"It's the good girls who keep the diaries; the bad girls never have the time

"It's the good girls who keep the diaries; the bad girls never have the time."

They say that bad girls never have time to keep diaries, but I'm gonna prove them all wrong. I'm gonna capture my life through my eyes rather than the eyes of a man, or of my mother, or of a jealous wife after her husband's left her because I've shown him what it's like to feel the real, unbridled lust that she could never give him.

I've never considered myself a "bad girl," but it's what others have classified me as. The type of girl who'll corrupt your son with sex, alcohol and late-night rendezvous; the type who had her first martini at fourteen; the type who left home the second it was legal to; the type who fucks the entire town, sons and husbands, fiancés and bachelors.

I've never considered myself a bad girl, but I fit the description soundly.

Maybe that's why I was the most popular girl in Rosie's Little Black Book, why I was always requested for group parties and private affairs, why men recommended me to their friends, each one taking me for a test drive before making it weekly. I was an escape for celebrities in toxic good-publicity relationships, desperados who couldn't voice their true fantasies to lovers, and the average man who was a bachelor at heart, unable to understand why he had ever settled down in the first place.

But most importantly, I'm Rosie's prized possession.

Tonight, it was gonna be me and a group of ten. Ten ogling eyes taking in every inch of the body I'd used to my advantage since the moment I hit puberty and sprouted my prized D's. Whenever it's a group, the situation tends to be more rowdy, since they've all had their share of drinks. They fuel off each other. If one guy pinches my ass, the next slaps it. They howl when I bend over after they conveniently "drop" their napkin onto the floor. They all grab at me at once as I swat them off, promising each of them a chance.

It's not the cleanest business, but baby, it pays the bills and it's a job only a true "bad girl" could handle. I don't want the cut-and-dry nine-to-five job. I want the exoticness of a new man each night, the lust that I see burning in their eyes when I walk through the door. I've never needed a man's approval, but damn straight I enjoy one. Every girl wants a guy to want them, but few are bold enough to admit it.

On the other hand, few are as bold as me.

As I stepped out of the taxi, I pulled my trench coat around me tighter, the winter air licking at my bare legs. I shivered as a smirk appeared across my face seeing how expensive the apartment building before me was.

Rule #1: rich guys tip well.

After an anxious elevator ride, I was in front of the white, newly-painted door of apartment 46F. I knocked on the door twice, listening to the noise inside of stumbling men and clinking bottles. The door opened to reveal a tall, dark haired man in his early twenties, and he was definitely a keeper.

"You must be Brooke," he said, leaning against the doorway. He breathed out the smell of whiskey, and I immediately sidled up to him.

"I'm whoever you want me to be for tonight."

"I like the sound of that," he agreed with a smirk, placing his hand on the small of my back as he led me into the apartment. The place was huge, basketball trophies and other awards adorning an entire wall. The other nine guys looked up at me from their respective places; some were drinking around the bar, and others were sitting in front of the TV watching whatever game was on that night. One of them breathed out a "wow" as he looked me up and down.

I pulled Nathan to the side. "I need the cash upfront," I ordered. He nodded, and I could see him become slightly excited at my dominance. He pulled out a few hundreds from his pocket before slipping them to me discreetly. I thanked him with a wink after I counted the correct amount.

"So boys," I stated as I began untying my coat. "Who's this party really for?"

A blonde guy, probably the same age as the dark haired one, raised his hand limply from the couch. His eyes were half closed as he answered with, "me."

"Excuse Lucas. He's too incoherent to realize how damn hot you are," one of the others said as he came over and grabbed my ass lightly. I giggled, like I always did, before sliding the trench coat to the floor to reveal my black lingerie clad body. I watched as their mouths fell open.

"So, since this is Lucas's party," I started as I made my way over toward the blond with striking blue eyes, "I think we should give him a little present, right boys?"

They all nodded their heads in agreement as their eyes followed my body. Lucas was sitting on the couch, a high ball in his hand. He turned his focus from the contents of the glass to me as I got closer. I grabbed the glass out of his hand, chugging the remaining contents, before putting it down on the glass coffee table behind me.

