9 this isn't vanilla hour

Since I won't be doing much for the next two hours, I lean against one of the doors to ease my feet out of the stilettos. after blood flow returns, I hum my relief then continue on to my dressing room.

Ricky is still in there but he is sleeping on my couch. I ignore him and move to the dressing room mirror to remove the red lipstick I painted on when I was rushing to the stage. I didn't have time for anything else so I went a bit plainer than usual today.

After wiping the remnants of the ruby red off, I slip into one of the comfy tee shirts Ricky left when he visited some time ago. I then jump into my three-quarter jeans then head back out.

The screams from the crowd could be heard backstage and I love how the faint shouts are vibrating through the wall.

I move to the beat of the song and when I reach around the entrance I came from the first time I did my number, the crowd is looking ahead at the seven girls who are either naked or almost there.

Green rain makes the girls work even harder and in turn, makes the guys crazier. Some are standing on chairs and others are waving their shirts around.

I shake my head at the caveman display and make my way to the bar to see my guy, Dante.

Without missing a beat, I hop onto the black and gold stool Ricky insisted on getting for me and raise my hand to holler at Dante.

"Hey Dante, give me a long island iced tea and keep em' coming until I either puke or Ricky stops me." With that, Dante salutes to me then get to making my usual. I spin my stool around to observe the crowd.

After my performance and the burning gaze of Mr. mysterious and handsome, I was feeling a bit hot and heated. I needed to blow off some steam and find someone to take home.

I put on my hoe radar and scan the area for some hot piece of ass. I see some potentially good partners but nothing stands out. some might think that someone as wild as me would like a playboy in bed.

Not a chance in hell.

Most times, because they are handsome, they believe they shouldn't put in any work. Like it is some great privilege to fuck them. They are all disappointments in bed.

I remember one who kept smirking like he was god's gift. An hour later when I took him home, he was flopping in my vagina like a fish out of water.

Longest eye roll ever.

After he finished by himself, the little bitch kissed me goodnight and made himself at home beside me.

That is how most hookups with the fuck boys ended until I had enough and looked elsewhere. Now I was into the demure looking boys, the white collar, low key freaks who knew how to pound me into next week.

This wasn't vanilla hour after all.

I looked around and saw no one who stood out. I bet the man who was watching me earlier has left. He would have been a really nice one to take to bed. I don't see him anywhere and his table only has three people left on it.