Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I give him lucky bastard, have fun and a thumbs up.
Josh and Ella only live a few floors up from me in the West Belgravia tower, but the gap feels bigger as the months move on. It’s only natural that they are building more and more of a life without me. They radiate soulmates from every angle. I never had to feel this lonely before, because Josh was my constant wingman, and I was getting sex from other places, constantly, but now…
I look in the mirror.
I’m approaching twenty-seven years old. The time I always figured I’d be settled down myself. I dunno, but it seems to be a nearly thirty, let’s get serious kind of benchmark. I can fob it off with a pah all I like, but it’s still there, like an alarm bell ringing louder every day.
I don’t want to get a pathetic pang of wanting someone, so I shove it back in the depths. It’s all about User 2906 tonight.
I get a cab to Club Revelier over in Tottenham. I’ve been here once or twice before and it’s alright. Decent, and a bit of a rave spot with drum n’bass. It’s a big enough venue that I can get lost amidst the partygoers without anyone twigging I’m a girl downing prosecco and dancing alone… and flirting with every guy who looks my way.
I scope it out when I get inside, scanning the main dancefloor. If User 2906 is planning on flirting with me, he’s bound to be nearby. I open The Agency app and click on arrived, and I wait for the acknowledgement response before I go any further.
Yes. I can see you, the reply says.
I suspected as much. Knowing he’s got his eyes on me brings me out in a flush. There are so many men around… so many potentials…
I stride to the bar with a smile on my face to order my first prosecco. I’ve barely taken a sip when a guy steps up beside me and gives me a cocky smirk.
“You alright?”
He’s staring at my tits, like most blokes do. It makes flirting so easy as I turn to face him. Piece of piss. I hope my client has his beady eyes on me, watching the way I flutter my lashes.
“I’m great, thanks. How about you?”
I talk quietly on purpose, so the guy has to lean in close, he’s got to be barely twenty-one. Not my taste, but oh well.
“I’m cool,” he says. “Want a drink?”
Poor guy needs to work on his chat, because he’s hardly original. Still, I down my prosecco in one and put the empty glass on the bar top.
“Sure.”
I give him the eye as he gets me another glass, biting my lip when he hands it over with a cheers. He’s got a beer and chugs some back before he goes in for the usual round of questions.
What’s your name, where are you from, who are you here with? Dull as fuck. What I want him to ask is whether he can fuck the tits he’s staring at, screw the niceties. I want him to ask if I like being throat jammed like a slut when I’m on my knees, and how much of a pounding I can take in my asshole.
He’s midway through another boring question when I finish up my second glass of fizz and walk away with a thanks for the drink. My flirting is done with him, no explanation necessary.
I weave my way onto the dancefloor, finding the beat as I sway my hips and lose myself in the groove. The people around me make it hot in here. The stickiness of drunk sweat is welcome as I shimmy my dress up, then pump my hands in the air. I dance, I spin, I jump and groove, and people notice me. Of course they do. I’m not exactly a shrinking violet or one of the bland brigade.
I love the heat of the eyes on me, a blur of people staring as I dance in my own filthy world – knowing full well the dark game lying ahead of me. A stinking alleyway and a dirty fucker who’s going to treat me like a piece of trash. That’s what I want. I want to be trash tonight.
I hitch my dress higher, twerking my bouncy butt like I’m desperate for action. I’ve been in this game long enough to send out the right signals, and it works. I feel people shifting. Grooving men getting closer, so thinly veiled, it’s ridiculous.
I back into one of them to make it easy for him, grinding my ass against his crotch as his hands come around for some action, but he’s shit. This guy isn’t my client, I can tell by the way his friends are cheering him on, but he’s an easy target for my slut show. I turn to face him and pull him against me, pressing my tits to his chest. He grabs my ass, and some half decent grinding starts. I spread my legs wide enough that his thigh finds my pussy, but it’s too early to be getting serious, and nah, he’s crap at it. Average, tops.