"I'm Brooke," I introduced myself as I straddled his lap. His hands instinctively found my hips as he pulled me closer, his eyes still half-closed. I watched as his eyes flashed from my face to my chest that was just within centimeters of his face. "And I hear you deserve one last night of fun before you sell your single-soul."

He nodded in agreement as he moved his hands from my hips to my thighs, rubbing them slowly, as I felt him get hard underneath me.

The rest of the group had shifted the arrangement of the room so the chairs were now in a circle around the coffee table.

"Remind him why we're all single so he can back out now," I heard one of the guys behind me say before mumbling something I couldn't hear to his friend.

"Turn on the music," I ordered, not taking my eyes off of Lucas.

Rule #2: let the man think that all you want is him. Making him think that he's in control, without letting him take full control.

I heard the click of a remote control and suddenly, the entire room was filled with music that was clearly preplanned for the night's activities. Then, the lights were dimmed by presumably the same remote control since no one left their seats. I began grinding my hips against Lucas's, feeling him tense up underneath me momentarily, obviously not used to being dominated by someone besides his fiancé. His hands wandered from my thighs back up to my waist, then to the small of my back, as he toyed with the elastic of my thong. I began to get up to make my way to the rest of the circle, but he pulled me back down, and when I looked back into his blue eyes, something new appeared: the drunken boy was gone and was now replaced by a primal bachelor who wanted to enjoy his last night as a single, horny guy.

I grinded on him for a few more minutes, the boys behind me howling, before getting up and making my way to the center of the circle. Before I left Lucas though, I leaned over and whispered an, "I'll be back," into his ear in my naturally seductive raspy voice.

I began dancing, pulling up one of the other men. He mumbled something drunkenly, saying his name was Jake, before I motioned to my back, lifting my hair so he could unclasp my bra. After a few attempts due to a combination of his nervousness and drunkenness, I shimmied, watching the translucent material slink to the floor, and made my way toward the guy who had opened the door for me.

He was sitting, his hands behind his head, his eyes watching me in satisfaction, as I stood between his legs with my hands on his thighs. I leaned over toward his ear. "So, who do you want me to be?" I rasped into his ear, flicking it slightly with my tongue.

"I think being Brooke is working out for you," he winked as he continued to watch me sway my hips in front of him.

After a half an hour entertaining each man personally, I was in desperate need of a drink. "I'll be back, boys," I purred as some protested when I stood up. "Don't worry." Still topless, I made my way to the marble bar and poured myself a double shot. I threw back my head as the burning liquid seared my throat slightly. When I went to put the glass back down, I felt someone creep up behind me, his hand going from my left hip across the small of my back, landing on my right. I wasn't sure who it was, but I had an idea, as his chin settled into the crook of my neck. His breath was hot against my skin, and I couldn't help but feel myself getting turned on by his touch and I had to suppress a moan.

"I can't believe I'm getting married in two days," he mumbled into my ear. His hands moved up my side, finding my breast and massaging it as I tilted my head backwards.

"Mhm…" I mumbled back.

"I've been with the same girl since high school," he admitted as his fingers rubbed over my nipple, feeling it become erect underneath his touch.

All the men I had been with had some sob story to tell. It was almost like they thought that by telling me why they weren't satisfied with their current romantic or sexual set up, it somehow made cheating on a spouse or fiancé legal, like having a "good reason" somehow made being infidel completely fine. Lucas was no different. I knew where this was leading to.

"Lucas, dawg," one of the men, who had introduced himself as Skillz, called from behind us, interrupting us momentarily. Lucas moved his lips up to my ear. "Can you stay here after everyone's gone?" he asked, his tone almost pleading.

"It's gonna cost ya," I shrugged. This wasn't just about pleasure. This was my business. He nodded in agreement and understanding, before slinking away from me toward the other guys. They were each nursing their own drinks, sitting around the table, no longer fazed by me, the half-naked girl, walking around the room.

I grabbed my drink from the bar before sliding into another guy, Tim's, lap. I ran my red lacquered nails down his leg as I felt him shiver underneath me.

"So boys, what's on the schedule for the rest of the night?"