I put a spell on you...because you're mine...

Marylin Manson blasted out of the speakers as Maddie danced around the pole. Her plastered smile and eyelash extensions hid the loathing that always simmered under the surface when she was at work. Still, this was the best paying and the safest job she'd held so far.

I don't care if you want me...cause I'm yours, yours YOURS...anyhow

As she circled the chrome pole, she counted her blessings with every step of her 6 inch platform highest high heals. Her goth stripper persona attracted rich regulars. When all the chains and spikes she wore weren't enough to discourage patrons from chasing her behind stage, Diesel and Barry, the clubs grizzly bear bouncers, provided protection. She'd been lucky to find one of the clean clubs to work at. She didn't even have to strip, just dance for a few hours, off and on, six nights a week and her boss never asked for more than she was willing to give.

I can't stand your foolin' around...If I can't have you...No one will!

There he was, right on cue. It was midnight exactly, according to the neon lit clock above the bar. He'd come every night the past week. Maddie didn't know his name, but he was by far the best tipper she'd ever had. Almost every night, he'd slid several thousand dollars into her boot top. His fingers always sent fire racing up her leg. She told herself it was crazy to react to such an innocent move—other tippers tried to leave things in her fishnet stockings or corset—but he was by far the most erotic man she'd ever set eyes on.

The song changed and she turned away from the viewers to prepare for her next dance. Another Manson song, but tonight it suited her mood.

Sometimes I feel I've got to...Run away I've got to...Get away from the pain that you drive into the heart of me...

The mysterious man sat back against the wall. She sensed, as she did every night, that he was on the verge of loosing control and becoming violent. Black rage mixed with burning desire, swirled just under the surface of his hard face.

She didn't question how she knew; she'd always been strongly empathic with people and animals. She could feel emotions, pains, and needs. It was what kept her out of trouble while she traveled around the country. It was only one half of her strange heritage. The only half she wanted.

All the other girls were certain he was a mafia hit man. How else could he afford to tip so lavishly? Besides, he looked like a killer. His eyes were deep blue, his hair long but well kept. His wore nondescript black jeans with a black button down shirt, the first two buttons loosened so that a silver chain glinted underneath.

She made the mistake of catching his eyes, and suddenly she couldn't look away. She paused in her dancing, mesmerized. She had the sudden urge to leave the stage and the club, and never look back. She shivered and shook off the compulsion.

Just to prove a point to herself, Maddie met the eyes of another regular, a fat business man who it was rumored was a closet sadist. She licked her lips seductively and arched her back against the pole like a cat as she slid down. She crawled slowly to the edge of the stage and offered her cleave to the man. He reached forward, a twenty in his hand.

Suddenly the mobster was between her and her tip. She peaked over his shoulder just in time to see the fat man nearly fall out of his chair and run away. She sat back on her heals, perturbed. She glanced over at the bar where Diesel was taking his break and caught his eye. Diesel didn't like the man, didn't trust him, and had made his opinion known on several occasions. He arched an eyebrow, silently asking if she wanted help. She shook her head gently, indicating she'd try to handle this.

"What's your name?" she asked in a husky voice as she backed up to the pole. She didn't want to be in grabbing reach, even as she tried to distract him from the violent urges she could feel so strongly in him.

"Jas Trovatelli," he replied, his voice deep and melodic. He turned and took the chair that had just been vacated.

An Italian last name—he was mafia after all! "You in town on business?" she asked as she curled a leg around the pole and slowly swung back and forth to the beat of the song.

"Pleasure," he said, a wealth of meaning in that one word as his eyes ate her up.

Maddie looked around and suddenly realized that every other regular had left her corner stage. Everyone was pointedly keeping their backs turned to her. Even Diesel wasn't glancing her way as he sipped his beer. Suddenly she was very uneasy.

"You know," she said, trying to hide her nervousness with a little giggle. "You don't have to scare away my regulars to get a privet dance."

Jas just smiled. It made him look like a satisfied predator, like the cat who ate the canary.

"My shift is over soon," Maddie continued. "You could talk to Diesel about renting a suite for an hour."

"What if I want more than an hour?" he asked, that wicked smile never leaving his face.

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement," she moaned huskily as she slid the bar between her breasts provocatively.

"What if I want eternity?" he whispered, but Maddie's ears heard him loud and clear. For the second time that night, she faltered in her dance.

"Mr. Trovatelli--" she started.

"Jas, please," he insisted.

"--I'm not the kind of girl to get suckered into offers like that," she said clearly, without a trace of seduction in her voice. "You can buy as much time as you want to watch me dance, but we both know you're not in the market for eternity."

He smirked and his eyes lit up. They reminded her of the blue fire on special alcoholic drinks. "You have no idea what I'm in the market for."

Somehow, his soft voice sent prickles up her arms and legs. She wanted to step off the stage and into his arms, but she knew that it would get her fired on the spot. It was one thing to let a customer grope as he stuffed money in her clothes, but there was a strict policy in place to prevent prostitution. His blatant arousal was overpowering, which was saying something since she was used to pushing aside all the emotions regularly broadcasted in the club.

Maddie suddenly felt like she was suffocating. She slid down the pole one more time as the song ended. "My time's up," she said, trying to regain control through sex appeal. "See you around...Jas."

