I looked to the side, at Hattie, my friend and fellow stripper, who was sitting three makeup stations down from mine.

Her attention on me.

I knew why she was asking.

One, I was not a girl who hid her mood.

I wasn’t bitchy or impolite, I just kept to myself.

But don’t get up in my face when I wasn’t feeling you, or my lock on those two things went out the window.

Two, I was putting on a thick coat of red lipstick rather than taking it off.

And Hattie noticed.

Our shift was over at Smithie’s. Last call was done and gone, and the bouncers were clearing the place out while the girls were in our dressing room, showering or wiping down and changing in order to go home.

I usually showered. I didn’t like getting oil all over my civvies.

Also, I endeavored total makeup removal with hydration at the end of a shift, because I was no raving beauty, but I wasn’t tough to look at and I wanted my skin to serve me well…and for a long time.

But I was not preparing to go home and crash.

I was preparing to go out and get laid.

I’d only told my closest friend and fellow stripper Pepper about some of my more interesting life pursuits. The rest of my posse, Hattie and Evie, didn’t know (I didn’t think). Though Lottie guessed, I knew, since she picked Boone for me.

And fortunately, Pepper wasn’t there, because she was the kind of chick who got up in my face about my moods.

Loved the woman, but that was annoying.

Hattie was soft-spoken, often just plain quiet, and with dudes (at least ones she was attracted to), she was shy.

Her breaking this ice was unusual.

“I’m good,” I said, turning back to the mirror, adding another coat of ruby red and then rubbing my lips together before I finished with a smack.

“You know, if you need to talk about anything, I’m a good listener,” Hattie said.

I looked to her again, understood the depth of her concern was what was making her crawl out of her protective shell to take a chance and broach things with me, pushed up to my feet and walked her way.

I then bent down to press my forehead to hers and pulled away, lying, “Honestly, I’m good. Really. Just some stuff on my mind. But it’ll sort itself out.”

If I blackmail my niece and nephew’s mother into allowing me to spend time with them by holding those photos over her head, I did not add.

I went back to my station, avoiding the eyes of the other gals with us, Dominique and Champagne, thankful Lottie’s set was over a while ago and she’d gone home, so she wasn’t around to interrogate me. Because she wasn’t one of those in-your-face sister friends. But she was the queen of our hive and she didn’t let shit slide for very long.

I tossed out a fake-breezy good-bye to everyone as I took off.

Smithie always had a bouncer waiting at the end of the hall to walk us to our cars.

That night, it was Dorian, and I realized I was really not keeping my shit tight when, after I opened my car door, he asked, “Things smooth?”

I looked up into his brown eyes in his handsome mocha face and lied, “Always.”

Dorian didn’t like my answer, but he’d been at Smithie’s for a while, was actually family (he was Smithie’s nephew), so he knew not to push it.

At least with me.

He shut my door after I folded in, slapped his hand on my roof, and shared he wasn’t all that thrilled with me blowing off his attempt to look after me by standing in the parking lot and watching me drive away with a look on his face so broody, I could see it in my rearview mirror.

As soon as I could when I was away from the club, I pulled over, and reached to my GPS.

I was involved in a few BDSM groups. It wasn’t frequent, but it was regular that there were parties happening and we’d get the news of them via group texts.

Parties as in scenes. Get-togethers of tight-knit, vetted players, where you could find a play partner and they were safe.

I’d searched out these groups and jumped through their hoops after that Dom who was a little too into pain and did not play by the rules got done with me (or I got done with him).

I didn’t go often, but a girl had to get off, and if she could, she had to do it the way she liked.

Pepper knew about this arrangement and didn’t like it. She thought it was dangerous.

She also knew about Bad Dom, and she wasn’t in the life, so this was why she thought it was dangerous.

It wasn’t.

At least these folks weren’t.

That said, truth be told, I was only twenty-nine, not exactly ancient, but still, I was kinda done with the scene.

I wanted a man all my own.

And in that particular capacity, I wanted to belong to somebody who did it for me.

Variety, I was finding, was not the spice of life.

But I’d had a tough day and finding someone who could put me through my paces, even if he wasn’t great at it, as long as it ended in a climax…

Well, I needed it.

I needed to let go.

I needed to give over.

I needed to let someone else work it out of me.

Tonight’s party was at Corinne’s. Small, intimate, but there would be a new sub, and two new Doms.

Man, I hoped one of those Doms held promise, and he was into me, because I was a deft hand with my vibrator, and that baby got a lot of use, but lately, it was getting old.

I also hoped, even though it was officially tomorrow, my shitty day would have a decent end.

I’d only been to Corinne’s place a couple of times, so I needed to find her address in the GPS.

She lived out in Englewood in a massive six-thousand-square-foot house. She was married, she and her hubby were swingers, they liked to watch other people going at their spouses, among other things, and even though she was a Domme (so she rode the other side of my fence), we got on and I liked her.

We had a lot in common. And I admired the fact they were in that six-thousand-square-foot house not only because her husband owned a mortgage company that specialized in jumbo loans, but mostly because she was an attorney that specialized in kicking ass in the courtroom.

I found her address in my GPS, scheduled the route guidance to GO, and pulled back out onto the street.

It was late, but I hadn’t received the text the doors were closed, and with functions like these, they didn’t start getting really going until midnight or later, so I thought the party was not over.

But when I arrived, there were only five cars in their massive drive.

It happened that people connected and took off to do their thing elsewhere.

Corinne had a playroom where she allowed multiple-person play, so it also happened that folks connected in her basement and, when they were done, they’d come back up to the common areas to have a drink.

She further had a guestroom where she allowed private play, and ditto with the done and drink.

The previous parties I’d been to at her pad had ended in Corinne laying out an expansive breakfast for stragglers, of which there were several, including me, and I hadn’t left until nearly 10:00 in the morning.

True, it was 3:30 in the morning now, but all the lights were on.

As I was sitting in my car, I saw the front door open, Corinne silhouetted in the light coming from the house behind her, and she was giving me a beckoning gesture.

Okay.

Weird.

She was a friendly person and I hadn’t seen her as a Domme (I didn’t do the multi-player gig), but even though I RSVPed earlier that day, it seemed strange that she was waiting on me.