*Excerpt*
Iris Barton learns that there is 'life after divorce' when she embarks on a journey of self-discovery. With her five-year-old son in tow, she begins to pick up the pieces that her cheating husband left behind. Her shattered confidence lies...
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"You're back out there in three," our manager, John, urged me to hurry.
The crowd went wild for my best friend, Callum, who just finished his cowboy act, firing a water pistol into the audience.
We had a rowdy bunch tonight, like always. It was going to take more than a water hose to quench those thirsty girls. And guys. I spotted a few males here and there. Rhys, the Welsh dragon, kickstarted the night with a sexy pilot routine; the blue-eyed blond was the baby-faced member of our group. Kenzie, Birmingham's answer to Stormzy, wowed the crowd with his street dance routine and unrivalled break-dance moves. The dark-haired prince, from the travelling community, Jon-Jo, pulled off a bad-boy cop routine, cuffing a lucky lady from the audience. The delighted screams were deafening.
By the time I secured the last Velcro tab on my costume, I was a gladiator set in a dystopian universe. Maximus Destruction is assigned to bring punishment and pleasure to one very lucky female from the audience. This was what they had all been waiting for. The last performance of the night. I strolled through the darkness, reaching the centre stage then bowed my head, taking the persona of a sinister and ferocious beast from another world. One who dined upon a woman's writhing body like sex was the sole item on the menu.
The room was pitch black apart from the low lights defining the boundaries of the stage. Unseen eyes followed me like a single entity, hoping to be bathed in my spotlight. The light circled the club, sending the spectators into a frenzy. The lucky winner wasn't randomly chosen as they thought; John had already sought her out. The lady in question was getting married in a few days; this was her hen party. She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by all the attention. Her friends dragged her to her feet and others joined in, shoving her towards the stage where I was waiting to pounce.
A wry smirk graced my lips as she slid her quivering hand into mine. Without a moment of warning, I flung her over my shoulder and spanked her backside not once, but three times, feeling her bucking against me.
They drowned her gasps of surprise with all the applauding. The erotic scene unfolded the moment her feet touched the ground. A crimson flush kissed her cheeks, and her eyes flared wide. Desire—the magical element. It drives them crazy, arousing their primal instinct to be subjugated. Her legs wrapped around my waistline; the wet heat of her crotch pressed up against my stomach. I lifted her to the centre stage where I laid her flat and re-enacted a savage sex act, caging her beneath me, her ankles locked at my rear, and I plunge into a salacious hip roll, pinning her wrists above her head, and thrust again, and again, increasing my momentum to drive the crowd insane. I flipped her onto her hands and knees, shoving her head down as if I were preparing to mount her. She whipped her head from side to side, her hair flying wildly around us as we reached the grand finale. The brutal savagery had the crowd jumping in their seats, and the arena filled with the exuberant cries of hysteria. I choreographed every movement to provoke arousal. My cock stood hard and proud, and she could feel every inch beneath my costume. It came second nature for me to slip into Max's character and take on the persona of an alien gladiator. If this weren't my job, I would have rutted her right there. The raw intimacy left us coated with a sheen of sweat, panting for air. It wasn't copulation, but it might as well have been. She departed the stage as the lights dimmed, and I disappeared back through the curtain, just as sexually frustrated as everyone else.
