of women, and tonight I really needed to get off. Hard.

  I didn’t do drugs, not anymore. I cleaned myself up years ago. Instead I indulged in sex, and not the missionary, lovey-dovey, wrap-a-woman-in-my-arms stuff. Not the handcuffs, whips, and chains variety either, but a rough lay with more than one woman was more my speed. A shrink would probably say I was overcompensating for the lack of a mother’s love, but who the hell cared. No way I was going to apologize for what got me off.

  Making my way around the main bar and heading toward a side stage at the back of the club, I fixed my eyes on where I wanted to land.

  The Leop was set up differently from my club. Instead of a main stage there were four small stages, one per corner, each platform featuring a different tantalizing vignette. I couldn’t walk fast enough to the back right, knowing what to expect. I licked my lips as my feet ate up the floor, my heart pounding as I neared the tiny platform.

  At my club, the Electric Tunnel, we had a single main stage looping around the fr
ont of the club where we featured either one main act, like Sienna Flower, or two or three scenes simultaneously on different areas of the stage. Our lap dance business was most likely quadruple what the Leop did, by the looks of it. Here the customers—mostly men, but a few women too—worked their way around the room as they checked out the different stages, which was wasted time, in my opinion.

  Not wasting mine right now. That fucking scene playing out is hot, and my dick and I have to get closer.

  My club had one main focal point, but there wasn’t room for everyone to get close enough, so we brought the act right to their seats with a private lap dance. It was a win/win for everyone. More money for the dancers and me, and a much better view for the customer.

  As I neared the end of the bar, the head bartender, Ryan, reached over and grabbed my shoulder. “Look what the cat dragged in! None other than Asher Peterson, the guy remaking the stripper biz on the other side of town.”

  I laughed and reached over to shake his hand. “You got that right, but no harm in swinging by and checking out the competition. That way I get to catch up with assholes like you.”

  Ryan chuckled. “I’m kidding, dude. We all know you got your sights set on something bigger and better over at the Electric Tunnel. Just happy to see you can still slum it over at our fine establishment. We know our market, and you’re it.” He slapped my back good-naturedly and asked what I wanted to drink.

  Practically hopping back and forth on my feet, eager to get to the action, I ordered a shot, figuring it would be quick. When Ryan finally set a shot in front of me, I threw a ten on the bar before lifting the little glass, then tossed the burning liquid down my throat and gave the dude a small chin lift in thanks.

  “Catch you later, Ryan,” I said, then quickly moved away like a leopard on the prowl.

  Earlier I told myself I only wanted to check out the competition, so I could convince myself I was doing better than them. But it was really something more. I had my limits, and I was nearing them. I needed to get off. Period.

  The Pink Leop had been around for a while, and had a reputation for allowing quite a bit of crazy shit to go down. Word on the street was you could get just about anything you wanted done to you, or for you, in the private rooms. And for the right price, you could take a girl back home with you for the night. That kind of sex trade was exactly what I didn’t want for the Tunnel, but it didn’t mean I was immune to the lure of it when I walked through these doors, or that I didn’t want to partake a little bit. I did. Which was exactly why I was here, pushing a few fat and sweaty men out of my way so I could get closer to the action.

  So what if the owners lost money in lap dances? They obviously made up for it in their private rooms. Yeah, some of the shit they allowed wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. “Heavy touching” was probably putting it nicely, but hey, what the hell did I care? I didn’t own the place. I was here for a good time like the next guy. If they got into trouble with the law, it wasn’t my problem.

  Finally, I sank down into a worn-out red suede chair to the side of the scene that had caught my eye. I couldn’t be bothered with how grubby the chair was, pushing out all thoughts of what may have touched its gross fabric over the years. Thank fuck mine are leather at the Tunnel.

  I was fully reclined in the piece-of-crap chair, which was sticky as all get-out, but I ignored it because the two women directly in front of me were hot. Smoking hot, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fake haze whirling all around them from the smoke machine.

  I wanted to take both of them home and test out what they were doing onstage with me in the middle, preferably without any clothes in the way. The girls were both naked other than the thongs they wore, one red and the other gold. They stood on either side of a chair set in the middle of the stage, their long hair falling all around soft and demure shoulders as they ground their pussies against either end of the piece of furniture while leaning over and groping each other’s tits.

  Absolutely rigid, I watched in anticipation of what the two would do next. Christ, the way they twisted each other’s nipples, moaning and groaning like it felt better than anything they’d ever experienced, was incredibly hot. The two luscious babes stared deep into each other’s eyes as if they were soul mates doing exactly what they would be doing at home, but I knew the truth. They’d much rather be at home on their couch, drinking wine and watching a chick flick.