Her heart flipfloped as she whispered his name, and it was all she could do to slowly walk down the runway and duck behind the curtain to the dressing room.

"So?" Sidney demanded as soon as the curtain swished closed. "What kind of tip did Mr. Bankroll give you today?"

"Nothing," Maddie sighed. She was used to Sidney's bright and blaring style. She was sweet for a competitive stripper.

"That dickwad has some nerve to stiff you like that," Sidney cried indignantly. Then she adjusted her brazier and smiled to herself, "More for me!" Then she walked through the curtain to the stage to start her shift.

Maddie sighed and went to the dressing room. No one else was there, which wasn't a surprise. Most of the dancers angeled for a privet dance after their shift to earn a little more money. She flopped in one of the chairs and closed her eyes.

When she opened them she almost screamed. Jas was standing behind her, his blue eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she demanded. "You're not allowed here!"

He bent and whispered in her ear, "I came for that private dance you mentioned."

His hot breath sent heat pooling in her stomach. Her toes literally curled with the sheer seduction in his voice.

"Idiot," she muttered. "You have to talk to Diesel about that."

"I don't want to see him dance," Jas replied, his smile in the mirror making it obvious he was intentionally mistaking her meaning.

She could feel not only his raging emotions but his body heat as well. Her skin felt like it was burning, her very marrow prickling in her bones at his close proximity and overwelming sexualtiy.

"I don't put out," she burst out. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"I should hope so," Jas murmured. Then he kissed her earlobe. Careful of her large hoop earrings, his teeth scraped the tender flesh. Maddie shivered. He chuckled, pleased with the havoc he was wreaking.

"I'm not playing games," she ground out between clenched teeth. Why was it so hard to resist him? That never happened with any of her other regulars. It was easy to dismiss them for the pieces of slime they were. It took all her willpower, but finally she demanded, "What do you want?"

"Do you really want the answer to that?" Jas asked seriously. His tongue darted out to tease her earlobe once more. "Or do you want me to say what everyone says?"

"Just give me the honest-to-god answer and leave me alone!" she cried, tearing herself out of the chair. She spun around to face him, her back against the makeup table and mirror. She had intended to make a stand, to face him eye to eye in hopes of staring him down. It was a mistake. She was almost instantly lost in his hungry gaze. He wanted her, primally, aggressively, exclusively. She could feel it radiating off of him, and worse, she wanted him too. The longer he stood there, looking perfect and masculine, the more she wanted to mold herself to his form. And damn him he knew it!

"Honest-to-god? I want to take you far away from here," he said softly, his low melodic voice rolled over her like ocean waves until she could barely keep from shaking with desire. "I want to take care of you, provide for you, keep you safe from the world." His hard body crowded hers. Every where his body touched hers, fire erupted, swirled, consumed all good sense. "I want to shower you with gifts, give you everything you ever wanted, ever dreamed of." He cupped her face in his hands, and Maddie almost wept with the pent up tension in her body. "I want to make love to you from sunset to sunrise, until you fall asleep in my arms and we sleep the day away."

He finally kissed her. His mouth was hot, possessive, but soft and tender. Gently he parted her lips and explored her mouth. He captivated her with his lazy, intoxicating kiss. Stunned, Maddie didn't move as his lips wandered over her jaw and down her neck, leaving a trail of icy fire in their wake.

White pain suddenly shot through her and she went rigid. Then pleasure washed through her, warmth, comfort, desire. Some small corner of her mind knew he was leaving a hickey on her neck, and spared a thought to the gobs of makeup it would take to cover it up. Then her worries were swept away as his mouth wandered lower to suckle the swell of her breast above her corset.

"I'm so getting fired if anyone finds me," she moaned. "You should go away."

"Do you really want me to leave?" he asked, his breath hot against her breasts. His hands snaked around her waist and pulled her hips to his, shamelessly bringing her up against the obvious needs of his body.

"No," she sighed. "But I have to be practical."

"Why?"

"Because I have rent!" she cried. "And bills to pay! And cats to feed!"

"What if I compensated you?" Jas whispered, his mouth moving up over her neck again as his hands caressed her buttocks.

"Are you trying to bribe me against my morals?" she chuckled breathlessly.

"You are a stripper with morals?" he teased.

That brought her back to her senses. She brought her hand up to slap him. He caught her wrist easily before she struck his face. Curiously he demanded explanation with the merest arch of an eyebrow.

"I don't strip," Maddie almost spat. "I don't put out. I don't do favors. I may not make the most in tips, but I'm disease and complication free." She was fiercely proud of what she had managed to do with her life. It may not be glamorous or drama filled, but she was just waiting for her big break, and then, everything would get better.

"I am sorry for my loose speech," he apologized eloquently, but Maddie was too angry to believe him.

"Get out," she demanded hotly and pushed hard against his solid chest. "Or I'll scream."

"One more kiss?" Jas pleaded.

"Try it and I'll bite you."

"Is that a promise?" he laughed, but nonetheless he backed away. "I'll hold you too it."

He glided out of the room, leaving his chilling laughter in his wake. Maddie waited until he'd left the dressing room before sagging against the makeup table. Her hand found something and looked down at the thick roll of small, unmarked bills in her hand. She'd certainly earned her tip tonight. So why did she feel like throwing it after him?