My Stripper Mate (Original)

Chapter 1

 I jolted out of my bed causing me to fall to the floor. I groaned as I stood up to be greeted with Bebe, my dog's, foot pawing at me.

"It's okay Bebe. Good girl." I say, she wags her tail as I scratch between her ears. Groaning once again as I lift myself from my bed and walk out of my room into the bathroom across the hallway. My eyes glazed over the navy blue walls of my tiny apartment. The 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom, and 1 kitchen was enough for me to live semi-comfortably, so I managed. I finish my business and ventured towards the kitchen to find something to eat when I hear a knock on the door.

"Dear God, what does he want this time," I mutter to myself already knowing who is behind the green metal door I could already smell the alcohol on his breath.

Slowly I open it to be confronted by my boyfriend Steve. We met on my eighteenth birthday and he was really sweet. He was sweet, he was. Now he's not the same person I used to love. Soon after we met he began to hit me and hurt me in ways I couldn't recover from. I opened the door to be met with just who I thought it was.

"Wow looking as disgusting as always I see." He mumbled but I still heard him.

"Wow, just as much of a dick as last time I see," I mumbled in the same tone as him.

"Bitch watch your mouth." He yelled slapping me on the cheek. I didn't say anything more just held my stinging face and walked inside.

"I have worked so I have to go." He said and walked out the door. He usually shows up around this time just to make sure that I didn't sleep with anyone whiles he was away.

"He's gone, Bebe," I said more for my own comfort, but I knew she didn't like him. I walked to my fridge and pulled out some eggs for breakfast, as I usually did on my daily routine. After I took my dog for a walk before I went to work. My 3 jobs were sufficient enough so I can pay rent, and keep Bebe happy and healthy.

I got ready to head to the tattoo parlor. It's my very first job, that I got when I turned sixteen. Right after, I go home and get ready for my next job, as a bartender downtown. I got really good at making drinks because I had to make them for my foster parents when they got home from work. Being only twelve at the time, gave me some experience in making drinks, which easily got me another job. I worked as a stripper after my shifts as a bartender. I practically work at the bar full time. My mornings always took place in the tattoo parlor, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I've been working my whole life, ever since my mom passed away when I turned six years. The car crash that changed the entire course of my life, as my dad wasn't far behind in passing away. He committed suicide because he couldn't stand the loss of my mother. I still remember coming home that day from 1st grade.

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"Daddy I'm home," I yelled from the front door running up to his room where he always seemed to be these days.

"Dad I'm back," I yelled again in front of his door now. I was scared that he wasn't answering so I peeked through the door to see my dad on the floor surrounded by blood. I got scared so I ran to the house phone and dialed 911.

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I immediately got put into a foster home after foster home. Moving around was torture but not as bad as the people in the foster homes were. I got abused and raped multiple times but nobody believed me. Soon I was just put into an orphanage and it was still hell. As soon as eighteen hit, I left immediately, only to run into Steve.