  My line of work let me see behind the curtain, so I knew it was an act, a charade, nothing but pretend, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. They were doing what they were paid to do, which was to titillate the audience, and they were doing a mighty fine job of it from where I was sitting. My eyes burned as I focused on the women, even though I could only see their hazy profiles. My dick, eager to be released from my pants, twitched and screamed, “Let me out to play,” while my mind ran through an endless stream of fantasies involving the two women and me.

  I motioned to one of the Leop’s managers on the floor. When he appeared by my side, I asked him how much it would cost to take the pair back to a private room. I made a mental note to feel them out to see if one or both of them would accompany me back to my house. Of course, I was hoping for both, but I’d settle for one. I needed some action. Badly.

  The manager set out the deal and I agreed to the terms. I had cash to burn, with a successful business and no family to support. After paying for the first hour in advance, I headed to the back to wait for the women in my private booth. Yeah, I stroked myself over my pants a little while waiting for them. So, sue me.

  When the song changed out in the main club, I heard two pairs of heels clicking down the hallway toward the room where I waited. My breathing sped up in time with my heartbeat, and I sat up and waited for the delicious duo to come through the door.

  Here they come.

  The outer door opened and closed, then two curvy silhouettes entered my little corner and turned around. I blinked. Then blinked again, hard. I tried to clear my eyes, to get them to focus in the dim, red-hued light.

  Why the hell is everything in this ugly fucking club red?

  I didn’t have time to ponder that right now. Instead I stood up and crossed the space in between the couch where I was sitting and the door in two steps and said, “Holy shit! Natalie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Not stopping to wait for an answer, I opened the door and pushed the other girl out of the room toward the nearest bouncer. “Never mind,” I told him. “I changed my mind. I only want one girl. This girl,” my little doll, I added under my breath as I gestured behind me to Natalie. When I shouted, “Keep the extra money,” the other girl glanced back at me, a confused look on her face as she stumbled on her high heels toward the bouncer. Then I slammed the door shut.

  One hand on the door, I stared at it for a moment, trying to control myself. Thank fuck there was no one else in the high-backed booth on either side of me, because I feared I was about to lose my shit.

  Turning back around slowly, I said, “Natalie, Jesus Christ, it’s been years. I can’t even think about how long it’s been, but what the hell are you doing in a raunchy place like this? The last time we talked you were taking classes, making a life for yourself.” When she didn’t respond, I said, “I’ve got to get you the hell out of here.”

  Natalie shrank away from me, backing up until her shapely calves hit the booth’s cushioned seat. She stared in horror at me as I glared at her.

  Muttering to myself, I shoved a hand through my hair and paced back and forth like a madman. I had no idea whether I was whispering or yelling, I was so furious.

  With her gaze lowered, her long lashes covering her big, beautiful eyes, she walked toward me and shushed me, saying, “Shhh, they know me as Natasha here. I need this gig, Asher. Stop making a scene…please.”

  Somewhere inside the hard woman in front of me, I could still see the younger Natalie I remembered. I looked past the long brown hair that hung over her shoulders, the thick bangs brushing
over eyes heavily decorated with glitter and dark black eyeliner. Underneath all that caked-on shit, my “little doll,” the girl who used to play kickball out in the alley and chase after the neighborhood boys, was there.

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Nat, I don’t want to hear that you need this job. This isn’t the fucking place for you, babe. You want to strip, come work for me. My girls are respected. You want to do something else, go do it. What you aren’t going to do is work in this shithole, one step away from being a prostitute.”

  She shuddered. I felt Natalie’s whole body shiver under my hand, which had found its way to rest on her hip as she faced off with me. It made me want to wrap her up in my arms and carry her out of whatever mess she’d gotten herself into.

  I completely forgot that I was at the Leop to get a little action. Instead, it looked like I was going to have to rescue the girl like a fucking superhero.

  Shit.

  Natalie was too good to work in this dump. What the fuck was she doing here? She knew I had a classier club. Didn’t she?

  Slowly, she lifted one hand and gently pried mine off her hip. Standing in front of me with her very hurt, very green eyes piercing mine, she began to talk. Her voice was so quiet, I could barely make out her words.

  “I’m not a prostitute, Asher. I don’t sell myself or have sex for money. I do my job. I do it well, give it my all, because I have a son who needs to eat, to go to the doctor and the dentist, and is constantly growing out of clothes and shoes. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to the only thing I know how to do. And please, let’s just forget we ever met up like this.”

  With her head bowed, she tried to turn and walk away, but my hand flew up of its own volition and caught her shoulder. I knew I couldn’t make any more of a scene or the bouncer would intervene, so I forced myself to remain calm. Taking a few deep breaths, I collected my thoughts while my fingers remained loosely on her bare skin.