“Well, that was fun,” I say nonchalantly. Mitchell gets off the bed, still clutching that pillow for dear life – I’ll need a new one now – as he walks over to me with pleading eyes. “Look, can we just talk about this? I had a weak moment, but she didn’t mean anything to me, I swear,” he says desperately. “Do I have the word ‘stupid’ tattooed on my forehead?” I ask in a duh tone. His expression suddenly changes to one of anger, and I’m intrigued to see where this is going. “Fine, so it wasn’t a one-time thing, but can you fucking blame me? You give me nothing, it’s like you just don’t fucking care about me anymore and the bedroom was getting boring, you don’t do anything fun. I needed a real woman who could satisfy my needs and treat me and respect me like a real man. You didn’t even give a shit!” He screams. “You’re right, I don’t fucking care. I stopped fucking caring when you sat on your ass every day letting me go to work to support us both. You play your videos – which I bough

I am so freakin’ BORED. I never in my life thought I’d be bored watching a bunch of people getting hot ‘n’ heavy in public. Maybe I’m desensitized because I work here, and so when the club hosts a Mystery Sinner’s night, I’m usually working the bar and helping clean up the aftermath, which is fucking nasty by the way. The interior of the club has been decked out like a BDSM sex den with black satin drapes hanging from every fixture and erotic red lighting to set the mood. Sex toys ranging from playful to hardcore, line the walls to give the guests a visual thrill, but they’re only decorative. The club doesn’t supply toys to the guests for health and safety reasons. The music is blaring with melodies to get your heart racing and panties dropping, and there’s a live wax play show happening on stage. There’s plenty here to capture my attention, and yet all I’m doing is tuning them out. Maybe Mitchell killed the fun side of me. I take a sip of my cocktail and glance at myself in a full

Large firm hands grip my upper arms, and my knees almost give way from the indescribable burning feeling that explodes through my body. It’s not like putting your hand on a hot stove, it’s not painful – far from it. It’s the most erotic feeling I’ve ever felt in my life, like the ultimate orgasm after hours of edging. I look back, my head slowly tilting up to find the face that belongs to these hands, and my heart begins to pound erratically when I look up to see those same piercing silver eyes staring down at me with unfathomable reverence. Sweet fucking Jesus, he’s massive! He has to be 7’9” and built like a Sherman Tank. My breathing hitches, and part of me wonders how he got to me so fast, but the other part doesn’t care. My whole body is singing from his touch and yet, is put at ease by it at the same time. His hand ever so softly glides up my arm like he’s touching the finest China, eliciting a shiver from me as my eyes roll back. His fingers slowly trail across my shoulder an

The pain of my skull being ripped apart by the jaws of life is the first thing I feel as I start to open my eyes. I clutch my head as if the action will somehow dull the agony – not that it ever has. However, this is by far the worst migraine I’ve ever had. I slowly roll over, and through squinted eyes pick the small bottle of painkillers off my nightstand. I pop open the cap with my teeth and spit it across the room as I pour a couple of pills into my mouth. I grab my water bottle and skull the water, downing the pills in the process. With languid movements, I pull myself out of bed, drag myself downstairs, and lay myself down on the couch directly under the sunlight streaming through my loft window. Almost immediately I can feel the simultaneous expanding and crushing sensations waring in my skull slowly begin to dissipate. I know it doesn’t make any sense. All forms of light are meant to be triggering and known to worsen migraines. I can’t tell you why natural light eases mine; it

The lights are flashing, the music is pumping, the drinks are flowing, and I’m drowning in tips. Let’s be real, how many people can say they have a job that is genuinely fun and exciting? I know it’s a pretty common practice for people to hate and complain about their jobs, but I love mine. I get to spend paid time somewhere that’s like a second home to me, surrounded by all my friends and for the most part, really nice patrons. I’m either working behind the bar, or I’m up on stage dancing like there’s no tomorrow and gracing the crowd with the voice nature gave me. I couldn’t imagine being stuck behind a desk, or worse, working retail. I shudder at the thought. The music transitions into playing that summer banger from a few years back Rush by Troye Sivan and almost immediately I see several shirts come off on the dancefloor. My eyes lock with Cassandra who is working behind the bar with me, as we begin to sing and dance along while we serve the customers. “Can I get two Singapore