Three Goddess Series

Chapter 3

Arriving at her apartment, she let out a tired sigh, and threw her keys on the worn wooden table beside the door.

Home.

With a quick glance at the clock, she calculated she had enough time to watch a few episodes of Supernatural from the DVR before her work out. Hunkering on the couch, she reached for the remote.

The phone rang: Maneater by Hall & Oates. "She's a maneater...watch out boy, she'll chew you up..."

No need to glance at the caller ID. "Hello, Lanie."

"Hey, baby doll. You ready to know what we have planned for tonight?" Elleane's voice held a hint of suppressed excitement.

"All right, hit me." Haven sat back and smiled.

"We're taking you to a carnival."

Her smile wavered. "Uh, Lanie, aren't we a little old for carnivals?" She didn't want to be a downer, but the idea of spending an evening dodging twelve-year-olds holding mustard-laden corndogs was a terrible one.

Laughing, Elleane said, "Haven, this carnival isn't for kids."

Interesting. "What do you mean?"

"Well, 'Carlenna's Carnal-Val' is for adults only." She paused and whistled. "I'm assuming from the pictures I'm lookin' at that a lot of the games and attractions are...uh...X-rated." Haven heard Elleane lick her lips. "It sounds like just the thing you need to blow off five years of steam." She must have sensed Haven's hesitance because she added, "Let's go be adults. Let's drink, drool over hot guys, and wallow in the filthy gutters of our minds," she pleaded.

Haven rolled her eyes, but smiled. "All right, Lanie, I'll give it a try."

"Yay! Okay, we'll meet you at the fairgrounds around four."

"Sounds good. In the meantime, I'm gonna veg on the couch and drool over Jensen Ackles for a couple hours. I love his dreamy eyes, his deep voice, and those oh-so-kissable lips. My goodness, that man gets me all worked up." She wiggled in her seat.

Elleane groaned into the receiver. "I don't blame you, sweetheart. I'd be all over him given half a chance."

Haven grinned. "Lanie, you'd be all over him given one-sixteenth of a chance."

"You're damn right about that. My God, any woman with a pair of eyes would be all over him." Elleane laughed. "See you at four p.m. sharp."

Haven hit the end button on her cell and reached for the TV remote.

***

When the credits of her third Supernatural episode scrolled on the screen, Haven glanced at the digital clock on her entertainment center. Two o'clock had rolled around quick. While genies, wendigos, and fallen angels made good TV, she had to get moving or she'd be late. She pursed her lips into a grim line and rubbed at the goose bumps prowling uninvited up her arms. She wasn't quite sure what it meant, but she couldn't shake the unease crawling over her.

After rising from the couch, she grabbed her gym bag from its station beside the hall closet door. She threw the large bag on the bed, and peered inside. Her iPod and portable speakers, bag of toiletries, workout clothes, and gym pass were all there. She gathered a change of clothes to wear to the carnival.

She arrived at the gym in time to snag the small private room with a single floor-to-ceiling pole surrounded by scuffed hardwood flooring. She loved this gym. It specialized in exercise for women who liked pole dancing, though she never used one when she worked.

Placing her bag on the floor, she pulled out her iPod and portable speakers. With a little over an hour to work out, get washed and dressed, and get to the fairgrounds, her workout had to be short.

Once she docked her iPod on the portable speakers, she pressed the random play button. When the hypnotic sounds of Shake by Morris Day and The Time erupted, she grabbed the pole. As the music picked up pace, she let her mind drift back to the first time she danced at the club.

She couldn't believe she survived her first show. The Morris Day's voice lulled her, and the exercise kicked her blood into gear. She recalled with crystal clarity the moment she mounted the steps to the glossy black stage, and took her position in the dark. For her debut, she'd chosen a song that stirred something carnal within her, making her feel dirty-and like it: The Morning After Dark by Timbaland. Something about the beat always had her swaying her hips, the impulse hard to ignore. Hell, why ignore it? As a hot-blooded woman, she had a passion for movement and sensual play. She used the sway of her hips, the thrusting of her bosom, and a seductive glance.

That first performance changed her life. She'd stepped forward in the darkness, and startled slightly as the spotlight above her blazed. She'd worn black leather pants as tight as a sleek second skin; crisscrossing ties along the outside of each leg secured them to her thighs. Her deep red corset showed the narrowness of her waist and the mounds of her breasts to perfection. The sexiest knee-high black boots she'd ever worn encased each leg. Her costume elicited appreciative whistles and hoots from the audience, and a blush warmed her skin. s****l energy flowed from the darkened room, and the unseen heated stares of the men in the crowd caressed her skin. She felt desired. And wicked.

Naughty girl.

When the music began, she grasped every ounce of courage she had, and forced it into her veins.

The music empowered her, and she needed this more than she needed anything else. Warmth stole over her skin, heating her face and extremities, and she jumped over the brink into something incredible. No longer a blushing weakling, she stopped cowering behind her innocence. What had her innocent ideals given her? Where had her starry-eyed daydreams taken her? Nowhere she wanted to be again. After meeting Elgin, she'd quickly learned that sweet, naive small town girls were raw meat to ravaging lone wolves. Her irresponsible choice had skinned her alive and left a crumbling spirit inside her body. She never wanted to be a sad, scared girl again.

Ever.