A tall alternative woman approaches you first

Before you find someone you want to hunt for the night, a tall woman in leather and fishnets stands between you and the rest of the club.

“You’re cute. You want me?” She exudes a confidence that can will what she says into reality, since now you do want her. You invite her to sit and she takes up more space than you thought, her body trying to drown yours in the little nook of the bar. She waives down a server and requests a bottle of liquor on her dollar, and while the two of you wait she turns her attention to you.

“We’re gonna play a little game, boy. I’m gonna ask you a question and you’ll either have to answer it or take a shot of whatever liquor we have, and you’ll ask me a question and so on. Once the bottle is empty, I’m gonna decide whether I want to take you home and fuck you until morning. Sound fun?” You nod at her and she cracks a smile for the first time since you’ve seen her. The bottle of rum arrives in the nick of time, and you start by learning the basics about each other. You learn her name is Sasha, she’s 28, she recently got her masters in accounting and works a boring job that gives her money to blow on men in bars and clubs so she can take them home. She knows your name, age, job, and some of your interests.

“How many men have you brought home?” You ask, the first question reaching out of basic pleasantries. “Fuck if I know, one or two a week probably, been doing this for a few years now so the number is in the hundreds.” She replies like this is just normal information everyone gets to know.

“Why are you here tonight?” She asks, and you pause for a moment, and down the first shot of liquor for the table. No way you’re going to tell a hot person trying to take you home that you came to the bar to get cucked by your bully from college. “Oh so you’re a secretive little bitch huh? You’re gonna be fucking wasted in an hour.” She laughs, you chuckle along awkwardly at the comment. You glance around the room looking to find Carrie or Troy, and both are nowhere to be seen.

“How often are you at this particular place?” You ask, and she leans over and into you to reply. “Oh I don’t really know, it’s one of my regular haunts I suppose. I’m here enough that the bulky dudes with no thoughts other than getting their dicks wet know to avoid me.” You feel secure in that comment that Troy won’t try to interrupt you here.

“When was the last time you had sex, and who was it with?” You are taken aback by the question, both in that it’s two questions in one, and you have to decide what you want Sasha to know about you, and fast. She apparently notices your panic and adds, “oooh, this’ll be fun.”