His sister collapsed to the ground and crawled to their mother, but it was too late. A whimpered, “No…” was the last thing he heard his sister say.
Chapter 2
Larissa bounced impatiently behind the curtain as her body thrummed with adrenaline and her pulse raced faster than the music vibrating Club Silhouettes. It was Halloween. When her boss laid out a selection of provocative costumes for the girls to choose from, she eagerly selected a dainty black lace ensemble with soft black fur trim, a feathered tail, and two tiny kitten ears.
She loved clothes. She loved the many colors and decadent fabrics, and she loved the freedom English women had in choosing their garments.
It was a world of indulgence outside the farm where she had lived her forty-nine years. Of course, due to the advantages of her species, she didn’t look a day older than twenty-five.
She was half a century old, a woman in her own right, yet she had the autonomy of a child—exactly why she fled her oppressive Amish roots and risked everything to find happiness.
She regretted nothing since running away. Sure, she missed her parents. But after The Elders gave her to her husband, Silus, like an auctioneer passes a horse to a rancher, she had seen her mother and father, less and less. And what a terrible husband Silus Hostetler proved to be.
She tried not to think of her younger sister, Grace. Larissa did miss Gracie, as well as her brothers, Adam and Cain. Her one blessing was that Cain had found her. He had given her some money and helped her find a place to live while he, too, took some time away from the farm. But he was a male and did not have an overbearing husband to answer to.
Larissa trusted Cain more than anyone in the world to protect her freedom and not tell anyone back at the farm of her whereabouts. He was her only link to the family she left behind, but he understood why she could never return. Not to the farm, not to their sheltered way of life, and most of all, not to Silus.
A low, soft whistle sounded behind her. It was a sound she came to recognize as praise and approval from English men. She smiled at Vito.
“You approve?” She curtsied in front of her rotund friend. Vito was a soft-hearted man who protected the ladies at the club and guarded the door.
“Well, will you look at you.” He took her hand and slowly twirled her for inspection. “Prettiest kitty I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks heated, a smile cresting her lips as her gaze demurely dropped to the floor. “You’re sweet, Vito.”
He pulled a cigarette out of its pack with his teeth but didn’t light it. “You up next?”
“Yes.”
He flipped the lid of his metal lighter open and closed with his thumb. “What are you dancing to?”
“‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ by Britney Spears.”
He nodded, lighting the cigarette tip until it glowed cherry red. “Good choice.”
Larissa readjusted her cat-ear headband as he blew out a cloud of smoke. “Is my tail on straight?”
Vito cleared his throat. “Ah … yeah … just…” He adjusted the black-feathered tail hanging from her lace panties. Cool fingers briefly touched the flesh of her bottom and she reflexively rose up on her toes. “Looks good.”
She smiled, trusting his honesty. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Candy’s song is ending. You better get ready to go out there.”
She nodded and shifted to peek out the curtain. Candy ended her routine in a flourished press across the stage floor that reminded Larissa of a mermaid pulling herself out of water. Larissa took a deep, calming breath.
She recently discovered a love for dance. The fact that she found a job that paid her to do just that was a blessing.
With one last look to make sure her high, shiny, black boots were zipped tight, she stepped out and waited for the lights to hit her. The spotlights made it so simple to lose herself on stage. They emphasized her every move for the audience yet also provided her privacy. So long as the lights were on her, she couldn’t see another soul.
She felt blissfully alone on the stage, dancing out every emotion her body could feel and draw from the music. She was finally learning to embrace and love her femininity rather than fear what trouble it might invite. Here, unlike home, she was stronger than any male who tried to touch her.
The drumming base of the song rattled from the speakers and the lights flipped on. Smoke billowed from a machine hidden in the shadows, and she rotated her shoulders and hips to the beat of the music.
As Britney Spears’s voice softly mewed, Larissa traipsed to the edge of the stage where a pole protruded. Prowling around the silver beam like a cat stalking its prey, she marched in her high, spiked boots with her feathered tail swishing and tickling the exposed flesh of her thighs.