The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(111)

As I walk in to the doors, the guards step aside and let me in, then quickly get back in position and block the entrance. I hear an insult or two hurled at me by the people waiting in line, but my motto has always been, ‘Bitch, I am too cool to care!” And it has served me well.

I make it straight to the bar and order a bottle of vodka. I am practical girl, I deal with all sorts of people in office all the time, but other than work, I literally can’t stand people. The only people I can stand include my brother, my driver Lebovitz, and a few intellectual and well-mannered friends.

Hey, do not judge me! I can be on the scene and be smart at the same time. So, I do my usual, take shot after shot until I am numb enough to put up with the sort of crowd on the scene. As my mind starts to go numb, I head toward the dance floor.

On the way to the dance floor, I pass by the white trash girl who talked shit about me. The second person I see is my ex who cheated on me. It is most definitely a coincidence, for me at least.

His face lights up as he sees me, but I pretend not to see him. Remember the other rule, drink only enough that you are numb and can put up with bullshit, but ‘never’ ever drink enough that you would lose your game even for a second.

I walk right past him. I realize he is walking my way and I do not want to have a conversation of any kind with him, so I head straight up to the black college guy who has been eyeing me since I sat at the bar, and has even taken off his shirt to show off his abs, and lock lips with him.

Walking straight up to a guy and locking lips with him will not work for everyone, and, in this town, there is a 99% chance of rejection if you are walking up to a black guy. This town is not racist, but black girls are what black guys generally go for here. And I happen to be the black ‘it’ girl that has every black guy falling all over her. I lock lips if I want to, and it works like a charm.

We dance for a while and I turn around and grind my Beyoncé ass against the college boy. I usually do this to get an idea about the package, and walk away if I see I am in for a disappointment. I feel his cock, not much in length (7 inches, average) but definitely thick, and out of the corner of my eye, I see my ex still waiting for an opportunity to come talk to me. So, I turn around, grab the college boy by the waist, put my lips close to his ears, and ask:

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” he says.

We make-out our way to the car. The boy sure is getting frisky with me. The driver is already there with the door open, and I slide in on my back and the college boy jumps in over me as the driver closes the door and gets back in his seat.

“Where to, ma’am?” ask the driver.

“Where to?” I ask the college guy, kneeing his cock gently.

He tells the address and brings his mouth back to mine.

Chapter 2

Regular, Occasionally Horrible Mornings (Life – 2)

It is about 6 in the morning when I wake up. The sun is shining in brightly through the dorm room windows. I squint to see better, and feel a heaviness in my chest. Then I realize the heaviness is not in my chest, it is on my chest. The college guy is naked, I am still dressed (minus the undies), and his cock is still pressed against my clitoris. Boy, the last night sure seems hazy.

I slide out carefully from underneath him. I want to be out of the dormitory before anyone here wakes up and sees me. I reach into my purse and take out a pre-written sticky note.

“Thank you, I had so much fun.

I really have to go.

Love,

V.”

I stick the note on his mirror, and then fix my hair before I leave. I take one last look at myself, realize he has cummed all over my Dior dress, curse him silently, and slip out.

Luckily, I keep an extra pair of my work clothes in the limo. I tell the driver to head straight to Starbucks, get me my coffee, and then head straight to the office. I change in the car and relieve my hangover with the coffee on the way.

My mornings are like this now. They were not always like this, but since I became junior executive, I have been partying a bit too hard, although I have been partying hard since college since the day I realized I can party hard and keep up my grades at the same time.

So, there are a few different types of mornings I have. There are mornings when I wake up, look at the guy I am with, get turned on, have him f*ck me again, then lie in his arms until I have to leave for work. Then there are mornings when I wake up, look at the guy, and leave. And, finally, there are mornings like this one. They are less like mornings and more like mistakes, so I leave before the guy wakes up.

This does not include the mornings I have at my own home. At home, I have breakfast with Jackson (whenever we are both home), but mostly one of us is at some stranger’s place, and the other has a stranger at home. This works well for both of us, because these navy guys literally know how to f*ck the shit out of someone, and if he has a date, I do not want to be home and up all night to hear it.

Finding a date is not hard for my brother, because he is handsome, gorgeous, well-endowed (according to all my friends who had sex with him), and in the navy. Since this is a navy town, there are plenty of navy guys, and we have all heard of the extensive trainings they go through and the massive stamina they have.

All chicks here dig the navy guys, but not me. It would be awkward if I end up leaving a note to a guy whom my brother knows or turns out to be friends with. I avoid the navy guys, and so far I have managed not to have sex with any of them.