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“But do I look fuck-a-ble?” I ask my question again, enunciating it clearly.
Some people drink to escape their worries. Some do drugs. I do something far safer than either of those. Some might call me a slut, but who are they to judge? Drugs are no-go territory for me, so I lose myself in the arms of a man and the talent of his dick.
Don’t judge. I always use protection, and I see my gyno twice a year. Just in case. It’s far safer than getting drunk, doing drugs, or God forbid, getting roofied at a bar.
“Barbi, you look very fuckable.” Kaye pulls me from my thoughts.
“Perfect.” I give Kaye a once over in her tiny black dress with its thin leather straps looping over her shoulders. “And what does Professor Parker say about his co-ed going out looking like that?”
“He knows I’m chaperoning your ass. Besides, I’m headed over to his place afterward.”
“For a little roll in the hay?” I arch my brow suggestively, then cock my head. “The leather’s a nice addition? Are the two of you doing the Fifty Shades thing?”
“Something like that.” Her cheeks blush.
“Lucky girl,” I mumble under my breath, but Kaye catches me.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
I try to brush it off, but the truth is, I’d love a little bit of Fifty Shades action myself. Hell, more than a little. I’d like it a lot.
Problem is, I’ve never found a guy—a man—with enough balls to dominate my ass. My personality is too strong, and they all pale in the face of it.
Not to mention, it’s not safe with strangers, and I’m all about being safe.
I have my fantasies though and get my fix in books. It is what it is, and I’m happy to settle for that.
I check myself in the hall mirror one last time before we head out. Unlike Kaye, who wears her hair up, I keep mine down to give a guy something to hold on to while he’s pumping away inside of me. I like it rough. I like it dirty. I like it wild and crazy. The crazier and more animalistic, the better. The hair-pulling thing is the closest I’m ever getting to the Fifty Shades stuff.
I touch up my lipstick and give the girls a plumping up until I’m happy with my cleavage. This dress may be sprayed on, but it’s stretchy; good for hiking up my ass and good for hiking down over my breasts. It’s also, surprisingly, good at staying in place. Despite Kaye’s comment, this dress doesn’t have wardrobe malfunctions. My curves keep everything in place.
“Ride’s here.” Kaye glances at her phone when it dings, announcing the arrival of our ride. “You ready?”
“Ready as ever.”
We head outside and climb into the ride-share.
When we arrive at the club, Kaye takes my hand and leads me up the steps. We’re young, hot, and give the bouncers a little wave as we waltz right into the hopping club, bypassing the line.
On the hunt, I’m looking for a man who doesn’t care if we never swap numbers or names. I’ve got an itch to scratch and that comes from a sexy man with a magic dick.
Immediately upon entering, the chaos of the nightclub overloads my senses. Music blares through the speakers. People dance energetically to the pulsing beat. Their laughter and conversations echo off the walls. It’s a good crowd, filled with attractive men.
Plenty of options.
There are people everywhere, all somewhere along the spectrum of sober, blissfully drunk, and unapologetically high. I can’t help but smile. It’ll be good hunting tonight.
I follow Kaye to the bar, weaving my way through the crowd. We find a spot to sit and take in the scene. Kaye orders for us while I scan the crowd.
Neon lights pulse with the beat of the music filling the club, vibrating through our bodies. People dance wildly all around us, most on the dance floor, but plenty crowd around the various seating areas sprinkled around the club.
Anticipation fills me as I draw the stares of men.
It’s hunting season.
And that’s when I feel it.
